{"product_id":"perfidia-isbn-9780307946676","title":"Perfidia","description":"\u003cb\u003eNATIONAL BESTSELLER     \u003cbr\u003eAN NPR BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLos Angeles. December, 1941. America stands at the brink of World War II. War fever and racial hatred grip the city.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The hellish murder of a Japanese family summons three men and one woman. LAPD captain William H. Parker is superbly gifted, corrosively ambitious, liquored-up, and consumed by dubious ideology. He is bitterly at odds with Sergeant Dudley Smith—Irish émigré, ex-IRA killer, fledgling war profiteer. Hideo Ashida is a police chemist and the only Japanese on the L.A. cop payroll. Kay Lake is a twenty-one-year-old dilettante looking for adventure. The investigation throws them together and rips them apart. The crime becomes a political storm center that brilliantly illuminates these four driven souls—comrades, rivals, lovers, history’s pawns.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Here, Ellroy gives us the party at the edge of the abyss and the precipice of America’s ascendance. \u003ci\u003ePerfidia\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eis\u003c\/i\u003e that moment, spellbindingly captured.“A powerful roar of a story. . . . Wickedly elaborate, its plotting brilliant. . . . Kudos to Ellroy for elevating the crime genre.” —\u003ci\u003eSan Francisco Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Pure, unadulterated Ellroy and a darkly compelling deconstruction of the recent American past. . . . \u003ci\u003ePerfidia\u003c\/i\u003e shows us the war on the home front as we have never seen it before.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[The first L.A. Quartet] made Ellroy America’s best crime novelist. . . . \u003ci\u003ePerfidia\u003c\/i\u003e represents new depth, scope, and craftsmanship in [his] canon. It is his finest work.” —\u003ci\u003eAustin Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Ellroy successfully spins a drug-alcohol-and-nefarious-deeds-fueled wartime web of double-dealing betrayal, insidious activities, and gruesome atrocities. . . . . It’s tough and ugly and infuriating—and relentlessly readable.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Boston Globe\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One of the great American writers of our time.” —\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A brilliant, breakneck ride. Nobody except James Ellroy could pull this off. He doesn’t merely write—he ignites and demolishes.”—Carl Hiaasen\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[Ellroy’s] style—jumpy, feverish, and anarchic—mirrors the world we enter. . . . [He] depicts with frightening authenticity how those innocent of crimes are knowingly framed in the interest of the almighty ‘greater good’.” —Dennis Lehane, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ellroy has a way of giving gravitas to ugliness and making brutality beautiful. . . . To see him operating this way, full of power and totally in his comfort zone, is an awesome thing to behold.” —NPR\/\u003ci\u003eAll Things Considered\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ask me to name the best living novelist who’s fierce, brave, funny, scatological, beautiful, convoluted, and paranoid . . . and it becomes simple: James Ellroy. If insanity illuminated by highly dangerous strokes of literary lightning is your thing, then Ellroy’s your man.” —Stephen King, \u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Grittier than Chandler, more operatic than Hammett, and more violent even than Cain. . . . Ellroy whittles [his characters’] thoughts and actions into sentences the way others do shivs—lean, brutalist, and intended to puncture, to penetrate.” —\u003ci\u003eInterview\u003c\/i\u003e magazine\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It is welcome news that Ellroy’s latest effort, \u003ci\u003ePerfidia\u003c\/i\u003e, returns home, sliding in as a prequel to the L.A. Quartet\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003eset in the previous decade. . . . He is driven by a paradoxical obsession: to keep on digging up dark memories of the city, in the hope of rising above the psychic traumas of the past—not reborn, but newly wise.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Atlantic\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“If Ellroy’s bitter visions entice you, \u003ci\u003ePerfidia\u003c\/i\u003e will take you once again to the underbelly of American history. . . . You will dive into \u003ci\u003ePerfidia\u003c\/i\u003e with a shiver that is equal parts anticipation and fear—because you know it’s going to get very dark very fast. . . . Ellroy’s singular style has been described as jazzlike or telegraphic; here it is insomniac, hallucinogenic, nightmarish.”\u003ci\u003e —Tampa Bay Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“There has \u003ci\u003enever\u003c\/i\u003e been a writer like James Ellroy. . . . He has been making real a secret world behind the official history of America . . . and to enter it is to experience a vivid eyeball rush of recognition.