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Patricia Highsmith

Strangers on a Train

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“For eliciting the menace that lurks in familiar surroundings, there's no one like Patricia Highsmith.” —Time

The world of Patricia Highsmith has always been filled with ordinary people, all of whom are capable of very ordinary crimes. This theme was present from the beginning, when her debut, Strangers on a Train, galvanized the reading public. Here we encounter Guy Haines and Charles Anthony Bruno, passengers on the same train. But while Guy is a successful architect in the midst of a divorce, Bruno turns out to be a sadistic psychopath who manipulates Guy into swapping murders with him. “Some people are better off dead,” Bruno remarks, “like your wife and my father, for instance.” As Bruno carries out his twisted plan, Guy is trapped in Highsmith's perilous world, where, under the right circumstances, anybody is capable of murder.

The inspiration for Alfred Hitchcock's classic 1951 film, Strangers on a Train launched Highsmith on a prolific career of noir fiction, proving her a master at depicting the unsettling forces that tremble beneath the surface of everyday contemporary life.
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316 trykte sider
Oprindeligt udgivet
2001
Udgivelsesår
2001
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  • Nast Huertahar citeretfor 24 dage siden
    The bottle slipped out of Owen's fingers and fell onto the floor, but there was so little in it now that almost nothing spilled. "You're an architect, aren't you?" Owen asked. "I remember now." He righted the bottle clumsily, leaving it on the floor.
  • Nast Huertahar citeretsidste måned
    He remembered one brilliant and powerful thought that had come to him last night watching a televised shuffleboard game: the way to see the world was to see it drunk. Everything was created to be seen drunk. Certainly this wasn't the way to see the world, with his head splitting every time he turned his eyes.
  • The Khanshar citeretsidste år
    THE LEADEN-EYED by Vachel Lindsay

    Let not young souls be smothered out before
    They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride.
    It is the world’s one crime its babes grow dull,
    Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden-eyed.
    Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly,
    Not that they sow, but that they seldom reap,
    Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve,
    Not that they die, but that they die like sheep.

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