A review by paul_cornelius
Pop. 1280 by Jim Thompson
4.0
Another masterful work of crime noir from Jim Thompson. He operates on two levels, here. First, there is the matter of the story, the plot. Pop. 1280 fits firmly within its genre. But despite the recurring iconography and conventions of that genre, it still creates one surprise and shock after another. Twist upon twist occurs, until the ultimate twist at book's end completely throws the reader for a loop.
The second level is that of psychology. The protagonist, Sheriff Nick Corey, will immediately remind readers of Thompson's other masterpiece, The Killer Inside Me, and of its hero, Sheriff Lou Ford. In fact, Ford and Corey are forged out of the same satanic pit, the same psychopathology, the same madness, and amoral abyss. I also wonder if there is something of an American Rasputin at play in this work. For the only clue to the time in which Pop. 1280 takes place is a line in which Corey wonders whether the Russian Czar will be overthrown by the Bolsheviks. It is something, at least, upon which I could not shake myself as I read on.
A final comparison between The Killer Inside Me and Pop. 1280 can be seen in their their level of descriptiveness. The Killer Inside Me is a much denser work, its psychology much more layered than that revealed in Pop. 1280. Lou Ford's evil acts grab out and clutch the reader, leaving him gasping at Ford's violence and brutality. Nick Corey's violence, on the other hand, almost seems to take place off stage. And the dialogue, the narration, and the style of prose almost seems lyrical. Corey, the malevolent mastermind, the ultimate manipulator, achieves his acts as if an angel, one part of lightness but mostly of darkness. He becomes the modern day Lucifer, and Thompson becomes a contemporary Milton.
The second level is that of psychology. The protagonist, Sheriff Nick Corey, will immediately remind readers of Thompson's other masterpiece, The Killer Inside Me, and of its hero, Sheriff Lou Ford. In fact, Ford and Corey are forged out of the same satanic pit, the same psychopathology, the same madness, and amoral abyss. I also wonder if there is something of an American Rasputin at play in this work. For the only clue to the time in which Pop. 1280 takes place is a line in which Corey wonders whether the Russian Czar will be overthrown by the Bolsheviks. It is something, at least, upon which I could not shake myself as I read on.
A final comparison between The Killer Inside Me and Pop. 1280 can be seen in their their level of descriptiveness. The Killer Inside Me is a much denser work, its psychology much more layered than that revealed in Pop. 1280. Lou Ford's evil acts grab out and clutch the reader, leaving him gasping at Ford's violence and brutality. Nick Corey's violence, on the other hand, almost seems to take place off stage. And the dialogue, the narration, and the style of prose almost seems lyrical. Corey, the malevolent mastermind, the ultimate manipulator, achieves his acts as if an angel, one part of lightness but mostly of darkness. He becomes the modern day Lucifer, and Thompson becomes a contemporary Milton.