James Ellroy’s
Perfidia is quite an undertaking, not only
for the reader, but also for its shear scope of Los Angeles history. The first
of a new quartet of novels that spans the war years of 1941 to 1946 in America
leading up to the events in the original L.A. Quartet that consists of
TheBlack Dahlia,
The Big Nowhere,
L.A. Confidential, and
White Jazz. The novel
also connects with Ellroy’s most recent work, dubbed the Underworld USA Trilogy,
consisting of
American Tabloid,
Blood’s A Rover, and
The Cold Six Thousand. Overall
his cannon of work unveils a fictitious, dark and hidden history of the Los
Angeles police force that works its way into the FBI and finally into the
political landscape of the 1960’s and early 70’s.
Admittedly, I was intimidated by tackling such an expansive
book coupled with the fact that it’s been many years since I’ve read the
original quartet. However, my fears quickly vaporized once I remembered that I
was in the hands of a master crime writer. Personally, I think Ellroy is a true
successor to Hammett and Chandler in the ways that the authors re-create the
hard-boiled criminal underworld with acute vernacular and criminal intent. What
is interesting about Ellroy’s style is that it is not merely an imitation of
Hammett or Chandler’s work, but an entirely new beast of hard-boiled tough-guy
detectives that surpasses Spade, Marlowe, or even the entire Continental Op. This
is the next wave of crime writing and it’s exciting because Ellroy is still
alive and kicking.
The inciting incident and backdrop of the novel is an
investigation into a Japanese family’s ritualistic suicide called seppuku;
however, homicide is quickly determined after the investigation reveals key elements
that don’t fit in with the ritual. More importantly, this family’s slaying
happens on the eve of Pearl Harbor’s bombing which causes resentment, violence,
and riots in Los Angeles against Asian minorities. Sadly, the Los Angeles
population has trouble distinguishing between the Chinese and Japanese races.
Also, in question is whether the murdered family had prior knowledge of Pearl
Harbor’s attack due to the presumed suicide note found at the scene of the
crime.
Soon after the attack, the L.A.P.D begins to round up
questionable Japanese residents into holding cells and work farms. A subplot
emerges about farmlands bought for commercial development, but until the war is
over, the land becomes Japanese prison camps for monetary gain. A surge of
patriotism causes both civilians and the police force to enlist into the armed
forces. This action causes a hardship for the Police Department losing many of
their best men and potential cadets to the war.
Employed by the L.A.P.D. is police chemist Hideo Ashida, the
Department’s sole Japanese employee. Frustrated by being the only Asian
minority on the force and hampered by his closet homosexuality, Ashida works
hard to keep his position on the force and preventing his family’s detainment
in a war camp. Ashida’s commanding officers, Sergeant Dudley Smith and Captain
William Parker (Whiskey Bill), quickly recognize his resourcefulness and begin
to use him to promote each of their own questionable agendas.
Dudley Smith is both brilliant and sinister. Capable of
seducing his prey into unsuspected collaboration and astonishing acts of
violence while at the same time manipulating multiple police investigations to
his advantage. His acts are incorrigible and, at times, highly intelligent, but
motivated by the need for solutions, regardless if they are the correct ones. Before
New Year’s Eve, City Hall demands a resolution that the family’s murderer be
Japanese, perpetuating a Japanese on Japanese crime that justifies the acts
against L.A.’s Japanese population. Therefore, Dudley works to find a Japanese
killer. Dudley’s web of deceit is so intricate that the character creates a
coded chart in his office so that he can keep track of all his deeds.
Meanwhile, Dudley tries to maintain an affair with the one and only Bette
Davis.
On the other hand, Whiskey Bill Parker thrives on political
career moves that edge him towards the Police Chief’s desk. His hard drinking
and public spousal abuse blemish his reputation. Parker entraps a young woman
named Kay Lake whose estranged marriage to the department’s Lee Blanchard
connects her back with suspected criminal activities within the police force.
Her previous testimony has kept Lee Blanchard out of trouble. She and Hideo
Ashida also share a mutual affection for a recent police enrollee Bucky Bleichert.
Kay willingly partakes in the adventure of a lifetime to oust and infiltrate
social-lite communist Claire De Haven’s camp. De Haven, aka The Red Queen and
her party are in the process of publishing anti-propaganda tracts against the
Los Angeles police department exposing the brutality against the Japanese
minorities. Eventually, Parker’s motivation for ousting De Haven becomes
confused with his obsession for Kay. Likewise, Dudley’s obsession for Bette
Davis causes catastrophic events too.
As different sides of the same coin, Dudley and Parker’s
characters clash and complement each other nicely. Similarly, both Kay Lake and
Hideo Ashida are pawns in a deadly game where no one is innocent of anything.
Every character has something concealed. To whom to swear their allegiance is constantly
blurred and continuously shifty. Eventually, every character questions how
their role will play out in the bigger picture, which is precisely the point
Ellroy makes with Perfidia: don’t sweat the small stuff because in the end it does
not matter. When the murder mystery becomes unveiled, the dark manipulations of
all the characters and the police force, paired with the declaration of war,
manage to place the actual truth on hold. The murderer remains protected by the
course of history. To the Mayor’s office and the higher echelons in the
department, the true guilty party does not matter as long as the right person
burns for the job. History will move on regardless of the outcome. Orchestration
of events can happen anyway that you want them to. Which is exactly what Ellroy
has done inside his Los Angeles universe mixing true historical characters and
events with fictional ones; concocting resolutions that suggest the truths
about the Los Angeles police world.
Ellroy’s universe works beautifully. The power of this novel
rests in Ellroy’s ability to write economically and efficiently. I don’t want
to fool anyone by my meager attempt at summarizing the plot; every cog in this
wheel seems meticulously greased. Elloy’s work deserves, or rather demands,
consumption.
