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Rue Barbare
C'est du grand Goodis, le Goodis de la désespérance quotidienne, le Goodis de la nuit. Du reste, presque toutes les scènes du roman se passent dans des décors obscurs : des cafés miteux, des rues ténébreuses, des chambres sordides. Au milieu de ce décor, évolue Chester Lawrence. Une nuit, par hasard, il tombe sur une Chinoise qui a été agressée. Il n'échange que quelques mots avec elle, s'éloigne bientôt. Mais cette femme incarne son destin. Dès lors, pour lui, plus rien ne sera comme avant. Ou plutôt, tout désormais le ramènera en arrière, vers son passé, vers des visages, des gens avec lesquels il croyait avoir définitivement rompu. Il faut lire "Rue barbare". Il faut lire et relire David Goodis. Il est la tête d'obsidienne du roman noir. " (Alexandre Lous, Le Magazine Littéraire)"
208 pages, Paperback
First published October 12, 1952
About the author
David Goodis
97 books322 followersBorn and bred in Philadelphia, David Goodis was an American noir fiction writer. He grew up in a liberal, Jewish household in which his early literary ambitions were encouraged. After a short and inconclusive spell at Indiana University, he returned to Philadelphia to take a degree in journalism, graduating in 1937.
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
August 23, 2008
Another Goodis masterpiece of urban desolation, domestic alienation, and moral desperation. The swiftness of Goodis' plotting, unfolding over the course of less than 2 days, sets him apart from the intricate mini-epics of Hammett, Chandler, Christie, and almost every other mystery writer. Instead of a number of events colliding like some cosmic collision, Goodis writes with a microscope, finding the most intimate, precise details and packs into mere seconds the suffering and uncertainty of a lifetime. Like a sheet of paper burning before your eyes, Goodis' narratives and characters self-destruct into oblivion in mere moments. Goodis' signature ephemeral noir is unparalleled.
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September 15, 2007The Gold Medal edition of this book has one of my favorite covers from the classic paperback period (artwork by Barye Phillips). The drab colors, unrefined lines, the dilapidated surroundings and worn down figures, all work together to evocate this sense of working class poverty, which in this book is not just economic poverty but moral and spiritual poverty, as if the street itself were sucking the lifeblood out of its inhabitants, condemning them to lives of spiritual misery and emotional paralysis.
In a Goodis novel, the hero is always dead before the story begins. That is, he may be walking around and breathing and technically alive in a medical sense, but spiritually, morally, he is dead to the world around him, having come face to face with the meaningless cruelty of the world and having no recourse but solitary despair. And yet, something inside of him stirs, however frozen it may be, and through the tiniest action he invests himself in the world once again. These books explore the consequences of those minute actions.
In Street of the Lost, Chet Lawrence is a hard-working railroad worker whose meager earnings are gambled and drunken away by his pathetic in-laws, who rely on his wife, just as she relies on him. Without any sense of hope, he slaves away day after day, resigned to his fate, turning a blind eye to the crimes that take place on Ruxton Street, and in turn the gangsters that rule the street leave him alone. Until one day, he stops, turns around, and helps up a Chinese girl who has just been assaulted -- a simple action, and one that sends him through a whirlwind of consequences that he tries to deny, tries to blow off, but which gradually eat away at him, until he has no choice but to do the right thing. This is Casablanca set in skid row, with no sugar coating around the raw, ugly reality of this environment; and yet what’s remarkable is how Goodis conjures up a paradoxical beauty to it all at the same time, a sympathy for these lost souls consumed by this slithering street.
Goodis’ best quality is his ability to invoke a strong sense of mood, something he accomplishes by not eliding over long passages of time; his books only span a day or two. Likewise, the sense of place, especially in Street of the Lost, feels starkly authentic, situating us within the milieu alongside his living dead, noble loser protagonists. It’s the kind of writing that I sense only comes from a good deal of personal experience, and in that way feels very honest, as if each of his flawed heroes were reflections of himself. Anyone looking for the heart of noir need look no further than these books.
In a Goodis novel, the hero is always dead before the story begins. That is, he may be walking around and breathing and technically alive in a medical sense, but spiritually, morally, he is dead to the world around him, having come face to face with the meaningless cruelty of the world and having no recourse but solitary despair. And yet, something inside of him stirs, however frozen it may be, and through the tiniest action he invests himself in the world once again. These books explore the consequences of those minute actions.
