I read this book in my hardboiled fiction/film noir class and fucking loved it. I will tell you why.

I loved the first person narrative. It is the perfect example of an unreliable narrator. You are in his mind, and, in reading his atrocious acts in first person, you want to find a point of sympathy with him. How else can you manage to say "I" throughout all these brutal beatings/killings? That's what tends to happen with our experience in crime fiction, no? Even in real crime stories...the ones we read, see in the news, etc., we need to know WHY so-and-so did it. Even if it's just a simple explanation, such as "insanity," to write it off. We want to know "What happened in this person's past/childhood/life for them to do such a deed and take pleasure (or no pleasure) in it?"

Lou is a smart guy. He toys with the characters in the novel who think he is not a bright man. He condescends without them even knowing. He definitely knows how to play off of people's expectations; but not just the characters', the readers' as well. And this, I tell you, is where I have such high regard for this book. I love psychological crime and forensic psychology theories and all the like. Lou gives you plenty of sympathetic reasonings....you just gotta take your pick! But could he just be playing with the reader? Very meta.

Maybe there is no reason to his evilness. But it's subjective right? Morality is not an objective set of rules. What about the social contract? Lou has no need for it. He submits to the social contract with his facade. But he will continue to do what he wants. While we sit, read, and try to make sense of this killer. Laughing at the way he mocks the low-brow characters (according to him). Until we realize...he's also laughing at us.