When a skiller-you know, shorthand for serial killer-tries to kill our hero, he has no choice. He has to defend himself. But he doesn't know his own strength and soon the man who called himself Grandson-of-Barney is dead. When our hero goes through his wallet, he finds news clippings detailing Grandson's work and a mysterious personal ad from a Chicago paper, asking Grandson to join the party. But the strangest thing is that the ad is from Errol Flynn. And isn't he dead?What begins with passing curiosity soon becomes uncontrollable obsession, forcing our hero to fly to Chicago and join the party. The moment he steps into Grillers and meets the other 18 skillers, he knows his life will never be the same. Their name-the Serial Killers Club. Their game-to share the thrill of the hunt and to make sure no two members choose the same two victims. To protect their identities, they have all chosen names from old Hollywood stars and, before long, our hero becomes Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. But Dougie has no intention of being an actual skiller himself, out to harm innocent victims. Instead, he devises the perfect plan: to kill each of the members of the Serial Killers Club.With a government special agent following him who soon becomes his partner in crime, Dougie plans to knock off the skillers one by one, from Carole Lombard to Chuck Norris, Laurence Olivier to Cher. But what will happen when the skillers notice their numbers dropping?
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Book Description
Editorial Reviews
From Publishers Weekly
British author Povey, who has written for such TV shows as the BBC's Eastenders, makes a real splash with his first novel, a darkly comic spoof of the serial killer genre. When the anonymous narrator, who combines a blithe Bertie Wooster–like innocence with a psychopathic taste for slaughter, "accidentally" kills a mass murderer, he assumes the man's identity. An odd set of personal advertisements lure the narrator to Chicago, where he encounters the club of the book's title. Since the club's members adopt the names of movie stars as aliases, he decides to become Douglas Fairbanks Jr. "Doug" quickly moves from shock and fear to preying on his fellow club members, attracting the notice of a bizarre FBI agent, who offers to let him off the hook if he finishes off the rest of them. This satirical black comedy won't be to everyone's taste, but many will find it a refreshing change from the paint-by-the-numbers profiler vs. psychotic fiend offerings. (June)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From Booklist
It didn't take long for Jeff Lindsay's Darkly Dreaming Dexter (2004) to spawn an imitator. Povey's first novel features a nameless narrator who falls in with a group of serial killers who have adopted the names of celebrities: Richard Burton, Raquel Welch, Chuck Norris, Errol Flynn. They call themselves "skillers," too, a portmanteau word that does not exactly roll off the tongue. Anyway, our hero joins the group, calling himself Douglas Fairbanks Jr. It's the best time he's ever had, the only time he's ever truly felt a part of anything, until an FBI agent comes out of the shadows and gives Dougie an ultimatum: you kill the killers, or we put you away for a very long time. It's a clever idea for a novel, and the author executes it fairly well, although we never really feel the bond with Dougie that's necessary to get to the emotional payoff. Not a complete success but well worth a look. David Pitt
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
16 of 19 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Eye Rolling to the End,
By
This review is from: The Serial Killers Club (Hardcover)
For those that thought this book was clever, funny, and a good read, I have yet to confirm that they were reading the same book as I. Not only did it not make me laugh, but I found myself actually rolling my eyes at the characters. They are shallow, with little development, which causes the reader to establish absolutely no relationship with any of them. The writing style is just shy of adolescent, with no literary charm at all. This was a total waste of my time, and the only reason I gave it one star was because it was about serial killers to begin with.
30 of 38 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Trash...and not the good kind,
By Felixpath (Vermont, USA) - See all my reviews
This review is from: The Serial Killers Club (Hardcover)
Okay, so I wasn't expecting "The Serial Killers Club" to be a brilliant work of fiction, not with a title like that. It was summer, I was in need of a fun book, and this one looked right up my alley. A cool premise, thrills `n' chills, a strong dose of black humor...at least, those were the things promised by the enthusiastic sound bites on the back cover. Now I suspect that the people who wrote those blurbs were forced to at gunpoint. I am so glad I borrowed the book instead of buying it, but I'd still like a refund on the time I spent reading this wretched, wretched novel.
