The Death of the Detective

by Mark Smith

A killer calling himself The Deathmaker is on the loose, pursued by Arnold Magnuson, a grief-stricken detective on the verge of a mental breakdown. Magnuson’s dogged investigation to find the killer, and himself, takes him deep into urban Chicago, laying bare the corrupt city and its seething soul in all its macabre, heartbreaking, and violent complexity.

Genres: Mystery, Fiction, Crime, Ebooks

729 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1974

About the author

Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.

Mark Smith was an American novelist and poet. Born in Michigan in 1935, he graduated from Northwestern University in 1960 and became Emeritus Professor of English at the University of New Hampshire. He is best known for The Death of the Detective, a 1974 National Book Award-nominated novel and a New York Times bestseller.

Reviews

[Dan]

As I get older, I've discovered I have no problem not finishing a book.

I'm not even bothering with a teaser on this. It's supposed to be a detective story but I got 100 pages in before throwing in the towel. Nothing much happens in the first chunk of the book. It's one of the most over-written books I've ever tried to read.

I'm not a picky guy. In fact, I grade a lot of books easier than I should. However, when reading a detective story, I ACTUALLY WANT SHIT TO HAPPEN. I don't read to have every aspect of the environment or a character's life before the story described to me in great detail.

I originally put it back on the pile with the intention of reading it again but I've decided I'm too old for that shit. There are plenty of unread books on my stack that I actually look forward to reading.

Final verdict - DNF. The National Book Award can kiss my ass.

[Scott · Rating 5 out of 5]

Even though it is 40 years old, The Death of the Detective was brand new to me and has as much impact as if it were written last week. On the surface the plot is very familiar: a grizzled detective is summoned to a friend's deathbed only to find him murdered, and he must solve the mystery and bring the killer to justice.

The difference in The Death of the Detective is this: there is no mystery for the reader. From the opening pages we know there is an escaped mental patient looking to take vengeance on the eventual victim. This leads to the subversion of many genre conventions. The detective, Magnuson, theorizes vast conspiracies and multiple suspects with imagined motives for the killing, and all the while the reader knows that he is wrong and all of the conclusions he is coming to are ultimately meaningless. Continuing with the "no mystery" theme, multiple chapters (and indeed the title of the novel) are entitled "The Death of...", revealing a character's fate early and taking any suspense out of the equation.

This vast novel is full of characters, some only tangentially connected to the main "plot." Each of them has their own history that once revealed can change the entire way they are viewed. The character of Tanker is the best example of this; he is easy to write off as a young street punk, but in the space of a few pages his back story makes him in to a tragic figure.

The Death of the Detective is a postmodern crime story, using the genre format as a launching pad for a deeper discussion. It is a story without catharsis, where random brutality has no deeper meaning, where nihilism seems to be the only belief that makes sense. It is a grim, dense read, and I can understand how readers that didn't know what they were getting in to hated it. It is in a rough position because genre fans will get something they don't expect (or want) and the literary crowd could write it off as just another private eye paperback.

Thank you to Brash Books for republishing this masterpiece and bringing it to the attention of a new generation of readers. I hope it gets the recognition it so richly deserves. 5 stars, highest recommendation.

[Darcia Helle · Rating 2 out of 5]

I tried hard with this book. I wanted to love it. Of course I did. Who picks up a book with the intention of a miserable reading experience? But, try as I might, there was just nothing here for me to latch onto.

First, the story is confusing. Is there a lead character? Who are these people? What is the point of it all? I have no answer for the first question, and the second two took me half the book to figure out. We're given an overload of characters who are doing a whole lot of things that aren't necessarily connected or even interesting. On top of that, we're given abundant, extraneous detail that doesn't move the story forward, or anywhere at all.

The writing itself has a compelling quality, with a literary feel. But put together in story form, the experience is like wading through a swamp filled with flowers - beautiful, but blocking the path we need in order to see where we're going.

*I was provided with an ebook copy by the publisher via NetGalley, in exchange for my honest review.*

[Chris · Rating 5 out of 5]

Detective Arnold Magnuson has retired to his upscale penthouse to live in misery and alcoholism, his life turned hollow after the death of his wife. In his heyday he built the Magnuson Men from the ground up, a powerful force of security guards and ushers who offer invaluable security to a scarred city. Now, he wallows without direction or course, abandoning some friends he invited to his apartment to play pinochle in favor of hiding in his room. He needs something to latch onto—what he gets is a mysterious call from a dying friend, the millionaire Farquarson, who has something he can discuss only with Magnuson. When he arrives at Farquarson’s estate, he finds the man dead; his nurse and nephew report that a stranger had prowled around the estate, and that the dying man worried about one John Helenowski, an escapee from a state mental institution who believes himself death incarnate. Magnuson determines that this Helenowski must have murdered Farquarson; thus begins his investigation for a mad killer and the reason behind Farquarson’s death, a road that will lead to the death and ruin of many people—all characters bound, whether they know it or not, a crisscrossing patchwork of death and decay.

