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Clandestine de James Ellroy
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Clandestine (1982 original; edició 1999)

de James Ellroy (Autor), Jeremy Gage (Narrador)

MembresRessenyesPopularitatValoració mitjanaMencions
777828,375 (3.51)33
Fred Underhill is a young cop on the rise in Los Angeles in the early 1950's -- a town blinded to its own grime by Hollywood glitter; a society nourished by newspaper lies that wants its heroes all-American and squeaky clean. A chance to lead on a possible serial killing is all it takes to fuel Underhill's reckless ambition - and it propels him into a dangerous alliance with certain mad and unstable elements of the law enforcement hierarchy. When the case implodes with disastrous consequences, it is Fred Underhill who takes the fall. His life is in ruins, his promising future suddenly a dream of the past. And his good and pure love for a crusading woman lawyer has been corrupted and may not survive. But even without the authority of a badge, Fred Underhill knows that his only hope for redemption lies in following the investigation to its grim conclusion. And the Hell to which he has been consigned for his sins is the perfect place to hunt for a killer who hungers but has no soul.… (més)
Membre:Claudia.Anderson
Títol:Clandestine
Autors:James Ellroy (Autor)
Altres autors:Jeremy Gage (Narrador)
Informació:William Morrow Paperbacks (1999), 336 pages
Col·leccions:Llegit, però no el tinc, Read
Valoració:***
Etiquetes:Cap

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Clandestine de James Ellroy (1982)

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Great start but it fizzled about half way through. Not terrible but nowhere near his best. ( )
  cdaley | Nov 2, 2023 |
review of
James Ellroy's Clandestine
by tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE - JUNE 6, 2017

Read the full review here: https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/563128-james-ellroy

It's been a while since I read an Ellroy bk. I'd forgotten what a good writer he is. Take this 2nd paragraph of the Prologue as an example:

"Nostalgia victimizes the unknowing by instilling in them a desire for simplicity and innocence they can never achieve. The fifties weren't a more innocent time. The dark salients that govern life today were there then, only they were harder to find. That was why I was a cop, and why I chased women. Golf was no more than an island of purity, something I did exceedingly well. I could drive a golf ball three hundred yards. Golf was breathtaking cleanliness and simplicity." - p 1

Some people chase ambulances, some people chase women, women move slower.

"I breathed it all in, and gave what I hoped would pass for an ironic grin: "So you don't like cops," I said. "Big deal. Most people don't. Would you rather have anarchy? There's only one answer, Miss Weinberg. This is not the best of all possible worlds. We have to accept that, and get on with the administration of justice."" - p 30

Of course, these days there're plenty of people who, yes, wd rather have anarchy - & those who wdn't, for the most part, are only reacting to the term like a Pavlovian dog preconditioned to experience fear w/o having more than a very vague idea of what it is they're afraid of.

"Lorna did not relent. "I can't accept that, and I won't. You can't change human nature, but you can change the law. And you can weed out some of the sociopaths who carry badges and guns.

""For example, my father told me you were curious about that man who caddied for you today. I know about him. He's one of your victims. An attorney who's a member of this club once represented Dirt Road Dave in his suit against the Lose Angeles Police Department. During the Depression he had stolen some food from a grocery. Two policemen saw him do it and chased him, and when they finally caught him they were angry. They beat him unconscious with their billy clubs. Dave suffered internal hemorrhaging and almost died. He sustained irreparable brain damage. The A.C.L.U. sued your police department, and lost. Cops are above the law and can do what they please." - p 30

Now, I'm an anarchist &, unlike most anarchists I know, I don't hate cops. I think most of them are working class people who are in over their heads. Still, let's be realistic: the above story fits in w/ my idea of realism. I'll give a few relevant stories that explain why:

I had a friend whose brother was in the LA Police. One day my friend was at his parents' house when his brother came by w/ another policemen. They were joking about going out to "shoot cans. Afri-cans, Mexi-cans" Nyuk, nyuk. Black Panthers talked about the police as being like an occupying army in their neighborhoods. I think that's spot-on.