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Telegraph \u003c\/i\u003e(London)\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Perfidia\u003c\/i\u003e brings the two sides of his work together: the period crime-writing of \u003ci\u003eLA Quartet\u003c\/i\u003e, with its highlighting of police misdemeanors, and the wider politico-historical concerns of his subsequent \u003ci\u003eUnderworld USA\u003c\/i\u003e trilogy.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Guardian \u003c\/i\u003e(London)\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003e“Essential New Fiction”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A war novel like no other. . . . There's no telling the good guys from the bad in Ellroy’s Los Angeles, because there are no good guys. . . . Ellroy is not only back in form—he’s raised the stakes.” —\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A return to the scene of Ellroy’s greatest success and a triumphant return to form. . . . His character portrayals have never been more nuanced or—dare we say it—sympathetic. . . . A disturbing, unforgettable, and inflammatory vision of how the men in charge respond to the threat of war. It’s an ugly picture, but just try looking away.” —\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)James Ellroy was born in Los Angeles in 1948. He is the author of the L.A. Quartet:\u003ci\u003e The Black Dahlia, The Big Nowhere, L.A. Confidential,\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eWhite Jazz, \u003c\/i\u003eand the Underworld U.S.A. Trilogy: \u003ci\u003eAmerican Tabloid, The Cold Six Thousand, \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eBlood’s A Rover.\u003c\/i\u003e These seven novels have won numerous honors and were international best sellers. Ellroy currently lives in Los Angeles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewww.jamesellroy.net\u003cb\u003eCHAPTER 14\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eKAY LAKE’S DIARY\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eLos Angeles, December 7, 1941\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sunday brunch with Elmer and Brenda. Decorous, save for the talk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Brenda owns a lovely home in Laurel Canyon. The furnishings can be seen in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town. Harry Cohn enjoys Brenda’s girls and gave her free run of the Columbia warehouse.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A Mexican maid laid out huevos rancheros. Elmer mixed gin fizzes. Gary Cooper fucked Barbara Stanwyck on the couch I was perched on. Brenda swore that the rumor was true.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I felt disembodied. It was lack of sleep more than shock over what I’d heard at City Hall. Lee Blanchard, Ben Siegel and Abe Reles. Captain William H. Parker’s belief that I would now be ripe for entrapment. He held me to be a woman who would stand up for her man and do anything to cover his misdeeds. He was gravely mistaken there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Elmer said, “Lee caught a squawk with the Dudster. It’s all over the air. Four Japs in Highland Park.”\u003cbr\u003e Brenda dosed her eggs with hot sauce. “You go straight to shop- talk.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Elmer said, “A good host plays to his guests, honey. Shoptalk is the only sort of talk that Miss Katherine Lake enjoys.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I laughed and picked at my food. Brenda and Elmer were nearly ten years older than I. They were professionals; I was a cop’s quasi- girlfriend. The disparity rankled. We all went back to Bobby De Witt and the Boulevard-Citizens job. Open secrets and unspoken truths began germinating there. I wanted to peddle myself to wash the stink of Bobby off of me; Brenda refused to let me do it. She said, “You live by these crazy-girl notions you get from books and movies. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I let you take that nonsense too far.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eElmer handed me a cocktail. I wondered how up-to-date he was on Lee and Ben Siegel. “Bugsy” is now ensconced in a “penthouse” suite at the Hall of Justice jail. Sheriff’s deputies serve as valets, flunkies and chauffeurs for visiting starlets. Velvet curtains provide privacy for Ben and his overnight guests. His release is imminent. Abe Reles’ “swan dive” scotched the prosecution’s case against him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eElmer smiled and waggled his cigar stub. We possess an odd telepathy and often seem to know what the other is thinking. It always pertains to “shoptalk.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe said, “Lee paid off his chit with Benny Siegel.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “Yes, I figured it out.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda crushed her cigarette on a bread plate. “Tell all, honey. Don’t be a C.T.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “No, your lover goes first.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eElmer sprawled in a chair and grabbed Brenda. She fell into his lap and went Whoops! He said, “Thad Brown drove Dudley Smith and Lee to Union Station. He read the papers a few days later and put it together.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda said, “How’d you figure it out?