Carefully engineered blood-in-the-gutter fare—a tabloid version of The Big Sleep.



Spiegelman (Everyone’s Burning, 2003) re-imagines his old gig as a New York Post “Page Six” reporter in a smarmy tale chock-full of seedy strips, hard-drinking gossips and vicious celebrities.

Spiegelman’s clearly spent some serious time hunkered down with stacks of Hammett, Chandler and Cain, and he gets most of noir’s essential elements right in this novel: an appealingly dissolute hero, dusky imagery (“Meredith Fields was malice in thousand-dollar shoes”) and a murder plot that’s a lot less interesting than the people who slither around the body. The corpse is that of Kyle Prince, a former big-time Hollywood agent laid low by a coke habit and allegations of sexual harassment; Leon Koch played up Prince’s decline in a certain powerful Gotham gossip column, which gets him accused of driving Prince to suicide. The whole world soon seems to be against Koch—the cops are sniffing him out, his paper’s owners are calling for his head, the other papers are pointing fingers at him, and still the flacks won’t stop asking if he could plug some new club or hot young thing. Spiegelman’s at his best when he has Koch navigating celebrity nightspots—a fine chapter exposes the literal strata that the in-crowd occupies at one club—and eviscerating the shallow souls who occupy them. And there are plenty: the malicious self-help guru, the cooing publicist and the disgraced journalist she represents, a heroin-smoking actress, the beyond-cynical damage-control expert who provides some beautifully expletive-laden oratory about why movie stars fascinate us so. The truth about Prince’s passing reflects humanity at its self-annihilating worst, so it makes sense that Koch is eager to pursue the only pure thing in this crazy mixed-up world: reporter Emma Lake, who’s smart, loyal and (of course) a virgin. For all its snap, though, the book feels too much like an act of impressionism, evoking unfeigned noir atmosphere, while failing to capture its dark energy.

Carefully engineered blood-in-the-gutter fare—a tabloid version of The Big Sleep.

Pub Date: May 17, 2006

ISBN: 1-4013-5250-2

Page Count: 272

Publisher: N/A

Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2006

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A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.


Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z (2006).

A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.

A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.

Pub Date: June 16, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine

Review Posted Online: Feb. 10, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020

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Dark and unsettling, this novel’s end arrives abruptly even as readers are still moving at a breakneck speed.


Ten years after her teenage daughter went missing, a mother begins a new relationship only to discover she can't truly move on until she answers lingering questions about the past.

Laurel Mack’s life stopped in many ways the day her 15-year-old daughter, Ellie, left the house to study at the library and never returned. She drifted away from her other two children, Hanna and Jake, and eventually she and her husband, Paul, divorced. Ten years later, Ellie’s remains and her backpack are found, though the police are unable to determine the reasons for her disappearance and death. After Ellie’s funeral, Laurel begins a relationship with Floyd, a man she meets in a cafe. She's disarmed by Floyd’s charm, but when she meets his young daughter, Poppy, Laurel is startled by her resemblance to Ellie. As the novel progresses, Laurel becomes increasingly determined to learn what happened to Ellie, especially after discovering an odd connection between Poppy’s mother and her daughter even as her relationship with Floyd is becoming more serious. Jewell’s (I Found You, 2017, etc.) latest thriller moves at a brisk pace even as she plays with narrative structure: The book is split into three sections, including a first one which alternates chapters between the time of Ellie’s disappearance and the present and a second section that begins as Laurel and Floyd meet. Both of these sections primarily focus on Laurel. In the third section, Jewell alternates narrators and moments in time: The narrator switches to alternating first-person points of view (told by Poppy’s mother and Floyd) interspersed with third-person narration of Ellie’s experiences and Laurel’s discoveries in the present. All of these devices serve to build palpable tension, but the structure also contributes to how deeply disturbing the story becomes. At times, the characters and the emotional core of the events are almost obscured by such quick maneuvering through the weighty plot.

Dark and unsettling, this novel’s end arrives abruptly even as readers are still moving at a breakneck speed.

Pub Date: April 24, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-5011-5464-5

Page Count: 368

Publisher: Atria

Review Posted Online: Feb. 6, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2018

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