I wasn't as pleased with this book as I have been with other Lawrence Block novels, and it had such potential, too. Keller, our hit man, seems to be a likeable sort, but the storyline wanders away from the plot to discuss, ad nauseum, his stamp collecting. The conversations with his contact person, Dot, becomes monotous in their exchanges of short, one-line sentences, back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth, without saying a whole heck of a lot of anything, such as:
Keller: "But I think sometimes a person senses things."
Dot: "And you sensed something was wrong."
Keller: "And that something was going to happen."
Dot: "Keller, something always happens."
Keller: "Something violent."
Blah, blah, blah...
I wanted to slap them both and say, "Get on with it!!" Action was slow and rather boring. Some things weren't explained, like, who the old man that lived upstairs in the house was and how Dot got involved in doing what she does. The reader is left frustrated and hanging throughout the book. Sorry Mr. Block, this book rates only two stars.
Keller: "But I think sometimes a person senses things."
Dot: "And you sensed something was wrong."
Keller: "And that something was going to happen."
Dot: "Keller, something always happens."
Keller: "Something violent."
Blah, blah, blah...
I wanted to slap them both and say, "Get on with it!!" Action was slow and rather boring. Some things weren't explained, like, who the old man that lived upstairs in the house was and how Dot got involved in doing what she does. The reader is left frustrated and hanging throughout the book. Sorry Mr. Block, this book rates only two stars.
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