I had another friend who was a junkie poet. He was a nice guy, he probably resorted to some theft to support his habit. The police took a dislike to him. 2 cops cornered him in an alley & one of them systematically beat him w/ his billy club in the same spot on his stomach over & over again to cause internal organ damage &, thereby, shorten his life. He sued the police w/ the usual outcome of NADA police responsibility. I haven't seen the friend for decades. He's probably dead. He was a sensitive person who just cdn't make it in this society in the approved-of ways. If being a poet in this society got more respect he probably wdn't've had to resort to theft - but being a poet or most other types of creative person is undervalued to an extreme in this society.

Yet another friend of mine, of Mexican descent, was at a protest in California at a motel where illegal immigrants were being held for deportation. My friend was arrested & taken to jail where he was hog-tied (ie: w/ his hands tied behind his back to his feet) & beaten repeatedly on the soles of his feet so that he cdn't walk properly. That was torture. His mom reported this to Amnesty International who informed her that there is no torture in the US. They've since changed their tune.

I've sat in a courtrm before & witnessed a man sentenced to jail for stealing a piece of meat from a supermarket. The man was very skinny. My point is that if you're poor in this country there's a different set of laws & treatments for you than if you're rich. The police know that rich people have too many retaliatory resources AND that their actual purpose is to.. protect & serve THE RICH. They're a bodyguard pd for w/ public money, heaven forbid that the rich shd have to pay for anything.

For maybe the 1st 15 yrs that I had sex, from 1970 to 1985 - & more sporadically up 'til 1996 - the use of diaphragms was a common form of impregnation-prevention. This was preferable to birth-control pills b/c it didn't disrupt the biological cycle of the woman. Once fear-of-AIDS changed the whole dynamic of sex, the use of condoms started to dominate & diaphragms seemed to fall into disuse. I never really had a handle on when diaphragms were invented so it was interesting to find them in the 1951 of this novel:

"I pushed open the door. Maggie was starting to insert her diaphragm when she saw me. She jumped, startled and angry, into the bathtub, where she covered herself with the shower curtain.

""Bill;" she said, flushed. "Please, goddamnit, I'll just be a minute. Wait in the bedroom, honey. Please. I'll be right there."

""I just wanted to watch you, sweetheart," I said. "I wanted to help you with it."

"Maggie said nervously, "It's a private thing, Bill. A woman's thing. If you don't see me do it, then you don't really know it's there. It's better for you. Believe me, honey."" - p 38

Ah, humans & our complications. This was a one-nite stand. Can you imagine a cat-in-heat going thru this? [Cat steps into litter box & turns her back] "Meooooowweerr."

"Jack groaned and the old woman giggled as Wacky did his Frankenstein imitation, walking toward her slowly, arms extended, groaning deeply." - p 46

"232. Player-Belt Girdle Monster
- Neoista?! Puccs - Black Black Galéria & environs, (Buda)Pest, Hungary
- Monday, July 7th, 1997, 6PM
- Black Black Galéria is the gallery of Opál Színház (Opal Theater). It's in a complex of basements which was entered by stooping through a sidewalk-level window & walking down a sloping board laying on a sand pile. Large piles of sand were faintly visible off to the left when entering. At the bottom of the piles were 2 rooms. Off to the right off of the 1st room was the closed off entrance to living quarters. Off to the left of the 2nd room, 1 could walk through another awkward entrance down into another room where Amen! had an exhibit. At the end of this room was a cage that blocked entrance to a room beyond. This cage is reputed to've been lived in for 1 month by 1 of the main people of Opál Színház. I stayed mainly in the dim light on the sand piles off to the left when 1 entered - playing tapes with my Player Belt (see entries 212 & 217, etc..). Eventually, etta cetera, Brian Damage, Ghera & I ventured forth into the gypsy neighborhood - with the Player Belt playing my tapes all the while. Back in front of Black Black, the neighborhood people had gathered out of curiousity. My tape started playing loud steady explosive sounds & I began to walk stiffly with my feet hitting the pavement in sync with the sounds holding my arms out like the stereotypical zombie/monster. etta probably took something from me (like my flaming steam iron necklace) & I started pursuing her through the thick of the crowd. Children started laughing & pretending to be terrified & running frantically to get out of my way."

