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Andrew Vachss's series hero, an outlaw vigilante named Burke, is on the trail of the man who murdered the teenage daughter of a Mafioso whose secret affairs with a black woman and a gay crime boss make Tony Soprano's sub rosa relationship with his psychiatrist seem inconsequential. More accustomed to committing crimes than investigating them, Burke comes out of retirement and reunites with his New York family, a group of criminals who join him in a clever ruse to unmask the killer. The circuitous trail eventually leads to an underground filmmaker whose disturbing brand of noir vérité was responsible for the girl's death; as usual, Burke metes out vengeance with a steady hand. As usual, Vachss turns in a suitably dark, violent thriller with a strong narrative drive and an explosive conclusion. --Jane Adams
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.
From Publishers Weekly
"Sherlock Holmes is dead," intones Giovanni, a New York Mafia boss who hires street criminal Burke-who's made a career of killing child murderers and molesters-to solve the murder of his illegitimate teenage daughter, Vonni. Indeed, the whole Vachss oeuvre (this is the 14th novel to feature the avenging angel Burke) is a reminder that Conan Doyle's fictional sleuth would be clueless in the violent, sordid world of today's hard-boiled mystery. Burke doesn't search for clues so much as extort them by combining street smarts, his formidable intelligence and a deeply rooted outrage at the victimization of the young. Burke's fans will be delighted that he's returned to his home turf-the gritty back streets of New York City-where he's welcomed into the bosom of his ragtag band of delinquent colleagues. The novel has a compelling plot line (like a police procedural without the police), but the narrative is far from seamless. There are a couple of false starts as Burke searches for something to occupy his time, and the references to earlier novels will probably baffle newcomers. More seriously, the elaborate ruse Burke executes to identify and trap the killer is barely credible. But the noirish prose (a man's eyes are "the color of old dimes") is a pleasure, and Burke is an antihero of the old school. Though it doesn't break new artistic ground for Vachss, the book is another harrowing glimpse of the urban underworld from an author who clearly knows his terrain and whose sympathy for the truly innocent-the children-is unstinting.
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.
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Most helpful customer reviews
5.0 out of 5 stars
Read this book!,
By Roger Arkin (Santa Fe) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Only Child (Paperback)
This book is the greatest! The author's critique of movie worshippers is the best ever.
3.0 out of 5 stars
Better Than the Last, But still Flawed,
By Ann M Eadie (Jacksonville, Florida United States) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Only Child: A Burke Novel (Hardcover)
Andrew Vachss lost the thread of his Burke books about five years ago. What he needs is a good editor again to tell him what's working and what isn't. I have to say, though, that he seemed to be getting back on track with this one, although there's about 80 pages of padding. I kept saying to myself, "Get to it, Vachhs, and stop babbling!" Finally I gave up and just couldn't finish. Still, I remain a fan of the man's work.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Try To Put It Down, I Dare You!,
By Kelly Langston-Smith (Atomic City, USA) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Only Child: A Burke Novel (Hardcover)
It is 4:30 in the morning.Now that we have established that little fact, let me tell you a little bit about my reading habits. I have a library full of books. Heck, I work in a book store. I adore books. A nice little chunk of every day is spent reading something. Since my son was born almost a year ago, this reading mostly takes place at the foot of the stairs to my apartment while I draw on a pipe so the smoke won't offend anyone else in the house. I usually read in twenty to forty minute sessions, usually enough for a bowl or two of Vanilla Cavendish. After that I put the book down and go about my day (or night as it usually turns out). It is like my own little sanctuary, and that is where I leave it. There is a stack of books at the foot of the stairs I am currently working through. In the last year I have never brought a book back up with me to continue. There is always a good spot to put a book down, believe me. At least I thought so until I started Only Child today. I read while I smoked, then I came up to the living room and read while my wife watched TV, then I returned to the spot and smoked some more (at least with a pipe I am looking at lip and throat cancer rather than that lung stuff), followed by a stint in the rocking chair and finally finishing with a last smoke while the book raced to its conclusion. I am not a fast reader either. I tend to savor books. The closer this book got to the final pages, however, the faster I read. I read as I walked up and down the stairs. I read as I went to the kitchen for a soda. I just couldn't look away from this book. In my younger days, I might have read a book straight through, but age (and being an aging father) has caught up with me. Now it is an unknown experience. Until I started Only Child today. I am not going to go into plot elements and how wonderful and engaging and hard Mr. Vachss writing is or even how amazing the character of Burke is at he has evolved over the years and in the pages (and you should read the Burke novels in order as there is definite evolution and continuity). You probably know all that. I am simply going to tell you that in years of reading some really wonderful books, the experience of having found one so intriguing that I couldn't put it down until it was done is an experience I haven't had in a very long while. It is 4:30 in the morning, and I couldn't be happier. Or more blown away.
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