Autor de novela Negra preferido de los foreros

cesare dijo:

Como se acercan las vacaciones, y siendo este uno de los géneros que prefiero, ¿cual es vuestro autor preferido de novela negra ?
El mio, John Connolly. Lo acabo de descubrir por casualidad, y me ha encantado , son negras negras de verdad sus novelas sobre todo la serie de el detective Charlie Parker, llevo dos sólo leídas de este autor y me esta gustando.
Pd Que me perdone James Ellroy, que hasta ahora era mi preferido.

Saludos

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Golo dijo:

Pues yo no soy muy aficionado a la novela negra pero hace un tiempo me leí por casualidad un libro de Raymond Chandler (venía en una colección de Público, o de El País, ya no recuerdo) y me encantó y luego busqué más libros suyos y acabé leyéndome otros 3 o 4 más del mismo autor, pero ya no conozco más autores del género.

Saludetes!!! :

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neopreno dijo:

Puede ser El largo adios. La distribuyó EL PAIS hace unos años. Mágnífica novela negra.

También el mismo periódico saco una colección de novela negra de bolsillo buenísima.

Henning Mankell, Martínez Reverte, Larson, Vázquez Montalbán...

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Gus dijo:

Raymond Chandler, sin duda. Y en concreto, por este deslumbrante fragmento del capítulo 2 de "El sueño eterno":




The butler stood in front of him and said: "This is Mr. Marlowe, General."

The old man didn't move or speak, or even nod. He just looked at me lifelessly. The butler pushed a damp wicker chair against the backs of my legs and I sat down. He took my hat with a deft scoop.

Then the old man dragged his voice up from the bottom of a well and said: "Brandy, Norris. How do you like your brandy, sir?"

"Any way at all," I said.

The butler went away among the abominable plants. The General spoke again, slowly, using his strength as carefully as an out-of-work show-girl uses her last good pair of stockings.

"I used to like mine with champagne. The champagne as cold as Valley Forge and about a third of a glass of brandy beneath it. You may take your coat off, sir. It's too hot in here for a man with blood in his veins."

I stood up and peeled off my coat and got a handkerchief out and mopped my face and neck and the backs of my wrists. St. Louis in August had nothing on that place. I sat down again and I felt automatically for a cigarette and then stopped. The old man caught the gesture and smiled faintly.

"You may smoke, sir. I like the smell of tobacco."

I lit the cigarette and blew a lungful at him and he sniffed at it like a terrier at a rathole. The faint smile pulled at the shadowed corners of his mouth.

"A nice state of affairs when a man has to indulge his vices by proxy," he said dryly. "You are looking at a very dull survival of a rather gaudy life, a cripple paralyzed in both legs and with only half of his lower belly. There's very little that I can eat and my sleep is so close to waking that it is hardly worth the name. I seem to exist largely on heat, like a newborn spider, and the orchids are an excuse for the heat. Do you like orchids?"

"Not particularly," I said.

The General half-closed his eyes. "They are nasty things. Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men. And their perfume has the rotten sweetness of a prostitute."




Lo lamento, no lo he encontrado en español, pero los que no lo hayan entendido, créanme que no exagero si les digo que merece la pena aprender inglés sólo para disfrutar de esta joya de la literatura no ya negra, sino universal.

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sadomasajista dijo:

Otro voto para Chandler.

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