How did that get in there? I'm listening to Lambert, Hendricks & Ross's "Sing a Song of Basie" (recorded 1957 - a little late to be of the same period as the novel) as I wrote this. Thought you might like to know. 'Bill' insults his superior officer & pays the price, a transfer to an unglamorous & dangerous district:

"Wacky Walker never made it to Seventy-seventh Street Division, Watts, L.A.'s heart of darkness, but I did.

"Beckworth bided his time and in June, when Captain Larson retired, to muted fanfare, after thirty-three years on the job, I got my orders: Officer Frederick U. Underhill, 1647, to Seventy-seventh Street Division to fill manpower shortage.

"Which was a joke: the ranks at Seventy-seventh Street were swelled to bursting. The ancient red brick building that served the hottest per capita crime area in the city was painfully overstaffed with cops, and undersupplied with every crime-fighting provision from toilet paper to fingerprinting ink. There was a shortage of chairs, tables, floor space, lockers, soap, brooms, mops, and even writing implements. There was no shortage, however, of prisoners. There was an unsurpassed daily and nightly parade of burglars, purse snatchers, dope addicts, drunks, wife beaters, brawlers, pimps, hookers, perverts, and cranks." - p 65

I'm sure that Ellroy is well-read & researched on the eras he represents but this still seems daunting to me as a writerly task to try to accurately represent a place & time he doesn't have personal familiarity w/. It's 1951, & Ellroy has Underhill blackmailing a bartender for information b/c he's caught him w/ pot:

""Shut up. Listen to me. I'm interested in pickup artists—pussy-hounds, guys who score regular here. You help me out and I'll let you slide. You don't and I'll bust you. I'll call for a patrol car and tell the bulls you tried to sell me these three reefers. That's two to ten at Quentin. What's it gonna be?"" - p 83

Two to 10 at San Quentin prison for selling 3 joints. Those were the days. The days of ridiculous penalties for victimless crimes. The days when being gay meant hiding it to save yr life. Henry Cowell, major American composer & music theorist & publisher, etc, was imprisoned in San Quentin in 1936 w/ a 15 yr sentence for a "morals" charge. He wd've gotten out at the time this novel began if he'd served the full sentence, wch he didn't, he got out after 4 yrs.

I'd originally read that Cowell was busted in a sting operation for cruising in a park. Perhaps that story was circulated to generate more sympathy for him & for others like him. Wikipedia claims that having oral sex w/ a 17 yr old boy. I don't know wch story is true. Having been a 17 yr old boy in 1971 who hitch-hiked & got such offers fairly often I can truthfully say that saying no was all it took to prevent it from happening so I assume that the 17 yr old consented. At any rate, those were the days. The days when a major composer cd get sentenced to 15 yrs in prison b/c of his sexual activities. We're not talking Oscar Wilde in 1895, sentenced to 2 yrs hard labor for indecency, we're talking the 20th century.

""Don't thank me yet, Officer. You are a very gifted young man, but your arrogance supersedes your gifts. Arrogance cannot be tolerated in police officers; to tolerate it would be to promote anarchy. The Los Angeles Police Department is a superbly structured bureaucracy, one you have sworn allegiance to. Your actions have reviled the department. Know that, Underhill. Know that your ambition is threatening to kill you as a policeman. Do you understand me?"" - p 96

There they go, picking on anarchy again. What's so bad about thinking for yrself & sabotaging unjust institutions? Sheesh.

