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He Died With His Eyes Open (Factory Series #1)

by Derek Raymond, James Sallis (Introduction)

3.85 of 5 stars 3.85 · rating details · 466 ratings · 91 reviews

“A unique crime writer whose fictional world was brutal, realistic and harrowing in the extreme.”—Guardian

When a middle-aged alcoholic is found brutally battered to death on a roadside in West London, the case is assigned to a tough-talking cynic from the Department of Unexplained Deaths. Our narrator must piece together the history of his blighted existence and discover...more

Paperback, 224 pages

Published December 1st 2006 by Serpent's Tail (first published 1984)

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The Postman Always Rings Twice by James M. Cain

Best Noir

78th out of 308 books — 203 voters

The Fiend in Human by John MacLachlan Gray

He Died With His Eyes Open by Derek Raymond

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5th out of 5 books — 2 voters

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Nov 26, 2012 Jeffrey Keeten rated it 5 of 5 stars

Recommended to Jeffrey by: Pulp Fiction Group

“Every day you amass knowledge in a frantic race against death that death must win. You want to find out everything in the time you have; yet in the end you wonder why you bothered, it'll all be lost. I keep trying to explain this to anyone who will listen.”

Robert Cook as Derek Raymond

This is the first book of four in the Factory series of detective novels with the nameless Sergeant of the Department of Unexplained Deaths as the protagonist. This department, not a popular department, but a depa...more

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Sep 16, 2012 Tfitoby rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: black-as-night, lit, favourites

He Died With His Eyes Open by Derek Raymond

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I had a feeling about this one, I desperately wanted (needed?) to read the book from the second I heard about it, yet when I finally bought a copy I allowed it to sit on my shelf for at least two months. I'm glad I did, it's an incredible piece of noir writing and to have devoured it instantly would've have been a massive disservice to Derek Raymond.

Part way through I was reminded of Ross Macdonald's famous quote about Raymond ...more

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Oct 04, 2012 Anthony Vacca rated it 5 of 5 stars

Some people enjoy living, which is something I don’t think you can say for any of the characters in He Died with his Eyes Open. If that’s already a turn-off for you then it’s probably for the best that I am making this point from the word go. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch for me to say this may be one of the most dismal, lurid novels I have ever read; certainly the bleakest detective novel I have encountered as of yet. But at the same time, let me go ahead and say that there is a stro...more Some people enjoy living, which is something I don’t think you can say for any of the characters in He Died with his Eyes Open. If that’s already a turn-off for you then it’s probably for the best that I am making this point from the word go. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch for me to say this may be one of the most dismal, lurid novels I have ever read; certainly the bleakest detective novel I have encountered as of yet. But at the same time, let me go ahead and say that there is a strong humane undercurrent that courses through this book that saves it from being cheap and tawdry like most Chuck Palahniuk novels.

The set-up for the novel sounds on paper like something I’d file away on the gimmick shelf, if it wasn’t for how unsettlingly effective Derek Raymond’s literary tools are on display here. Our narrator and own personal guide through the hell that is 1980s London is a nameless detective (bet you haven’t heard that one before) who works for the Unexplained Deaths division of the Factory, a British police station known for its corruption and brutality. What Unexplained Deaths really means is that UD (this will be my nickname for the Unnamed Detective because I am not going to write that over and over again.) is in charge of solving the murders of people nobody cares about.
Like Charlie Stainland. He’s found brutally beaten and left dead on the causeway. It’s not even a good attempt at making his death look like a vehicular accident. Stainland was a middle-aged alcoholic and failed writer. Once he is dead, nobody comes running to grieve for him, but that doesn’t mean nobody cares about Stainland’s murder. In fact, UD is the kind of guy you could say cares too much about his assignment.

Thanks to a collection of cassette tapes and notes Stainland left behind, UD is able to figure out who the most likely suspects are fairly quickly. In all honesty, the actual investigation of the murder is a fairly slight aspect of this novel. What we the readers are trying to figure out, along with UD, is not who killed Stainland, but why did they kill him and why did they hate him so much?
This is achieved by having numerous chapters give long transcripts of Stainland’s tapes. UD spends most of his free time listening and re-listening to these tapes, finding a kindred spirit in Stainland. The tapes themselves are bleak affairs, mostly speculations on how pitiful and cruel human nature can be, and the very transitory nature of all things pleasurable and painful. Listening to these tapes, UD doesn’t feel any better about himself or the world—nor do we as readers either.

