Acheter d'occasion
EUR 5,49
État: D'occasion: Bon
Commentaire: Amazon - Offres Reconditionnées vous assure la même qualité de service qu' ainsi que 30 jours de retour.
Vous l'avez déjà ?
Repliez vers l'arrière Repliez vers l'avant
Ecoutez Lecture en cours... Interrompu   Vous écoutez un extrait de l'édition audio Audible
En savoir plus
Voir cette image

The corner, enquête sur un marché de la drogue à ciel ouvert : Volume 1 : hiver/printemps Broché – 24 février 2011

5.0 étoiles sur 5 1 commentaire client

Voir les formats et éditions Masquer les autres formats et éditions
Prix Amazon
Neuf à partir de Occasion à partir de
Format Kindle
"Veuillez réessayer"
"Veuillez réessayer"
EUR 34,33 EUR 4,54
Broché, 24 février 2011
EUR 5,49

Harry Potter Harry Potter

18-24 ans ?
Des millions d'articles livrés gratuitement en un jour ouvré avec Premium Jeunes
click to open popover

Offres spéciales et liens associés

Descriptions du produit


Gary McCullough nods, flustered, looking out at the Wabash Avenue courtroom for some better truth, or some better way of telling it.  From the middle of the third bench, his mother covers her frown with both hands, terrified at the image of her son's life hanging in the balance.  Gary catches her eye and tries to smile, then loses his train of thought.

"It's like . . . judge, please, this is just crazy."

Judge Bass, sensing the panic, tries to put the defendant at ease.  "Take your time, Mr. McCullough, I'm listening to you.  I just need you to speak louder."


"Go ahead."

"All right."

Where to begin?  What to say?  What to leave unsaid?  So much to worry about now that all that foolishness with Ronnie is getting its day in court.  Gary has taken a charge behind this nonsense; he's seen the bullpen on Eager Street because of it.  And now, when he should be speaking up for himself and putting it all to rest, he's a stammering wreck.  It's hell getting the God's honest truth out of your mouth when the damn thing is wrapped up in lies.

"We had an argument . . . ," says Gary.

True enough.

". . . about some money."


"An' Ronnie, I mean, Veronica began yelling."

True again.

"So I asked her to leave . . ."

Still true.

". . . but she kept cussin' me and telling me she wasn't going to go without the, ah, the, um . . . the money."

The lie again.

"Mr.  McCullough, you'll have to speak up."

"Um . . ."

"You'll have to talk louder so I can hear you."

Gary nods, agreeable.  "She just wouldn't leave," he tells Judge Bass, "so I finally shoved her a little, toward the door, like.  I didn't hit her, I just pushed her to get her out of the house."

Truth, or close enough to it.

"And she threw a brick at me . . ."


"A brick?"  asks Judge Bass.

"And a knife," adds Gary.

Lie.  A home run swing from Gary McCullough.

"She threw a knife at you?"

"I was standing in the doorway."

"What kind of knife?"

"Kitchen kind.  Had a big blade and all."

The judge can't let that one go.  He's looking up at the acoustic-tile ceiling, giving words to the thought running through the heads of everyone else in the courtroom.

"Where did she get the knife?"

Gary shrugs, wondering what that has to do with anything.  He's sweating profusely, a prisoner inside his gray pinstripe church suit.

"I mean," says the judge.  "Did she have the knife on her or did she go and get the knife from somewhere?  She didn't just find it lying in the street, did she?"

Gary shrugs again, then scratches his ear, thinking about it.  To look at him, to catch even a glimpse of the sincerity in his face, you'd think there might actually have been a knife involved.  Who's to say?  With Gary McCullough, a man far too honest about most things, the occasional lie always takes on a life of its own.  Today, on a bright May morning, eight months after the fact, he truly believes Ronnie tossed a knife at him.  If she had a knife, she surely would have.

Judge Bass raises an eyebrow, then glances over at the assistant state's attorney, who lets the judge continue the redirect.  "Do you know where the knife came from?"  the judge asks Gary.

"From Ronnie's hand.  She threw it."

Laughter breaks from the clustered humanity on the court benches.  Even Judge Bass has to smile.

"But you don't know where she got it."


"Okay, go on."

