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The hardboiled world of James Hadley Chase, the thriller maestro, is recaptured in this new edition of tough and gritty tales.
An early morning stroll in the park, or a lonely cross-country drive to Florida; evading arrest in war-torn Cuba, or sipping bourbon in the Bronx—it makes no odds, serious trouble lies just around the corner…. The sleazy jungle of lamp-lit streets, faded hotel lobbies and soulless freeways is the setting for a menagerie of typically brash Chase characters: all-metal blondes that weaken your resistance, merciless thugs in uniform and third-rate double-crossers.
Fast-paced and crackling with cynical wit, this classic anthology shows why Chase is the unchallenged British champion of the tough American tradition.
Publisher’s Note
This remarkable collection of short stories was first published in 1942 and is now re-issued for the first time. It is a tribute to the vigour and storytelling ability of James Hadley Chase that after so many years these tales still shock and thrill the reader.
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My dear Cherry, Some time ago you warned me against writing short stories. You stressed that the public didn't like them, and that I would be heading for a big flop if I persisted. Your views have always proved sound, so I've laid off until now. My present activities don't permit me to tackle
My dear Cherry, Some time ago you warned me against writing short stories. You stressed that the public didn't like them, and that I would be heading for a big flop if I persisted. Your views have always proved sound, so I've laid off until now. My present activities don't permit me to tackle
My dear Cherry, Some time ago you warned me against writing short stories. You stressed that the public didn't like them, and that I would be heading for a big flop if I persisted. Your views have always proved sound, so I've laid off until now. My present activities don't permit m
Get a load of this! The hardboiled world of James Hadley Chase, the thriller maestro, is recaptured in this new edition of tough and gritty tales. An early morning stroll in the park, or a lonely cross-country drive to Florida; evading arrest in war-torn Cuba, or sipping bourbon in the Bronxit mak
My dear Cherry, Some time ago you warned me against writing short stories. You stressed that the public didn't like them, and that I would be heading for a big flop if I persisted. Your views have always proved sound, so I've laid off until now. My present activities don't permit me to tackle