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308 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1993

"Man, how would they know him? He didn’t live here."
"Of course he did," I said. "You can see his building from here."
He made a show of following my finger as I pointed at the top floors of Holtzmann’s apartment building. "Right," he said. "That’s where he lived, up on the fortieth floor."
The twenty-eighth, I thought.
"That’s another country up there," he said. "Man commuted from the fortieth floor over there to some other fortieth floor where his office is at. Where you and me are is the street. Man like that, the street’s just a place he’s got to pass through twice a day, getting from one fortieth floor to another."
May the road rise to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May you be in heaven an hour before
The Devil knows you're dead. - An Irish Blessing, the epigraph used for "The Devil Knows You're Dead."
He wasn’t hitting the Jameson bottle very hard, just topping up his glass often enough to keep from losing that edge. It was maintenance drinking, and I remembered it well; I had done my own share of it, until life took me to a point where maintaining was no longer possible because the traitorous booze would get me drunk before it would let me get comfortable.

"Something was playing hide-and-seek in my memory, something I'd heard or read in the past day or two. But I couldn't quite manage to grab on to it..."To me, the best thing in the novel are three conversations that Matt has with various people. The first one, with the victim's boss, touches on various extraneous topics, such as publishing business and office politics; yes, it could be cut out, yet I learned a lot reading it. The conversation between Matt, the victim's wife, and Matt's lawyer is hilarious: it illustrates various clever ways of making obviously illegal activities appear legal. And, to me, the highpoint of the novel is when Matt's ex-lover explains her decision in the closing section of the story - a desperately sad, yet somehow uplifting paragraph.