Death of the Detective has a Dickensian quality to it, a sweeping scale and grandeur that encapsulates the detective story plot: it is a sprawling, ambitious novel, highly stylistic, wealthy beyond measure in characters and atmosphere. It deals with race relations and ethnic identity, something that comes up often due to its 1950s/early 1960s melting-pot megalopolis setting. The prose is literate, adroit, and stylized to the point where one good sentence piles onto another, but the novel never buckles under that weight. It can be overwhelming at times, and demanding, given its density—six-hundred pages of rich, stylized prose is not something you ingest in just a day… if only because you want to savor it, swish it over the taste buds like a fine wine. Imagine the bastard love-child of John Gardner and Charles Dickens, imagine that it cut its teeth reading Lew Archer and Carl Sandburg’s hog butcher, and you have a glimpse of this novel’s style and power: one of the most intense, atmospheric detective novels ever written.

The City is such a strong element that it’s hard to remove it without removing the book’s soul. It’s not to the point of “The City” as a character, like in an Ed McBain book, describing her loving caress or the gentle curves of her waterfront. No, what we have here Sandburg’s city—Chicago in all her glory, from the South Side slums to the new gentry of the Gold Coast to the glitz and glam of the Loop—Death of the Detective has incredible atmosphere and setting, and they merge and converge to become the same. Chicago’s postwar boom has been replaced with the smoky rot of urban decay—white flight to the suburbs, poverty in the inter-city slums, racial and ethnic friction, drug abuse and prostitution run rampant, the feeling of the city’s long slide into irrevocable decline.

Here it is only February and I may have already found my top read of the year: Death of the Detective is a triumph of style and atmosphere that leaves me impressed. I see why it was a finalist for the National Book Award—an ambitious novel that transcends the detective story yet remains rooted in that genre. Magnuson’s trek through the city to catch an insane killer is a journey in which he becomes the city, lost among its painted women and youth gangs and Mafia gunmen. It’s not a straightforward narrative, careening back and forth across the city, meandering through neighborhoods and characters, the plot lost and found anew in the process. The prose is so stylized and vivid, unlike anything else in the genre, but it’s what makes the novel what it is—a masterpiece. Highly recommended for readers of detective fiction, even those who may chafe at the dense style.

Full review found here. I received a review copy in exchange for an open and honest review.

[steve · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you go the the neglected books page you will find out that this book was the reason the website was created.
I read this work about twenty years ago (maybe more). It has never left my mind. I remember after reading this dark quest novel actually going to the University of New Hampshire to meet Mark Smith, finding my way to the room with his name on the door. Unfortunately, He was not there at the time so I never met him.
But - I did talk to him on the phone not too long ago to say that there are those out there that appreciate this overlooked masterpiece.
What can I say - an amazing, unforgetable read!

[Mike · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't know Chicago and except for many a plane change at O'Hare, I've never been to the city. Lots of good things have happened there including a World's Fair 100-plus years ago and the author either really knows his city, or did an enormous amount of research. I'll leave it to others to judge the accuracy of his street plans, but the state of the city and the players of his novel's time are also well described and detailed. I vote for really good knowledge and facts checking.

Having said all that, this is a great story. Interesting plot coupled with superior story-telling and truly gripping characters. If you like mystery, detective or crime fiction, this has plenty for you. It's not a new book, but think of it as a hidden gem.

[R.Z. · Rating 1 out of 5]

I gave it my best shot, but I just couldn't get into this book. The style of writing was the main reason that I didn't finish it. Description for its own sake seems superfluous to me, and I didn't want to waste my time on a book that I did not enjoy or from which I could learn little or nothing.