Those who have read books like The Black Dhalia will be familiar with that bad habit a lot of homicide detectives just can’t seem to kick, that damned nuisance of getting inside the killer’s mind and not being able to get out. Of any writer, I think Ellroy related this best with the aforementioned novel. Nowadays, this kind of thing is sort of par the course for most catch-the-serial-killer novels to the point that it’s all pretty watered-down.

Well, Raymond does something different here. Instead of an unhealthy obsession with the killer, UD wants to be the victim. He gets inside Stainland’s head and has no intention on leaving. This creates a pretty unsettling feeling as the novel progresses and UD discovers that Stainland was involved with a woman, Barbara, who works part-time as a prostitute. Many of the tapes deal with Stainland’s feelings of inadequacy with Barbara, who is constantly abusive and degrading towards Stainland. What UD hopes to achieve by finding Barbara is something the reader will have to find out for his-or-herself.

What I really liked about this novel was the way Raymond created a dystopian atmosphere to the city of London. The book came out in 1984 and that certainly seems like a telling in itself. The tapes actually work as really unique devices for creating a strange merging of identities between Stainland and UD.

I also liked how little UD seemed like a policeman. Instead of people recognizing him immediately for a cop, most people think he is a criminal or a lowlife of some-sort. In a lot of ways, this book feels more like a private detective novel really. This is because his department lets him work alone and doesn’t particularly care one way or the other what he does as long as there are results.
This book is certainly not for everyone; I often found myself feeling drained after reading sections of this book. But it is a very well-written novel, and there is a strong sense of humanity that underlies all the emotional desolation and filth. You do genuinely like and care about Stainland by the end of this novel and see that, although the world he lived in was cruel, he himself was not.

I would highly recommend this novel to anyone who considers themselves a true fan of noir. He Died with his Eyes Open is only the first entry in a series of five books. I look forward to reading the others but am certain the results will be grim.
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Jul 02, 2012 Simon rated it 4 of 5 stars

I'd seen a review of the Factory novels, of which this is the first, in, I think, The Nation, some time ago. I'd there got the impression that these crime novels were political in essence, an indictment of Britain under Thatcher, undergoing the baleful transformation that were the 1980s. While there is some of that in this book (constant reference to the high level of unemployment, to union go-slows, to squalor and racial tension), the book was mostly existential, expressing, as I suppose noir s...more I'd seen a review of the Factory novels, of which this is the first, in, I think, The Nation, some time ago. I'd there got the impression that these crime novels were political in essence, an indictment of Britain under Thatcher, undergoing the baleful transformation that were the 1980s. While there is some of that in this book (constant reference to the high level of unemployment, to union go-slows, to squalor and racial tension), the book was mostly existential, expressing, as I suppose noir so often does, fear and loathing of an unspecified nature.

The first person narration is by un unnamed police sergeant, investigating the 'unimportant' death of an 'unimportant' person, a middle-age drunk who is found savagely beaten to death. The victim's effects include a large number of cassette tapes onto which he has recorded thoughts, memories, reflections, all adding up to a prolonged, articulated, and anguished scream. The investigator follows the clues in the tapes, interviews various people connected to the dead man and, eventually, owing to an increasing sense of identification with the victim, inserts himself into the action in a most surprising way.

The victim, Staniland, is a towering wreck of a man (someone here on GR notes how many similarities there are between him and the author), someone with whom it would be a torture to be connected, and yet immensely sympathetic and likable. His, for want of a better word, girlfriend Barbara, whom we learn about first through the many excerpts redacted from the cassettes and later, directly, through the policeman's investigations, is a frightening figure (her portrait perhaps, though perhaps not, reflecting a hint of misogyny on the part of the author, misogyny itself being an important theme in the book). The police sergeant’s own psychological journey through the novel, his growing identification with Staniland, is what propels and structures the book. (The traditional elements of the crime genre are not heavily operative and the book is not written as a whodunit, though it does take a bit of time for all that to become clear.) These three figures, the dead Staniland, Barbara, and the narrator, make an improbable and unholy triangle.

