A page-turner for sure, almost a companion piece to the far better "The Killer Inside Me." Similar theme: psychopathic Southern sheriff. I found the first person colloquial narration a bit grating at times, but Jim Thompson, even when not at the height of his powers, remains one of the best pulp story tellers of all time.

I like a challenge, I appreciate non-traditional and experimental stories and great writing excites me: so why did this book bore the hell out of me? Perhaps because there was nobody to root for. Or was it the complete lack of even a modicum of humor? I'm far from prudish, but maybe sex scenes without an ounce of originality, that barely rise above the level of girly magazine letters to the editor, are just not for me. Snore.

First of all, I want to say that I am a big Henry Miller fan. I loved the books that comprised The Rosy Crucifixion and both Tropics, among others. But this one was just a big, long-winded tirade against America. After 50 pages or so, I got the message: America is an ugly-ass country polluted by ugly-ass people. Thanks, Henry. Fun read. I bailed before I hit page 60. Life is too short.

Well, holy hell, another brilliant, disturbing, depraved Southern tale by surely the greatest living American writer, Cormac McCarthy. Make way for murder, arson, necrophilia, cave dwelling and other assorted blasphemes, all rendered in a lyrical prose style that is nothing short of humbling in it's poetic brilliance.

Yes, the majority of reviews will wax rhapsodic about how poetic and breathtakingly consciousness expanding this book is, and it truly is a page-turner with some beautiful passages. But it is also willfully obscure, maddeningly oblique, and at times terribly off-putting.

One of the darkest, bleakest, coldest, most poetic books I have ever read. Cormac McCarthy is brilliant, his prose visceral. This book makes me happy that I merely live in a Covid besodden, racially and politically divisive world.

Another deliciously twisted tale full of eccentric characters from the warped mind of the brilliant Jim Thompson. This was a reread, and yet the book retained its ability to shake and surprise me. He was a master story teller! A lesson in lean, mean and razor sharp narrative.

"The trunks of the trees too were dusty and the leaves fell early that year and we saw the troops marching along and the road and the dust rising and the leaves, stirred by the breeze, falling and the soldiers marching and afterward the road bare and white except for the leaves." Ah, those run on Hemingway lines, oft imitated, seldom equaled.

Another great tale told by a master, Raymond Chandler. After Hammett, probably the best of the hard boiled private eye scribe.

This book genuinely surprised me. It surpassed my expectations for the genre, with truly poetic passages that I found myself re-reading. I picked it up for a light read during a trip to New England to visit family, and now I feel like I need to read more of this central character's adventures.

"In appearance, it is as though somebody bleached Sinatra, skinned him, and made Willie wear him."

Brilliant, tragic, poetic. Fante was a master and this was surely his masterpiece.

I remember once making fun of a local film critic who had gone ahead and reviewed a movie that she had walked out of half way through. Here I am about to do the same thing. "Choke" starts strong but quickly descends into drivel and nonsense, shock for the sake of shock. I'm not easily offended, but boredom I won't tolerate. Gave up on page 168. Just started "Ask the Dust" by John Fante. Reminded me quickly what great writing is all about.

For a more thorough review, see my Amazon appraisal. Bottom line, another great installment in the Jack Hunter adventure series. I love this author and his top notch retro fiction. Wish there were more books like this, written in the tradition of the classic, page turning adventures of yesteryear, and that Hollywood would wise up and option great material like this!

The lean and mean pulp fiction fan in me would have preferred around 400 less pages, but this magical tale of moon-crossed lovers, populated by Little People, ghost writers, assassins and a gallery of other memorable characters, is a great read. This was my first Murakami and I am anxious to read more. Be prepared to invest some time.

Mr. Qiao certainly doesn't waste any time getting to the action in this wiz-bang, page-turner of a heist book. His literary influences are clear (Elmore Leonard, to be sure), and if the dialogue rings a bit pseudo-tough at times, the plot certainly sails along at a rapid-fire clip. The book as a whole could use a good proof-reader for its next edition. But Mr. Qiao definitely is a natural story-teller with great potential and a bright future.