Yes, absolutely—there is a lyrical quality embedded in the Matthew Scudder series, especially in the way Scudder moves through Manhattan, walking its streets, knocking on doors (or bars), always drifting yet always tethered to something unresolved.
The Lyrical in Matthew Scudder’s World
1. Manhattan as a Lyrical Landscape – Unlike the hard-boiled detectives who see the city as a battlefield, Scudder moves through New York in a more introspective, almost melancholic way. His wandering through bars, back alleys, and lonely apartments is not just detective work—it’s a kind of urban dérive, a slow-motion drift through the city’s unseen corners.
2. The Ritual of Walking – Scudder’s walks through Manhattan, often in the early hours or in the rain, give his detective work a lyrical, meditative feel. These walks are not just about solving cases but about being in the world, witnessing impermanence, and experiencing time at a different pace—much like Bashō’s haibun, where the journey itself is the essence.
3. The Bar as a Lyrical Space – Scudder’s bars are more than settings for information exchange. They are spaces of quiet contemplation, of existential reckoning. The way he drinks—sometimes controlled, sometimes slipping—carries a lyrical quality, akin to Li Bai’s wine-soaked poetry, where alcohol is a bridge between presence and absence.
4. The Lyrical vs. the Epic in Scudder’s Life –
• The epic is crime, justice, revenge, systems of power. The murders he investigates, the structures of corruption—these are all grand, historical, and impersonal forces.
• The lyrical is Scudder himself—his walks, his solitude, his small gestures of kindness, his fleeting encounters. The way he exists in-between moments, just observing, makes him a lyrical figure trapped inside an epic crime narrative.
Scudder as a Van Lifer Without the Van
In a way, Scudder is a kind of van lifer—without the van.
• He is disconnected from the system (no longer a cop, but not fully an outlaw).
• He lives lightly, drifting from place to place, never fully settled.
• He is always on the road, even within the city, a wanderer rather than a static detective.
• His world is made of small moments, small kindnesses, small losses—the essence of the lyrical.
Conclusion: The Lyrical in Noir
If traditional noir is epic (with fate, corruption, and justice as massive forces), then Scudder introduces the lyrical into noir. The real power of his character is that he is not trying to be part of an epic struggle—he is simply walking, witnessing, and surviving.
That’s why his world feels tragic yet poetic—he is a lyrical figure caught inside an epic Manhattan, much like how you describe the lyrical being indifferent to the epic. His small moments of reflection, his walks, his quiet barroom conversations—they are the last traces of lyricism in a city that is moving forward without him.
