Became an American Retro Novelist - Chapter 241



Only Noblemtl

241.

It is now commonly known that the word ‘hard-boiled’ was originally an adjective meaning ‘(egg) well-cooked’.

Since then, the works that came to be known as hard-boiled have a dry style that describes incidents such as violence, crime, and cruel tragedies with restrained personal opinions, and so the word has been given literary meanings such as ‘ruthless’ and ‘cold-hearted’.

Hardboiled, which began as a branch of detective fiction, was actually a type of novel style rather than a genre.

It is said that its beginnings were in the pulp fiction magazine ‘Black Mask’, which was founded in 1920, and ‘Carol John Daly’, the writer known for the ‘Race Williams’ series, and ‘Dashiell Hammett’, a writer who frequently wrote for Black Mask, were mainly evaluated as pioneers and establishers of the style.

However, Dashiell Hammett did not achieve great success as a writer due to his personal issues, and later the famous novelist Raymond Chandler took over the baton and greatly popularized the hard-boiled style.

In particular, Raymond Chandler entered Hollywood early and actively reflected his unique hard-boiled style in his films.

In a time when life was difficult even after the Great Depression and World War II, the image of a protagonist who was not swayed by the harsh world and boldly solved problems was very popular.

As people who saw the movie began to seek out the novel, hard-boiled gradually began to have a greater influence in the United States.

‘If we look at hardboiled differently, we can say that it is a style that is full of a ‘badass’ flavor that Americans cannot help but go crazy over.’

This style has since expanded in many ways, sometimes producing novels that make you wonder, “Isn’t this hardboiled?”

Like the ‘Mike Hammer’ series, or the ‘Detective Ron Dart’ series.

In particular, ‘Detective Ron Dart’ was even more brutal than the previously mentioned crazy character ‘Mike Hammer’, to the point that he was criticized as saying that this is the result of allowing psychopaths to hold guns in the country.

‘It was a bit harsh.’

Mike Hammer didn’t hit the woman (instead, he shot her to death), but Detective Ron Dart was a crazy guy who went beyond beating her and shot every suspicious person at the crime scene. But instead of being punished for it, he was praised as a cool son of a bitch. It made me wonder if the people in the world of the work had a culture of shooting each other instead of greeting each other.

Anyway, Mr. Raymond Chandler, a great novelist and a formidable cynic, fiercely criticized those two novels, saying, “This is not hard-boiled.”

And I agree with that opinion to some extent.

Hardboiled had to basically lay the emotional and behavioral code of ‘tastelessness’ as its base.

No matter what big event happens, it’s dull.

No matter who dies, it’s boring (especially the main character).

Even if something happy happens, it’s bland.

A feast of humans who seem to have no emotions.

For example, there is a sentence like this in Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms:

“She seemed to be bleeding continuously. They couldn’t stop it. I went into the room and stayed with Catherine until she died. She was unconscious the whole time and it didn’t take long for her to die.”

Even in a situation where the protagonist’s beloved wife dies in a stillbirth, there is almost no description of his emotions. Readers can only indirectly imagine the situation he was in and the emotions that arose from it through the text.

A writing style that is not violent, provocative, or crazy about blood and madness, but rather dry and dry like the yolk of a well-boiled egg.

Perhaps the style itself seemed to be in line with the essence of a detective novel. It is a work that tries to figure out the truth through external elements, and infers the actions of a crime and the emotions of a motive through reasoning and evidence.

Meanwhile, another common characteristic of this style was that it exuded strong masculinity.

‘That’s just how men are.’

Because I like to show things through actions rather than explaining them in detail.

But expressing it through action was also evidence of oppression.

This is about social conventions from the old days, such as, ‘Men should silently take responsibility’ and ‘You should not make useless excuses.’

Similarly, in my previous life, I continued to suppress myself and tried to live my life pursuing the right path for the greater good.

That is, as a ‘good son to his mother.’

Why did I become mature so early? It was because I understood the pain of my mother, who was left alone after my father passed away, and because I interpreted it as ‘wrong’ to act like other children in such a situation.

My mother knew that too, and from a certain point on, she always told me that I could do whatever I wanted, but in the end, I couldn’t give in to her wishes.

I was too young to realize that in the beginning, and as time went by, I grew into an adult for whom living that way was natural.

In fact, that’s the only way an adult could be.

‘A being who suppresses their emotions and learns and embodies the method of living in society.’

Because most humans are weak.

Isn’t that why everyone is crazy about the protagonist of a hard-boiled novel who maintains an indifferent attitude toward all problems and carries out his own will?

He knows the cold reality and is stuck in it, but he eventually overcomes it with his own strength.

Of course, I didn’t mean to claim that I was that kind of person.

‘Rather, I’m living a dream-like, soft time right now.’

I’m talking about a warm and cozy present, not a cold and harsh reality.

And the ‘strength’ I had accumulated in my previous life played an important role in achieving that.

