Mildred Pierce by James M. Cain

I’ve only seen the movie once, but I don’t remember it standing out quite this much. Maybe I just wasn’t in the right mood, or maybe it loses something in its translation to film. (Still, since Michael Curtiz is who he is, I should give him the benefit of the doubt and give this film another chance.) Veda drips with an uncommon venom, Mildred is a sap, Bert is a tool and Monty is just aching to be killed in his sleep by Veda (you know it’s gonna happen.) What’s so fun about this book is the language and the tone. Words like ‘swell’ and ‘flop‘ in exchange for fuck, ‘stinking’ in place of drunk and of course, referencing tits as ‘the dairy’ punctuate the narrative and it’s just so goddamn (another word used effectively, and as frequent as a comma) fun. You can actually see the black and white photography and the dames driving taxis, wanting to fuck Humphrey Bogart in the background. The atmosphere is that thick.