Anyone who reads noir knows the name David Goodis. His work has been in and out of print so often it isn't difficult to find, but somehow the man remains elusive. His story is one of tragedy--much like the sad, seedy novels he wrote for the paperback houses in the 1940s, 50s and 60s. He died at the age of 49 after a long, quiet career as a paperback writer, in the same home he was raised in Philadelphia. To many he remains a master of the noir novel, but to read him is to see the world as something less than gritty, not to mention mean, nasty and very unfair. Maybe they are just the way Goodis viewed the world.
There is a terrific review of Goodis's novel Black Friday on Pulp Pages. It was written by G.L. Hauptfleisch, and it quotes Ed Gorman:
“'David Goodis didn’t write novels, he wrote suicide notes,' mystery writer Ed Gorman once wrote. 'He was a sad, suffering guy and he was able to get that sadness and suffering down on paper.'"
That pretty much sums up Goodis, and his writing. He is a little dark for me, but if you can get past the desperation, the poverty and the ills he portrays he was a pretty damn literate and entertaining writer.
Go Here to read the article/review.