by Jon Biddle

A classic. A book I read thirty years ago. It flashed across my feed a few days ago and this killer novel of the height of the pump fiction novel genre is a little dated in the vernacular however the plot doesn’t disappoint.

Written confusingly for me in the first person, which as an author that lives in the third person, was a little mind bending for me to get my head around. But none the less, it was a clever point of view, not sure if I felt I was walking the shoes of the killer though. 

The ease of the psychopathy is quite unnerving. The narrative nonchalantly ambles through life happening stuff and suddenly, pow, he kills again. The killing is so matter of fact that it causes your stomach to gnaw. As a writter, that’s pure litterary skill. 

There is also a cleve twist in the tale too. Like all psychos, they think they have the trump card always. But in truth, they don’t. Its always a matter of time before they caught out.

If you’re a follower of the classic serial killer genres, then you would not be disappointed. If you’re after the grisly killing of a Slaughter book, this book would disappoint, Remember, it was written around the time of Kerouac, post war stuffiness. How this book stood the test of time form way back then is anyone’s guess, I hope my books are being reviewed in 50 years time. 

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