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The Kidnapper
Steve Collins is looking for the Big Score, the crime that will set him up for life. He thinks he's found it. He's going to kidnap Shirley Mae Warren, daughter of a wealthy banker and industrialist. The $200,000 ransom will get Collins his new start.
He can't do it alone. He'll need help. First, Shirley Mae's nanny, Mary - for her, Collins is the perfect lover. Then, a driver and front man - the man Collins calls his best friend.
The plan goes wrong. The child dies. And Collins sacrifices all - friend, lover - to save himself.
He can't do it alone. He'll need help. First, Shirley Mae's nanny, Mary - for her, Collins is the perfect lover. Then, a driver and front man - the man Collins calls his best friend.
The plan goes wrong. The child dies. And Collins sacrifices all - friend, lover - to save himself.
216 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published March 1, 1988
216 people want to read
About the author
Robert Bloch
1,090 books1,275 followersRobert Albert Bloch was a prolific American writer. He was the son of Raphael "Ray" Bloch (1884, Chicago-1952, Chicago), a bank cashier, and his wife Stella Loeb (1880, Attica, Indiana-1944, Milwaukee, WI), a social worker, both of German-Jewish descent.
Bloch wrote hundreds of short stories and over twenty novels, usually crime fiction, science fiction, and, perhaps most influentially, horror fiction (Psycho). He was one of the youngest members of the Lovecraft Circle; Lovecraft was Bloch's mentor and one of the first to seriously encourage his talent.
He was a contributor to pulp magazines such as Weird Tales in his early career, and was also a prolific screenwriter. He was the recipient of the Hugo Award (for his story "That Hell-Bound Train"), the Bram Stoker Award, and the World Fantasy Award. He served a term as president of the Mystery Writers of America.
Robert Bloch was also a major contributor to science fiction fanzines and fandom in general. In the 1940s, he created the humorous character Lefty Feep in a story for Fantastic Adventures. He also worked for a time in local vaudeville, and tried to break into writing for nationally-known performers. He was a good friend of the science fiction writer Stanley G. Weinbaum. In the 1960's, he wrote 3 stories for Star Trek.
Bloch wrote hundreds of short stories and over twenty novels, usually crime fiction, science fiction, and, perhaps most influentially, horror fiction (Psycho). He was one of the youngest members of the Lovecraft Circle; Lovecraft was Bloch's mentor and one of the first to seriously encourage his talent.
He was a contributor to pulp magazines such as Weird Tales in his early career, and was also a prolific screenwriter. He was the recipient of the Hugo Award (for his story "That Hell-Bound Train"), the Bram Stoker Award, and the World Fantasy Award. He served a term as president of the Mystery Writers of America.
Robert Bloch was also a major contributor to science fiction fanzines and fandom in general. In the 1940s, he created the humorous character Lefty Feep in a story for Fantastic Adventures. He also worked for a time in local vaudeville, and tried to break into writing for nationally-known performers. He was a good friend of the science fiction writer Stanley G. Weinbaum. In the 1960's, he wrote 3 stories for Star Trek.
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
June 8, 2022
A pretty entertaining, charmingly humorous, but fatally generic crime novel. Some moments were quite tense, others quite deflated, but what I appreciated most were the first-person analytical accounts of what exactly turns a man into a criminal, all of which rang with a lot of veracity even today, and more importantly, a painfully human perspective.
July 29, 2019
Definitely NOT better than Psycho!
November 10, 2018
I read this right before Halloween. Since it's a Robert Bloch novel it was shelved in the horror section at the old long-gone used bookstore I found it in. Instead, it's a straight-up early 50's classic noir novel, told in the 1st person by a guy named Steve Collins who has a past to hide. Steve takes cover in a small town somewhere in the Midwest and lands a job at a tool and dye factory, figuring he'll do that until his next score. Steve is a guy who believes you have to make opportunities happen. Waiting for good things in life is for suckers. He's got dreams, and working for them isn't going to cut it. Then one day in a movie theater he meets Mary. Mary comes off like a good girl, but Steve quickly learns she's as eager as a kid in the candy store when it comes to getting her kicks in the sack. Lucky for Steve, Mary just happens to work as a nanny taking care of a daughter for this hoity-toity rich family who owns a bank. Steve convinces Mary that all they have to do is snatch the kid, collect a nice fat ransom, and live the good life somewhere in the tropics. But you know how things go in fool-proof schemes. Fate comes in and jacks things up for everyone involved. No sooner has Steve snatched the kid that she has to go and die on him. It was an accident, but no one is going to believe that. Now Steve has to hide the kid's death from Mary and still manage to collect the ransom from her parents.