Go on, Mr. McCullough.  Tell the tale as best you can.  But leave out the part about the vials of heroin, the part where you wouldn't share a blast with Ronnie and she started to raise hell, calling you all kinds of names.  By all means, mention the brick--the kitchen knife, even--but leave out the part where you ran out of the house afterward to confront her, grabbing her neck, and then shoving her down the sidewalk.  Tell it in small pieces, as if it's a broken puzzle.  Tell it the way you think they might want to hear it.

"I didn't hit her," Gary says.

That this case is now being played out in court is, in itself, an incredible thing.  That it couldn't be stetted or nol-prossed or reduced to some unsupervised probation is testament only to the current political imperatives.  Gary and Ronnie both had come to court today certain that they could make the thing go away; Ronnie would decline to testify and the prosecutors would shrug and toss the casefile into a tall stack of district court dismissals.

But no.  It wasn't just the usual Western District prosecutor in court today, but an assistant state's attorney from downtown somewhere.  And this case could not be dismissed as everyone desired because of its status as a domestic violence complaint.  In the eyes of the government, Ronnie Boice is no longer the quick-thinking, game-running, syringe-switching wonder of Fayette Street.  Consciousness has been sufficiently raised so that now, by a policy new to the prosecutor's office, all domestic assault cases are fully pursued--even when a wife or girlfriend has attempted to back away from her original statement.  For today at least, Ronnie Boice will be representing battered womanhood.

It's a noble effort by the state's attorney's office, a worthy strategy in those cases in which abused women are too frightened or intimidated to testify against their assailants.  In the present case, however, the new policy is a source of unintentional hilarity.

Ronnie never had any intention of pursuing the case; she just wanted Gary to know that what was his--coke, dope, or both--was hers as well.  But now she'll have to testify or risk being charged with obstructing justice.  And if she tells the truth on the stand--tells them that it was a shoving match over a blast--well, that will mean a charge of false statement or perjury for her original complaint.  When Gary declined a plea offer of six months in jail followed by spousal abuse counseling, the court trial was the only option left.

"Why would Miss Boice make a complaint against you if you didn't hit her?"  asks the prosecutor, picking up the redirect.

"I don't know," says Gary, looking genuinely hurt.

"But you're saying she made all this up?"


"Why would she do that?"

Gary's mouth gapes open, then shuts.  He wants to say it.  He has to fight himself not to say it: Why do you think, fool?  She wanted my blast.  She wanted my blast and I said no and so she called the police.  If Gary told them that, if he let it fall from his lips in the Western District court, everything would make sense.  And neither the judge nor the prosecutor would bother to bring any charge from the admission of drug use, not in Baltimore, anyway.  But Gary can't see that; he keeps his secret.

Ronnie, too.  Just before Gary took the witness stand in his own defense, Ronnie gave her own grudging testimony.  Questioned by the prosecutor, she made no mention of the blast, choosing instead to pretend that the argument was about Gary giving his attentions to some other girl.  In sharp contrast to Gary's later panic, his girl managed to thread the needle masterfully.  Droll from the witness stand, her eyes bouncing between Gary at the defense table and his mother three rows back, she destroyed the case without directly contradicting her original complaint.  No, she did not throw a brick.  No, there was no knife.  Yes, Gary did shove her, and later, on the sidewalk, he slapped her.  But yeah, well, she did push him, too.  In fact, she might have pushed him first, now that she thinks on it.

"Mutual combat," said Judge Bass, looking at the state's attorney in bland resignation.  Once Ronnie left the witness stand, it only remained for Gary to make some kind of denial and now, testifying in his own defense, he manages that much.

"Your honor.  I didn't hit her.  I swear."

Not guilty.  The Western District prosecutor nods agreeably, then tosses the file into the discard pile.  The domestic violence specialist from downtown looks crestfallen.

Out in the courthouse hallway, the victory celebration is brief and ugly.  Gary walks out with his mother on his arm; Ronnie, right behind him, with her own mother, who apparently didn't want to miss her daughter's big day in court.

"Well," ventures Roberta McCullough, "at least that's over."

"Over and done with," agrees Miss Sarah.

"But I don't think our childrens should be together," Miss Roberta says, eyeing Ronnie fretfully.  "They're just not good for each other.  They don't do each other any good."

Ronnie's mother bristles.  "What the hell you mean by that?"

