This is a book. It contains words. Those words describe people, places, things, and activities. What the words in the book describe seems to fall into a few different threads, which don't really seem to have any meaningful connection to each other. There is roughly no tension in the book, if it were a person I'd describe it as having "flat affect," nothing really goes anywhere and anything that might have had any meaning or point disappears like farts in the wind.
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The Fox by Frederick Forsyth
I've read a handful of Forsyth's novels, some from the 1960s, and it's nice to find some of his later work. This feels a bit s...

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A beautiful novel about life as a mobster (in 1940s Tampa) and all the contradictions and complications of it. Lehane clearly has an ear f...
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A beautiful novel of violence, vengeance and pain, set against a backdrop of small-town bigotry. If you see this, or *Razorblade Tears*, t...
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This is early Vachss, all taut and violent, more than a little murky to my mind. It is not good to be a sexual offender in a Vachss novel....
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