Daniel Polansky's Reviews > Death is a Lonely Business

The author's youthful surrogate searches for the killer of a menagerie of despairing losers in 1950's Venice. Existentialist neo-noir of the highest order. I've never been a huge Bradbury fan and was shocked at how good this was. It's less a mystery novel than a reworking of genre tropes used to explore the rapidly fading grandeur of 50's Los Angeles and the occasional tragedy of human existence. Its slapstick surrealism reminded me somewhat of Inherent Vice, but its earthy, honest sentimentality, the lived in feel of the scenery and setting, renders it a clear notch above Pynchon's work. In fact there are a lot of over-hyped literary types who've attempted to mine similar territory, more pretentiously and to less effect. In short, Paul Auster would give his left nut to write something half as good. You should really give it a gander.