Tony's Reviews > Ride the Pink Horse

Two other novels by Dorothy Hughes that I've read - In a Lonely Place and The Expendable Man (both nyrb-classics) - exceeded my expectations, transcending a mere noir-ish form. This one didn't. It was monotonous, dated, and banal. Most of it is the protagonist unable to finding a room and needing to take a bath. As thrilling as dreams I have occasionally where I can't find where I parked my car.

I suppose she meant to expose some ethnic prejudice, and she does, but not in any gripping way. I highlighted one passage, for what it's worth:

He walked on fast. Kids weren't hypocrites. When the copper showed up they were like statues, hostile-eyed, withheld breaths. The older folks cranked up smiles or words, but not the kids. The Old folks pretended that Fiesta made all a oneness in the land, Indian, Mexican, Gringo. The kids didn't hide their knowledge of the enemy among them. They were too smart.