The book was first published in 1984, just around the time I was beginning my adult life in London. In fact, I lived in New Cross, where Barbara is living, which is right next to Lewisham, where the victim’s flat was. In 1981, there was a fire at a party of black youths in New Cross at which 13 people were killed. I walked by that house twice a day, both before and after the fire, on my way to and from the center of London. The author alludes to this event in passing, I think, though relocating the event to nearby Lewisham. I say all this because the London in this book is not all that recognizable to me. True, I was not very aware (politically or in any other sense) at that stage of my life; but it is partly the unfamiliarity of the place depicted in the book that leads me to read the novel existentially, rather than historically.(less)

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Feb 06, 2009 Charles rated it 4 of 5 stars

If you like a gritty crime story, tight writing and terse dialogue, this is it! I can't wait to read the other three books in what's known as "The Factory Series." Here below is a bit on the book I found in Wikipedia:

Cook published He Died With His Eyes Open (1984) under the pen name of Derek Raymond. He adopted his new pseudonym because he did not want to be confused with the other Robin Cook, best-selling author of Coma and other airport fare, “nor with the bloody shadow minister for health, c...more

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Mar 18, 2013 Tim Niland rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: 2013-reads

The nameless detective who narrates this unusual tale works for the Department of Unexplained Deaths, the lowest rung of The Factory, a monolithic branch of British Police. Other departments of The Factory investigate the high-profile crimes, while Unexplained Deaths gets cases like this: a ragged and drunken middle aged man found beaten to death in the pouring rain. No one cares, but the detective cannot let it go: who was this man? What led to his lonely and forgotten fate? When the detective...more

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Nov 07, 2012 Ian Mapp rated it 4 of 5 stars

I understand that there are five books in the series, this is the first chronologically and fourth that i have read (how the dead live, dead man upright, i was dora suarez).

This leaves the devils home on leave.

This is a good introduction to the series - showing the nameless sergeant as the compassionate man that he is in the remaining books.

A very badly beated body of an alcoholic is found in West London. The sergeant needs to determined why someone did him in so badly.

This is done through notes...more

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May 12, 2012 Rob Kitchin rated it 4 of 5 stars

Derek Raymond is the pen-name of Robin Cook, his own name already taken by the medical thriller writer and the Labour politician. Having looked him up online, it seems that Raymond’s own history has more than a few passing references to Charles Staniland, the murder victim in He Died With His Eyes Open – both retreated as boys to the countryside in the Second World War, went to public school, dropped out of upper class life, went on the lam around Europe, bought a crumbling chateau in France, sq...more

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Jan 03, 2012 Criminal Reads rated it 3 of 5 stars

Character Development: I fell in love with the victim in this book. I learned about him through his tapes and like that he spoke honestly about his life and how he spent living it. I almost felt like figuring out who killed him was secondary to the book because I kept wanting to get to the parts where he reveals more about himself. That is good and bad.

Storyline: As I said above, finding out how he died became secondary to me. I was more interesting in discovering who the victim was while he was...more

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Sep 08, 2011 Tony rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: fiction-crime-detection

71. Raymond, Derek. HE DIED WITH HIS EYES OPEN. (1984). ****.
Raymond was a British noir writer, born Robin William Arthur Cook. He changed his name to this nom de plume because he didn’t want to be confused with the American author, Robin Cook – although his sales figures might have looked vastly different. This is only the second novel of his that I have read, but will probably read the rest of the series in time. This novel is the first in his series called “The Factory” novels. His hero is a...more 71. Raymond, Derek. HE DIED WITH HIS EYES OPEN. (1984). ****.
Raymond was a British noir writer, born Robin William Arthur Cook. He changed his name to this nom de plume because he didn’t want to be confused with the American author, Robin Cook – although his sales figures might have looked vastly different. This is only the second novel of his that I have read, but will probably read the rest of the series in time. This novel is the first in his series called “The Factory” novels. His hero is an un-named sergeant in a group called A14 – the Department of Unexplained Deaths. He is the sole member of this group and can do pretty much anything he wants without having to worry about group plans or necessarily adhere to all the finer points of the law. The “Factory” referred to in the series is the building where he and many other groups of detectives are based, in a less desireable section of London. The story opens up as he is called to examine a dead man found off the side of a highway. The man, whose identity is later learned, was a writer and an alcoholic, and had been – essentially – beaten to death with the aid of a cosh, boots, and a knife. There are no clues, except those that provide the man’s identity. In order to find out who the killer(s) were, our nameless detective has to go back and enter into the former life of the dead man. There he discovers that the man had been associated with a woman that caused him to leave his wife and daughter. This strange bit turns out to be a completely amoral creature that also attracts the detective – to the point that he takes up an affair with her. Through her, he discovers a world of perversion that he didn’t realize existed in London and that impacted on many lives of the people who knew the dead man. The dialogue is spare. The detective is very introspective, and also uses a series of cassette tapes made by the killed man to provide a philosophical background to his interpretation of life. This edition has a preface by James Sallis, one of the authors that I have high regard for, who tries to place Raymond within the progression of British noir writers. The writing is uniformly good, although you will not likely encounter many noir novels like this one because of the author’s ability to convey mental pictures of all of his characters. Recommended.
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Jul 02, 2012 Nick rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: classics, historical, mysteries

