It was a mere 159 pages, this book called "Bar-B-Q," and even its author had only modest hopes when he sent it off to the publisher.

He told his wife: "More than 500 novels come out every year in this country, and not many attract attention. If I sell a couple of thousand copies, get my name in the papers, and pick up a little money, we'll all be to the good and I'll try to think of another one."

Not even his old employer, The Sun, could work up much enthusiasm. In February 1934, it ran a small photograph of the 41-year-old writer, noting simply his first novel would be out soon.

So, with little fanfare, "Bar-B-Q" burst on the scene 60 years ago this winter, with one significant change: It was now called "The Postman Always Rings Twice." And its author, James M. Cain, woke up famous.

It is difficult today to appreciate the phenomenal success of "Postman." But, as Roy Hoopes noted in his 1982 biography of Cain, "Postman" was a best seller and critically acclaimed. In searching for a comparable debut today, Scott Turow's "Presumed Innocent" comes closest, but even this fine novel failed to generate the excitement of "Postman." ("Presumed Innocent" made millions, however. In 1934, Cain was thrilled with the $25,000 MGM paid for the movie rights.)

"It was really one of the first books that had the movie contract, stage play, best-seller status and also had literary acclaim," Mr. Hoopes said in a telephone interview from his Washington office. "It was quite rare then. In the book, I used the term grand slam."

Franklin P. Adams, an influential critic for the New York Herald Tribune, called it the "unlaydownable" novel and declared Cain had broken free, stylistically, from mentor H. L. Mencken. Other raves followed; even those who panned the book had a grudging respect for this violently original work.

Public interest was equally keen, in part because of the book's salacious reputation. The Enoch Pratt Free Library had a waiting list and could not order enough copies to meet demand. But Washington College in Chestertown, Cain's alma mater, thought the book was too hot to put on its shelves.

For those who have managed to avoid "Postman" in its written or cinematic forms, it is the nasty little tale of two scheming soul mates: Frank Chambers and Cora Papadakis, who conspire to murder Cora's husband and make it look like an accident.

It begins with what has been called one of the great opening lines in American fiction -- "They threw me off the hay truck at noon" -- and ends 35,000 words later with a death house monologue that the publisher, Alfred A. Knopf, thought "soppy."

In between are dozens of memorable lines and vivid scenes. There's Frank's first sight of the voluptuous Cora: "[H]er lips stuck out in a way that made me want to mash them in for her." Within a few pages, he does just that, biting her mouth until he draws blood.

But the most famous passage may be what is called the "Rip me" scene -- the torrid love-making that follows the murder, when Cora demands Frank tear the clothes from her body.

To quote one of its milder passages: "Next thing I knew, I was down there with her, and we were staring in each other's eyes, and locked in each other's arms, and straining to get closer. Hell could have opened for me then, and it wouldn't have made any difference. I had to have her, if I hung for it.

"I had her."

How this influenced "The Stranger" is not clear, but it is part of the folklore of "Postman" that Albert Camus patterned his novel on it -- which is only one of many ways Cain's work affected the literary world.

Mr. Hoopes said Cain's style is taught today in college writing courses. And with his spare style and pitch-perfect dialogue, Walter Mosley is one of the current contenders to be Cain's literary heir.

But Cain's work most often is compared to that of Ernest Hemingway, sometimes to Hemingway's detriment. Tom Wolfe, in the 1969 introduction for "Cain X 3" ("Postman," "Double Indemnity," and "Mildred Pierce" in one volume), said neither Hemingway nor Raymond Chandler could match Cain when it came to pacing a book.

"Picking up a Cain novel was like climbing into a car with one of those Superstockers who is up to 40 by the time your right leg is tTC in the door," wrote Mr. Wolfe, not exactly a slouch when it comes to acceleration.

Mystery writer Nancy Pickard, whose wry "Jenny Cain" series bears little resemblance to Cain's dark novels, still credits him as an important influence. Her subconscious even guided her to a sly acknowledgment: Jenny's father has his name, down to the middle initial, a coincidence Ms. Pickard hadn't noticed until a reporter pointed it out.

Reached at her Kansas home, she said of "Postman": "It's incredible. From the very first sentence, you cannot put it down. There's so much power in what he had to write, a real voice at work in his fiction, a voice that's not going to mince any words. . . . He's in a class by himself."

Of course, no one gets all raves and Cain, despite what he called a "fairly thick hide," had some scores to settle. He tried to set the record straight in the 1946 preface to "The Butterfly," whose West Virginia locale was inspired by assignments during his years with The Sun.

Cain said he was not "hard- boiled" -- a reputation that had followed him from one of the first reviews of "Postman," titled "The Six-Minute Egg." He owed no debt to Hemingway, although he admired him. He had never read Dashiell Hammett, another influence cited by critics (and another writer with a Baltimore past). If he had been influenced by anyone, it was Ring Lardner.

As for his writing's celebrated momentum, Cain offered a simple reason for the radical decision to dispense with "he said/she said" in his dialogue: "And then I thought: Well, why all this saysing? With quotes around it, would they be gargling it?"

That explains his style. It is harder to explain how Cain, the well-bred son of a Maryland college president and would-be opera singer, captured the speech of such California low-lifes as Frank Chambers and Cora Papadakis.

Mr. Hoopes credits Cain's journalism career: "Everything influenced him as everything influences every writer. He had this instinct, he was drawn to the common man and this definitely came out of his newspaper days."

And he remained a reporter, carefully researching the insurance industry, key to "Postman," and "Double Indemnity." To read "Mildred Pierce" is to take a short course in restaurant management and the coloratura soprano's temperament.

In the early 1980s, with "Postman" and "The Butterfly" on movie screens, Cain enjoyed a resurgence. Today, his books are difficult to find, although most bookstores stock the best-known titles. Borders, in Towson, even has a Spanish language version of "Postman": "El Cartero Llama Dos Veces."

Cain returned to Maryland in 1948 to research what was to be his great Civil War novel, the ill-fated "Mignon." He never left, dying in Hyattsville in 1977, at age 85. The titles of his latter-day books -- "The Rainbow," "The Magician's Wife" -- are unknown by all but the most fanatic Cain readers.

"Postman" was not his only success, far from it. "Double Indemnity," written as a magazine serial, had people lining up at newsstands for the next issue of Liberty magazine. The movie version of "Mildred Pierce" won an Oscar for Joan Crawford.

But for those inspired to discover Cain's novels, there is only one place to start, where he started 60 years ago, with this line: "They threw me off the hay truck about noon."