This is Robert Bloch taking a detour through Jim Thompsonville, and it's a good one. A fast read, several years before Bloch hit one out of the park with Psycho.
This is Robert Bloch taking a detour through Jim Thompsonville, and it's a good one. A fast read, several years before Bloch hit one out of the park with Psycho.
December 12, 2020
Again reviewing another old, slightly hard to find book (written in 1954 but not in ANY way feeling dated or old-fashioned, using modern lingo and thinking - amazing how this was pulled off), The Kidnapper is one of Blochs' great achievements. Weighing in at a mere 216 pages, the engrossing tale starts with a bang and ends with an even bigger one.
Written in the first person, you can't help but like the main character slightly, though obviously his deranged outlook and frequent using of people leaves a sour taste in the mouth. Rarely is a book written through the first person with this sort of character, but it's an eye awakener into the mind of a sociopath out for his own sake. Perhaps inspired by get rich schemes, this is the ultimate attempted scam gone wrong, an ideal warning against easy money never being earned the criminal way.
Strangely the main character, Steve, is revealed with a bizarre sense of humor that, while not making him an endearing sort, delivers a strange and almost desirable touch. I wouldn't say this book is comical, for the subject is so dark and serious, yet when it's married to a slight comedic "bad guy", the effect is unusually readable. The dialogue exchanged between the 'criminals' is well-written, accurately painting a picture of their devious and misled minds, while Mary as the nanny and Specs as the nerd-turned-'friend'/accomplice also seem genuine.
One thing that propels this book forward into the fast-read category is the high suspense ratio. Action does not begin on the first page and it takes a bit to get to the actual kidnapping, instead having various scenes between characters which would feel slightly boring if it weren't for the witty phrasing and unusual exchanges. Stakes always feel high when the actual crime gets done, everything desperate from day one, with each person taking a turn panicking. Disaster after disaster strikes to where - again - it's nearly funny, with Steve still seeming almost likable.
If you pass this one in a used bookstore, you're doing yourself a treat picking it up. In no way is it a horror story AT ALL, but a definite straight suspense. No gore and sex only used when it needs to show something about Steve and Mary, it's an intelligent and unusual look inside a tainted, unique mind. I especially loved the ending, which really set the book apart from many in its kilt.
Written in the first person, you can't help but like the main character slightly, though obviously his deranged outlook and frequent using of people leaves a sour taste in the mouth. Rarely is a book written through the first person with this sort of character, but it's an eye awakener into the mind of a sociopath out for his own sake. Perhaps inspired by get rich schemes, this is the ultimate attempted scam gone wrong, an ideal warning against easy money never being earned the criminal way.
Strangely the main character, Steve, is revealed with a bizarre sense of humor that, while not making him an endearing sort, delivers a strange and almost desirable touch. I wouldn't say this book is comical, for the subject is so dark and serious, yet when it's married to a slight comedic "bad guy", the effect is unusually readable. The dialogue exchanged between the 'criminals' is well-written, accurately painting a picture of their devious and misled minds, while Mary as the nanny and Specs as the nerd-turned-'friend'/accomplice also seem genuine.
One thing that propels this book forward into the fast-read category is the high suspense ratio. Action does not begin on the first page and it takes a bit to get to the actual kidnapping, instead having various scenes between characters which would feel slightly boring if it weren't for the witty phrasing and unusual exchanges. Stakes always feel high when the actual crime gets done, everything desperate from day one, with each person taking a turn panicking. Disaster after disaster strikes to where - again - it's nearly funny, with Steve still seeming almost likable.
If you pass this one in a used bookstore, you're doing yourself a treat picking it up. In no way is it a horror story AT ALL, but a definite straight suspense. No gore and sex only used when it needs to show something about Steve and Mary, it's an intelligent and unusual look inside a tainted, unique mind. I especially loved the ending, which really set the book apart from many in its kilt.
