By George Pelecanos
Mystery sensation Pelecanos pens the lead story and edits this groundbreaking choice 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 surprising act to the watchful bum keeping Georgetown highway owners, the tome deals a startling glimpse into the cityscape's darkest corners...Fans of the [noir] style will locate good writing, palpable stress 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 newshounds and some writing execs keen to show their storytelling eye, no matter if jaundiced or smooth, inward towards the neighborhood...Local haunts and hangouts are lovingly drawn."
"Pick up a duplicate of the ebook 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 might do good to appear in other places, yet this set of gritty city stories, written with the entire needful touches of shadow and fog of the noir masters, is a unprecedented lower for crime aficionados and will pique the curiosity of an individual who calls the darkish urban home."
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Additional resources for DC Noir (Akashic Noir)
Sean was the only one smart enough to go with short sleeves. But there are beads even on his brow, mostly near the sideburns. You've been telling him to cut that nappy 'fro of his for the last six months. It makes him look like a cheap-ass Redman. But he likes Redman. " he proclaims, continuing to take the critique as a compliment. You can't wait for '93. " Baba asks, his voice crackling with static through the pair of ten-dollar walkie-talkies you've purchased for this hit. The car sits different on your new rear tires.
The snow capped the roofs of parked cars and it had gathered on the branches of the trees. No one was out. I stopped to light the rest of my joint. I got it going, and hit it as I walked up the hill. I planned to head home in a while, through the alley door, when I thought it was safe. But for now, I needed to work on my head. Let my high come like a friend and tell me what to do. I stood on the east side of Park Lane, my hand on the fence bordering the Soldier's Home, staring into the dark. I had smoked all my reefer and drunk my wine.
Baba and Sean came in through an open window at the rear and you all let him have it. Babo and Sean took the crib. They broke the glass-framed pictures and knocked over the credenza with all of his mom's good dishes. Then they went to work on him, while you asked the questions. It turned out that Butchie had been doing a little double-dealing. Just to make sure he got paid, he pitched the same offer to some dude named Rico who lived over by the fish place on Burns Street. Apparently they'd gotten there long before you did.