In HEADSTONE, like other novels by Ken Bruen, the prose lifts off the page and sings for the reader. Bruen is a great stylist. If Cormac Mccarthy co-wrote a book with James Lee Burke, it would come out a Ken Bruen novel. Bruen is easy to read, but his stories and his characters always leave me feeling slightly soiled, like I've just peeked in the dresser drawers while visiting a friend's house. And that is the lighter side of a Ken Bruen book. Bruen's main character, Jack Taylor, is an alcoholic; he also is a destroyer. Like Burke's main character in his Louisiana mysteries, Dave Robicheaux, Taylor has a savior complex, and in the manner consistent with saviors, it's the people around him that wind up suffering. Never having been a alcoholic, I find the amount of time given to describing drinking binges and their aftermath tedious. But mostly, I find the character of Jack Taylor, like James Lee Burke's Dave Robicheaux, sad. Both are burdened with enough guilt to sink any religion. In HEADSTONE, Jack Taylor stands by and lets a friend be murdered. His response is to feel guilty, get drunk, and finally revenge the death. Even so, Taylor is consistent. Unhappiness is his chosen way of life. Watching Jack Taylor is like watching a train wreck. It's too fascinating to look away from. Afterward, the viewer asks why. Why is the pain of loss greater than the joy of love? Are some people destined for sorrow. If so, why? In truth, it is not the mystery plot or even their superior writing styles but rather the exploration of existential conflicts that separates writers like Bruen and Burke from the hundreds of other mystery writers in print today.