Status Updates From Pike (Switchblade)

It’s past midnight in the switching yard. Haven’t heard a train full of poison pass in hours.
I’m not sleepy. Can’t crash just now.
But I have to put this down for now.
Better to catch the full impact face first after coffee tomorrow.

If you miss out on this slim work of hardwood genius it’s all on you.

Jesus God.
All those hardboiled noirs from the 50s-60s?
They’re all farts against a candle compared to this searing blowtorch prose.
Might be the best or second best thing I’ve read all year.

Everyone who thinks J. D. (Little Right Wing Pecker Trump loving fraud) Vance was the hot shits should read this.

This will take the top of your brains off.

What time did I start reading this? 12:0’cook?
This a monstrous noir.
Guilt spackled thick with self-hatred.
Too soon to tell but this a harderboiled Ross Macdonald.
Godlike genius writing. This one’s a killer.

Hardboiled grit-noir set around the Cincinnati/Kentucky border wilds.
Good stuff so far!

Behind the bar a bone-thin, balding and bespectacled bartender in a Motley Crue T-shirt watches them. "You got any food?" Pike says.
"We got food." He nods at a door at the back of the bar. "Got three Mexicans in the kitchen."
"We don't eat Mexicans."
The bartender looks at him. "They do the cooking. That's what I meant."

Loving the dialogue in this novel. So real, even the human misunderstandings.