By George Pelecanos
Mystery sensation Pelecanos pens the lead story and edits this groundbreaking selection of tales detailing the seedy underside of the nation's capital. this isn't an anthology of ill-conceived and inauthentic political thrillers. as a substitute, in D.C. Noir, pimps, whores, gangsters, and con-men run rampant in zones of this urban that the majority by no means listen about.
"From the Chevy Chase housewife who commits a stunning act to the watchful bum maintaining Georgetown highway proprietors, the tome deals a startling glimpse into the cityscape's darkest corners...Fans of the [noir] style will locate stable writing, palpable rigidity and shock endings."
"Every tale during this all-original noir anthology set within the nation's capital is well-written."
"Imbued with numerous collective years of neighborhood experience."
—Washington urban Paper
"[Pelecanos] has assembled a compelling mixture of ex-convicts, retired law enforcement officials, former crime beat journalists and some writing professionals keen to show their storytelling eye, no matter if jaundiced or delicate, inward towards the neighborhood...Local haunts and hangouts are lovingly drawn."
"Pick up a duplicate of the e-book D.C. Noir...and organize to be transported to another D.C. that the travelers see...Pure Washingtonian."
"Those trying to find redemption in humanity may do good to appear in different places, yet this set of gritty city stories, written with all of the needful touches of shadow and fog of the noir masters, is a unprecedented reduce for crime aficionados and may pique the curiosity of someone who calls the darkish urban home."
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Extra resources for DC Noir (Akashic Noir)
He was in the middle of his thirties, but he looked fifty-five. "Robo," I said. " We did a shoulder-to-shoulder thing and patted backs. I had been knowing him since grade school. Like me, he had seen better days. He looked kinda under it now. He held up a bottle of fortified, turned it so I could see the label, like them waiters do in high-class restaurants. "I sure could use a taste," said Robert. " I picked up a bottle of Night Train for myself and moved toward the front of the market. Robert grabbed the sleeve of my coat and held it tight.
Under water your thoughts flow evenly. In the stream you cut through all the bullshit. So it was there, under the "massage" setting spray, that you thought about running game at the rec. It was a Tuesday after all. Who the hell went to school on Tuesday, especially when you could buy off the rec manager with an apple stick and two packs of Now and Laters? What a pathetic price for a nigga as old as your father, whoever he is. " you asked your first mark, some light-skinned dude with a low-taper his barber shoulda got stabbed for.
I'm gonna be askin' around," I said, like he hadn't heard me the first time. "I know you will, Verdon. You're a good CI. " I didn't know if he meant it or not, but it made me feel kinda guilty, backdooring him the way I was planning to do. But I had to look out for my own self for a change. The killer would be got, that was the important thing. And I would be flush. " "They're good. " "Hmph," I said. He was divorced, like most homicide police. Still, I knew he loved his kids. That was all. It felt like it was time to go.