Hands braced against her hips, she stares down at the smaller woman with contempt.  Gary is behind his mother, looking at Ronnie in horror.  Ronnie is smiling.

"I just mean . . ."

"They'se grown-up children," shouts Miss Sarah, performing for the entire building.  "You can't tell them what to do, you ol' bitch cow."

Roberta McCullough's small frame seems to warp from the verbal assault, her eyes falling to the floor.  Shaking, she holds one hand to her heart; Gary takes the other and tries to lead her to the stairs.

"Who the hell you think you is?"  shouts Ronnie's mother.  "Tell my daughter what she can and can't do.  You can go an' fuck yo'self, you ol' cow."

From the top of the stairs, Gary helps his stricken mother to the rail, then looks back over his shoulder to see Ronnie and her mother following.  Miss Sarah keeps bellowing insults; Ronnie is behind her, smiling so wickedly that Gary realizes that this is part of the price, that Ronnie--having known that his mother would be there for him--had contrived to bring her own mother to the show.

"You think you so high and mighty," yells Miss Sarah.  "Your son ain't no better than my daughter."

The words echo down the stairs.  Without turning, Miss Roberta falls back on the grace that she knows: "I'll pray for you," she tells her adversary.  "That's all I can do."

"Don't need your got-damn prayers, bitch."

They leave the courthouse separately: Gary, consoling his mother, promising to have nothing more to do with Ronnie or her family; Ronnie, heading to Lafayette Market with the matriarch of the Boice clan, the two of them reliving the hallway battle in all its detail.

The episode is enough to keep Gary from Ronnie all that night and the next day.  He runs the streets telling himself that nothing--no caper, no blast, no game--will be enough to subject his mother to anything like that again.  And it is true that Gary loathes nothing so much as the idea that his life is bringing grief to his mother. --Ce texte fait référence à une édition épuisée ou non disponible de ce titre.

Revue de presse

Praise for The Corner:

"The Corner is an intimate, intense dispatch from the broken heart of urban America. It is impossible to read these pages and not feel stunned at the high price, in human potential, in thwarted aspirations, that simple survival on the streets of West Baltimore demands of its citizens. An important document, as devastating as it is lucid."
--Richard Price, author of Clockers

"The Corner is a remarkable book--very tough, very demanding, very rewarding. Some of it is brutal and all of it is heartbreaking. As a reporter, I can only stand back and admire David Simon and Edward Burns for an amazing piece of reportage. To be there for an entire year, to make sense of random events and a list of characters long enough to make Charles Dickens envious, and to write coherently--it's a breathtaking achievement. And they manage to make West Baltimore as much a character as any of the flesh-and-blood people in the book."
--Glenn Frankel, author of Beyond the Promised Land

"If you want to understand street-corner life in the inner city, you should read The Corner, an amazingly intimate, detailed work of reporting that makes human and vivid a world that outsiders ordinarily are forced to learn about through statistics, sound bites, and stereotypes."
--Nicholas Lemann, author of The Promised Land --Ce texte fait référence à une édition épuisée ou non disponible de ce titre.

Aucun appareil Kindle n'est requis. Téléchargez l'une des applis Kindle gratuites et commencez à lire les livres Kindle sur votre smartphone, tablette ou ordinateur.

  • Apple
  • Android
  • Windows Phone
  • Android

Pour obtenir l'appli gratuite, saisissez votre numéro de téléphone mobile.

Détails sur le produit

Quels sont les autres articles que les clients achètent après avoir regardé cet article?

Commentaires en ligne

5.0 étoiles sur 5
5 étoiles
4 étoiles
3 étoiles
2 étoiles
1 étoile
Voir le commentaire client
Partagez votre opinion avec les autres clients

Meilleurs commentaires des clients

Format: Broché Achat vérifié
Si vous avez aimé la série "The Wire", lisez ce livre. Il s'agit d'une enquête qui a servi pour la mini-série "The Corner" et pour "The Wire".

