I’ve had a few stuffy reads lately. Well regarded, well written, well mannered—well, well, well. And then, I read this pulpy, wild tale. It’s freeing. The novel teems with coincidences and improbable turns, yet they never feel arbitrary. Within Markham’s feverish style, these chance encounters take on the rhythm of a nightmare—events emerging and dissolving… Continue reading The Devil Drives (1932)