By Patricia Highsmith
"Highsmith is not any extra a practitioner of the homicide secret genre...than are Doestoevsky, Faulkner and Camus."—Joan Smith, Los Angeles Times
The Patricia Highsmith renaissance keeps with Nothing That Meets the Eye, an excellent selection of twenty-eight psychologically penetrating tales, a superb majority of that are released for the 1st time during this collection.
This quantity spans nearly fifty years of Highsmith's profession and establishes her as an enduring member of our American literary canon, as attested via contemporary e-book of 2 of those tales in The New Yorker and Harper's. The tales assembled in Nothing That Meets the Eye, written among 1938 and 1982, are classic Highsmith: a gigolo-like psychopath preys on unfulfilled occupation girls; a lonely spinster's fragile carry on truth is tethered to the bottle; an estranged postal employee invents homicidal fantasies approximately his coworkers. whereas a few tales count on the diabolical narratives of the Ripley novels, others own a Capra-like sweetness that forces us to determine the writer in a brand new mild. From this new assortment, a amazing portrait of the yankee psyche at mid-century emerges, unforgettably distilled via the inimitable eye of Patricia Highsmith. A New York Times awesome ebook and a Washington Post Rave of 2002.
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Additional resources for Nothing That Meets the Eye: The Uncollected Stories of Patricia Highsmith
Whadjer mean? ’ Bill inquired. ‘Yus, the Moon and other places. ’ ‘Coo! ’ Bill was impressed. ’ ‘Naow not likely,’ Alf spoke with contempt. ‘Nor never will, neither,’ he added, spitting once more into the Thames. At one o’clock two gentlemen with every appearance of being well fed were sitting down to more food at the Cafe Royal. ‘I see,’ remarked the taller, chattily, ‘that that nephew of yours has more or less signed his death warrant. ’ ‘Dale? Oh, yes, he’ll have a shot at it, all right. ’ ‘Well, well.
One look at the watchman was enough. ’ He turned back to the tall man who had been on the gallery. ‘What had we better do with them, Mr. ’ Dale Curtance frowned and hesitated a moment. ‘Better bring them both up to my office,’ he decided. The doctor waited until the bearers had retired, closing the door behind them, then he looked across at Dale. ’ he asked. Dale shrugged his shoulders. ‘I know about as much as you do. I had been working late in here with Fuller. We didn’t hear anything at least, I didn’t.
That part of the Plain which lay below them had undergone a transformation. Outside the five mile circle of the beacon balloons acres of country were covered with parked cars and ‘planes. From them crowds of black dots were stippled inwards, growing denser as they converged. The barrier which held the public back out of harm’s way appeared already as a solid black ring two miles in diameter and of greater thickness on the western side where the several stands, broadcasting and observation towers and various other temporary structures were situated.
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