Reviewers compare Derek Raymond to Chandler, and there are reasons: the principled white knight seeking truth in the modern urban world of sleaze and corruption; but I kept thinking of Jim Thompson, the real progenitor of noir to my mind, and a writer with much raw affection for the bottom feeders of society, the alcoholics, the criminally insane, the venal and self-obsessed. Chandler wanted to bring down the ruling class and the institutional toadies who serve them. It is the rich and the power...more

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Nov 22, 2012 Mike rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition Recommends it for: The Noir Lover

Recommended to Mike by: goodreads group Pulp Fiction November, 2012, group read

Shelves: 20th-century, 2012, crime, dark-fiction, death, justice, murder, noir, scotland-yard, series, series-debut, social-outcasts, goodreads-group-pulp-fiction, group-read, derek-raymond

He Died with His Eyes Open: Derek Raymond's Novel of Who Speaks for the Dead who Don't Matter

From the Reviewer

First Edition, Abacus Press, 1984

Derek Raymond was the pen name of English writer Robin Cook, 1931-1994. When he began writing the Factory novels in 1984, he took the pen name to avoid confusion with the American author Robin Cook, known for his medical mystery thrillers. However, it remained a confusing matter because the European releases maintained the name "Robin Cook."

Robin Cook,...more

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Feb 05, 2012 Sharon rated it 5 of 5 stars

"All the evil in the world is powerless against intelligence and courage".

A dead body of a man is found in London and the detective protagonist needs to find who did it. What he finds is an interesting oral history of the victim's life captured by the victim on tapes. The tapes reveal the loneliness and destitution that the victim endures and the people that play a part of his life and death.

This book was originally published in the 1980's and the writing is fantastic. I really enjoyed this noir...more

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Apr 07, 2013 Manuel rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: 2013

Extrem Noir literature... One of the darkest noir novels I’ve ever read and also one of the best. Derek Raymond is far beyond noir. There probably isn't even a word for his kind of darkness I think.
I definitely see noir as existentialist literature and this is one of the its primary examples.
Everyone who's a fan of Noir should this book, but be prepared to feel the urge to take a shower and turn on all your houselights after reading them. Ever since the release of Derek Raymond’s Factory Series...more

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Nov 19, 2012 Melki rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: crime, noir

Most people live with their eyes shut, but I mean to die with mine open.

The corpse had been viciously beaten. His death barely even made the papers.

Enter a nameless Detective Sergeant of the Department of Unexplained Deaths.

We work on obscure, unimportant, apparently irrelevant deaths of people who don't matter and who never did.

With only some cassette tapes and scribbled messages left by the victim, the DS sets out to find a killer. Through interviews with possible suspects, he slowly begins...more

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Mar 13, 2011 David Gallin-Parisi rated it 4 of 5 stars

A bleak, winter remains hanging-in-the-air, murder mystery. Listening to cassette tapes of an unknown man who was ghastly killed, the narrator forms a bond with his case that investigates the desolation and withdrawal of a person's being from society into lonliness and desparation. The narrator navigates the dirtiest of London characters, settings, and situations with a darkly humorous style and confident smarts, my favorite sort of storyteller. The cassette tapes interspersed with the story are...more

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Sep 11, 2011 rameau rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: arc-galley, whodunit, recommending, reprint, read-in-2011

This is a different kind of mystery novel. Instead of hiding the clues for as long as possible and distracting the reader from the obvious, Derek Raymond dives deep into the pool of victim characterisation. His nameless Factory detective gets lost in the cassette tapes the victim has recorded and finally in his life too.

