Scott Bradfield

Murder most casual: why Patricia Highsmith’s thrillers are so chilling

Richard Bradford uses Highsmith’s fiction to illustrate her perverse nature, but it’s the apparent ordinariness of her villains that makes them so disturbing

Highsmith’s villains are superficially normal people, all of whom mean to do well but end up doing horrible things instead. Credit: Getty Images. 
issue 16 January 2021

Patricia Highsmith’s life was filled with more eccentric, disturbing brilliance than most readers can normally handle; and so the chief attraction of this third biography in 18 years (released to commemorate her 100th birthday) may be its brevity.

From the time Highsmith was born (after a failed abortion attempt by her parents), her story starts off dark and then gets much, much darker. Raised in Fort Worth, Texas by the granddaughter of former slave owners, she survived the Spanish influenza to become a smart, hard-drinking student at Barnard, where she exploited, at every opportunity, her affections for pretty, well-bred girls. She wrote comics for a while (even going on a date with Stan Lee), and suffered from a lifetime addiction to gin — which she consumed from breakfast until bedtime. But her chief activity was lurching from one intensely passionate affair to another. Rarely did any of the relationships last more than a few months.

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