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9 of 9 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
First-Rate Irish Noir, December 31, 2004
Call it "Irish Noir," "Post-Modern Noir, " or whatever other adjective or descriptive phrase you can come up with; it matters not one bit. There's noir ... and then there's Ken Bruen. Blitz is the sequel to Bruen's The White Trilogy, a series of novels that introduced us to the cops in the South East London squad. A more dysfunctional collection of police officers would be hard to imagine. This time around, their loyalties, their training and what's left of their fragile sanity will be put to the test as they attempt to collar a sociopath who is out there killing cops with a hammer. (Leading Bruen, of course, to insert an irreverent reference or two to the Beatles' immortal "Maxwell's Silver Hammer." Would you expect any less?). The killer, nicknamed "the Blitz" by London's rabid tabloid press, is a total `nutter. As the novel progresses, the reader is left with the sneaking suspicion that this whack-job is probably going to get away with his crimes and maybe even make a few pounds selling his story to the highest bidder. The fact that you are tempted in that direction, however, is dead giveaway that the author has something else entirely up his sleeve.
What Blitz lacks - relatively speaking, that is, compared to some of Bruen's other novels - in terms of sheer primal energy and visceral impact, it more than makes up for by means of a subtle and not-so-subtle sense of humor that is as grim and as dark as it gets. It's not that Bruen has become domesticated. It's just that his technique has become more sophisticated over time. Indeed, the author's implicit indictment of society is all the more searing because it is couched largely in such outlandishly humorous terms in this novel. You'll laugh your arse off in places while reading this book. Five minutes later you'll realize that what tickled your fancy was definitely no laughing matter a' tall. And five will getcha ten that's what the author bloody well intended in the first place! So strap yourself in and grab a motion-sickness bag. You're in for a wild ride through the sights and sounds of a London that will never, ever make the pages of any guidebook.
Read the entire text of this review in MYSTERY NEWS (October/November 2004)
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4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
LIKEABLE BOOZING BOBBIES, February 7, 2005
Blitz is the name of a sadistic killer who begins bumping off London bobbies. Tell the truth, I loved BLITZ. I loved the main cop characters, Detective Sergeant Brant and Chief Inspector Roberts, and hope they show up in another book. This is an alcohol-saturated book: it seems all the characters are up till 3 am boozing and look like hell the next day at work. What fun! Wouldn't we all like to be like that, throwing our health to the wind, devil-may-care like. No, probably not. But it is somehow liberating to live vicariously through such tough, hard-as-nails characters. In our overly PC age, when smoking a cigarette is a fineable offense in many places, it does the soul good to see people being free to make mistakes even if only between the covers of a novel. Living badly should be a choice, not a crime, in a free society. Brant and Roberts live badly and are tough, funny and likeable. Ken Bruen has written a series of novels with Jack Taylor as the protagonist which I haven't yet read but have received good reviews. BLITZ is my first Ken Bruen book. Tell you what, mate, it won't be my last.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
If you read this at Oval, Watch your back, April 6, 2007
Once again I am drawn into the gritty world of the London crime scene. In Ken Bruen's books, I am never sure who is more vicious and criminal, the serial killers or the police who are searching them out.
This book has our serial killer going after the police starting off with a traffic warden and aiming toward the protaganist himself, Ken Brant. We have all of the usual police who we got to know in previous books including Brant (of course), Falls, Roberts, the incompetent Super with his "golden boy - snitch" McDonald. Alas, we no longer have my favorite, Lisa since she killed herself in McDead.
This book may be a little rough for many readers and it might be hard to follow by people who have never been exposed to the peculiar language that is spoken in South London (some say that it is English, but I would not swear to that).
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