The exceptional characterisation of the victim is what makes this novel so special, but it's also its weakest point, because in the end, an old man's blathering is just that, an...more

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Nov 16, 2012 Ctgt rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: crime-noir

This was not a typical crime read, more literate, with some of delving into the human psyche. Never do learn the name of the main character, he is given a murder case and through writings and cassette tapes left by the victim, he learns about his life and tracks down the perps. Looks at the darker side of humanity, not really violence, (although there is some violence throughout) but in the way people can use relationships to control and ultimately alter another persons behavior. He quite litera...more

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Dec 16, 2010 abo rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: fiction

Dimenticate CSI.
Dimenticate il Luminol, le tracce di DNA, dimenticate le brillanti deduzioni di poliziotti dall’ego straripante.
Se è questo che cercate, avete sbagliato libro, avete sbagliato pianeta. Perché qui il protagonista non è chi indaga (tanto da restare un Sergente di cui non sappiamo neppure il nome), ma chi è stato ucciso, qui la scoperta dell’identità dell’assassino è meno importante che ricostruire quella della vittima. Charles Staniland in vita era una nullità (o almeno così si con...more Dimenticate CSI.
Dimenticate il Luminol, le tracce di DNA, dimenticate le brillanti deduzioni di poliziotti dall’ego straripante.
Se è questo che cercate, avete sbagliato libro, avete sbagliato pianeta. Perché qui il protagonista non è chi indaga (tanto da restare un Sergente di cui non sappiamo neppure il nome), ma chi è stato ucciso, qui la scoperta dell’identità dell’assassino è meno importante che ricostruire quella della vittima. Charles Staniland in vita era una nullità (o almeno così si considerava): un uomo di mezza età privo di un impiego fisso, con un matrimonio fallito alle spalle e gravi problemi di alcolismo. Charles Staniland è stato ammazzato di botte, con una ferocia tale da renderlo quasi irriconoscibile. Un delitto bestiale, ma dalla scarsa rilevanza mediatica, e per questo prontamente passato alla Factory, il dipartimento Omicidi Insoluti di Scotland Yard. Tra gli effetti personali di Staniland, una immensa collezione di cassette, a cui la vittima ha affidato le insicurezze e i fallimenti che ne hanno scandito l’esistenza, e l’amore tormentato per Barbara, femme fatale glaciale con cui ha condiviso l’ultimo periodo della sua vita. I nastri sono l’unica pista a cui il Sergente possa aggrapparsi per capire cosa abbia portato a una morte così violenta, sono il testamento di un uomo della cui morte nessuno sembra interessarsi, buona al massimo per un trafiletto su un quotidiano.
Non siamo di fronte a un caso che possa fruttare una promozione a chi indaga, e in effetti al Sergente della carriera non importa nulla. Quello che gli sta a cuore è la verità, pura e semplice, è capire chi possa essere così disumano da uccidere un ubriacone squattrinato; vuole lasciarsi condurre dalla voce di Staniland, sintonizzarsi sulle frequenze di un’esistenza misera. Vedere con gli occhi della vittima, gettare uno sguardo sui bassifondi di Londra, tra sordidi nightclub e pub dove il cinismo e gli espedienti sono l’unica legge conosciuta. È in questo aspetto che "E morì a occhi aperti" si dimostra capolavoro di un genere, il noir, di cui sovverte regole e stilemi.
Il Sergente senza nome non assomiglia allo stereotipo di detective cui siamo abituati: non spara, non picchia, vìola la procedura solo come estrema ratio. Non è capace di provare un freddo distacco verso l’indagine, e contemporaneamente riesce a non sporcarsi quando affonda le mani nella feccia della società. Le sue armi sono le parole (affilatissime, con dialoghi che rasentano la perfezione) e una buona dose di compassione, nel senso più letterale del termine. La stessa che lo porta ad identificarsi con la vittima, con il rischio di condividerne la tragica fine.
Se vi appassiona l’indagine fine a se stessa, lo ripeto, avete sbagliato pianeta, perché qui si parla degli angoli più bui dell’essere umano.
E di questi non ci si può liberare, neppure intuendo fin dall’inizio chi sia l’assassino.

http://mondobalordo.wordpress.com (less)

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Apr 05, 2012 Craig Pittman rated it 2 of 5 stars