Now, I already had an adult inside me who had a lot of experience, and I had the ability to solve many problems that came my way. In addition, I was able to secure financial stability through this.

But they themselves didn’t make me happy.

The moments when I felt truly happy were when I was living the life I had dreamed of.

When you share your true self with your family, friends, acquaintances, and precious Alexa, exchanging emotions and sometimes even sharing silly stories.

When Shin Han, who became an adult too early, returns to the past he thought he would never return to and is healed by meeting those he encounters again.

‘But that doesn’t mean that I, as an adult, am meaningless.’

As an adult, I became the force that protected me as a child.

But because I, the child, exist, I, the adult, can be happy.

With these two aspects clearly recognized and separated into their respective characters, I planned and wrote ‘Nightmare of bitters’.

As an adult, I used it to create the main character and narrator of the piece, ‘Jack Bitters’, and as a child, I decided to express my repressed innocence through the girl character next to him.

This novel was, so to speak, an exaggerated account of when my past life self met my present self.

“hmm.”

After returning home from my meeting with Julia, I did a final check of the proposal and early manuscript of ‘Nightmare of bitters’ before faxing it to her.

‘What do you think?’

I liked it myself, but I was curious to see how Julia would react.

***

Julia Chandler poured a bottle of Jim Beam whiskey roughly into a mug filled with ice.

I didn’t intend to savor the scent, so I took a sip and put it down.

She started reading the plan for ‘Nightmare of bitters’ that she had received from the new writer.

For some reason, I had a feeling that gloomy jazz music would suit it.

Like Dave Brubeck’s ‘Fujiyama’.

The setting is New York.

A city where glamour and squalor coexist.

1972, a time when those who have have more and those who do not have become more impoverished.

‘Jack Bitters’ is a former detective who retired after causing a scandal. He lives alone in a run-down apartment in the slums, making a living day by day by working as a fixer.

He was unable to feel happiness or unhappiness, or even emotions like joy or sadness, and his only reason for living was to avenge his dead wife.

His pregnant wife was found charred in her burned-down apartment.

Jack found the criminal and shot him dead without due process. Fortunately, the criminal was also holding a gun, so the incident was concluded with him taking off his clothes, as self-defense was recognized.

However, Jack continued his investigation on his own with feelings bordering on obsession, believing that there must be some kind of conspiracy behind the criminal, who was nothing more than a drug addict.

In the midst of all this, a girl appears and makes a request to him.

[Please save me. Someone is trying to kill me.]

Jack Bitters says calmly.

[Go to the police.]

He was the owner of a ruthless personality.

It wasn’t like that from the beginning. As living like an outlaw in danger became the norm, I just got used to doing things rationally.

If someone was trying to kill you, it would be natural to go to the police and ask them for protection.

But Jack’s blunt answer makes the girl lament that no one in the world listens to her story seriously.

‘It’s interesting. It definitely captures the characteristics of the genre.’

Julia continues reading the contents of the plan.

Eventually, Jack allowed the unruly girl to stay in his apartment for a while.

And yet, he continued his own lonely investigation.

With the help or questioning of James, a former fellow detective, and Dominic, a broker who takes on Jack’s work in the slums.

The story continues by depicting America collapsing due to drugs.

In the midst of all this, Jack gradually regains the innocence he had lost due to the girl’s presence.

‘Hmm······.’

That’s all for the content of the plan.

A little more detail was added than what was explained.

Julia continued to sip her whiskey as she read the attached manuscript from the beginning.

『In this city, glamour and squalor coexisted. It was like a Picasso painting.

Most people only see one side of New York and think they know it well. But that is not true at all. New York was a city where everything was mixed together and polluted like factory wastewater. When did it become like that? I looked across the smoke-filled streets to see factory chimneys rising into the sky like stakes. Then I started walking again.

A street crowded with taxis trying to pick up passengers and office workers chained to work.

I avoided those walking under the sun and entered a shaded alley. A narrow side street between tall buildings. The clotheslines, air conditioner outdoor units, and antennas that people had hung to expand their territory somehow cast darker shadows.

It was a place where people who couldn’t walk freely under the sun gathered. Homeless people who were drunk and on drugs, set fire to piles of brushwood and giggled, crawling like insects. Fools who wouldn’t even flinch when their hair was singed in the fire.

I walked between them with my head held stiffly and slowly opened my mouth.

“Could you mix some sugar into the bitters?”

It was a code. The homeless people who had not even paid attention to my presence until just now turned around like machines when they heard that. I put my hands in my pockets and didn’t say anything more. The bearded man sitting in the innermost row opened his mouth.

“I don’t think you’re the type of person who should come here.”

“So. Why is a gentleman with a clean face and wearing a coat here?”

It quickly became noisy. I took out a cigarette, lit it, and answered.

“Everyone has their own circumstances.”

“Hmm, that’s true.”

