Ron Slate

Back and forth is a way to move when the visible is spacious. But what’s the state of the last boat, lightly loaded and unprofitable? Tied up at the mainland dock, the ferry shudders in its berth, its captain consults a tide chart and grunts. A new, possessive moon. Late departure, a rigid beam of light probes the sea lane for what violates or drifts. The other shore, not far off, can leap and hurt the hand pointing at it.

The Dangers of Contemplation The Dangers of Contemplation August 21, 2020 Slate Ron The Dangers of Contemplation Follow the seagull aloft in arcs above the ballpark. The mind can go that high and far. The mind can hover surreptitiously staring into the open skull of the stadium and pick out something small drifting there and call it the enigma in miniature. Popcorn kernel. Bottle cap. Or a scattering of peanut shells.

WITH THE COLLAPSE of literary writing into popular culture and the smudging of boundaries between genres, the status of noir fiction may seem uncertain. But then, noir has always been a protean category, a shadowy realm for novelists to develop their signature styles and work out their obsessions. So-called mainstream novelists sometimes make forays into the genre, raiding its attributes. When the culture roils with angst (and when doesn’t it?), noir fiction makes a blunt drama from our distress.