My 1st encounter of a close kind w/ Ellroy's work was upon witnessing the movie "L.A. Confidential". I loved it & thought it represented as great Film Noir made long after the 'classic' era for Noir. The Ellroy bk that the movie was based on was copyrighted in 1990, 8 yrs after Clandestine. Clandestine seems to hold the seeds of at least 3 later bks: L.A. Confidential, the Black Dahlia (1987), & My Dark Places (1996). The only bk that I've read by Ellroy earlier than Clandestine is Brown's Requiem (1981). Clandestine presages L.A. Confidential b/c it's got the brutal Lieutenant Dudley Smith in it taking a suspect to an abandoned motel & 'interrogating' him by beating the shit out of him until he gets a confession.

"Dudley Smith was a lieutenant in the homicide bureau, a fearsome personage and legendary cop who had killed five men in the line of duty. Irish-born and Los Angeles-raised, he still clung tenaciously to his high-pitched, musical brogue, which was as finely tuned as a Stradivarius. He often lectured at the academy on interrogation techniques, and I remembered how that brogue could be alternately soothing or brutal, inquisitive or dumbfounded, sympathetic or filled with pious rage." - p 97

Smith explains to Underhill something he did to try to discover who the Black Dahlia's killer was:

""Dick Carlisle and I snuck the stiff over to the warehouse late one night. I dyed her hair jet black, like the Dahlia's. I stripped her nude, and tied her ankles with a rope, and Dick and I hoisted her up feet first and hung her from a low ceiling beam. Then Dick went and got our eight degenerates from the Hall of Justice jail. We let them view her, one at a time, lad, with appropriate props. One scum was a knife man; he had scores of arrests for knife fighting. I handed him a butcher knife and made him slice the corpse. he could hardly do it. He didn't have it in him. Another filth was a child molester, recently paroled from Atascadero. His M.O. was asking little girls if he could kiss their private parts. I made him kiss the dead girl's private parts, smell that dead sex flesh up close. He couldn't do it. And on and on. I was looking for a reaction so vile, so unspeakable that I would know that this was the scum that killed Beth Short."" - p 125

It didn't work. I doubt that the above story is rooted in historical fact, it seems more likely to be rooted in Ellroy's lurid imagination. Maybe I'm wrong. Here's another story that seems more likely to be realistic:

"["]At five minutes of six we will kick in Eddie's door. We will subdue him, and put the fear of God into any colleen or homo who might be sharing his bed, then send them on their way. I have an interrogation place set up, an abandoned motel in Gardena. Freddy, Dick, Engels, and I will travel in my car. Mike will follow in his. This is apt to be a long interrogation, lads["]" - p 134

Think of the murders of Black Panthers Fred Hampton & Mark Clark (while they slept a drug-induced sleep as a result of downers put in their food by an undercover agent) by the police in Chicago in 1969 & you'll get a good idea of the way the police sometimes work.

In the meantime, Underhill is dating cop-critical legal eagle Lorna whose artistic taste we get a glimpse of:

"There was a Hieronymus Bosch painting that represented insanity—hysterical grotesque creatures in an undersea environment importuning God—or someone—for release from their madness. There was a Van Gogh job that featured flowery fields juxtaposed against brown grass and a somber sky. There was Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks"—three lonely people sitting in an all-night diner, not talking. It was awesome and filled with with lonely wonder." - p135

I share her tastes. At the same time that she's dating Underhill, however, he's being schooled by Smith. Dudley's techniques are do NOT appeal to Lorna's tastes:

""Eddie," I said, "do your parents know you're homosexual?"

""No."

""Do they know that Lillian is a lesbian?"

""No. Please!"

""You don't want them to find out, do you?"