I put out the fire the homeless had lit with ashes and water, then pushed it aside. A manhole appeared underneath. The homeless, or rather, the guards disguised as such, kindly lifted the manhole cover themselves and allowed me to enter.

“Don’t thorn.”

I went down the manhole with a cigarette in my mouth. The stench of the city’s dregs could not be erased even with the smell of the cigarette. After landing on the dark sewer bottom, I followed the faint light and approached closer. The man standing guard in front of it looked at me and asked.

“What brings you here?”

“Join the fight club.”

“You entered the wrong password.”

“There is a second password.”

“Okay. You can’t get in without the second password.”

“I see.”

I aimed for the man’s nose and punched him. The exhilarating sound resonated through his bones and his whole body. I broke his nose properly. The man, who had bent back in an instant, grabbed his face, and blood flowed out between his thick fingers like a faucet had been turned on. That was my code.

“Can I pass now?”

The man stepped aside without saying a word.

The second password was to hand over a dollar bill. But there were other answers.

“Whey.”

Julia whistled without realizing it.

The darkness hidden within the glamour of the city called New York. The protagonist descends into an abyss even deeper than that, but handles the situation as if nothing happened.

Although it wasn’t a 100% hard-boiled style, considering that it was a genre novel with other genre elements, I liked the overall plain and concise sentences.

The protagonist, who entered a fight club and fought for money, soon begins to tail a drug smuggler he discovered there.

After reading the unfinished manuscript containing the first half, Julia felt that it was a truly wonderful hard-boiled work.

But that’s why I thought there were some parts that I definitely had to check and move on from.

The existence of a girl symbolizing ‘purity’ confirmed in the plan.

Does this novelistic device really fit the hardboiled style?

***

A few days after I sent the proposal and early manuscript of ‘Nightmare of bitters’, I received a call from Julia.

[Shall we have a drink and talk?]

The suggestion is that a bar might be a better place to have a conversation about hard-boiled novels than an office or a cafe.

I figured it wouldn’t be too bad, so I headed to the bar she had specified right on time for our agreed dinner.

A small bar near Los Angeles City Hall.

There were long bar tables and all sorts of bottles of liquor gleamed in the light. Jazz music flowed out from among all sorts of old props reminiscent of the 1940s, and a black bartender with a mature feel stood still and greeted me with a smile.

I gave her a quick nod and walked over to Julia, the only customer at the bar, and sat down next to her.

“Are you here?”

After taking a sip of her cocktail, she turned to me and greeted me.

“It’s an old fashioned.”

“Oh, yes. I suddenly wanted to drink.”

She gently shook the sunset-colored liquid in an on-the-rocks glass with ice. The cherries and oranges garnished it, swaying like a sailboat drifting on the sea.

Old Fashioned.

The origins of the cocktail known as the ‘Old Fashioned’ are complicated to explain, so I’ll skip that, but I think I know why she wanted to drink it. It’s because the ingredient used to make the Old Fashioned is Angostura ‘bitters’, a type of cocktail concentrate.

Angostura bitters, used to impart a bitter flavor to alcohol.

I ordered the same thing, and then Julia opened her mouth.

“Was that intentional?”

“Yes.”

The name ‘Jack Bitters’ also comes from here.

“I enjoyed both the proposal and the novel. I felt there was nothing to criticize up until the first half, but can I ask you one thing?”

“Of course. Of course.”

“I guess I just don’t understand the girl’s existence.”

“In what sense?”

“A man and a girl who have lost hope in life. I think it’s a material that works well, but isn’t it a bit unnecessary for the hard-boiled style?”

I smiled when I heard that.

A new Old Fashioned was brought out and I took a sip of it and felt a sense of nostalgia.

‘There are things I can’t tell Julia, though.’

When I was planning this novel, I had one work in mind.

It was director Luc Besson’s masterpiece film, ‘Leon’, which was released about 10 years from now.

But even though the material was similar, there was a crucial difference between my novel and Leon. That was that Leon felt happiness as he realized the innocence he had not realized through the existence of Mathilda.

I initially explained to Julia that this new story was going to unfold that way.

Since I couldn’t say anything about ‘Leon’, I introduced ‘Nightmare of Bitters’ as if it were a story about a girl taking her place as a symbol of purity in a man.

But then why did you use the title ‘Nightmare’?

“Certainly, the girl’s innocence doesn’t fit well with the hard-boiled style.”

“As expected, there was something intentional.”

The doubts Julia feels now will become the feelings of the readers of this novel.

The novel, which was initially hard-boiled, gradually becomes lighter as Jack gradually opens his heart to the girl.

Of course, that was intentional. I wanted the readers of this piece to become a little more immersed in Jack, and to rejoice with him in the little happiness that comes into his life.

“I think that if we do that, the cruelty that comes later will stand out more.”

After hearing my explanation, Julia took a sip of her Old Fashioned in silence.

Certainly, the unique bitter flavor of this liquor is something that cannot be easily found anywhere else.