A big meh. I'd heard how great and gritty the "Factory" series of police novels by UK gangster-turned-writer Derek Raymond (real name Robin Cook) were, so I figured I'd try 'em. This is the first in the series, and perhaps for that reason it's not all that great. The writing is pretty good, but the plot meanders back and forth and the characters, other than the crime victim, never really gel. The nameless narrator does things so outrageously wrong -- he not only sleeps with a suspect, he actuall...more

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Jun 30, 2012 Mark Matthews rated it 4 of 5 stars

A body of a man who's death revealed an incredible amount of pain before he died is found, and "He Died with His Eyes Open" is the story of a London detective from‘unsolved deaths’ division who investigates the murder. In order to do so, he fully immerses himself into his life, tracing his background closely through the dark alleys, clubs, and the leacherous underground of London. The characters are rich and pop from the page through the incredible dialect. The novel reads smooth, sharp, and qui...more A body of a man who's death revealed an incredible amount of pain before he died is found, and "He Died with His Eyes Open" is the story of a London detective from‘unsolved deaths’ division who investigates the murder. In order to do so, he fully immerses himself into his life, tracing his background closely through the dark alleys, clubs, and the leacherous underground of London. The characters are rich and pop from the page through the incredible dialect. The novel reads smooth, sharp, and quick, with just enough richness to keep you satsified.

While investigating, the detective undercovers a series of notes and tapes that the victim left behind, and becomes obsessed with learning about him. He decides he needs to solve this crime because the victim represents a sense of innocence, idealism, and higher degree of human nature than anyone around him, and thus if this man’s death can go unpunished, then the world is a chaotic and inhumane place to exist.

As to who the killer is, it is cleverly hidden, and at one point the detective decides that pretty much everyone in this victims life has killed him to one degree or another. All of them. This is the novel’s world, where idealism and kindness gets slowly killed by all those around them, and the only recluse is the journaling and writing where the victim poured his whole soul into.

The reader reads this story within the story along with the detective, and thus we are becoming him, just as enthralled about why this person died and at who’s hands. The author does an incredible job of switching from the dark, yet more pragmatic tone of the world of the detective to the romantic, saddened despair and longing of the victim.

You may fall in love with the character, perhaps pity him, but it’s easy to see how he can become victimized living in his world of perversions. And it’s not just poverty that causes the coldnees he is treated with, his well-off family shuns him and takes advantage of him just the same.

The title comes to mind of a character who, upon opening his eyes to what was all around him, died from all the forces that kill him.

You can’t help but think of dostevesky while reading this. It is crime fiction with a sharp yet sad, stoic-laced tone that humms in the background.
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Apr 02, 2012 Simon rated it 4 of 5 stars

This was first published as part of a 5 book round up.

First up was He Died With His Eyes Open by Derek
Raymond this was what you expect from A factory
novel as usual there is a grim murder and some
very nasty folk involved in all sorts of nasty
south east london Geezers are involved in this
sordid tale of deceit and desparation the only
bit of this book that got a bit hard to get
along with is that much of it is told in the
form of transcripts of cassette tapes of the
murder man telling his stor...more

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Sep 08, 2012 Willie Whelan rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: crime

I had this recommended to me by David at No Alibis bookshop in Belfast. It is an amazing piece of work and you wonder how Mr. Raymond (Cook) did not achieve more fame in his lifetime. The book feels like a more modern version of Raymond Chandler. The plot is interesting but probably not the point :) it is not a whodunnit as most people will quickly figure out the mystery. Some of the prose is that good that I reread paragraphs just to marvel at how they were constructed. I would recommend this b...more

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Jan 24, 2013 Mari rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

...negli occhi offuscati rimaneva il barlume di un qualche ricordo che aveva voluto portare con sé la dove era andato.

Il corpo orrendamente martoriato di Charles Staniland viene ritrovato alla periferia di Londra. La vittima ha ancora gli occhi aperti, la faccia è quasi irriconoscibile.
L'indagine è affidata a un sergente senza nome della sezione Delitti irrisolti della Factory. Staniland ha lasciato numerosi scritti e registrazioni che il detective userà per arrivare all'assassino e che gli perm...more

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Jan 20, 2013 Ismael Galvan rated it 5 of 5 stars

He Died with his Eyes Open by Derek Raymond is a modern noir that holds its own even amongst the classic masters. It’s the opening book to Factory Series. But don’t worry, there isn’t an annoying cliffhanger. The story takes place in cold streets of London where a middle aged man is found with his head bashed in. The protagonist, a police detective, has nothing go on besides a collection of tapes the murdered man left behind. They lead him into the underbelly of jolly old England in which he mee...more

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Aug 28, 2012 Andrew Nette rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: crime

Derek Raymond’s He Died with His Eyes Open is a police procedural like no other I’ve ever read.

