Since I read this, the first of the Matthew Scudder stories, hard on the heels of the first Bernie Rhodenbarr book, it was interesting to note some definite parallels - which I had not expected. The tone of the two is about as dissimilar as can be. The characters, however, have quite a lot in common. They are both loners, living in small spaces. They both are deeply committed to their own view of justice. Logical, I suppose, since they are "sons" of the same father, Block, their author and creator. Both have family, but they are rather remote from them. Bernie has a mother off somewhere that he contacts by phone, Matt Scudder has an ex-wife and a couple of kids that he talks to on the phone. Neither is seriously involved with a woman, they both have encounters with multiple women in the course of their stories.
Okay, about this book. I was delighted again with Block's use of language and allusion. One of my favorites was a reference by Scudder, a former cop, to police talk as "Coptic" jargon. It's a nice word twist all by itself, but there is no doubt that he knew who the Copts were and that sets up a whole range of subtext.
The crime is far more gruesome than the one in the other series. A young woman who supports herself by casual prostitution is butchered and her roommate, a young gay man, is accused of the crime and within twenty-four hours has hung himself in his cell. In defense of the cops, he was found wandering about in the street covered with her blood. Two dead, and neither victim seems to have deserved their fate.
There's plenty of guilt to go around. And the fathers of the two victims come in for the lion's share. Making the title a play on the Biblical quote in which the guilt for the sins of the fathers is passed down to the third and fourth generation, here the guilt turns back to reveal the sins of the fathers.
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