I’m delighted to see a resurgence of interest in Whit Masterson’s Badge of Evil, thanks to the release of Stark House Press’s new edition featuring my introduction, “Beneath the Tainted Badge.” As I explored in that introduction, the novel—crafted by Robert Wade and H. William Miller under the pen name Whit Masterson—remains a gripping, morally ambiguous police procedural whose legacy stretches from page to the silver screen in Orson Welles’s legendary adaptation, Touch of Evil.
This past July, two outstanding articles have spotlighted both the novel and the new edition. In Film International, James Morrison’s essay, “A Touch of the Poetry: Orson Welles and Badge of Evil,” offers an incisive look at the book’s themes, style, and its pivotal place in noir history. Morrison’s analysis underscores the vital relevance of Badge of Evil for readers and film-lovers alike, noting its early, unflinching exploration of police corruption and its bracing lack of genre misogyny. I’m especially grateful for his generous words: “As Litchfield points out in his astute introduction to the new edition, it is one of the first examples of crime fiction to explore police corruption…” Morrison observes that, while Welles’s adaptation is no straightforward translation—infusing Masterson’s spare, rapid-fire prose with feverish cinematic style, social critique, and unforgettable set-pieces—it draws deeply from the novel’s moral complexity and institutional critique. As Morrison puts it, Badge of Evil is “an extraordinary artifact,” notable for its surprising variations on the Masterson team’s formula and for its genuine social conscience, especially in its nuanced depiction of interracial marriage. (Full article can be found here)
Meanwhile, Paul Burke at Crime Time has penned an equally insightful review, “Pulp to Picture: Badge of Evil,” which deftly charts the novel’s journey from mid-century pulp to cinematic milestone. Burke praises my introduction as “informative and insightful,” and takes care to foreground the strengths of the novel itself—not just as the inspiration for Welles’s film, but as a taut, tense, and involving read in its own right. He notes that Wade Miller (Robert Wade and H. William Miller), the prolific writing duo behind the Masterson pen name, sold over 14 million books and saw eight of their novels adapted for the screen. Burke explores how Badge of Evil stands apart for its panoramic approach: while the movie distills the story into the mano-a-mano struggle between Vargas and Quinlan, the novel offers a more nuanced, wide-angle critique of systemic corruption, political expediency, and the pressures of public opinion—qualities that remain as relevant today as ever.
Burke also emphasizes that the heart of the novel lies not just with the battle of good and evil, but with the compromises, misdirection, and expediency that so often cloud the distinction between right and wrong. Mitch Holt, the novel’s protagonist, is a more complex and nuanced figure than his cinematic counterpart. His relationship with his wife Connie, and the realistic depiction of family tensions, ground the story in emotional truth. As Burke writes, “Corruption was in the news but it wasn’t in literary fiction until the pulps got there.” He concludes that Badge of Evil is a novel as urgent and necessary now as it was in 1956, offering hope that someone will always challenge and speak truth to power. (See the full article here.)
Both Morrison and Burke recognize the enduring relevance of Badge of Evil’s exploration of corruption and blurred moral lines—qualities I highlighted in my introduction and that remain pressing to this day. For those interested in the crossroads of noir fiction and classic Hollywood, Stark House’s new edition is a must-read.
If you missed my full thoughts on the book, you can revisit my earlier blog post from May, where I delved into the book’s sun-baked setting, relentless pace, and its transformation into one of cinema’s most influential noirs. (Read it here.)
Badge of Evil is available now through Stark House Press, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble. Whether you’re revisiting a classic or discovering it anew, I hope you’ll find this new edition as compelling as these critics have.