Pop. 1280 (Jim Thompson, 1964)

Straightforward story about a local sheriff of some godforsaken Texas hillbilly county. A simple-minded dude with simple problems concerning women, trying hard to be re-elected since being a local law enforcer is about the only thing in the world he feels he knows how to handle. See "cool lines" below and you'll get the picture.

Of course, it's not as simple as that. Although incredibly entertaining and easy to read and follow, Pop. 1280 is anything but a simple read. The story is quite complex, involving numerous characters and events that ultimately lead to a significant decrease in the initial population by the end. Plotting is superb, and tension build-up, together with the final twist, are good enough alone for the highest grade this total masterpiece gets from me.

But the real story and detective challenge (for the reader) takes place inside Nick's head. Who the hell is this guy? At the beginning, he's just a simplistic, clueless and almost retarded asshole driven by the desire to be re-elected. As the first bodies start to emerge, we realise that he's not exactly harmless, but he's almost cute, and in a way, we still find ourselves sympathetic towards him. At least I was, maybe because of his hilariously cunning scheming, or his incredible (ab)use of grammar, or simply his questionable luck with women. But there's just so much that man can take, and it becomes more and more clear that our main man is not exactly right in his head.

And this, for me, is the novel's main appeal - was he crazy all along or did something finally push him over the edge? We will get the answer, and it will be a creepy one. Also, an unexpected one, I couldn't see it coming at all.

Pottsville definitely deserves a few words. Cesspool of humanity it is, without a single likeable character around. Liars, cheaters, wife beaters, misogynists, people fucking their relatives (kids not excluded), nymphomaniacs, mentally retarded, simply mean, greedy and ignorant hillbillies (I caught him reading a book!) and most of them total racists. Racism is one of the prevailing themes and Thompson uses it as a tool to emphasize storytelling, sometimes even its humorous parts - I giggled at the scene when Nick spreads around the rumor that his election competitor Sam has "raped a little two year old nigger baby" but stuff like "niggers shouldn't be counted as a regular population since they have no souls" just makes you speechless and leaves you sad. No wonder Nick went a bit crazy in such an environment.

Cool thing - and another touch of maestro - is that Pottsville doesn't really feel like some big ass metaphor for America's little towns. At least not at the beginning, that is. I had the impression that Thompson simply enjoyed inventing these oddballs and playing with them. However, as the story progresses and darkens, it becomes increasingly clear that the author is a pessimist, suggesting that the only way out of this state of decay (Pottsville) is to become as insane (or religious) as the people living there. To put it into Nick's words: "There can't be no personal hell because there ain't no personal sins. They are all public."

This is unforgettable stuff; it should be made mandatory reading in primary schools.

5/5

Facts:

Hero: 
Sheriff Nick Corey

Location:
Pottsville, 47th largest county of the state (of Texas, I assume)

Body count: 6

Dames: 
His mean, bitchy wife, Myra, plus mistresses Rose and Amy

Blackouts: 

/

Title: 
Pottsville has a population of 1280. But it could also be titled Pop. 1274...

Cover: 
The Orion edition's cover is hardly worth commenting on. I'm also including an older cover that I find interesting because it attempts to market this dark masterpiece as a light-hearted western comedy. Although when looking at the guy's facial expression long enough, you'll see a glimpse of psychotic tendencies in his eyes.

Cool lines:  
"Me?" I said. "I do my job all the time."
"You! You stupid silly spineless fool! You don't do anything!"
"Well, that's my job," I said. "Not doing nothing. I mean. That's why people elect me."

What I loved was myself, and I was willing to do anything I god-danged had to to go on lying and cheating and drinking whiskey and screwing women and going to church on Sunday with all the other respectable people.[The Coolest!]


"Can't very well run a town without one, right, Buck?"
"Right! Why if they wasn't any whores, the decent ladies wouldn't be safe on the streets."
"Kee-reck!"  Ken nodded. "Fellas would get all full of piss an' high spirits and take right off after 'em."

"The next time they even look like they're goin' to sass you, you just kick 'em in the balls as hard as you can."
"Huh?" I said. "But - but don't it hurt awful bad?"
"Pshaw, 'course it don't hurt. Not if you're wearin' a good pair o' boots without no holes in 'em."
"That's right," Buck said. "You just be sure you ain't got any toes stickin' out and it won't hurt you a-tall."