\I have to give Bill Pronzini credit: even when he uses cliché tropes of the genre, ones I particularly dislike, he often treats them so meticulously, so ingeniously that I end up liking his book any.
Take Booby Trap, for example. It features a serial killer (I hate serial killers!) who keeps a journal (I hate it when they keep a journal!), whose every murder is symbolically appropriate to the victim (I hate symbolically appropriate murders!). The planned murder involves the victim’s teenage son (I hate it when they involve the children!), and the novel ends with a race against time to save the victim from falling into a trap (I hate races against time! I hate traps!)
Yet I still like this book. The killer in this case is a serial bomber, and the care with which he chooses symbolic pieces of shrapnel is an unsual variation of the symbol-ridden serial killer theme. The child is a boy we come to like and respect, and the chase—instead of being filled with more cliches—features a fat aging hero, stumbling and out of breath (the Nameless Detective, of course) and the trap, when it comes, is not corny and cliched, but simple and utterly terrifying.
The first third kept me guessing, the second third won me over, and the last third was a helluva ride. I still hated the serial bomber’s journal though. I really hate it when they keep a journal!