6.1. 2019
From 2 stars to 4 stars.

You know, sometimes you read a book and you either dislike it, hate it, or never finish it, but then later it starts to slowly tickle the back of your brain until you give up and decide to re-read it someday. I think in the case of The Black Dahlia it was wrong timing that made it very underwhelming. Having developed an eternal love for film noir after that (and because this time I read it in English), I got what Ellroy was trying to do.

Did I enjoy it? Well, in order for me to say that, you have to understand that in this context "enjoyment" has a broader scope. I'm not sure when was the first time I heard about Elizabeth Short, but the case is one of the most haunting unsolved murders. Short's story is the ultimate Tinseltown mystery that doesn't just involve her, but everything else that comes with it (I'm not even going to start on the Hodel creep, but the miniseries I Am the Night delves into that).

Short, however, isn't as front and center in The Black Dahlia as you might think. She haunts in the background and her murder is the catalyst for all the craziness, but the main focus is on the obsessions and troubles of the two protagonists and the corrupt LAPD in general. Ellroy hacks at it with force, and although he manages to offer some surprises at the end that fit neatly into the crime/mystery genre, the solution to the mystery doesn't necessarily satisfy in the conventional sense. The people involved with the case have one way or another ruined themselves or each other. "Emptiness" is the word that comes to mind from the ending.

So, I enjoyed The Black Dahlia for all the depressing cynicism I have come to expect from film noir, not because it's a straightforward detective story with a happy ending. Instead of a drizzle, it's a downpour and a punch in the face. The walk through gutters might make some people uncomfortable, but I adore how it doesn't make any concessions. It is what it is, and if you don't like that, it doesn't give a fuck.