Quelques extraits:

Dans des quartiers exangues, ils ont construit un moteur économique tellement puissant qu'ils lui sacrifieront tout, sans la moindre hésitation. Et ne vous y méprenez pas: ce moteur vrombit. Pas de taux de marge réduite, pas de récession, pas de rapports trimestriels pessimistes, pas de licenciements, pas de taux de chômage naturel. Au coeur de nos villes dévastées, la culture de la drogue a créé une structure qui génère de la richesse, une structure si élémentaire et durable qu'on peut légitimement la nommer contrat social.
Vu de l'extérieur, il est tentant de réduire ce cauchemar à un modèle abâtardi obéissant à la loi de l'offre et de la demande ou à une anarchie née d'une prohibition impossible à appliquer. Mais rendre compte de ce qui se passe à l'intersection de Fayette et Monroe et dans d'autres corners similaires, c'est aller bien au-delà des notions économiques de base ou des considérations médicales sur les mécanismes de dépendance.(...)

Dans Monroe et Fayette ainsi que dans tous les marchés de la drogue du pays, des vies insignifiantes trouvent une justification au travers d'un système capitaliste rudimentaire et autosuffisant. Et il y a de la place pour tous, jusqu'au dernier. Rabatteurs, coursiers, guetteurs, mules, braqueurs, pilleurs de planques, hommes de main, zombies, arnaqueurs, indics: ils sont tous devenus indispensables au monde du corner. (...)Ici seulement, ils savent qui ils sont, pourquoi ils le sont et ce qu'ils sont censé faire. Ici, ils ont presque de l'importance.
3 commentaires 2 personnes ont trouvé cela utile. Avez-vous trouvé ce commentaire utile ? Oui Non Commentaire en cours d'envoi...
Merci pour votre commentaire.
Désolé, nous n'avons pas réussi à enregistrer votre vote. Veuillez réessayer
Signaler un abus

Commentaires client les plus utiles sur (beta) 4.7 étoiles sur 5 132 commentaires
1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 The truth? You can't handle the truth, or can you? 29 juin 2016
Par JackOfMostTrades - Publié sur
Format: Relié Achat vérifié
I've been binge-watching The Wire (46 episodes thus far in two weeks) so it's clear I think the show is fantastic. This book is a description of the people and neighborhood upon which the TV series is based. It contains the same intimate, authoritative tone that the series does. This book and other such 'ethnographic' studies are worth a pile of sociology textbooks. It's evident why politicians don't use this book or the TV series as "ur-texts" to examine the decimation of urban society. They can't handle the truth. President Obama respects the series and the book, and even he learned the problems depicted in both are intractable unless there is a revolutionary change in public policy. And that is something that is just not going to happen in our society.
5 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 On the Empathy of Species 15 mai 2009
Par HDTwoodsman - Publié sur
Format: Broché Achat vérifié
After reading and enjoying `Homicide', I expected Simon and Burns to simply offer a conflicting story from the street perspective*. `The Corner' exceeds the detective chronicles in presenting a compelling group of characters stuck in system that seems to be working against them.

The brilliantly crafted story reads like fiction. BUT, those of you expecting `The Wire', will find yourself on a very different journey.** The characters are richer and a larger palette is used in this Baltimore painting.

While the series offered a subtle indictment of the US drug war, this book pulls no punches. Neither Simon nor Burns assign simple answers to these endemic issues, but they seem to have pinpointed the problem.

Above all, this book is for those who desire a true understanding of the inner-city. While not dismissing personal responsibility, the story turns the `bootstrap' notion on its head.

`The Corner' epitomizes how empathy grows through sustained, close examination. I'll finish with what may be my favorite paragraph in the book:

"It's a reckoning of another kind, perhaps, and one that becomes a possibility only through the arrogance and certainty that so easily accompanies a well-planned and well-tended life. We know ourselves, we believe in ourselves; from what we value most, we grant ourselves the illusion that it's not chance and circumstance, that opportunity itself isn't the defining issue. We want the high ground; we want our own worth to be acknowledged. Morality, intelligence, values- we want those things measured and counted. We want it to be about US."

*which would've been fine
**and you won't find a bigger `Wire' fan than me
9 internautes sur 9 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Breathtaking 24 avril 2007
Par Charles Sikkenga - Publié sur
Format: Broché Achat vérifié
Books don't get much more powerful or moving than this.

