Summer time in 1994 or maybe '95, I was in McKay's books in Oak Ridge, TN. It was an unusually hip used book and cd store, next door to the Krogers, where I found a lot of great punk albums and weird books. A couple times a week I'd prowl up and down the aisles, looking for anything that looked interesting. Passing through the mystery section, a title caught my eye; A Hell Of A Woman by Jim Thompson. I picked it up and knew I was going to buy it, even though I wasn't interested in mysteries or crime novels. The cover spoke out loud, with the alluring black and white photo of the beautiful femme fatale and the hot pink bands slashed across the front with the title and author's name inside. Even if the book sucked, it looked great. I gave the nice lady at the counter a buck and went out into the summer heat, not knowing I was about to have my life turned up side down.Not by A Hell Of A Woman. I didn't particularly like it, but by The Killer Inside Of Me. I don't know why I decided to read another Thompson book, when the first one hadn't done much for me, I was compelled.
The Killer Inside Of Me moved me in a way no book would, until I started reading Hubert Selby Jr a year later. Thompson wrote in such a manner that you felt the sweat and anxiety and horror of each page. It was like sitting at a bar, while a killer held a pistol in your ribs while he confessed his sins. This wasn't Kerouac. This wasn't Miller. This wasn't the insipid, banal trash found in the rest of the Mystery section in Barnes and Noble. This was a different animal all together.
Thompson was working class. Tough. Drunk. Highly intelligent. He came from the oil fields of Texas. The Great Depression. His art is wholly American, but only really appreciated over seas. He died poor, barely known, with few, if any, of his books in print. To this day he remains a hero to me, when most of my heroes have disappointed and/or disgusted me.
Nelson Algren had a similar effect on me, as well as a similar story as Thompson's. I discovered Algren just before moving to Boston with his novel Walk On The Wild Side. Algren died alone, poor, his books out of print, with no one to claim his body, yet, he was one of America's greatest novelists.
So. for those of you who don't know, I give you Thompson and Algren. Two masters of savage American literature, criminally unknown in the 21st century.
I put a lot of importance on art and literature and music, because I believe in the importance of communication. I believe in plain-speak and not wasting time. I don't mind ugliness, profanity, violence, or drunkeness, because often times those things keep company with truth. Jesus certainly wasn't afraid of their company and his name is married to truth.
If I die penniless, alone, and with all my books out print, at least I'll know I was honest and in good company.
