Honolulu Noir is an anthology of 13 authors, edited by Chris McKinney. I had to refresh my memory in that: “Noir is a genre of crime, film or fiction characterized by cynicism, fatalism and moral ambiguity,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary. A rather relevant theme today.
The title itself acknowledges the elephant in the Hawaiian house of tourist dollars and economic recovery. I live in Honolulu and every day, I see the dark side to the lilting scent of plumeria and the patina of piña coladas. There’s enough to fill a book—or shape reality.
Along those lines, the story “Entered My Mind” by Tom Gammarino begs the question: What is real? Not only because of the vulnerability of our emotional reaction to stimuli, but the infiltration of artificial intelligence and computer-generated realism into our perceptions these days. Have super nanites invaded my bloodstream manipulating my conspiracy theories? Or am I intrinsically learning new information? Or am I having a psychotic break? Am I in the Matrix? Or is the Matrix just a cover band for the cosmic blues? How can you tell?
“Mother’s Mother’s Mother,” by Morgan Miryung McKinney, is a kind of weird sci-fi horror poem about four generations of females living together and carrying their childhood traumas as they circle and bump into each other like drunken cats trying pass on something worthwhile to each other.
“Diamond Dreams,” by Mindy Eun Soo Pennybacker, continues to unfurl the existential questions: Where did you come from? Where is your home? What are you? What is your purpose in life? These and other questions agitate the disquieting silence while eating hot dogs and shave ice in the Waikīkī zoo trying to grab passing moments of transient peace.
“Apana’s Last Case,” by Alan Brennert, is a story set in the 1920s about a retiring Honolulu detective and his desire to finish well. It is an engaging chronicle of solving a cold case mystery with bittersweet tones, ending sweet. In the world of noir, is feeling good a bad thing? Or is it sticking your head in sand? Is that what I must do to live my life while letting others live theirs even if it’s adverse to mine? Is that a reality check? Or propaganda?
What a bed we’ve made for ourselves. But… is it not an opportunity?
