By Patricia Highsmith
Residing on his posh French property together with his based heiress spouse, Tom Ripley, at the cusp of heart age, is not any longer the striving comer of The proficient Mr. Ripley. Having accumulated huge wealth via an extended occupation of crime—forgery, extortion, serial murder—Ripley nonetheless reveals his urge for food unquenched and longs to come back within the video game. In Ripley's Game, first released in 1974, Patricia Highsmith's vintage chameleon relishes the chance to concurrently pay off an insult and aid a pal devote a crime—and break out the doldrums of his idyllic retirement. This 3rd novel in Highsmith's sequence is certainly one of her such a lot psychologically nuanced—particularly memorable for its darkish, absurd humor—and was once hailed through critics for its skill to control the tropes of the style. With the production of Ripley, one among literature's so much seductive sociopaths, Highsmith expected the likes of Norman Bates and Hannibal Lecter years sooner than their visual appeal.
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Additional info for Ripley's Game (Ripley , Book 3)
Ring back. ” The phone was trilling as he walked through the door. He hadn’t spoken to Maggie for eighteen months, since they’d bumped into one another in the Playhouse bar during the interval of a Willy Russell play, but it might have been yesterday as she came on to the line. Her voice was as warm as ever, although it faltered a little as she commiserated with him. ” “Yes,” she said. “Yes, of course. ” “I was hoping, right away. ” “You know the Traders’ Club in Old Hall Street? We have a firm’s membership there.
For all he knew, she might be at the Demi-Monde or Huskisson’s with some new bloke she’d just picked up. Of course, he should blame himself for succumbing to the temptation of her note like an addict craving for another fix. “Well, that’s enough from me,” said the compère and a slurred voice from the audience bellowed assent. “Now is the moment you’ve all been waiting for. ” He rolled off the last word with a Gallic flourish before rising to a new crescendo: “Yes, ladies and gentlemen. The enchanting.
A handwritten card on the door said that the Freak Shop would be closed this afternoon. The truanting schoolkids who were pressing their noses to the glass, admiring the naughty nighties, could goggle to their hearts’ content. Further down the road, he paused for a moment outside Mama Reilly’s. But there was no reason to go inside and it was time to return to Fenwick Court. Back at New Commodities House, Suzanne’s sheikh had presumably got his woman and the switchboard girl was now tackling a thousand-pager about sex in Hollywood.