When we opened the call for Vice Noir, I
“The protagonist I am looking for in Vice Noir is a little different than the standard noir central character. Your standard noir detective knows the abyss and has armoured himself against it. He fights monsters, because someone has to, and his moral code demands that someone stand in the breach. His moral code is more externally ‘Someone has to do it.’ The Vice Noir protagonist, on the other hand, has looked into the abyss … and the abyss winked. He lives in the bright sunshine, among pretty people — because the night, the alleys, and the adrenaline are way too attractive, too addictive, too comfortable … and he knows it. He is Sonny Crockett, living on a yacht with a gator named Elvis; he is Fiddler, in his beach cottage, with his lime tree, and his koi; both of them trying to build up the antibodies before the abyss whispers, and they leap headlong. Again.”
Of the forty stories I received, I had to pick ten that conveyed the spirit I was looking for; and I’m not going to lie – it was damned difficult doing so.
I hope this selection hits the right notes. If it does, that’s all on the authors. If not, that’s all on me.
Buckle up, gentle readers. Grab your Ray-Bans, fire up your 1980s pop hits, and get ready to smile back when the teeth come out.
When we opened the call for Vice Noir, I
“The protagonist I am looking for in Vice Noir is a little different than the standard noir central character. Your standard noir detective knows the abyss and has armoured himself against it. He fights monsters, because someone has to, and his moral code demands that someone stand in the breach. His moral code is more externally ‘Someone has to do it.’ The Vice Noir protagonist, on the other hand, has looked into the abyss … and the abyss winked. He lives in the bright sunshine, among pretty people — because the night, the alleys, and the adrenaline are way too attractive, too addictive, too comfortable … and he knows it. He is Sonny Crockett, living on a yacht with a gator named Elvis; he is Fiddler, in his beach cottage, with his lime tree, and his koi; both of them trying to build up the antibodies before the abyss whispers, and they leap headlong. Again.”
Of the forty stories I received, I had to pick ten that conveyed the spirit I was looking for; and I’m not going to lie – it was damned difficult doing so.
I hope this selection hits the right notes. If it does, that’s all on the authors. If not, that’s all on me.
Buckle up, gentle readers. Grab your Ray-Bans, fire up your 1980s pop hits, and get ready to smile back when the teeth come out.