Chris Petit's novel The Psalm Killer , published in 1997 to wide acclaim, is among the best and most electrifying fictional explorations we have had of the "troubles" in Northern Ireland. Now he brings that same narrative mastery to a dark, searing novel that takes us deep into the compulsions of self-destruction and fame.
Youselli is a cynical, disillusioned city cop painfully aware of the downward spiral he's on. McMahon is a fading but still profligate rock star who has begun receiving letters signed in the name of a girl who died fifteen years ago, when he was at the height of his fame. McMahon is desperate to know who's writing them. Youselli is reluctant—the privileged decadence and celebrity games of McMahon's life both irritate and attract him—but he agrees to investigate.
Almost immediately Youselli is pulled into the eerie mystery of the letters—their combination of anger and yearning, their fierce sexuality, their seeming authenticity in the face of their obvious fabrication and, especially, their strange "A man once told me I was malfated. Imagine being told that . . . He said I would never avoid my destiny to be malfated. Make a left instead of a right and it's there waiting. Our lives hang by the slenderest of threads, every minute of every day. You should remember that for when I come. It all ends in death, as you will know."
And though the letters are addressed to McMahon, Youselli begins to feel more and more implicated by them himself. He senses that they are somehow tainting the lives of those who read them—especially Edith Weber, the psychiatrist he has enlisted to help him understand the mind behind the letters (and who might help him understand his mind as well)—but he grows increasingly blind to the effect they are having on his own life. Finally, he too appears to be following the deadly inner logic of obsession, he becomes both detective and fate's agent, the "solution" to the puzzle of the letters leading him toward his undoing.
Powerful, chilling and unexpected, Back from the Dead is a clear confirmation of Chris Petit's remarkable gifts.
A hard boiled stylised detective gets involved in this noir chiller, set in LA and NY in the worlds of celebrity, music, porn and the occult! Interesting mix, that includes some supernatural themes. 5 out of 12.
Detective thriller about a rockstar receiving stalker letters. Really good, its a bit weird that the detective stuff actually tends to come as a relief, because the personal lives of the characters are somehow more disturbing ;) . The author can do a lot with a little, very short chapters. A lot of deadends or things which technically arn't connected to the main mystery but it all adds to the atmosphere and sense of realism, life is never neat :) . I could never quite settle with this one, everything was just a little off. Changes of character perspective, changes in tone, it kept me constantly offbalance, which while not a pleasant feeling is probably what you would want from something like this :) .
Some knowledge of the Manson murders, the Rosemary's Baby film, and the death of John Lennon might all be useful.
Gripping storyline but at times i think it loses itself a little. Fast paced and exciting but i think the ending was not handled as well as it could have been. VERY open ended and nothing at all really resolved, i am left with many question marks on a lot of the main topics and themes within the novel. Overall a good read but not for the faint hearted with the many twists and turns in the plotlines and the introduction of many characters quite late on which leaves the reader feeling a little disjointed.
This had an intriguing mystery. A famous musician is getting letters from a girl who died in mysterious circumstances years before, while staying in France with him and a group of other people. Whoever is writing the letters knows a lot about her, the musician and her death. Who could it be? Could her death have been faked? But how? why? This mystery kept me reading after the point that I would normally have given up. I really wanted to see where the plot went, but the characters were so flat and lifeless I couldn't force myself to read it even though I wanted to know what was going on.
Ok, I've given up on this book because of two reasons: one, the writing style is strangely detached and sporadic, and two, I absolutely detest the main character. I also found it frustrating that the narrative would switch between different character's points of view within chapters, with no clear announcement of doing so. I hate giving up on books but I really can't be bothered to plough through this one any more.
I did really enjoy this book. Some how I had a good feeling about it before I started it. It wasn't what I was expecting either and the ending left me a little unsure of what exactly happened. I probabbly ain't making much sence. But, I think I know what I mean.
This book totally blowed. I started it and pretty much made myself finish it because I had already exerted so much of my time into it. Never again....NEVER again.
the only crime that was committed here was this book boring me
and i feel bad these days leaving a negative review. even my 3 stars i feel so bad giving.
but i just was clocked out for this whole book. delusional me thinking this was a thriller/ mystery was hoping that this would be the perfect genre to kick off the reading challenge this year and i am just disappointed.
i don't even think i can cohesively tell you what the plot is but here we fucking go.
there's this cop, youselli, who investigates this rockstar's, mcmahon, stalker, leah, sending him letters. catch is, the leah is dead. and she's been dead for a while. years ago, leah was brought by mcmahon's friend mickey to babysit for him in france. she falls from somewhere and dies. that's it. years later, this leah person is sending mcmahon letters that only leah would know. the whole book then progresses with youselli investigating people involved in leah's life, he also basically fucks every woman he encounters. he also has these interludes with edith, this other lady (i think they work together). we find out about some affairs between families. we learn that leah has a sister named daria. daria's in the adult film industry. we're wanting to find her because ding ding ding no one actually saw leah's body and maybe leah's just hiding out in LA. youselli tries to find her in LA, but she dies. mcmahon goes crazy at some point in the book. we then find out he's investigating these other girls that youselli finds in a movie that he thinks is leah. he kills one of them because he goes to see the wrong person. he gets away with it. then everything was just blurry i don't know what happened after this . i was clocked out okay hahaha but then i think youselli finds this girl (i think it's leah??? i still don't know tbh i can't be bothered) but he tells her to run away??? i think he's injured or something and everyone finds him and maybe saves his life???
i don't know what happened there. i honestly don't understand this book. there was too much going on and yet nothing at the same time. i also didn't care about anyone here.
it's not that i hate this it's just that i was so bored.
With Radio On Chris Petit brilliantly envisioned something like the perfect British road movie. An astonishing, strange and constantly fascinating film, it even makes Sting actually bearable among its many other successes. Psalm Killer was very good but ultimately a bit too cliched to be excellent and it was also unrelentingly grim in a disappointingly derivative way. But at least it was well written
And then there’s this. Hard to pinpoint exactly what’s gone wrong beyond, you know, pretty much everything. It’s clunking in how it’s written. The dialogue is so absurd I thought it was taking the piss for a while until I realised, no, Petit is entirely sincere here. Why he tries to write in an idiom he barely seems to understand let alone pastiche is beyond me. The moment that broke me is when this weird attempt at pulpish noir thriller uses the term inapposite without any sense of irony. It sticks out a mile given the rest of the tone of the book, and feels like it’s the absolute evidence of a writer who’s not so much lazy as just unable to write what’s in his head. A lazy pastiche would be disappointing enough, but instead we get a deeply muddled, boring and silly lazy pastiche and I deeply want my week back after subjecting myself to it
I enjoy the occasional thriller, and the idea of letters from a girl long dead intrigued me enough to pick up this (inherited) novel, but I can’t claim to have liked this. The style is wandering with characters I find difficult to bring into focus. There’s no one here to root for, which is usually a requirement for a memorable protagonist. This book seems to comprise despicable, chameleon people who act pleasant, savage, angry, happy, miserable… a different way with each other each turn of the page. Undoubtedly deliberate, this makes the story feel surreal. Yet the author is well-acclaimed and has written a slew of novels. This, an earlier work, is perhaps the art of honing one’s craft. I liked the parts where the story tied in with actual events, something the author appears known for, and the total package certainly sets discordant threads thrumming in the reader’s mind. Not for those with a dislike of the need to pay close attention, and ultimately it’s a grim experience with the lead as obsessive as the wretched people who hire him. My feelings are ambiguous as this will stick in my mind a while where I would prefer it not to.