Smalltime

Rating:
Summary: So-so Bleak
Review: So-so peek into very small time crime perpetuated by non-criminals. The ostensible hero, Chris, is mugged by the inept Leo, setting into motion a chain of events that will lead Chris, Leo, and Leo's buddy Kevin into a triangle of crime. All three are 25-35 and living dead-end lives in a London suburb. Chris' prospects are starting to look up very slightly (he lives in a YMCA) when he tries to juggle two new women. Predictable results ensue with the women, and the smalltime crime ends up in multiple tragedy. Trés bleak.

Rating:
Summary: Dull, plodding crime novel. Who dunnit? More like Who cares!
Review: The cover of this novel instantly grabbed me. A grainy black and white picture of an ashtray with a joint in it, a glass of Whisky and open wrap containing some kind of white powdered narcotic. 'Chris is drawn into the dangerous and seedy underworld of Suburban London', promised the blurb. Why there was a picture of drink and drugs on the cover and where this 'seedy underworld' appeared in the book are both still a complete mystery to me. Chris, a down on his luck bloke living in a local YMCA and working at a local off licence is mugged one night as he takes the day's takings to the bank. The rest of the book is the rather cheerless and morose tale of how he finds his attacker and his accomplice, and how he gets embroiled in their dodgy ways. It ends predictably and offers no twist or suprises. Meanwhile there is a dreary and rather pointless love triangle sub-plot, where the sex scenes are cut short like some television film before the watershed. The book completely fails to deliver. This is supposed to be the suburban south London underworld in 1992 yet there is none of the colourful, cocky language and biting wit you would expect. The characters are cardboard and strangely out of place and perhaps time. A man of the world in his early thirties in south London simply does not listen to Country and Western! This is supposed to be the suburban London underworld, post acid house, 1992, the height of the UK rave scene. And what is this fairly hip, good looking young man listening into? Country and Western! The language is monotone, dull and humourless and it seems to occasionally break into out-of-place North Americanism's such as 'you bet' and 'sure thing'. This is suburban London in 1992, 'safe' or 'sorted' I'll happily accept but 'sure thing', it just doesn't convince. I gave the book two stars simply because I didn't give up on it, although I was tempted more than once. With so many good books out there I couldn't honestly recommend this to anyone

Rating:
Summary: Wasted Opportunity
Review: What could have been an excellent dip into British Noir turns into a predictable hotch-potch of ITV-style crime drama. What sets the book apart from the rest of British crime is the fact that it has no real idea about Britain. There aren't any "elevators" for instance, nor do job centres have spikes to put notes on. And not everyone who's unemployed is an inveterate gambler.

Smalltime falls into too many deeply dubious stereotypes to be of any worth. That's not to say it's not well-written, because it is. Unfortunately, the plot is wafer-thin and the characters sketchy at best. Our main protagonist, Chris, is supposedly some sort of chick-magnet, three girls on the go at the same time, but his appeal is never explained. Dashy's bad homelife is straight out of a bad Ken Loach film. As for Kevin... Well, he's really nothing more than a bad guy.

All in all, it sounds like an American trying to write for a British audience. And it falls flat...Bloodlines should know better.