In Street of the Lost, Chet Lawrence is a hard-working railroad worker whose meager earnings are gambled and drunken away by his pathetic in-laws, who rely on his wife, just as she relies on him. Without any sense of hope, he slaves away day after day, resigned to his fate, turning a blind eye to the crimes that take place on Ruxton Street, and in turn the gangsters that rule the street leave him alone. Until one day, he stops, turns around, and helps up a Chinese girl who has just been assaulted -- a simple action, and one that sends him through a whirlwind of consequences that he tries to deny, tries to blow off, but which gradually eat away at him, until he has no choice but to do the right thing. This is Casablanca set in skid row, with no sugar coating around the raw, ugly reality of this environment; and yet what’s remarkable is how Goodis conjures up a paradoxical beauty to it all at the same time, a sympathy for these lost souls consumed by this slithering street.
Goodis’ best quality is his ability to invoke a strong sense of mood, something he accomplishes by not eliding over long passages of time; his books only span a day or two. Likewise, the sense of place, especially in Street of the Lost, feels starkly authentic, situating us within the milieu alongside his living dead, noble loser protagonists. It’s the kind of writing that I sense only comes from a good deal of personal experience, and in that way feels very honest, as if each of his flawed heroes were reflections of himself. Anyone looking for the heart of noir need look no further than these books.
March 13, 2026
As with most people, my introduction to Goodis was through Black Lizard as well as Library of America. The four books included in the L.O.A anthology I recall devouring in a few days. They were all fantastic. I also liked Night Squad. At some point I read Black Friday, which didn't quite do it for me, and recently I tried Somebody's Done For, which I'm ashamed to say I didn't even finish. I always took it for granted that someone would get STREET OF THE LOST back in print, but here I sit in 2026 and it still ain't happened. So I forked out some dough for a second edition copy.
"And it glimmered and glistened like a snake. The Ruxton street pavement was always wet with saliva and urine and spilled wine and whiskey and homemade powerhouse. There was always dirty water in the gutters"
I was a little disappointed that blood, puke, semen and excrement were not mentioned.
This entire book takes place on one street, and that's Ruxton Street. The entire plot hinges on the rape of a young girl. Goodis paints us a gruesome portrait of a street populated by the desperate, the depraved, and the generally desensitized. Chet Lawrence is our hero-to-be. Upon his return home from work he notices a girl who has just been raped and is barely standing. His conditioning tells him to leave it alone as he's been nearly killed in the past for trying to interfere in other violent affairs. Chet ignores his initial instinct long enough to have a brief, sympathetic encounter with the victim. Unfortunately for him it doesn't go unnoticed. The victims assailant, a man named Hagen, happens to be the deadliest, most deranged inhabitant of Ruxton Street. The girl Hagen has raped has the further misfortune of becoming a slave to Hagen. This is not supposed to be anyone's buisness but Hagens. But with the encouragement of a few remaining humane souls, Lawrence will find himself attempting to break the spell of apathy thats plagued Ruxton Street for as long as it's inhabitants can remember.
I was reminded of how books like this are considered 'dated' by the fact that the rape victim is not even given a name, but is just called "Chinese Girl". There's also Sam, one of the kind souls seeking justice for the girl, who is called "colored man" more than he's called by his name. But hey, that's the fifties for you. This didn't bother me, it was just an observation. What did bother me was that the fight scenes were a bit over the top, with the kind of punches and kicks being described that people shouldn't just be able to shrug off, but in this book they do. Don't get me wrong, I realize some guys are tougher than others, but the violence just wasn't that believable to me. Then there's Hagens main henchman Poncho the 'knife expert'. The descriptions of Ponchos knife skills were downright ridiculous. I mean, bordering on fantasy level. Its possible to create a deadly character without making him out to be a fuckin wizard.
But overall, despite there not being much of a plot, the Goodis vibe is present. The eloquent prose depicting the lives of society's castaways and the certainty that there will be little redemption for anyone. A story, in my opinion, still worthy of keeping in print.
"And it glimmered and glistened like a snake. The Ruxton street pavement was always wet with saliva and urine and spilled wine and whiskey and homemade powerhouse. There was always dirty water in the gutters"
I was a little disappointed that blood, puke, semen and excrement were not mentioned.