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI made that zip-the-lips gesture. Elmer said, “Give, sister.” Brenda said, “Don’t be a C.T.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI played coy. “There’s a Traffic captain who knows a lot about Lee.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eElmer draped an arm around Brenda. “How do you know that?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Because Captain William H. Parker is courting me.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda hooted. “Honey, that sanctimonious son of a bitch does not court women in any kind of classic sense.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI lit a cigarette. “You mean he doesn’t take bribes, beat confessions out of suspects, or screw your girls in the back of Mike Lyman’s Grill, where I’m meeting him at 1:00.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda looked aghast. Elmer looked flabbergasted. He said, “Kay, how do you know that Whiskey Bill Parker knows a lot about Lee?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI blew an imperiously high smoke ring. “Because Parker is courting and coercing me. Because he has me transcribing wire recordings at City Hall before he tells me his play. Because you, Brenda and Lee had a very injudicious conversation on August 14 of ’39. You discussed your ‘service,’ the Boulevard-Citizens robbery and Lee’s debt to Ben Siegel. Elmer, you actually said, ‘If you owe Ben, he makes you kill somebody for him.’ ”\u003cbr\u003e Elmer bolted his drink. Brenda waved mock wolfsbane.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “Do you think that William H. Parker is incapable of extrapolating and reaching the conclusion that Lee and Dud- ley Smith killed Abe Reles? Do you think that William H. Parker doesn’t know that half of the Detective Bureau phones are tapped? Do you honestly think that you’re as smart as William H. Parker?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda fished a pack of cigarettes from Elmer’s coat pocket. “I can’t believe it. You honest to God like that son of a bitch.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI felt myself blush. Elmer said, “No more calls from City Hall.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda lit a cigarette and blew her own high ring. “Gossip always comes in droves, Citizens. One of our girls picked up a tip from a G-man she tricked with. Some fellow named Ward Littell.”\u003cbr\u003e Elmer said, “Give, sister. Who’s the C.T. now?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda said, “The Feds are going after the Department, strictly on the phone taps. Art Hohmann snitched the listening posts and the whole kaboodle.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “I destroyed that recording I described to you.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda said, “There’s oodles more, Citizen. Can you recall what you said on any given phone call from two years ago? Uh-uh, you can’t.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eElmer cracked his knuckles. “I’ll tell Jack Horrall. He’ll pull the wires with the good dirt, and leave the Feds the pablum.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI heard radio buzz next door. An announcer was almost shouting. The noise was high-decibeled and insistent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda climbed off Elmer’s lap and smoothed out her dress. She said, “Sweetie, please set Sister Lake straight on Whiskey Bill.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eElmer leaned toward me. “Don’t hold no goodwill for that Pope- loving bastard,” he said. “He’s as ruthless as Dudley Smith, he was bone-dirty with Jim Davis, he’ll get the Chief’s job come hell or high water and take the Department down out of spite if it don’t fall his way. He uses people and tosses them away like fucking Kleenex. He’s a hatchet man, an extortionist and a fucking prig who gets shit- faced drunk, talks to God and moves his lips while he does it. He ran the ‘Bum Blockade’ for Two-Gun, he shackled Okies in the back of freight cars and sent them off to the lettuce fields up in Kern County, where the goddamn farm bosses paid Davis a buck a man a day. He ran bag to the Mexican Staties back when Carlos Madrano and Davis were supplying wetbacks to every Jap farm between here and Oxnard. You run, sister. Whatever that man has planned for you ain’t nothing you’d ever want for yourself.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda said, “Amen.” That radio blasted. I didn’t want to address Elmer’s pitch. I walked to the window and glanced out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA man next door saw me. Our windows were wide open. His radio was earsplitting. He reached over and turned it off.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe said, “The Japs bombed Pearl Harbor.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA Novel","brand":"Vintage","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303073304805,"sku":"NP9780307946676","price":17.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780307946676.jpg?v=1767734664","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/perfidia-isbn-9780307946676","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}