It’s a bleak, deeply disturbing slice of genuine Brit noir, a story of busted lives and nothingness.

The story starts, like so many other crime novels, with the discovery of a body. It’s a winter night in London, a police strike is on. The unnamed cop (the story’s narrator) who catches the case is a tough talking sergeant from the Department of Unexplained Deaths, also known as A14, at the Factory Polic...more

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Nov 23, 2012 Michael rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: crime, hard-boiled, pulp, police-procedural, british-literature, 1980s

Armed with a box of tapes as evidence, the detective Sergeant sets out to solve the brutal murder of a middle-aged alcoholic who was found dumped on the city outskirts. Murder is a dime a dozen in London and Scotland Yard has more serious cases to deal with. This rogue detective is haunted by the voices on these cassette diaries which leaves him with no choice by to find out why He Died With His Eyes Open.

Book One of the Factory series follows the unnamed Detective Sergeant in his quest to solve...more Armed with a box of tapes as evidence, the detective Sergeant sets out to solve the brutal murder of a middle-aged alcoholic who was found dumped on the city outskirts. Murder is a dime a dozen in London and Scotland Yard has more serious cases to deal with. This rogue detective is haunted by the voices on these cassette diaries which leaves him with no choice by to find out why He Died With His Eyes Open.

Book One of the Factory series follows the unnamed Detective Sergeant in his quest to solve the crime of someone the rest of the city does not care about. Part police procedural, part noir, Derek Raymond has a refreshingly new take on the pulp genre. Not only the fact that it combines procedural crime to the plot or the fact that it’s set in London, but what stood out to me is that Raymond mixed the dark hard hitting hard boiled protagonist and gave him compassion. You don’t actually see the compassion by his actions; this detective feels as hard boiled as they come, yet he seems to care about solving the crime of someone that doesn’t really matter. This is what made He Died With His Eyes Open so great.

I feel like Derek Raymond should be compared to noir legend Jim Thompson, mixing the dark and gritty with a real psychological aspect. While at times Raymond’s writing is a bit sloppy and the plot isn’t as tight as the greats, there is something quite spectacular about this novel. It feels like a normal pulp novel, but there is also something refreshingly different about this novel.

The unnamed protagonist is such a strong character, full of mystery and tough as nails. He Died With His Eyes Open is an absolute must read for pulp fans, and I must admit I’m so glad to read a crime novel like this that is not set in America. The English slang and terminology throughout this book was a joy to read. I like to see new spins in the pulp genre when they are done remarkably well, and this novel does just that. Everything you want in a deliciously dark pulp novel plus so many extras; He Died With His Eyes Open is worth getting your hands on.

This review originally appeared on my blog; http://literary-exploration.com/2012/...(less)

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Feb 16, 2009 Nathalie rated it 2 of 5 stars

The detective in 'He Died With His Eyes Open' speaking here, talks about a sculptor I knew in Fulham. He was a friend of mine's Grandad who I visited a few times when he was still alive in the '8os, living surrounded by his sculpture in his council studio in Fulham:

'I switched the player off and began thinking for no apparent reason about a friend I had once when I was a young man. He was a sculptor who used my local pub in the Fulham Road; his studio was just opposite. He wore sandals but no...more The detective in 'He Died With His Eyes Open' speaking here, talks about a sculptor I knew in Fulham. He was a friend of mine's Grandad who I visited a few times when he was still alive in the '8os, living surrounded by his sculpture in his council studio in Fulham:

