In Granโ€™s third novel, Josephine Flanniganโ€”former junkie, former working girlโ€”is squeaking by in 1950โ€™s Manhattan. Sheโ€™s living in a rent-by-the-week room and boosting some occasional jewelry when sheโ€™s approached by a couple to help find their missing daughter. Of course, itโ€™s not what it seems. With every vertiginous step she takes in the questโ€”descending into New Yorkโ€™s seedy dance halls, shooting galleries and whore housesโ€”things get worse. Gran successfully evokes the black-and-white โ€™50s desperation of William S. Burroughs and Weegee, driving the plot along with a succession of twists and turns that reveal thereโ€™s nothing but deceit and manipulation, even in those you thought you could trust. Her prose is lean, gritty, hardboiledโ€”a la Chandler and Thompsonโ€”moving the story to a conclusion thatโ€™s a definition of noire itself.

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