It’s 1992 and three people’s lives are about to collide against the flaming backdrop of the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles. Vietnam vet Harry Hudson is a journalist fleeing his the war, a failed marriage, and a fear-ridden childhood. Rootless, he stutters, wrestles with depression, and is aware he’s passed the point at which victim becomes victimizer. He explores the city’s lowest dives, the only places where he feels at home. He meets Mama Thuy, a Vietnamese woman struggling to run a Navy bar in a tough Long Beach neighborhood, and Kelly Crenshaw, an African-American prostitute whose husband is in prison. They give Harry insight that maybe he can do something to change his fate in a gripping story that is both a character study and thriller.
“For if the Chieu Hoi Saloon was a church, Harry Hudson thought, it was a congregation of fools, of incomplete people gathering around Mama Thuy in hope that some of her wholeness would rub off. A scruffy crew of worshippers who had long since lost the ability – if they ever had it in the first place – to control their behaviour, moment by moment, well enough to pass as normal citizens. While Mama Thuy, in contrast, never stopped being in charge.”
THE CHIEU HOI SALOON is a noir in the Goodis mould without the detailed introspective narrative common throughout his novels. Where Goodis relies on the strength and well defined mannerisms of his characters accompanied by a linear plot to keep the characters heading in a common direction (usually straight to the gutter), Harris places an emphasis on the character’s misgivings, personable interactions and situational ramifications without the fanfare of crafty plot devices. While initially discerning, this detailed study actually added to the free flowing uncertainty attached to the lead character in Harry Hudson by which his meandering and over compensation towards a fleeting glimpse of gratitude is paramount to the picture Harris painstakingly paints.
There are a couple of key components to THE CHIEU HOI SALOON; Harry Hudson – a stuttering and at time blundering mess seeking solace in the arms of paid companionship or the unattainable, Kelly – a prostitute who leaches off Harry’s goodwill and misplaced gratitude in order to finance her living. Harris switches the POV to ensure the reader gets a well rounded account of the story and a look at the differing perspectives. The insight into Kelly’s world and the way she portrays Henry is just as good as Henry’s on her.
The story evolves around the characters that frequent the Chieu Hoi Saloon, ran by Mama Thuy, a Vietnamese woman who’s as tough and provocative as they come, and the various barflies that float in and out of the watering hole. Certain events that take place there involve violence, family drama, and friendship but all have one thing in common – a glimmering hope for a better place albeit viewed through beer goggles.
I liked THE CHIEU HOI SALOON but think it would’ve been slightly better executed had the story been condensed, however, it didn’t deter me from wanting to keep reading. Overall, this is a multilayered noir that’s all about character and longing. Fans of Goodis are bound to enjoy.
As the Primus song says "For the boy we have American life...". A masterpiece of social realism. Reminiscent of the best of Philip K. Dick but significantly grittier.
One of the most impressive studies of character I've ever read I think, this hauntingly incompetant and stuttering figure aching for redemption and human warmth will take you to some of the darkest places a man can possibly go. So you descend with him, because there is nothing else to do as you're drawn into this world of his where you can never quite mark the point where reality ends and his own obsessions and failures begin. All of this is in stark contrast to Kelly Crenshaw (prostitute) and Mama Thuy (the owner of the dive bar he comes to call home), both perhaps as trapped, but awake and alive and engaged in a battle of wits against the world. I would say that it is the darkest thing I've read, the most heart-breaking and the most frustrating, but for the sense of compassion without sentiment that gives it a rare radiance in places, and keeps hope alive. That might be even more painful in the end. A hell of a book and a worthy Switchblade title.
Michael Harris takes us into the depths - and shows us how the human spirit can survive. As a former journalist, I loved his forays into the copy desk and its characters! A noir novel of the disappointed heart.