'I switched the player off and began thinking for no apparent reason about a friend I had once when I was a young man. He was a sculptor who used my local pub in the Fulham Road; his studio was just opposite. He wore sandals but no socks, whatever the weather, and was always powdered with stone dust; this gave him a grey appearance and got under his nails. He wore his white hair long and straight over his ears. He was a Communist, and he didn’t care who knew it, though he only said so if people asked. They didn’t bother often. He was a Communist as an act of faith, like a Cathar. He accepted the doctrine straight, as Communists used to before they won and everything turned sour. But he rarely spoke to anyone about politics; there were so many other things to talk about. He and I used to stand at the bar together and drink beer and talk about them. But few people talked to him. That suited him. Most people couldn’t be bothered because he was stone deaf and could only lip-read you. He was deaf because he had fought for the Republic with the XIIth Brigade in the Spanish war. He had fought at Madrid (University Buildings), and later at Huesca and Teruel with the XVth. But at Teruel he had had both eardrums shattered when a shell exploded too close to him.
‘It was worth it.’
‘No regrets?’
‘No, of course not.’
One of the greatest forms of courage is accepting your fate, and I admired him for living with his affliction without blaming anyone for it. His name was Ransome, and he was sixty-five when I first knew him. He got his old-age pension and no more; governments don’t give you any money for fighting in foreign political wars. People like that are treated like nurses — expected to go unseen and unrewarded. So Ransome had to live in a very spare, austere way, living on porridge and crackers, drinking tea, and getting on with his sculpture. It suited him, luckily. He had always lived like that.
'Nobody who mattered liked his sculpture; when I went over to his council studio I understood why. His figures reminded me of Ingres crossed with early Henry Moore; they were extraordinarily graceful, and far too honest to mean anything whatever to current trendy taste. There was a quality in them that no artist nowadays can seize anymore; they expressed virtues — toughness, idealism, determination — that went out of style with a vanished Britain that I barely remembered. I asked him why, with his talent, he didn’t progress to a more modern attitude, but he said it was no use; he was still struggling to represent the essence of what he had experienced in the thirties. ‘What I’m always trying to capture,’ he explained, ‘is the light, the vision inside a man, and the conviction which that light lends his action, his whole body. Haven’t you noticed how the planes of a man’s body alter when he’s in the grip of a belief? The ex-bank-clerk acquires the stature of an athlete as he throws a grenade — or, it might be, I recollect the instant where an infantryman in an attack, a worker with a rifle, is stopped by a bullet: I try to reconstruct in stone the tragedy of a free man passing from life to death, from will to nothingness: I try to capture the second in which he disintegrates. It’s an objective that won’t let me go,’ he said, ‘and I don’t want it to.’ He had been full of promise before he went to Spain; he grubbed about and found me some of his old press-cuttings. In one of them he was quoted as saying: ‘A sculptor’s task is to convey the meaning of his time in terms of its overriding idea. If he doesn’t transmit the idea he’s worth nothing, no matter how much fame he acquires or money he makes. The idea is everything.’
pp. 192-194

RIP Bob
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Nov 18, 2012 Bobbi rated it 5 of 5 stars

This is a strange book. It starts off as procedural, then bit by bit the case devolves into obsession. The writing is beautiful, the dialogue snaps, and I really like the manner of the main character - I didn't realize he didn't have a name until I saw that someone had mentioned it on a thread. For a moment I thought, no, I know his name. It's... But of course I didn't. It's pretty amazing that an author can create a well-drawn character like that and not only never mention his name, but not mak...more

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Nov 13, 2012 Mohammed rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: 2012, noir, favorite-books

This is beautifully written book that i appreciated for its journey in to the depths of human depravity. I can praise the way the writer captured perfectly the speech patterns, the setting of the story but really the most important part to me was the emotional truth in the story. I believed fully in the struggles of the narrator who tries to understand the death, life of Charlie Staniland.

Its truly rare to read a book like this that is both so well written,not a word wasted and move me so much...more

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About Derek Raymond

Aka Robin Cook.

Pen name for Robert William Arthur Cook. Born into privilege, Raymond attended Eton before completing his National Service. Raymond moved to France in the 50's before eventually returning to London in the 60's. His first book, 'Crust on its Uppers,' released in 1962 under his real name, was well-received but brought few sales. Moving through Italy he abandoned writing before returni...more

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“Anyone who conceives of writing as an agreeable stroll towards a middle-class life-style will never write anything but crap.” — 8 people liked it

“I have taken a terrible beating from the truth and feel tamed, wise and desperate, as if I had taken a short route to wisdom through a mirror, and cut myself badly on it as I passed through.” — 4 people liked it

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He Died With His Eyes Open (Factory Series #1)

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