The rape of the wife on page 35 really turned my stomach. And the other ’sex’ scenes are viciously violent as well. The man, the main character of this book, is just a terrible person. Definitely a Florida Man.

Oh, the plot. Reporter investigating a murder/suicide. He interviews the deceased’s husband on page 204 - of a 223 page book! Nothing happens. This 'lost novel' should have definitely staid lost. ( )

Not one of Willeford's finest moments. This rambling book starts with a reporter exploring the case of a woman who commits suicide after killing her two children. But the reporter then meanders through a variety of scenes with a variety of people, and there is no real plot to speak of. If you're a Willeford fan, it takes quite a while before this book even sounds like him, but after he apparently gives up on the original story entirely, there are a few passages of opinions and observations that are pure Willeford after all. This certainly doesn't stoop to the depths of some of the crap Hard Case Crime has published, but it is a real disservice to the author if someone new to him avoids his other books after starting with this one. ( )

Fascinating, but uneven. An unlikable young-ish reporter in a backwater Florida town in ... early 60s? Assigned to a mysterious suicide- a mother killing herself and her 2 young children- told to "get the bottom of it" and so forth. Reporter is also married to the lovely Beryl... .they have a rocky dialog- the husband is furious that she is in a play w/o telling him, reminding her, thunderingly that her life is at home keeping him happy. Hmmm... dated? yes.. but even with that - so unattractive that I found myself wanting this man to get his comeuppance. He is bored with his job, treats everyone poorly and loafs about - working on "his play" (yeah right) and just stirring the pot when he feels like- having an affair there, provoking a doctor there... basically a jerk. I came to think the book was providing us a slow subtle lead up to the narrator being punished for his rude behavior. But instead... (giving it a way bit here) here receives a mild, subtle lesson to sort of treat his wife a little better and maybe things would work out after all. Huh? why? what is the author getting at here? Possibly just honest self reflection? I did like it's realism and making the lead character so unlikeable in such selfish, but realistic ways. ( )

Wasn’t the story I expected, but liked it ( )

Charles Willeford, the mystery great, was not above a touch of nihilism, and early on this book seems ready to amble down that path. A reporter, Richard Hudson in late 1950s or early 1960s Florida, really wants to be a playwright, but can’t finish his play. He’s assigned to write about the suicide of a young well-to-do mother who took her children with her.

Hudson, a “rude, unpleasant, young man” in the words of a priest, is also “just plain and out no good!” according to his also-married lover. He’s already cynical and the mystery of the suicide permeates his consciousness, and the story. The young mother’s crisis is hidden, Hudson’s is apparent: he finds his work unfulfilling as he scrambles around writing basically everything but sports for the paper, (and angry that the sports writer makes more money.) He’s not very nice to his wife, and has a young son that never appears in the story. His own writing is going bad.

It’s all set up to end ugly. Then a couple of things happen, and I’m not going to spoil anything. This is a good early Willeford story, not as dark as it could have been. ( )