HELLO, GUN

Excerpt from the Chicago Protean-Herald Book Review:

One might surmise that Private Detective Paulie Drake is not the only rube confronted with a rude awakening: half the mob is heads down in the local harbor with his name tied to the scourge, and you can all too easily waste a few dollars to care less. Apparently a cruder tome can only be discovered outside the environs of Drake’s current imbroglio, which said protagonist alludes to in shallow attempts at geopolitical existentialism throughout the course of this shabby enterprise.

Abandoned by the police and pressured by a hired gun, Drake is forced towards a rendezvous with the usual salad of mixed metaphors found in Conrad Boston’s previous work. His hideously relentless, driven-nail narrative offers little more than an untenable situation resolved by the same pretzel logic that grew tiresome with his earlier champions of deforestation known as RIVER OF FILTH and BONE ORCHARD.

I suppose I should venture that HELLO, GUN is an urban tale of tenuous bonds, ugly betrayal, and dark secrets. If only it made any sense – then this critic could rise above comparable empty clichés in hope that the author would follow suit.