"I kept thinking I ought to wish Florida and Hanson well and be happy for them. That was the right thing to do, but I kept hoping she would miscalculate and get her period on her wedding night."
This is a very specific kind of read for readers with a very specific taste. There are two kinds of people in the world: those who think a western is awesome, and those who don’t. I’m on the side of Westerns. Just so you know.
Because not every book needs to reinvent the wheel, Lansdale kept on doing what he does best: writing formulaic genre fiction. When compared to others in the same field, it surpasses any and all police procedural bullshit by leaps and bounds, but just doesn't come close to the masters. While the plot is its usual self and the dialogue as usual shines through, the plot is more than a little transparent. When the ending does come, it comes not with a sense of revelation, but a sense of inevitability and obviousness, as if it could not have ended any other way. In a Lansdale novel we don’t really have something as trivial as clues. This so-called clues are much more obvious to the reader than to the characters and that feels like a bit of a letdown. Post-racial America never made it to this part of East Texas. Be careful what you look for...tough guy country noir.