First of all, when we see a title like No Pockets in a Shroud and see an angry guy with a crushed piece of paper it seems to us that he’s just decided to go back to the drawing board with something, possibly shroud design. Which is how we came up with our silly subhead. But the book isn’t about shrouds at all. What happens is a newspaperman’s rigid personal ethics compel him to expose corruption in the big city, including bribery in professional baseball, a crooked abortion ring, and a racist group that bears a strong resemblance to the KKK. This truth-telling will cost him of course, but exactly how much is the question.
The book was written by Horace McCoy, who is often called an underrated writer, but once multiple sources use that term, maybe you aren’t underrated anymore. He wrote numerous tales for the classic pulp magazine Black Mask, as well as for Detective-Dragnet Magazine, Man Stories, et al, before branching out to author classic novels like Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye and They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? Generally, No Pockets in a Shroud is considered substandard for McCoy, but it has an interesting point of view. The rather intense cover art is signed “T.V.,” which we take to mean Tony Varady. And the title, incidentally, is just another way of saying: You can’t can’t take it with you.
You're absolutely right! Because corpses don't need money, keys, gum, or any of that stuff. What was I thinking?