Georges Gerfaut is a man of fewer than forty years. His car is a steel-gray Mercedes. The leather of the seats is mahogany, and so are the rest of the interior decorations of the automobile. Georges Gerfaut's interior is dark and confused; one can make out some vague leftist ideas. On the dashboard of the car, above the dials, one can see a little metallic plaque with a matte finish on which are engraved Georges' name, his address, his blood type, and a shitty representation of Saint Christopher. Through the two speakers—one beneath the dashboard, the other under the back window—a casette player broadcasts at low volume West Coast jazz: Gerry Mulligan, Jimmy Giuffre, Bud Shank, Chico Hamilton. . . .
The reason why Georges Gerfaut was thus dashing along the ring road with diminished reflexes and listening to that music should be sought in the relations of production. The fact that Georges had killed at least two men in the course of the year doesn't come into it.

Recent Praise for 3 To Kill:

"A social satire cum suspense equally interested in dissecting everyday banalities and manufacturing thrills. Writing with economy, deadpan irony, and an eye for devastating detail, Manchette spins pulp fiction into literature." – from the Starred Review in Kirkus Reviews

"Backed by a tremendous European reputation, one of the stars of Gallimard's Serie Noire comes to America with a lean thriller, in a brilliant new translation. . . . Manchette is a must for the reading lists of all noir fans." – Publishers Weekly

Jean-Patrick Manchette (1942–1995) rescued the French crime novel from the grip of stodgy police procedurals, restoring the noir edge by virtue of his post-1968 leftism. Today, Manchette is a totem to the generation of French mystery writers who came in his wake. Jazz saxophonist, political activist, and screen writer, Manchette was influenced as much by Guy Debord as by Gustave Flaubert.