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Saints of New York R.J. Ellory

imagesCA6T3Z07.jpgHell! What am I supposed to say about that fucking story? Well that guy, Frank Parrish, from the NYPD is sure in deeeeeep trouble right from the beginning. To start with, his last partner Mike was killed and we don't really know why the fuck he was. Of course, Frank is divorced, has two kids and spends most of his free time hitting the bottle. Franck sees a shrink everyday because he's a liability to the NYPD. Needless to say, Franck's dad was a cop too, one of the best: a Saint of New York. He thinks the cops are doing their job, but nobody cares. Sounds like we heard the story so many times, doesn't it?


Well, I wouldn't say so. Why? you may ask. Because the fucker knows how to tell a story. Not because he did creative writing studies like so many do now in the States (besides, Ellory's a fucking Brit) but because of of his skill to fathom the darkness of Joe Blog and write about it, like it is. Saints of New York is more ... let's say, blunt, than his previous books, not darker. The reader gets hooked right from the beginning and the end of the story, how's that for a change, is not anticlimactic. Just started reading his latest one: Bad Signs. 'tell you about it soon, in French. This was just a private joke.