[Chris · Rating 5 out of 5]

Detective Arnold Magnuson has retired to his upscale penthouse to live in misery and alcoholism, his life turned hollow after the death of his wife. In his heyday he built the Magnuson Men from the ground up, a powerful force of security guards and ushers who offer invaluable security to a scarred city. Now, he wallows without direction or course, abandoning some friends he invited to his apartment to play pinochle in favor of hiding in his room. He needs something to latch onto—what he gets is a mysterious call from a dying friend, the millionaire Farquarson, who has something he can discuss only with Magnuson. When he arrives at Farquarson’s estate, he finds the man dead; his nurse and nephew report that a stranger had prowled around the estate, and that the dying man worried about one John Helenowski, an escapee from a state mental institution who believes himself death incarnate. Magnuson determines that this Helenowski must have murdered Farquarson; thus begins his investigation for a mad killer and the reason behind Farquarson’s death, a road that will lead to the death and ruin of many people—all characters bound, whether they know it or not, a crisscrossing patchwork of death and decay.

Death of the Detective has a Dickensian quality to it, a sweeping scale and grandeur that encapsulates the detective story plot: it is a sprawling, ambitious novel, highly stylistic, wealthy beyond measure in characters and atmosphere. It deals with race relations and ethnic identity, something that comes up often due to its 1950s/early 1960s melting-pot megalopolis setting. The prose is literate, adroit, and stylized to the point where one good sentence piles onto another, but the novel never buckles under that weight. It can be overwhelming at times, and demanding, given its density—six-hundred pages of rich, stylized prose is not something you ingest in just a day… if only because you want to savor it, swish it over the taste buds like a fine wine. Imagine the bastard love-child of John Gardner and Charles Dickens, imagine that it cut its teeth reading Lew Archer and Carl Sandburg’s hog butcher, and you have a glimpse of this novel’s style and power: one of the most intense, atmospheric detective novels ever written.

The City is such a strong element that it’s hard to remove it without removing the book’s soul. It’s not to the point of “The City” as a character, like in an Ed McBain book, describing her loving caress or the gentle curves of her waterfront. No, what we have here Sandburg’s city—Chicago in all her glory, from the South Side slums to the new gentry of the Gold Coast to the glitz and glam of the Loop—Death of the Detective has incredible atmosphere and setting, and they merge and converge to become the same. Chicago���s postwar boom has been replaced with the smoky rot of urban decay—white flight to the suburbs, poverty in the inter-city slums, racial and ethnic friction, drug abuse and prostitution run rampant, the feeling of the city’s long slide into irrevocable decline.

Here it is only February and I may have already found my top read of the year: Death of the Detective is a triumph of style and atmosphere that leaves me impressed. I see why it was a finalist for the National Book Award—an ambitious novel that transcends the detective story yet remains rooted in that genre. Magnuson’s trek through the city to catch an insane killer is a journey in which he becomes the city, lost among its painted women and youth gangs and Mafia gunmen. It’s not a straightforward narrative, careening back and forth across the city, meandering through neighborhoods and characters, the plot lost and found anew in the process. The prose is so stylized and vivid, unlike anything else in the genre, but it’s what makes the novel what it is—a masterpiece. Highly recommended for readers of detective fiction, even those who may chafe at the dense style.

Full review found here.

[Tom Leland · Rating 3 out of 5]

A runner up for the National Book Award, I found it worthwhile, but barely. Told from too high an elevation for my tastes -- I didn't care much about the well-being or fortunes of any character, and a complex mystery I never felt too eager to see solved. Rich and beautifully-wrought descriptive passages, but overall was glad to get it done with.

[Juliet · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just fantastic. Just read it, I insist. My favorite quirky thing about it: you meet a character and learn his entire backstory, even if he only has one line, and you'll never see him again. Delightful.

[Gianna Mosser · Rating 3 out of 5]

This detective noir tale has all the makings of a great read, but it is about 150 pages too long. While the descriptions of Chicago are the best part of it (where the f*ck is Bughouse Square?), the inverted ending left me frustrated with the time I had spent on it.

[Tulay · Rating 1 out of 5]

Sorry, not my kind of book.

Long time I thought maybe, but it's not the fast paced murder mystery. Had very hard time understanding or following what was going on.

[JAMES SMITHER · Rating 3 out of 5]

Well that was... interesting. Picked this up around a visit to Chicago as it was on several lists of recommended reading related to the city. It certainly conveys an atmospheric sense of place, ranging around the contrasting gilded lake-side and slum or slaughterhouse districts of the city in a blood-soaked 24-hour period sometime in the post-WW2 era.