August 13, 2025
The Kidnappper (1954)
Steve Collins thinks that after reading through a newspaper morgue of stories about kidnappers, he stands on their shoulders, seeing further and empowered to out-think all obstacles. He recruits Mary Adams, who loves him, and "Specs" Schumann, a misfit coworker, to kidnap four year old Shirley Mae Warren, whose father owns a bank.
Steve is happy to see that everything is going exactly the plan. They will rent a lakeside cabin until ransom is retrieved and the heat dies down.
But Shirley Mae dies only hours after her abduction, dies because Steve never considered the simplest unknown unknowns. Cutting off Shirley Mae's arms and legs to fit her into a 20 gallon steel drum, and telling his appalled cohorts about the death, quickly signals the jesting emergence of bad luck, not to say doom, settling in to shadow Steve, Mary, and Specs' drunken and very brief futures.
Just when The Kidnappper cannot get more macabre, the owner of the lakeside cabin rental and her husband, Mr. And Mrs. Hans Racklin, just driving by, stop for a visit:
....Mr, Racklin smiled. “He will capture himself. Excuse me, I am not saying it very well. I mean, he will betray himself. It is all a part of the pattern.”
“Please, Hans—” Mrs. Racklin said. “We’ve got to be going.”
“No, wait a minute. This is interesting,” I said. “What do you mean by this pattern you were talking about?”
More smoke drifted my way. I preferred it, because it hid his eyes. They were too blue, and he could look right through you. But I wanted to hear the rest.
“The pattern I refer to is a peculiar one,” he answered. “You know, in Europe, there are very few crimes of this sort. Kidnapping is almost—how shall I say it?—an American crime. It is the sort of activity that would appeal only to an American criminal. Because of the pattern, which is merely a way of thinking, a way of life. It is the American ideal all over again—to get something for nothing.” He smiled at me. “I trust you do not misunderstand when I talk this way, Mr. Henderson. I am not by any means a Communist.”
“Hans left Czechoslovakia when the Reds came in,” Mrs. Racklin said.
“Sure, I understand. Go ahead. You figure whoever did it was looking for easy money, is that it?”
“The professional criminal has always sought money,” Racklin said. “Today he seeks social recognition which is security.”
I thought I heard a sound in the bedroom, but I couldn’t be sure. All of a sudden I wanted him to get out of here. But he was wound up.
“There is no security for the average man today. It is no longer enough to be a good husband, a good father, a good craftsman. If you do not have a Cadillac in the garage, you are a failure. That is the message of modern advertising, that is the new standard of values we accept.
“Of course, most people adjust. They compromise. The man who cannot buy the Cadillac as a symbol of success will buy a television set. The man who cannot afford a television set buys whiskey. The weak conform. But the strong rebel.
“Some have entered business. During the last war, fortunes were made—and if you are a successful business man, nobody cares where you got your money. Maybe you evaded taxes, cheated the government into building you a factory and turning it over to you for next to nothing. Maybe you took it under the table in the black market or made it gambling. Who cares? Such men are socially accepted today; their names are linked with motion picture stars, they have friends in Washington.”
Mrs. Racklin stirred in her chair. “Please, dear, it’s so late!”
“In a moment.” The cigar was getting short and I could see his eyes again. “So what does our strong man do, our rebel? If he cannot enter a business and succeed by such methods, he may turn to crime. Not out of revenge on society, but merely to gain recognition and security—in a culture where the only real crime today is getting caught.”
“And you figure the kidnappers think that way?” I asked.
“They may not reason it out, no. But that is the pattern.” Racklin stood up, and so did his wife.
Mary looked at him. “You said they would betray themselves, though. What did you mean by that?”
He shrugged. “If I were the police, I should look for these people in the playgrounds of the wealthy. Florida, California, resorts in Mexico or the West Indies. Look over the major crimes of the past few years, involving large sums of money. Most of the culprits were caught because they couldn’t wait to show off, flash their wealth, talk about it. They were too eager to enjoy their new recognition.”
The following day, abandoned by Mary and facing down a phalanx of cops at the cabin, the finale slingshot revelation;
....all of a sudden it hit me. Racklin and his theories about why guys pull a job like this—that was a lot of bull. Maybe they thought they wanted a lot of dough, just like I thought I did when I planned it. But now I knew it wasn’t the reason at all. It didn’t matter now whether I’d gotten away with the money or not; the money wouldn’t have helped. Because I really didn’t know what I wanted.
