Reviewed by Jennifer Leblanc
12.1.07

It may be a cliché, but finally, in a time of lackluster book jacket design, Megan Abbott’s third book, Queenpin, can be judged by its cover. Wrapped up in Richie Fahey’s fantastic pulp/noir - inspired artwork, Abbott’s exciting story – reminiscent of James M. Cain and Raymond Chandler - exceeds the intriguing come-hither invitation of its cover. You’ll see this book on the shelf, and you know you’ll want to pick it up. You won’t be sorry if you do.

It’s 1955, and the twenty two year old nameless narrator (hereon referred to by me as She/Her) lives at home with her working class father and attends secretarial school in the mornings. Understandably, She needs more from life. Working nights doing the accounting at a small time club is a good rebellious start. The excitement wears off when she realizes that, just like any other office, the boss’s bed is the only way to a raise or a promotion. Enter underworld Queenpin Gloria Denton. A well-known figure since the time of Bugsy Siegel, seedy myths and notorious truths surround this made woman. But Dernton is “no one’s wife… And she’s no one’s moll, never was… She’s on the inside. She’s one of them. They trust her. She’s been around forever.” Our narrator makes the perfect protégé.

The first meeting serves as an audition of sorts for Her. When Denton comes upon Her padding a phony set of books for the bosses, She keeps her cool and her mouth shut. Denton gives the bosses payback, and Her a job.

At first there are no risks, just a free car, apartment, clothes, and above all, a glamorous, independent life. All She has to do it collect at the casinos, make deliveries and pick-ups, and pass along money-making tips (i.e., whose mansion full of goods will be vulnerable over the weekend). Does She feel guilty? “Truth was, who was getting hurt by my doings, except those who chose to buy cigarettes and booze without sales tax, gamble away their paychecks, skimp their wife by paying back-of-the-truck prices for an anniversary string of pearls?” Besides, She says, Denton “got me jobs, she got me fat stacks of cash too thick to wedge down my cleavage. She got me in with the hard boys, the fast money, and I couldn’t get enough. I wanted more.”

Until Vic Riordan comes along: a sleazy gambler whose right moves in bed more than make up for his wrong moves at the track. She knows Denton wouldn’t approve. She knows this is the wrong guy at the wrong time. And Riordan knows exactly what She does for a living. Specifically, he knows about Her business visits to the track on her boss’s dime, which could settle his latest debt and keep him alive. She finds herself torn between the woman who gave her everything (with a legendary violent streak) and the man who could cost her all of it (but who she can’t resist). Will she bet on love? Remain loyal? Lookout for herself? Will Denton turn out to he be Her mentor/mother-figure, or a cold-hearted murderess? More importantly, how long after you’ve finished the book does it take for you to stop sounding like a fast-talking, shady dame?

Pretty soon there’s stolen money, a dead body, a missing furrier, a couple of naïve cops not yet on Denton’s payroll, and a letter opener just waiting to spill everyone’s dirty secrets. There are more than enough twists and turns in the story to keep you turning the pages.

Abbott, once a noir scholar, consistently mixes up the formula with each of her novels. She takes the greatest leap with Queenpin by reversing the gender roles and giving us a female narrator/protagonist. With Chandler, Hammett, and Cain, male leads were smitten with, betrayed by, or nearly ruined by gals with the goods. Here, She is the one sidetracked, maybe even duped by a man. She and Denton are not your typical noir vixens – voiceless, dishonest, and cunning. Nor do they use sex to get what they want. All they want is to get through life on their own two feet, not their backs. Nevertheless, as with any noir worth a bullet, love and lust are just plain bad for business, no matter what sex you are. The whole setup goes bad, and Abbott does it so good.