***Spoilers alert***

I get the comparisons to Dickens - this novel is rich in interior monologue and exhaustive details of plot, with dream sequences and various characters entering fugue-like states. For me, it was too much. We had digressions into minor characters' pasts and perspectives that I personally could have lived without (and I think the plot could too - this could have been 150-200 pages shorter). More strangely, for such a convoluted storyline ostensibly in the 'murder-mystery' genre, there was no real whodunnit - we knew who the killer was from page one, and the titular detective never really cracked the case. And then, for such a long novel with so many blind alleys, it all ends rather quickly and without the same sense of drama and suspense (or confrontation) that has been maintained previously, leaving a massive sense of anti-climax for this reader at least.

I did appreciate the clever construction of the central narrative - why this was happening, and to whom. But around that there was just a lot of chaos and melodrama and a fairly unnecessary mafia/organised crime sub-plot that had nothing to do with the main serial killer motif, and it was all laced together with regular misogyny and racist epithets that it uncomfortably wasn't entirely clear weren't the author's as well as the protagonists'. What few female characters there were all felt especially two-dimensional.

That it's taken me over a month to get through this probably says a fair amount. The closest comparison I can come up with - sprawling, murderous, gangster mayhem in a bustling 20th century metropolis - is Vikram Chanda's "Sacred Games" set in Mumbai, and I enjoyed that a lot more.

[Donna Davis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mark Smith is one helluva writer. The Death of the Detective is complex yet hazy, with a million details both enumerated and obfuscated, not unlike a day in Chicago, the city in which it is set. All told, an enormously satisfying read. Tremendous thanks go to Net Galley and Brash Books for the DRC.

The time period is the post-war era. With the Great Depression well behind it and World War II a recent triumph, the USA is at the pinnacle of its wealth and worldwide power. The Death of the Detective is spun around the lives of a handful of men , all in Chicago during this time period, men whose lives intersect and then trail away from each other, sometimes joining again, and sometimes not. The style is a lot like that last sentence, compound sentences that last a long time and yet build up to something rather than becoming unwieldy. I have never read a voice like his before.

But back to our story. First we have the protagonist, Magnuson. He is retired from his life as the head of a locally famous security firm, and life has not been the same after his wife died. He is depressed. He’s invited old friends over to play cards and perhaps talk about their glory days, but the evening is ruined, because one of them has invited a man he detests without consulting Magnuson first. He is so irritated that eventually he abandons his guests and goes to bed. If only he would stay there!

Next up we have Farquarson, at least for a short time. Farquarson is a wealthy old man, and a mean one. Perhaps it is fortunate that he is dying. Unfortunately, he has just enough time and evil intent to send out a number of extremely unkind messages, some of them whispered, others sent as poison pen letters through the US mail. Once he is gone, his parting actions send things spinning in all sorts of directions, disrupting and ending the lives of good and decent people…and others’ also.

In addition there is Cavan. Cavan has lived his life in the self-absorbed, irresponsible, idly dilettantish manner of a sole heir to a vast fortune. After all, Farquarson has no children, and he is the only nephew. He spends and drinks recklessly while planning his scholarly (and expensive) trip to Africa. His field is anthropology, and his budget is one he assumes to be bottomless. What a surprise he has awaiting him.

Finally, we have our assassin. The man would probably be considered bipolar today; he has delusions of grandeur and a lot of other strange notions too. He was committed to a psychiatric hospital, but then getting over the wall is sometimes just a matter of persistence and athletic ability. Once he is out, he takes on a number of identities, foremost among them, Death. How fortunate, then, that he has wandered into a murder mystery where he can be useful.

At times, Smith’s noir fiction is reminiscent of the late, great Donald Westlake. At one point I was surprised to find myself laughing out loud over a wry turn of events.

Smith’s well-braided story also pulls in additional supporting players with more limited roles. We have a klatch of criminals, members of an organized syndicate, and we also have some hoods that want in and will do terrible things to prove themselves. We have local cops. We also have an assortment of young people associated with Cavan, as well as ordinary people across whose paths our story marches.

Because we’re all in this together, ultimately.

One thing of which the prospective reader should be aware is that the main characters are all Caucasian, and they are generally racist. The “N” word drops in now and then, and although its use is entirely consistent with the characters who are either using it out loud or thinking it—think of white Chicago businessmen and cops during the 1950s and 1960s—it is jarring. Perhaps it would have been more offensive simply to assume, as many writers still do, that characters in the story are all Caucasian; yet I think I would have enjoyed the novel more without that particular word, and perhaps with fewer racist statements and thoughts by the characters involved. This is my sole complaint about what is otherwise a truly outstanding mystery.

