The most telling facet of how good the story is, is that I can tell you everything that happens up front, and it’ll still kill you. Rendezvous in Black is nothing short of brilliant, if not amusingly dated and readable only as in black and white. Woolrich penned the novel for Rear Window, arguably Hitchcock’s finest films - at least of the several featuring the uncanny James Stewart. This was thoroughly apropos as I began reading Cornell Woolrich, a man who often gets wrongly shunted aside by the personages of Chandler and Cain when it comes to the granddaddies of noir. Old school half-hour mini-plays of death and murder and subterfuge. As occasional background/foreground to my late night solitaire sessions to quell the renewal of my insomnia, I’ve been watching Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Season 1. I often find my Netflix watching nicely overlapping my book reading on occasion.
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