Back to the "cool" premise. Our narrator, a generic working-class shlub, is attacked by a stranger in an alleyway one night. He accidentally kills the guy in self-defense, rifles through the corpse's wallet, and is shocked to discover that he's killed the feared serial killer, Grandson-of-Barney. (Like Son-of-Sam....get it? This is only the first example of the book's pathetic attempt at humor.) He also finds a dinner invitation from actor Errol Flynn, who you may recall has been dead for years. For no reason other than that the plot requires it, our hero flies to Chicago and attends the dinner, only to discover that he's stumbled into a club of serial killers. These "skillers" meet to compare past kills and plan future kills, and they all have movie-star aliases. (Richard Burton, Chuck Norris, Cher, etc.) Once again for no real reason, our hero joins the club, calling himself Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., or "Dougie." He covers up his lack of a body count by telling the other members that he has "killer's block" (are you laughing yet?), but some of the skillers become suspicious of him anyway, so he kills them. All this is explained in the rushed and awkward prologue. The main story kicks in when an FBI agent named Kennet Wade knocks on Dougie's door and informs him that he (Wade) knows what he (Dougie) is doing, but that he (Wade) will allow him (Dougie) to walk free if he (Dougie) kills the remaining club members. This might have made for a bloody good thriller, in the hands of an author other than first-time novelist Richard Povey. Let's start with problem number one: I hated the characters. HATED them. God, how I hated them. Now, one might be expected to hate characters who murder folks for fun, but even bad guys can be charming and likable -- just look at Hannibal Lecter. But I can't think of a book with a bigger bunch of boring, whiny, hateful, childish, self-absorbed, obnoxious blowhards. The members of the club spend all their time either groaning about how their mommies treated them, telling miserable jokes, or viciously insulting each other. For variety, one character burps all the time. The dialogue is uninspired, repetitive, and unpleasant. And guess what? Dougie's just as bad! Our "hero" is a wimp, a wuss, and a toadie....until he needs to whack someone, and then he instantly transforms into an efficient, cold-blooded killing machine. Povey is so careless with his characterizations that he could switch everybody's names around without the reader noticing. Yeah, I was rooting for the serial killers to die....just so they'd shut their pieholes. Anyways, poor Dougie must race to knock off the club members, who of course get more and more suspicious as their numbers decrease. Adding to the problem is the newest club member, Betty Grable, who's actually pretty sweet. Dougie thinks he might be falling for her, which is inconvenient, since he has to kill her eventually. To top it all off, it seems as if the club will get a visit from the Kentucky Killer, the Elvis of mass murderers, who leaves all his victims with a KFC bucket over their heads. (Somehow, I doubt this is product placement.) Povey leaves obvious clues that one of the characters is secretly the Kentucky Killer, and we're supposed to go along with it until -- gasp! -- a shocking last-minute revelation! I didn't care one way or the other. The narrative plods along to its conclusion with no joy, wit, or emotion. The murder scenes have the potential to be delightfully ghoulish -- one victim is force-fed gasoline and a lighter; another one perishes in a deep fat fryer -- but somehow, they're just as flat and boring as the rest of the book. The supposed romance between Dougie and Betty consists mainly of him thinking how nice she'd look if she'd just change her hair, put on some makeup, and get rid of the doggy smell. She's the only remotely likable character in the book, but it turns out that -- oops, don't want to spoil the ending. It's spoiled enough already. I don't want to say nasty things about Jeff Povey, because he's a competent writer and this is just his first effort. Maybe "The Serial Killers Club" was like a nasty kidney stone he had to pass. But, man....did he have to share it with the rest of us? This book sucks. PS: Povey's idea isn't even original. Fantasy author Neil Gaiman included a serial killers convention in his "Sandman" graphic novel way back in the early 90's. Gaiman's serial killers were engaging, sincere, scary, and funny. But everyone knows a comic book can't be superior to a regular book. That's why "The Serial Killers Club" is probably going to make way more money than it deserves. I guess all I can do is tell people, as bluntly as possible, to leave this POS on the shelf and spend their cash on something else. Trust me.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Good Book,
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: The Serial Killers Club (Kindle Edition)
Well, this was a good book.
It's not great literature, but it was pretty funny. I got a kick out of the satire. Only 3 stars because I felt the main character could have been 'fleshed out' a bit more.
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