The Lizard is not a comfort read, and it doesn’t want to be. Domenic Stansberry returns to crime fiction with a novel that feels jagged, paranoid, and deeply contemporary a story where political machinery and private moral collapse grind against each other until they become indistinguishable.
S.E. Reynolds is a compellingly compromised protagonist. A former investigative reporter turned political ghostwriter, he operates without illusions, working both sides of the ideological divide while remaining emotionally tethered to family, marriage, and a life he can’t fully reconcile with his choices. That tension gives the novel its pulse.
Stansberry’s prose is lean but hallucinatory, blending conspiracy, noir, and psychological horror. The plot moves with menace rather than momentum, and the sense of dread accumulates slowly, driven as much by Reynolds’ inner unraveling as by the external threat of surveillance and violence.
This is a novel about power, complicity, and the erosion of the self under constant pressure. Darkly funny, disturbing, and intellectually sharp, The Lizard confirms Stansberry’s place as one of the genre’s most fearless and idiosyncratic voices.