Smith is brilliant at conveying the emotions and thoughts of his characters through action. This reviewer was hooked at the end of the first paragraph, when the man in the diner cut his meat and then stole the knife. Smith’s internal dialogues are lengthy but so well done that rather than reacting with impatience, the reader must instead feel as if she is getting extra time with a remarkable story for no extra cost. His facility with figurative language, particularly simile, metaphor, and repetition are so skillful that I found myself flagging pages to share with students I no longer teach. It was both wondrous and disappointing.

I no longer have my students, but I have you, reader, and unlike most of them, you read what I have to say by choice. Pay attention! Sit up straight! Spit out your gum! Oh hell, I’m sorry; I forgot myself for a moment.

What I really want to point out is that not only do I consider this book well worth your time and money, but it was nominated for a National Book Award, and the author has an impressive list of credentials. But had he not, I would still recommend this amazing novel on its own merits. Originally released in 2007, it was re-released February 3, 2015. Get it and enjoy!

[Tim Potter · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mark Smith’s THE DEATH OF THE DETECTIVE is a rare and beautiful novel that defies any sort of simple description. The book was nominated for the National Book Award upon its original 1974 release and that is an honor it is well deserving of. The title obviously leads one to believe that the book will be a mystery or crime novel, and in many ways it is, but it’s also much, much more. The plot is classic mystery and detective fare, though, with its psychotic-killer-versus-world-weary-detective it proved to be way ahead of its time. The serial-killer-thriller, which started with books like THE DEATH OF THE DETECTIVE and Shane Stevens BY REASON OF INSANITY among others, didn’t really come into its own during the 1990s. The story is also multi-generational family epic, mafia story, character study and a portrait of the city of Chicago.

This book is compelling through all of its 700-some pages and the prose is absolutely gorgeous, literary and highly stylistic. It’s not an easy read, and Smith makes you work to earn every sentence (which are sometimes as long as pages) and every paragraph (which are sometimes as long as chapters). Reading THE DEATH OF THE DETECTIVE is an extremely challenging intellectual exercise and the reader is sure to finish it mentally stronger than when they began reading. That said, I occasionally felt like I needed a nap after a session of reading. This book took me longer to read than any book I can remember having read in the last ten or twelve years, since I read MIDNIGHT’S CHILDREN by Rushdie or Delillo’s UNDERWORLD. It’s a novel of that kind of power.

I highly recommend this book for readers who appreciate having to work hard to read a book. It’s also essential reading for fans of American crime fiction, especially that of the late Twentieth Century or as it regards serial, or spree, killing. THE DEATH OF THE DETECTIVE is wonderful, challenging and at times baffling, a tour through the psyches of the characters involved in this truly epic tale of American crime.

[Jack Tripper · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was an exasperating read. I first gave up on this novel a year ago, but every so often I'd pick it back up again, as the glowing online reviews kept enticing me. But I'd only ever get through a few pages before Mark Smith's detached, overly descriptive style started to weigh down my eyelids, and I'd soon find myself in that twilight region between awake and dreaming, the fat book falling on my face and startling me back into consciousness.

What makes this book so infuriating is that there's a really good story buried in here somewhere, only the author leaves the reader with no reason to keep forging ahead. The killer is known from the very beginning, yet we follow the main character through all his wrong turns, knowing the whole time that the last couple hundred long-winded, description-filled pages we've been reading is all leading to an inevitable dead end. This removes any possibility of any sort of suspense.

I'm not going to say it's a bad book that everyone should avoid, as many reviewers here and elsewhere obviously found something rewarding in here that I do not. I know that sometimes it's all about timing, but I've been attempting to read this for over a year now, through various literary moods I've been in throughout -- whether it was a mood for a hardboiled mystery, something weird, something literary, something experimental -- and no dice. Oh well, I'm giving up again. Though, considering I now only have about 100 pages left to go, I'm sure I'll one day be stricken with the irrational need to finish.

1.5 Stars (The extra half is for that unknowable force that keeps drawing me back).

[Beth Peninger]

Abandoned after Chapter 3

Thank you to NetGalley and Brash Books for this free copy. In exchange I am providing an honest review.

