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Crime & The City of Angels: An Interview with Jordan Harper

A VIOLENT MASTERPIECE begins with two epigraphs, one from Bertolt Brecht and  another from the Brothers Grimm. Can you talk about the choice to include these and how they frame the reader’s experience? 

The Brother’s Grimm quote was something I’d been saving for this book before I’d even started working on it. It just resonated with what I’m trying to illustrate with my LA novels, and my core argument that the current system is bad not just for oppressed people, but for everyone. Over-satiation leads to numbness. And because I had planned the central crime of this book while writing Everybody Knows, I knew as soon as I read this that I had to use it to lead this book. 

The Brecht quote approaches the other side of my LA stories, the people I’m most interested in (and feel the most kinship with): the people who are not driven by avarice or cruelty but have simply found themselves captured by a system that requires evil of them in order to stay afloat. The strange feeling of watching the world burn and maybe also burning too, and not feeling in control but feeling responsible at the same time. I’m not interested in centering the truly evil, and I leave the centering of those who aren’t complicit to others. My characters tend to be the people in the middle, who might have been capable of being good if they had ever been asked to be in a meaningful way. But instead, they live in the belly of the beast and they learn to make a home in its guts.  

You currently live in Los Angeles, which is the same setting for the book. How does the city act as its own force in the novel? How has living in L.A. shaped your voice as a writer? 

Much of what Jake Deal says in Chapter One comes from my own view of this city: that it is America, the most American place for good or ill. A place where the contradictions of this country founded on hope and blood are most extreme. A place of dreams and violence. A place that could not exist without its immigrants, without the movies, without guns, without cars. You know, AMERICA.  

My LA prose is my pulpiest prose. It is not a subtle place, and now is not the time for subtle art. You need hard consonants and fluid images to capture this place. 

A VIOLENT MASTERPIECE? Tell us more about the inspiration for your title.

The title came from a terrific 70s trade paperback edition of Red Harvest that I own.  A lurid red cover, a man standing over a woman’s dead body, and the words Dashiell Hammet’s Violent Masterpiece RED HARVEST. I saw the cover and thought to myself, I wish I could put that on the cover of one of my books. And then realized that I could. 

I did find a way to work it into the book, coming out of the mouth of a man who trains cops how to kill. He says “America is a violent masterpiece.” He means it as a compliment. I don’t. 

The narrative weaves together art, crime, and obsession. What draws you to explore the intersections between creative expression and violence? 

My life’s work is making art about violence. I didn’t set out for that to be the case, but that’s is what it is.  

The philosopher Simone Weil said in her essay “The Illiad, or The Poem of Force” that force (or violence) is “that x that turns anybody who is subjected to it into a thing. Exercised to the limit, it turns man into a thing in the most literal sense: it makes a corpse out of him.” She also says that force acts in both directions. That when you use force against another human being, turning them into a thing, you lose some of your own humanity yourself. An equal and opposite reaction. Art gives us an opportunity to do the opposite. To find the beauty and truth and humanity around us and thereby to increase our own share of humanity. So there’s something essential, in a dialectic sort of way, in art that explores its opposite. 

Was there a particular real-world event, artwork, or artist that inspired elements of A  VIOLENT MASTERPIECE? 

Anyone who has read EVERYBODY KNOWS and A VIOLENT MASTERPIECE can see that I draw heavily from modern news, events, stories and myths. The connection between Jeffery Epstein and my work is pretty obvious. The part of that story that I really fictionalize in this book, Epstein’s death, is something I thought might have passed from public interest by the time this book was published (I had already planned this story while writing EVERYBODY KNOWS). By the time Trump retook office and the Epstein files came back into view, this novel was largely completed. But of course Epstein stands for something much deeper in the American psyche, and therefore will stay in the public’s mind for a long time. Like the JFK assassination, Epstein and his crimes and his death are both factual and mythic representations of the evil that swims underneath the waves of this ocean we find ourselves floating in. So while many of the events in the book are based on true moments, they are also echoes of the eternal and often unspoken truth about the world.