Crimes of the Powerless

• Date de parution : 01/11/2012
• Editeur : The Word Machine
• EAN : 9780957629424
• Série : (-)
• Support : Livre numérique

• Nombre de pages : (-)
• Collection : (-)
• Genre : (-)
• Thème : Non attribué
• Prix littéraire(s) : (-)

It's 2009, the world's winter, a global crime scene. The capitalist system has lit its own blue touchpaper. In an inner suburb, an impoverished crew of post-proletarian chancers and no-hopers watch their lives' embers die from their bar-stools in The Severed Head and Cushion. There are... Voir plus

It's 2009, the world's winter, a global crime scene. The capitalist system has lit its own blue touchpaper. In an inner suburb, an impoverished crew of post-proletarian chancers and no-hopers watch their lives' embers die from their bar-stools in The Severed Head and Cushion. There are situations vacant, but you won't see them in the paper. No experience needed. First bread, then morality...if there's time. Set in the chilly pubs, leprous parks and idling shops of the Small Society, Crimes of the Powerless is anti-noir for straitened times. The hero has been signing on since 1973, Mr Big hasn't eaten for two days, the femme fatale wears an Oxfam fleece. Only one character has ever eaten an olive. There are no hard-working families. No-one learns anything. In the heart of a heartless land, Frank Carney has hung a rogues' gallery of unqualified criminals, carved a Golgotha of unquiet desperation, perpetrated a grotesque mural of palaverous shenanigans. It's murder out there... In an inner suburb, an impoverished crew of post-proletarian chancers and no-hopers watch their lives' embers die from their bar-stools in The Severed Head and Cushion. There are situations vacant, but you won't see them in the paper. No experience needed. First bread, then morality...if there's time. Set in the chilly pubs, leprous parks and idling shops of the Small Society, Crimes of the Powerless is anti-noir for straitened times. The hero has been signing on since 1973, Mr Big hasn't eaten for two days, the femme fatale wears an Oxfam fleece. Only one character has ever eaten an olive. There are no hard-working families. No-one learns anything. In the heart of a heartless land, Frank Carney has hung a rogues' gallery of unqualified criminals, carved a Golgotha of unquiet desperation, perpetrated a grotesque mural of palaverous shenanigans. It's murder out there...