""No!" He screeched the word, his voice breaking. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked back and forth." - p 165

Yep, those were the days. At least people can be a little more openly gay these days so such blackmail is less likely to be effective. Of course, let's not get too happy here, right? There're still cases like Pittsburgh policemen David Sisak, Michael Saldutte, & Richard Ewing beating the shit out of black teenagerfor no good reason Jordan Miles in the all-too-recent 2010. The cops got financially penalized but did no time. The attorney who represented Ewing was quoted by the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette as saying: "they'd do it all over again. They did nothing wrong. They have nothing to be ashamed of." Any civilian who beat a cop like they beat this kid wd probably be given life w/o parole or executed. There's no way they'd get off like these cops did. These are the days. Still, Lorna & Fred get married, demonstrating once again that opposites attract.

"So the dead hovered over my wife and me, solidifying their presence as Lorna and I lived on. For years we loved, and it was worth the price in sorrow that my blind ambition had exacted from me and so many others. For a long while I wanted nothing that I didn't have, and I was moved beyond movement by Lorna's willingness to give it to me." - p 201

I love a little romance, esp in my own life. Thank you, you know who.

The dead are definitely hovering over this novel. Given that I'd read Ellroy's My Dark Places about the murder of his mom when he was a kid, it was easy to see parallels to his actual life story & the fiction in Clandestine:

"NURSE FOUND MURDERED IN EL MONTE
Strangulation Death for Attractive Divorced Mother
"

[..]

"one of the Scouts, Danny Johnson, age 12, thought he saw an arm poking out of a line of scrub that runs along the fence on the school's south side." - p 209

Ellroy's own mom was a divorcee living in El Monte. "Some kids found her." (p 3, My Dark Places).

""Marcella was such a good woman. A good mother, devoted to her son." Mrs. Hariis, 43, was divorced from her husband, William "Doc" Harris, several years ago. They have a nine-year-old son, who was spending the weekend with his father. When notified of the death, Harris (who has been eliminated as a suspect) said, "I have every hope the police will quickly catch my wife's killer." Nine-year-old Michael, distraught, is now living with his father in Los Angeles." - p 210, Clandestine

"Hallinen and Lawton quizzed Ellroy on his ex-wife's social life. He told them Jean was a secretive woman who kept things to herself. She lied when it suited her—and she was really 43, not the 37 she claimed. She was promiscuous and an alcoholic. Her son found her in bed with strange men on several occasions. Her recent move to El Monte could only be explained as a run from or run to some lowlife she was seeing." - p 13, My Dark Places

"The victim's son was pudgy, and tall for 10 years old. He was nervous—but did not appear in any way distraught." - p 12, My Dark Places

Ellroy was put into his father's care. The parallels go on & on. Ellroy's mom's murder was never solved.

""Well," he said, "she said the kid was gettin' into fights, and talkin' dirty . . . and . . . exposing himself to all the other little kids."" - p 215, Clandestine

"I was becoming quite a large kid. I was foulmouthed and spouted profane lingo on the schoolyard. My father's favorite expression was "Fuck you, Fritz." His favorite expletive was "cocksucker." I mimicked his language and reveled in it shock value.

"I was refining my Crazy Man Act. It kept me miserably lonely and sealed up in my own little head." - p 99, My Dark Places ( )
  tENTATIVELY | Apr 3, 2022 |
A young cop draws a parallel that no one else sees between two brutal murder cases, and his life is never the same again.

This book is sort of a 'prequel' (although it takes place later) to Ellroy's more famous L.A. Quartet. Based on some of the reviews I quickly skimmed before reading, it didn't get the highest ratings so my expectations were somewhat low. Perhaps that worked in this book's favor, because I absolutely could not put it down. The mystery and characters were incredibly compelling, even if the resolution was a tiny bit less climatic than I'd like. The gritty noir style is done perfectly, although it may not be for everyone. Ellroy uses an abundance of racist and misogynistic language, although my interpretation of such language as used here is that it's less a reflection of the author and more of the time period he is conveying -- particularly that he is trying to dispel the notion of simpler, better bygone time by showing the 1950s in their worst light.