This entire book takes place on one street, and that's Ruxton Street. The entire plot hinges on the rape of a young girl. Goodis paints us a gruesome portrait of a street populated by the desperate, the depraved, and the generally desensitized. Chet Lawrence is our hero-to-be. Upon his return home from work he notices a girl who has just been raped and is barely standing. His conditioning tells him to leave it alone as he's been nearly killed in the past for trying to interfere in other violent affairs. Chet ignores his initial instinct long enough to have a brief, sympathetic encounter with the victim. Unfortunately for him it doesn't go unnoticed. The victims assailant, a man named Hagen, happens to be the deadliest, most deranged inhabitant of Ruxton Street. The girl Hagen has raped has the further misfortune of becoming a slave to Hagen. This is not supposed to be anyone's buisness but Hagens. But with the encouragement of a few remaining humane souls, Lawrence will find himself attempting to break the spell of apathy thats plagued Ruxton Street for as long as it's inhabitants can remember.
I was reminded of how books like this are considered 'dated' by the fact that the rape victim is not even given a name, but is just called "Chinese Girl". There's also Sam, one of the kind souls seeking justice for the girl, who is called "colored man" more than he's called by his name. But hey, that's the fifties for you. This didn't bother me, it was just an observation. What did bother me was that the fight scenes were a bit over the top, with the kind of punches and kicks being described that people shouldn't just be able to shrug off, but in this book they do. Don't get me wrong, I realize some guys are tougher than others, but the violence just wasn't that believable to me. Then there's Hagens main henchman Poncho the 'knife expert'. The descriptions of Ponchos knife skills were downright ridiculous. I mean, bordering on fantasy level. Its possible to create a deadly character without making him out to be a fuckin wizard.
But overall, despite there not being much of a plot, the Goodis vibe is present. The eloquent prose depicting the lives of society's castaways and the certainty that there will be little redemption for anyone. A story, in my opinion, still worthy of keeping in print.
July 22, 2023
Here’s a street from 1952, meaning:
No smartphones. Can’t remember how many pay-phones are on this street, but it doesn’t really matter, at least not in an emergency, because there is no point calling the cops.
No recycle bins. Can’t remember how many garbage cans there are, but it doesn’t really matter because no one uses them. Just trash in the gutters, and it’s worse in the alleys just off the street.
No heroes, and that does kind of matter, because Hagen has become perhaps too vile even for this street. Hagen attempts an unspeakable act at the beginning of the novel, and Chet Lawrence, welder and street veteran/prisoner, makes the mistake of showing just the tiniest bit of concern for Hagen’s latest victim. Well…almost-victim. She did get away from Ruxton St.’s worst, most depraved, inhabitant - but Hagen won’t leave her alone. It’s hard to tell if a showdown is in the works, because Lawrence shows maybe an inch more backbone than anyone else when dealing with Hagen, or his new business partner (seems more like a loyal henchman) - the fellow who can do magic with a switchblade like you wouldn’t believe - but Lawrence would prefer not to get involved…
Which leaves me saying: if you are the reader who doesn’t read a book with no good people in it…well, you can tell already Chet Lawrence doesn’t quite make the cut. But I’ve got a loophole for you: there’s a guy named Sam. Can he talk Chet into finding some guts and doing the right thing? If he can’t, what can Sam do by himself? Well, I cheered for Sam, when I found out what he was capable of.
Anyway, one last thing about the street - it’s perhaps the nastiest, most brutal, fictional street I’ve ever walked along (I haven’t even got into the rodent roster of supporting characters burning themselves out, or burnt out and burning others, on the street). But, besides no smartphones and no recycling bins (and no cops), there are virtually no guns. This book has lots of violence, but this is not a gun-driven Crime novel. Everything else - knives, blackjacks, fists, kicks, big effing wrench wielded by 450 pound woman, piece of broken stair-rail used as a club, various kitchen or bedroom items thrown at spouses or in-laws or irate gamblers or anyone, really, who says something someone else doesn’t want to hear. But not much when it comes to guns, shooting. The thing is, everyone on the street does very well without guns. So settle in for a wave of vicious, even lethal, close combat (huge former boxer Hagen and his knife-happy pal usually start with the advantage).
Bleak, cruel to many characters, (took another little piece of my)heart-breaking, and absolutely stunning, most of the time…this invisible demon of a book could be the benchmark by which to judge all hardboiled Crime novels, certainly those that are not running puzzles, or whodunnits - just Crime, and lots of it, thank you very much.