Published the year I was born, 1974, Smith's novel has been released for a new generation of readers. But I couldn't get into it. It starts off confusing, it felt to me like the novel started in the middle of a story and the middle of a sentence. There was a lot of rambling and undefined characters. A lot of description that felt like Smith had opened a thesaurus and let it do the writing for him. His prose reminded me of some authors that I don't like so that didn't endear me to the story either. It's been called perhaps the best detective book ever. I respectfully disagree. So many good books have been authored since 1974 and so many authors have done the detective story better. I finally abandoned after chapter 3 because I felt like I was trying to read confusion and I don't have time for that. I'm seeing in other reviews comparisons to Dickens. I also respectfully disagree with that comparison as well. I like Dickens, I do not like this style of writing. It's more in the style, in my opinion, of someone like F. Scott Fitzgerald or J.D. Salinger. So unfortunately I couldn't get past chapter 3 and am unable to give it a rating or a positive review.

[Natalie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Disclaimer: I received this book from Net Galley in exchange for an honest review.
A killer calling himself The Deathmaker is on the loose, pursued by Arnold Magnuson, a grief-stricken detective on the verge of a mental breakdown. "The Death of the Detective" is macabre story about the corruption in the City of Chicago, and the detective who slowly unravels. This novel is violent and heartbreaking. This novel is often called "The best detective novel ever" It is and so much more. This is a multi-genre masterpiece. The characters and events in this book will stay with you, and haunt your nightmares.

[Rachel · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this in a Detective Fiction class a few years ago and I appreciate the instructor dredging it up for us... it's not something I'd have found on my own. Uncharacteristically meaty for a detective novel at some 600+ pages. Does much more than make a mystery to solve. Illustrating a great complex swath of Chicago, the scope of this narrative is awesome, and a grand deconstruction of a detective story.

[Vanessa Delamare]

I'm sorry I couldn't finish it. Well, in truth I couldn't begin it. The first pages just killed my will to read that book that seemed so primising. Too many descriptions! I can't stand description for the sake of description, at least not in a crime fiction. And I didn't really feel like knowing all the details of the characters' life when I'm not yet committed to them.


So I won't give it a grade as I haven't read it and I won't put it on my blog.

[Theodore Kinni · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was really excited about this one--a literary mystery that was nominated for a National Book Award. Smith is a good, sometimes great writer, but he's burying me in pages and pages and pages of descriptive prose. Meanwhile the pace of the plot makes snails seem like dragsters. Sorry, I can't go on.

[Sandra Vega · Rating 4 out of 5]

Strange long poetic difficult amazing detective novel. I never read one like this. I find it awesome, but I'm sure many people would hate it as much as many would love it. I think is a kind of book that arises strong feelings, never indifference

[Melissa Berninger · Rating 5 out of 5]

Almost Dickensian in scope; a great picture of Chciago in the 1970s. A must for anyone who loves detective fiction. It's a densely packed novel, but well worth the time spent on it.

[Sherry Schwabacher · Rating 1 out of 5]

Fifty pages in, and I couldn't care less about the story, the characters, the author's style... Life is too short and my TBR list is too long to bother with this book.

[Violet · Rating 1 out of 5]

A slow confusing read, page after page of seemingly useless filler. The writers style was certainly unique, but difficult for me to follow and enjoy.

[Jack Heath]

Synopsis: a killer, The Deathmaker, is on the loose in Chicago. Arnold Magnuson, a grief-stricken detective, doggedly pursues him.

[James · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Death of the Detective won't be for everyone. There are detailed character sketches for characters who last only a few pages. Though well-written, the pace is intentionally slow and meandering. The detective makes mistakes and is blinded by his own prejudices. After a very long build-up, there is no satisfying resolution. These aspects reflect its literary aspirations — which also manifest in prose and a plot that is at times frustrating, at times thought-provoking, at times devastating. It has some of the cliches of the detective genre, yet frequently subverts them. It is no surprise that its author was an English academic. It is tempting to say that Mark Smith does for Chicago what Raymond Chandler did for LA, in bringing a city, its character, and its underbelly to life via a world-weary detective. But the comparison has limits: Chandler is crisp and concise while Smith spends page after page delving down deep and dark psychological recesses. This book requires patience - patience that I felt was ultimately rewarded.

[LYDIA PARR · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fluffy

As much as I love mysteries, I could only bring my self to read only 28%. Way too wordy (fluff). It's not necessary to the story and if edited out would make a better book, in my opinion.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

A bit extreme plot, but very credible writing. Psychological thriller par excellance.

[Ben · Rating 3 out of 5]

Strange book that at times I loved and others could not stand. It nevertheless possessed an irrestible and indefinable quality that kept me going for its entirety.