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Again I was reminded of Ruth Rendell's spare, dispassionate approach to the doings of brutal people. Nobody thinks of himself as a thug if he has the capacity to think at all, and the recipient of the messages has a conscience of sorts. It transpires that his past as a nightclub owner is catching up with him, but in an unexpected way.
Not exactly a ghost story, this one, but firmly in the tradition of weird fiction with a hard edge. No easy outs, no simple answers, just the sense of menace and encroaching darkness in a life already empty of most feeling.
More from this running review very soon, I hope.
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