Short and street, and when it comes to the hardboiled genre, it’s got so much street cred, it’s street incred.
No smartphones. Can’t remember how many pay-phones are on this street, but it doesn’t really matter, at least not in an emergency, because there is no point calling the cops.
No recycle bins. Can’t remember how many garbage cans there are, but it doesn’t really matter because no one uses them. Just trash in the gutters, and it’s worse in the alleys just off the street.
No heroes, and that does kind of matter, because Hagen has become perhaps too vile even for this street. Hagen attempts an unspeakable act at the beginning of the novel, and Chet Lawrence, welder and street veteran/prisoner, makes the mistake of showing just the tiniest bit of concern for Hagen’s latest victim. Well…almost-victim. She did get away from Ruxton St.’s worst, most depraved, inhabitant - but Hagen won’t leave her alone. It’s hard to tell if a showdown is in the works, because Lawrence shows maybe an inch more backbone than anyone else when dealing with Hagen, or his new business partner (seems more like a loyal henchman) - the fellow who can do magic with a switchblade like you wouldn’t believe - but Lawrence would prefer not to get involved…
Which leaves me saying: if you are the reader who doesn’t read a book with no good people in it…well, you can tell already Chet Lawrence doesn’t quite make the cut. But I’ve got a loophole for you: there’s a guy named Sam. Can he talk Chet into finding some guts and doing the right thing? If he can’t, what can Sam do by himself? Well, I cheered for Sam, when I found out what he was capable of.
Anyway, one last thing about the street - it’s perhaps the nastiest, most brutal, fictional street I’ve ever walked along (I haven’t even got into the rodent roster of supporting characters burning themselves out, or burnt out and burning others, on the street). But, besides no smartphones and no recycling bins (and no cops), there are virtually no guns. This book has lots of violence, but this is not a gun-driven Crime novel. Everything else - knives, blackjacks, fists, kicks, big effing wrench wielded by 450 pound woman, piece of broken stair-rail used as a club, various kitchen or bedroom items thrown at spouses or in-laws or irate gamblers or anyone, really, who says something someone else doesn’t want to hear. But not much when it comes to guns, shooting. The thing is, everyone on the street does very well without guns. So settle in for a wave of vicious, even lethal, close combat (huge former boxer Hagen and his knife-happy pal usually start with the advantage).
Bleak, cruel to many characters, (took another little piece of my)heart-breaking, and absolutely stunning, most of the time…this invisible demon of a book could be the benchmark by which to judge all hardboiled Crime novels, certainly those that are not running puzzles, or whodunnits - just Crime, and lots of it, thank you very much.
Short and street, and when it comes to the hardboiled genre, it’s got so much street cred, it’s street incred.
October 19, 2022
Les vicissitudes de Chet Lawrence, ouvrier de maintenance sur les chemins de fer et prisonnier à perpétuité de la Rue, un sinistre quartier dominé par la débauche et le crime. Ancien voyou, Chet essaye de mener une vie rangée auprès de sa femme, une petite maigrichonne dont il s'est entiché tout jeune sans l'avoir jamais vraiment aimée. Pour ne rien arranger, il doit supporter sa belle famille, le père et le frère de son épouse, deux ivrognes invétérés qui engloutissent son salaire dans la gnôle. Finalement, Chet est malheureux mais en sécurité, loin de la Rue et de ses vices. Mais la Rue vous rattrape toujours ... Témoin d'une agression, Chet se retrouve poursuivi par ses vieux démons.
Sordide et glauque, ce roman de Goodis est pour l'instant le plus dur que j'ai pu lire de cet auteur. La Rue est un véritable personnage à part entière, qui happe et qui hante, qui tord et essore ses habitants pour n'en laisser que des guenilles dépenaillées, des loques imbibées d'alcool et de sang, de vice et de luxure, de saleté et de pauvreté
Sordide et glauque, ce roman de Goodis est pour l'instant le plus dur que j'ai pu lire de cet auteur. La Rue est un véritable personnage à part entière, qui happe et qui hante, qui tord et essore ses habitants pour n'en laisser que des guenilles dépenaillées, des loques imbibées d'alcool et de sang, de vice et de luxure, de saleté et de pauvreté
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