The premise is simple-- former Baltimore Sun reporter Simon (the driving force behind HBO's "The Wire" which takes place in the same area)and reporting partner Ed Burns (formerly employed by both the Baltimore City Police and the Baltimore school district) spent a year living on or around one of the busiest drug markets in Baltimore. They simply report what they see. In doing so, he they relate the stories of the people who inhabit this world: street pushers, kids trying (although often not that hard) to stay straight and the parents who worry about them, when they're not too busy trying to score their next fix. The stories are harrowing--from hardcore junkies who spend their days cashing in scrap metal for cash to earn their next fix to families sharing one small bedroom in a walk up shooting gallery. Pretty much everybody is hoping for a change in fortunes, but the book offers few happy endings. In spite of this, its a fascinating glimpse of a world where most of Simon's readers will never go.

The narrative is occasionally broken up by Simon and Burns' musings about the war on drugs. No matter where you fall on the political spectrum, its hard to disagree with their belief that the war has failed, at least in this little corner of the world. There's a particularly powerful passage near the end where Simon and Burns flat out shatter the Horatio Alger myths that many middle-class suburbanites cling to, particularly the idea that should they find themselves in that situation, they'd simply apply a little Puritan gumption and work their way out their unfortunate circumstances. In the end, he doesn't offer any solutions and precious little hope.

Yet, the characters who populate the corner are more than mindless junkies. They're human, with hopes and dreams and stories to tell. Perhaps Simon's greatest achievement is the way in which he employs his sharp eye and powers of observation to paint a wholly three-dimensional and, given the circumstances, refreshingly non-judgmental picture of a community in deep decline.

In the end, its an amazingly powerful read, one that will leave readers deeply affected and likely having shed at least a couple of tears along the way.
5.0 étoiles sur 5 A brutal, but honest examination of the the generations ... 21 octobre 2016
Par Bob Reynolds - Publié sur
Format: Format Kindle Achat vérifié
A brutal, but honest examination of the the generations of lost opportunities, hopes and lives in Baltimore, sacrificed by careless, bureaucratic, political and racially motivated decisions by interstate, highway and city planning, coupled with white flight, which have served to essentially incarcerate our children
6 internautes sur 6 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Dante's "Inferno" transported to West Baltimore 29 juillet 2000
Par JLind555 - Publié sur
Format: Broché Achat vérifié
There should be a sign posted at the corner of Fayette and Monroe Streets that reads "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here". David Simon and Edward Burns take the reader on a Dantean trip through hell, leading us into the world of a drug-infested neighborhood in Baltimore. Here we meet Fat Curt, who keeps on keeping on until his body, ravaged from years of drug abuse, gives out; Ella Thompson, who never gave up on the neighborhood and its inhabitants; Gary and Fran, who threw the rich promise of their lives away on drugs, and their son DeAndre, a manchild who may never reach the promised land. Burns and Simon get us intricately involved in the lives of their subjects; and while we may react with disgust at Gary keeping on a straight course aimed at hitting rock bottom, we also feel sympathy and respect for Fran, who manages to get back up every time after she falls down. Above all, we feel the despair and disillusionment of the young people who learn from a very early age that to the rest of America, their lives have no meaning. What do these youngsters, left for the most part to raise themselves while their parents are strung out on drugs and living for nothing but their next hit, have to look forward to, when their role models are drug pushers and stickup men? Simon and Burns have been criticized for not offering answers, which would have lent an upbeat tone to this book. The criticism is beside the point. They have no answers and don't pretend to. Their aim is to show the reader how this country's "anti-drug program" is lacking in coherence, goals, or any kind of common sense, and in this they succeed admirably. What would have lent additional interest to this book is some exploration of how some of the people of the Corner, despite every strike being against them, manage to make positive lives for themselves when others try and fail, and some never seem to try at all: why is DeAndre still headed downhill when Preston, his friend and partner in crime, turned his life around, married, found a job, and moved his family out of the neighborhood? Why has Blue, an old Corner hand, stayed clean for three years when so many of his friends have died from drugs? How did Tyreeka, giving birth to DeAndre's son at age 14, manage to avoid another out of wedlock pregnancy, finish high school and look forward to college? And where has Fran found the strength to keep trying to get clean and stay clean when an overdose put Gary into a coffin? We can only pray that Fran stays straight this time, that DeAndre pulls his life out of the tailspin it has been going in, and that this country finally develops a meaningful drug policy that will offer some hope and some real assistance to the drug fiends on all of the nation's Corners.
Ces commentaires ont-ils été utiles ? Dites-le-nous


Souhaitez-vous compléter ou améliorer les informations sur ce produit ? Ou faire modifier les images?