James Ross (1) (1911–1990)

Set in rural 1930s North Carolina at a highway roadhouse of low repute, this novel first published in 1940 has been getting some buzz as the place where country noir began (and which was promptly lost; the book never sold well). I approached it expecting a good deal of almost over the top violence, but that is an improper modern frame to bring to it. There is violence, and a bit of gore, but Ross metes it out measured and dry. There is not the sense that he's trying to shock you and provide voyeuristic gruesomeness. So that was a noticeable surprise for me.

The story is told through the eyes of Jack McDonald, a no-accounter who loses his small farm and finds work just outside town with Smut Milligan, and old acquaintance. Smut has built up a minor bootlegging/gambling concern and he aims to expand his operation with a new roadhouse and dance hall. Jack becomes Smut's right hand man, as the only other person about the place with a lick of sense. They attract mainly a crowd of low social status - mill workers blowing their weekly paychecks and some regular drunks - that is not particularly rough for all that.

Smut develops financial problems, and sees a chance to resolve them through a murder/robbery. He brings Jack into it to assist for a cut of the proceeds. Afterwards, however, Smut cuts Jack out and threatens him. Jack plots out a plan of revenge that he hopes will take care of Smut and allow himself to get away with the money.

I found the story entertaining, and the writing smart and well done. There's a good amount of cynical humor which was also a bit of a surprise. The picture it gives of a rural 1930s South rings true and as something different to read was quite interesting. Would definitely recommend. A shame that Ross never got a second novel published.… (meer)

I 'discovered' James Ross's THEY DON'T DANCE MUCH by a rather roundabout route. I had recently read two story collections by his sister, Jean Ross Justice, and enjoyed them tremendously. Then I learned she came from a writing family. Two brothers, James and Fred, also published some fiction, and her sister, Eleanor Ross Taylor, was a well-regarded poet.

Brother James's "southern noire" novel, it turns out, was his only published novel. It came out in 1940 to little fanfare, although it has been praised by no less than Raymond Chandler, acknowledged master of the hard-boiled crime genre. Since its initial release, it has been reprinted in several editions and formats. The one I just read, a 2013 Mysterious Press edition, has an introduction from Daniel Woodrell, who carries on the Southern noire/gothic writing tradition in fine fashion. (I was extremely impressed with WINTER BONE.)

THEY DON'T DANCE MUCH has been compared - and with good reason - to James M. Cain's work. And I agree, but the comparison I kept making was to Jim Thompson. But I found that Ross's book actually pre-dated Thompson's first book, although I suspect they were both publishing their stories before that, in the late 1930s. And Thompson, of course, went on to publish close to thirty novels, while James Ross wrote only this one.

But it's a damn good one, filled with gritty language and description, a little off-stage adultery, and murder most foul. And I do mean FOUL. The southern roadhouse atmosphere is especially skillfully depicted, and the corn liquor flows freely. The odd thing is that there is not a lot of action in the book's nearly 300 pages, but the suspense keeps you turning the pages. I am not surprised that this book has stayed in print in one form or another for nearly 75 years now. I suspect that as long as this particular kind of hard-boiled fiction is around, James Ross will continue to be read. If you like Hammet, Chandler, Crumley, or Woodrell, then I highly recommend this book.… (meer)

Durante la Gran Depresión, en Corinth, Carolina del Norte, no hay mucho que el joven granjero Jack McDonald pueda hacer además de beber una cerveza tras otra. Sin un céntimo y con una amenaza de embargo, Jack no duda en aceptar el empleo que su viejo compañero de colegio Smut Milligan le ofrece en su recién inagurado salón de carretera, un ugar donde se sirve alcohol de fabricación casera, se juegan partidas clandestinas de cartas y se alquilan cabañas por horas. El continuo desfile de paisanos por el salón proporciona a Milligan buenos rendimientos, a menudo en forma de dinero, otras veces en forma de averiguaciones que, llegada la hora de liquidar deudas para seguir con el negocio, podrían resultar de vital importancia. Cuando el astuto y codicioso Smut ponga en práctica su brutal plan, a Jack le resultará difícil mantenerse al margen.… (meer)

They Don’t Dance Much by James Ross was recommended reading in the back of another pulp mystery book I read. 172 James Ross The Don't Dance Much (Abridged) Signet 052Of course I had to get it. It’s a brooding mystery in the vein of the Postman Always Rings Twice by James M. Cain. It’s sparsely written, a lean first-person narrative by James rossabout getting rich quick and murder. Taking place in the south and originally published in 1940, it is filled with what we would call ‘not politically correct’ language and actions of Blacks, so if you’re a PC person, easily offended, I’d say, stay away. However, having grown up in the locale of this book, I’m sure Ross got it right for the times.

Ross’ only novel was apparently well received when published. For instance, Raymond Chandler said, “A sleazy, corrupt but completely believable story of a North Carolina town.” Hey, any book that is set around a North Carolina roadhouse, that features characters with names like Smut Milligan, Catfish Wall, and Badeye Honeycutt and includes moonshining, card and dice games, love triangles around the shapely Lola, bare knuckles brawling, and such figure in regularly, can’t be all bad.

An example of Ross’ writing, describing the luscious Lola one hot day, “She sat down at the counter and I got on the stool back of the cash register. Lola stretched her hands over her head and leaned back. If she had on a brassiere that day it must have already slipped down around her waist.” You can feel the swampy heat in the summer and the shivering cold in the winter. You can see the wheels spinning in Smut’s brain as he tries to scheme. You feel the hopelessness in the characters. I’m sorry, you don’t read writing like this anymore.

Ross has been credited as having invented ‘southern or country noir’. According to the article linked below, Ross stated that he never read James M. Cain before writing They Don’t Dance Much, but the style of writing and the bleakness of the story ring of Cain.

For more information on Ross and his writing, click on the following essay by Anthony Hatcher in the Oxford American: The Southern Magazine of Good Writing. Pulp mystery writing in the 1930s through 1950s is as varied can be. They Don’t Dance Much is another prime example of gritty writing.… (meer)