Just sitting around in some fancy bar wasn’t the answer, and neither was shacking up with a bunch of high-class broads. Sure, I’d have tried it for a while, but sooner or later I’d get sick of it.
It wasn’t real. That’s the answer. Nothing was real any more, hadn’t been since the kid died. And maybe for a long time before that. Maybe ever since I ran away from home.
Wouldn’t it be funny if it turned out that I was just like Specs and Mary, underneath? That all I really wanted was somebody around to love me? Specs wanted a woman, and Mary wanted me—maybe I just was looking for somebody a little more high class, and figured I couldn’t make the grade unless I had plenty of cash.
Could that be it?
Well, it didn’t matter, now. Nothing mattered, because I heard the sound.
The sirens were coming.
Sure enough, I looked out of the window and there they were. One second the road was empty and the next second it seemed the whole driveway and yard were full of them. Cars and motorcycles and cops.
They had a cordon around the house, riot guns and tommy guns and rifles. They stood there, waiting for orders, and it was very quiet now.
All at once a big guy got out of one of the cream-colored sedans. He had a badge on and I figured him for the Sheriff. Two state police stood right behind him and he was looking straight at me.
“All right,” he yelled. “We know you’re in there, Collins. No use trying anything—we picked up the girl down the road.”
I saw the Olds, now, parked outside the drive. Cops all around it.
“You’d better come out peaceful,” the Sheriff called. “I’m going to count to ten. After that, we’ll come in after you.”
I stood there, waiting. He began to count, and I just listened, wondering what he’d do next.
When he got to ten, he lifted his hand.
“Collins, I’m giving you one more chance! You don’t deserve it any more than a dog, but there’s been enough killing around here already. Come out on that porch with your hands raised and we won’t hurt you.”
To hell with him, to hell with all of them, let them shoot if they wanted to, I didn’t care. They hated me, they’d always hated me, even Mary hadn’t liked me except when I slapped her around.
I could tell this Sheriff wanted to kill me. Well, if I went out now, he wouldn’t have the guts to do it. At least I could get back at him that way.
So I opened the kitchen door.
“That’s right, Collins! Come on out—we want to see what a mad beast looks like.”
I raised my hands and then I stepped out on the porch.
“Take a good look,” I said.
Steve Collins thinks that after reading through a newspaper morgue of stories about kidnappers, he stands on their shoulders, seeing further and empowered to out-think all obstacles. He recruits Mary Adams, who loves him, and "Specs" Schumann, a misfit coworker, to kidnap four year old Shirley Mae Warren, whose father owns a bank.
Steve is happy to see that everything is going exactly the plan. They will rent a lakeside cabin until ransom is retrieved and the heat dies down.
But Shirley Mae dies only hours after her abduction, dies because Steve never considered the simplest unknown unknowns. Cutting off Shirley Mae's arms and legs to fit her into a 20 gallon steel drum, and telling his appalled cohorts about the death, quickly signals the jesting emergence of bad luck, not to say doom, settling in to shadow Steve, Mary, and Specs' drunken and very brief futures.
Just when The Kidnappper cannot get more macabre, the owner of the lakeside cabin rental and her husband, Mr. And Mrs. Hans Racklin, just driving by, stop for a visit:
....Mr, Racklin smiled. “He will capture himself. Excuse me, I am not saying it very well. I mean, he will betray himself. It is all a part of the pattern.”
“Please, Hans—” Mrs. Racklin said. “We’ve got to be going.”
“No, wait a minute. This is interesting,” I said. “What do you mean by this pattern you were talking about?”
More smoke drifted my way. I preferred it, because it hid his eyes. They were too blue, and he could look right through you. But I wanted to hear the rest.
“The pattern I refer to is a peculiar one,” he answered. “You know, in Europe, there are very few crimes of this sort. Kidnapping is almost—how shall I say it?—an American crime. It is the sort of activity that would appeal only to an American criminal. Because of the pattern, which is merely a way of thinking, a way of life. It is the American ideal all over again—to get something for nothing.” He smiled at me. “I trust you do not misunderstand when I talk this way, Mr. Henderson. I am not by any means a Communist.”
“Hans left Czechoslovakia when the Reds came in,” Mrs. Racklin said.
“Sure, I understand. Go ahead. You figure whoever did it was looking for easy money, is that it?”
“The professional criminal has always sought money,” Racklin said. “Today he seeks social recognition which is security.”
