Revenge rising
Well, dear readers, modern pop fiction’s most famous killer, Hannibal the Cannibal, has quietly returned. For those of you who thought you had seen the last of Thomas Harris’ deadly (but cultured) gourmet murderer, brace yourselves.
Dexter: friendly, gruesome with a twist of sociopath
Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay. New York: Vintage Crime/Black Lizard. $12.95 – 288 pages. Dearly Devoted Dexter by Jeff Lindsay. New York: Doubleday and Company. $22.95 – 292 pages.
Abandoned library 06
Well I just received a hurriedly written letter from 2006. (It was on a page torn from a Gideon Bible). She asked that I forward her belongings to an address in Music City, and that she was sorry for the “recent misunderstandings.”
A darkness that resides
Coronado by Dennis Lehane. William Morrow Publishers, 2006. $24.95 — 232 pages.
A Christmas swap shop atop a mountain – now that’s the spirit
Listen! Did you hear that? I’ve been hearing it for weeks now, the faint but steadily growing whisper of something approaching. From the east, I hear ... Dum, dummity, dum, dum! Me and my drummm ....” Heard that, didn’t you? And now, from the west ...“Three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear treeeee ...
Atypical King
Stephen King has written more than 40 novels now — books that are classified in the “horror/thriller/fantasy genre.” King is especially adept at molding plots that incorporate one or more trendy topics (serial killers, the paranormal, pyromania, schizophrenia, child abuse, etc.)
A ghost in the city of angels
Ask the Dust by John Fante. Black Sparrow Press. $13 (paperback) — 165 pages.
Back in Charles Bukowski’s youth (the 1940s), he spent most of his time wandering aimlessly about the skid-row sections of Los Angles in an inebriated funk. Like many of his homeless and drunken friends, he observed the time-honored practice of avoiding rain and snow by taking up residence in the local library. However, as his cohorts snoozed in the reading room, Charles Bukowski read.
Front-row Kid dreams of riding once again
“Riding the range once more
Toting my old 44
Where you sleep out every night
Where the only law is right
I’m back in the saddle again.”
— Gene Autry (and others)
Smith thrills in his new dark suspense
“The Ruins does for Mexican vacations what Jaws did for New England beaches.”
— Stephen King
The Ruins by Scott Smith. Alfred A. Knopf, 2006. 319 pages.
Ashes to ashes
Before Cormac McCarthy’s nameless father and son have ventured more than a few yards down The Road, we realize that something is terribly wrong with their world. The only sound, other than the shuffling gait of these two creatures and the father’s wracking cough, is the sound of labored breathing – an act made more difficult by the layers of cloth that obscure their faces.