For the audiobook reader, William Roberts was the perfect match for this book. His voices and narration were so spot-on that you could almost believe he was actually Fred Underhill (the book's protagonist) speaking to you. ( )
  sweetiegherkin | Jun 17, 2019 |
Clandestine by James Ellroy is set in 1951 Los Angeles. The author effortlessly recreates the grit, violence and sordidness of the dark side of this city. Frank Underhill is an ambitious young policemen who allows his suspicions to lead him into an alliance with an unstable and shady detective that has disastrous effects on his life. When a very similar murder takes place a few years later, he is compelled to investigate even though he is no longer a policemen.

This is one of Ellroy’s earlier books and all the plot points that make him such an excellent noir writer are there but the book has a tendency to drag and at times I thought I would never reach the end. However, the author’s in depth exploration of the main characters’ motives and actions raised this book far above normal crime fiction. The author’s vivid descriptions of 1950’s LA and his casual references to the corrupt police practices that were prevalent in those days gave the story a gutsy reality.

Although a little rough around the edges, the twists and turns in Clandestine totally drew me in. With it’s deeply flawed characters and engrossing story the author has evoked a very compelling and disturbing period LA history. As I am a huge fan of noir fiction and I admired the author’s writing style, James Ellroy is certainly an author that I will be visiting again. ( )
1 vota DeltaQueen50 | Oct 14, 2016 |
I thoroughly enjoyed “L.A. Confidential” and “American Tabloid” that I read many years ago. I caught L.A. Confidential on cable a few weeks ago and that whet my appetite for an Ellroy novel. While I was in the bookshop I stumbled across “Clandestine” and realized that several if the characters from the L.A. novels were also in this one.

I was not disappointed. This story introduces a young cop named Freddy Underhill. He is on the rise in the Wilshire district and in an effort to become one of the youngest detectives in the L.A.P.D., he pursues the possibility of a serial killer while finding love with a local District Attorney.

In so doing, he is introduced to Dudley Smith and his underlings. These cops are not exactly squeaky clean in the manner in which they extract confessions from defendants. Underhill falls in with them as Stakes him as a possible protégé. Underhill, knowing that Smith will try to grab the glory, attempts to out maneuver him and ends up being triple crossed and the defendant comes to an unfortunate end. This ends up with Freddy losing his job as a member of the L.A.P.D.

Flash forward four years and Freddy sees yet another murder that appears to be related to the previous ones that Freddy investigated. An intricate series of events of unfolds that tie together several of the events and individuals discussed in the earlier part of the novel.

What I love about his writing, aside from these complicated plots, is the realism of the language he uses. It is era appropriate and locality appropriate. I also enjoy the style. It is unique and if you haven’t read any Ellroy, it may take you a few chapters to get used to the flow.

This is easily a four star read. I recommend any of his books. L.A> Confidential is a wonderful place to start but there is a substantial body of his work that will keep a reader interested and engaged for some time to come. ( )
1 vota ozzieslim | May 3, 2015 |
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James Ellroyautor primaritotes les edicionscalculat
Perria, LidiaTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat

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During the dark, cold winter of 1951 I worked Wilshire Patrol, played a lot of golf , and sought out the company of lonely women for one-night stands.
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Wikipedia en anglès (1)

Fred Underhill is a young cop on the rise in Los Angeles in the early 1950's -- a town blinded to its own grime by Hollywood glitter; a society nourished by newspaper lies that wants its heroes all-American and squeaky clean. A chance to lead on a possible serial killing is all it takes to fuel Underhill's reckless ambition - and it propels him into a dangerous alliance with certain mad and unstable elements of the law enforcement hierarchy. When the case implodes with disastrous consequences, it is Fred Underhill who takes the fall. His life is in ruins, his promising future suddenly a dream of the past. And his good and pure love for a crusading woman lawyer has been corrupted and may not survive. But even without the authority of a badge, Fred Underhill knows that his only hope for redemption lies in following the investigation to its grim conclusion. And the Hell to which he has been consigned for his sins is the perfect place to hunt for a killer who hungers but has no soul.

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