I thought I heard a sound in the bedroom, but I couldn’t be sure. All of a sudden I wanted him to get out of here. But he was wound up.
“There is no security for the average man today. It is no longer enough to be a good husband, a good father, a good craftsman. If you do not have a Cadillac in the garage, you are a failure. That is the message of modern advertising, that is the new standard of values we accept.
“Of course, most people adjust. They compromise. The man who cannot buy the Cadillac as a symbol of success will buy a television set. The man who cannot afford a television set buys whiskey. The weak conform. But the strong rebel.
“Some have entered business. During the last war, fortunes were made—and if you are a successful business man, nobody cares where you got your money. Maybe you evaded taxes, cheated the government into building you a factory and turning it over to you for next to nothing. Maybe you took it under the table in the black market or made it gambling. Who cares? Such men are socially accepted today; their names are linked with motion picture stars, they have friends in Washington.”
Mrs. Racklin stirred in her chair. “Please, dear, it’s so late!”
“In a moment.” The cigar was getting short and I could see his eyes again. “So what does our strong man do, our rebel? If he cannot enter a business and succeed by such methods, he may turn to crime. Not out of revenge on society, but merely to gain recognition and security—in a culture where the only real crime today is getting caught.”
“And you figure the kidnappers think that way?” I asked.
“They may not reason it out, no. But that is the pattern.” Racklin stood up, and so did his wife.
Mary looked at him. “You said they would betray themselves, though. What did you mean by that?”
He shrugged. “If I were the police, I should look for these people in the playgrounds of the wealthy. Florida, California, resorts in Mexico or the West Indies. Look over the major crimes of the past few years, involving large sums of money. Most of the culprits were caught because they couldn’t wait to show off, flash their wealth, talk about it. They were too eager to enjoy their new recognition.”
The following day, abandoned by Mary and facing down a phalanx of cops at the cabin, the finale slingshot revelation;
....all of a sudden it hit me. Racklin and his theories about why guys pull a job like this—that was a lot of bull. Maybe they thought they wanted a lot of dough, just like I thought I did when I planned it. But now I knew it wasn’t the reason at all. It didn’t matter now whether I’d gotten away with the money or not; the money wouldn’t have helped. Because I really didn’t know what I wanted.
Just sitting around in some fancy bar wasn’t the answer, and neither was shacking up with a bunch of high-class broads. Sure, I’d have tried it for a while, but sooner or later I’d get sick of it.
It wasn’t real. That’s the answer. Nothing was real any more, hadn’t been since the kid died. And maybe for a long time before that. Maybe ever since I ran away from home.
Wouldn’t it be funny if it turned out that I was just like Specs and Mary, underneath? That all I really wanted was somebody around to love me? Specs wanted a woman, and Mary wanted me—maybe I just was looking for somebody a little more high class, and figured I couldn’t make the grade unless I had plenty of cash.
Could that be it?
Well, it didn’t matter, now. Nothing mattered, because I heard the sound.
The sirens were coming.
Sure enough, I looked out of the window and there they were. One second the road was empty and the next second it seemed the whole driveway and yard were full of them. Cars and motorcycles and cops.
They had a cordon around the house, riot guns and tommy guns and rifles. They stood there, waiting for orders, and it was very quiet now.
All at once a big guy got out of one of the cream-colored sedans. He had a badge on and I figured him for the Sheriff. Two state police stood right behind him and he was looking straight at me.
“All right,” he yelled. “We know you’re in there, Collins. No use trying anything—we picked up the girl down the road.”
I saw the Olds, now, parked outside the drive. Cops all around it.
“You’d better come out peaceful,” the Sheriff called. “I’m going to count to ten. After that, we’ll come in after you.”
I stood there, waiting. He began to count, and I just listened, wondering what he’d do next.
When he got to ten, he lifted his hand.
“Collins, I’m giving you one more chance! You don’t deserve it any more than a dog, but there’s been enough killing around here already. Come out on that porch with your hands raised and we won’t hurt you.”
To hell with him, to hell with all of them, let them shoot if they wanted to, I didn’t care. They hated me, they’d always hated me, even Mary hadn’t liked me except when I slapped her around.
I could tell this Sheriff wanted to kill me. Well, if I went out now, he wouldn’t have the guts to do it. At least I could get back at him that way.
So I opened the kitchen door.
