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Dear Mr M.,
I'd like to start by telling you that I'm doing better now. I do so because you probably have no idea that I was ever doing worse. Much worse, in fact, but I'll get to that later on.
Mr M. is being watched. As a famous writer, he is no stranger to the limelight, although interest in his work has been dwindling of late, the print runs shrinking, the crowds at signings thinning . . . Our narrator clearly takes a keen interest in M.'s work, and indeed in every aspect of his life. But what exactly are his intentions? And to what does Mr M. owe the honour of his undivided attention?
We learn that our narrator was once involved in a murder, the story of which bears more than a passing resemblance to the plot of Mr M.'s most famous novel: a teacher has an affair with a student, only to be brutally murdered by her and her teenage lover. The body is never found.
That's the problem with reality versus fiction: in real life bodies have an awkward habit of turning up. Mr M. has used some artistic licence, and our narrator is not pleased, not pleased at all. And just before he fades into obscurity, he's prepared to give Mr M. one last review, and it's unlikely to be a rave.
417 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 6, 2014
Ok, one minute I'm creeped out, the next cracking up, then confusion sets in.....What? Who is narrating now? Ok, now I'm perplexed, but also drawn-in; I cannot wait to figure out what in the hell is going on.
I also cannot believe the crude, twisted, heartless characters in this novel.......oh wait a minute.....yes I can, I read The Dinner and Summerhouse with a Swimming Pool.
Anyway, in DEAR MR. M, you have an aging writer with a wisecrack mouth (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA), a menacing stalker-type neighbor dude, (you won't believe this guy) a long in the tooth horny teacher and some wise-ass, devious, and mischievous young adults that join together to give the reader an entertaining and uniquely constructed story.
Thank you Crown Publishing and Netgalley for the ARC.








In her opinion, it was the women whose shelf life had expired long ago who sported the deepest décolletés. The same went for women who were to fat, for women who smoked, for the redheads. The women with faces on which two packs of Gauloises and two bottles of red wine a day for twenty years had left their mark. Pits and craters and stretches of dead skin—a face like a polluted river in which the last fish had bobbed to the surface years ago. [tr. Sam Garrett]Both The Dinner and Summer House with Swimming Pool had featured fat cats (a politician, an actor, a surgeon) who, in the course of the novel, will get their come-uppance. In Dear Mr. M, the M of the title is a famous novelist, rather past his prime. The novel begins as a letter to him from his downstairs neighbor who does not hide his opinion that the great man has feet of clay and the breath of a compost pile. When he starts stalking not only the author but also his much younger wife, things become sinister in the best Koch fashion—especially when it is hinted that he may have been involved in a murder that took place forty years before, which M used as the subject for his most successful novel, Payback. So far, I was absolutely in five-star territory.