“That’s right, Collins! Come on out—we want to see what a mad beast looks like.”
I raised my hands and then I stepped out on the porch.
“Take a good look,” I said.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 8, 2019
This review originally appeared on my blog, Paperback Warrior:
Because of the association with his mentor H.P. Lovecraft and the success of Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho,” author Robert Bloch (1917-1994) is remembered as a horror writer, but he also did a lot of work in the crime fiction genre. In fact, I would maintain that “Psycho” is more of a suspenseful crime fiction story than a horror novel anyway, but that’s a different argument for a different day.
Bloch’s novel “The Kidnaper” was released by upstart crime fiction paperback house, Lion Books in 1954 - five years before “Psycho.” It was reprinted by Tor Books in 1988 with a horror-themed cover and a modernized spelling of the title as “The Kidnapper.” Decades later, Bloch cited the novel as among his best work.
Our narrator is Steve Collins, a freight train riding drifter and petty criminal who breezes into town and lands a job working the night shift at a factory. Steve’s not a very nice guy, and you need to be comfortable spending 180 pages with a cold antihero operating with a severely-busted moral compass. If you need a white-hat protagonist in your fiction, look elsewhere.
Shirley Mae is the four year-old daughter of a wealthy businessman in town. Steve’s new girlfriend is the kid’s nanny, and he sees this as a real opportunity to make some big cash in a kidnapping and ransom gambit. He enlists the help of his dimwitted friend in the execution of the scheme which goes very wrong, and the majority of the novel is Steve’s attempts to salvage the operation, get the dough, and get lost.
This is a seriously dark noir novel that was clearly inspired by Jim Thompson, who was doing basically the same thing at the same time. It was also an excellent book if you’re looking for something gritty as hell to read. Steve is an unapologetic sociopath but otherwise logical and level-headed, so the book doesn’t force you into a mentally ill mind for the narration as in many of Thompson’s paperbacks. Bloch does a fantastic job keeping the action moving, and the tension-filled pages really fly by.
As long as you know what you’re getting and are comfortable with untidy crimes in your crime fiction, “The Kidnaper” is an easy recommendation.
Because of the association with his mentor H.P. Lovecraft and the success of Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho,” author Robert Bloch (1917-1994) is remembered as a horror writer, but he also did a lot of work in the crime fiction genre. In fact, I would maintain that “Psycho” is more of a suspenseful crime fiction story than a horror novel anyway, but that’s a different argument for a different day.
Bloch’s novel “The Kidnaper” was released by upstart crime fiction paperback house, Lion Books in 1954 - five years before “Psycho.” It was reprinted by Tor Books in 1988 with a horror-themed cover and a modernized spelling of the title as “The Kidnapper.” Decades later, Bloch cited the novel as among his best work.
Our narrator is Steve Collins, a freight train riding drifter and petty criminal who breezes into town and lands a job working the night shift at a factory. Steve’s not a very nice guy, and you need to be comfortable spending 180 pages with a cold antihero operating with a severely-busted moral compass. If you need a white-hat protagonist in your fiction, look elsewhere.
Shirley Mae is the four year-old daughter of a wealthy businessman in town. Steve’s new girlfriend is the kid’s nanny, and he sees this as a real opportunity to make some big cash in a kidnapping and ransom gambit. He enlists the help of his dimwitted friend in the execution of the scheme which goes very wrong, and the majority of the novel is Steve’s attempts to salvage the operation, get the dough, and get lost.
This is a seriously dark noir novel that was clearly inspired by Jim Thompson, who was doing basically the same thing at the same time. It was also an excellent book if you’re looking for something gritty as hell to read. Steve is an unapologetic sociopath but otherwise logical and level-headed, so the book doesn’t force you into a mentally ill mind for the narration as in many of Thompson’s paperbacks. Bloch does a fantastic job keeping the action moving, and the tension-filled pages really fly by.
As long as you know what you’re getting and are comfortable with untidy crimes in your crime fiction, “The Kidnaper” is an easy recommendation.
July 24, 2024
Plot:
Steve Collins is looking for the Big Score, the crime that will set him up for life. He thinks he's found it. He's going to kidnap Shirley Mae Warren, daughter of a wealthy banker and industrialist. The $200,000 ransom will get Collins his new start.
He can't do it alone. He'll need help. First, Shirley Mae's nanny, Mary - for her, Collins is the perfect lover. Then, a driver and front man - the man Collins calls his best friend. The plan goes wrong. The child dies. And Collins sacrifices all - friend, lover - to save himself.
My Thoughts:
This book is a good read, Steve Collins was just as good of a Villain as Dan Morley (The Scarf), Robert Bloch writes villains very well. Through this book you wanted him to lose and get caught, but then he'd show some humanity and you think well maybe not. Then he go back as the Villain and hits his girl again and your like I hope he burns.
The book is a bit slow but around the time the little girl dies the book picks up and is pretty quick paced for most of the read as you wonder how are they going to get out of this now. It's a solid read and is definitely the first book by Robert Bloch I will recommend.
My ranking so far of my Robert Bloch Books
1. (1954) The Kidnapper
2. (1947) The Scarf
Steve Collins is looking for the Big Score, the crime that will set him up for life. He thinks he's found it. He's going to kidnap Shirley Mae Warren, daughter of a wealthy banker and industrialist. The $200,000 ransom will get Collins his new start.
He can't do it alone. He'll need help. First, Shirley Mae's nanny, Mary - for her, Collins is the perfect lover. Then, a driver and front man - the man Collins calls his best friend. The plan goes wrong. The child dies. And Collins sacrifices all - friend, lover - to save himself.
My Thoughts:
This book is a good read, Steve Collins was just as good of a Villain as Dan Morley (The Scarf), Robert Bloch writes villains very well. Through this book you wanted him to lose and get caught, but then he'd show some humanity and you think well maybe not. Then he go back as the Villain and hits his girl again and your like I hope he burns.
The book is a bit slow but around the time the little girl dies the book picks up and is pretty quick paced for most of the read as you wonder how are they going to get out of this now. It's a solid read and is definitely the first book by Robert Bloch I will recommend.
My ranking so far of my Robert Bloch Books
1. (1954) The Kidnapper
2. (1947) The Scarf
October 16, 2025
A fun pulp fiction. Maybe a little forced, trying to be Milland or Cain - but it kept my attention until the end. If you're interested in pulp fiction, I definitely recommend the "original" 1940s, but this is still a good read. Caution: Women are slapped around - as was the norm in pulp fiction.
September 3, 2018
Classic rough-hewn noir - unheralded, but every bit the equal of Cain's best work. Imho, this novel, Psycho, and The Scarf are Bloch's enduring contributions to American literature Considerable achievements indeed.
July 12, 2022
First time ever reading Robert Bloch and I really enjoyed it. Yea I guess it’s your typical crime novel but it was written so well and it keep me so intrigued. Very good book and I’ll read more of Bloch in the future.
January 1, 2015
Truly amazing. I read it in one sitting.
Down on his luck crook Steve Collins (that's not his real name, he changed it because he "doesn't like being called a Pollack") meets beautiful Mary Adams the nanny for Shirley Mae Warren, the daughter of the wealthy Warrens. Steve, Mary and Steve's friend "Specs" plan to kidnap Shirley and hold her ransom. But things go wrong after the ransom note is written. Shirley is accidentally killed. Now, the plan falls apart. As Specs' loyalty is called into question, Steve is forced to take drastic measures. As he begins to contemplate doing the same to Mary, we find that Steve wasn't the only brains of the operation.
A great twist ending.
Down on his luck crook Steve Collins (that's not his real name, he changed it because he "doesn't like being called a Pollack") meets beautiful Mary Adams the nanny for Shirley Mae Warren, the daughter of the wealthy Warrens. Steve, Mary and Steve's friend "Specs" plan to kidnap Shirley and hold her ransom. But things go wrong after the ransom note is written. Shirley is accidentally killed. Now, the plan falls apart. As Specs' loyalty is called into question, Steve is forced to take drastic measures. As he begins to contemplate doing the same to Mary, we find that Steve wasn't the only brains of the operation.
A great twist ending.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 10, 2011
This book was actually quite hilarious! The main character had alot of spunky and witty coments so the book went along quite smooth. My only regret is that the book was in too bad of condition to keep!
April 18, 2015
Quick little 'lost' Robert Bloch novel from the 1950's. The cover blurb says better than Psycho. I am going with no. I really liked it, but not better than Psycho.
September 16, 2015
Trotz der derben Sprache, ein spannender Psychothriller.
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