From Amazon.com
Sports agents are infamous for battling each other, team owners, mega-corporations, and the overpaid athletes they represent in an attempt to profit from their clients' images. Agents are more reminiscent of a
Coen brothers' creation than of Tom Cruise's lovable character in
Jerry Maguire. Super agent Alexander Drouhin, a handsome, ruthless slickster, and his motley support team are no exception. They inhabit a cutthroat world obsessed with money, fame, and power, so when Drouhin is found with a couple of .44 slugs in his head, everyone's a suspect. As usual, dialogue master Higgins concentrates more on character development than plot--a focus he justifies by granting sleazy agents, bitter athletes, and weary cops mouthfuls of gritty dialogue: "'The hat,' Drouhin said blankly. 'I seldom wear a hat.' 'That's what I mean,' Corwin said. 'I've never seen you wear one
in, never seen you wear one
out, but always after you've been in there's this humongous pile of rabbit shit on top of my desk.'"
From Publishers Weekly
A riveting look at the world of big-time sports provides veteran storyteller Higgins (A Change of Gravity) another opportunity to show off his skills at writing the most addictive dialogue since John O'Hara. Alexander Drouhin is a 62-year-old Boston lawyer at the top of the heap of sports agents. Business brings in millions a year, and Alex?juggling athletes, team owners, general managers and the press?lives a princely life. Alex has two ex-wives, two distant daughters, an almost live-in boyfriend (undiscovered yet by the tabs) and near-insatiable greed. A third of the way into the book?after he neatly extracts a budding NFL star from a possibly messy scandal?Alex is found dead in his palatial country estate. Massachusetts State Police Lieutenant Frank Clay, a recent widower, must unravel the puzzle. Through Higgins's trademark dialogues (or monologues), and without many visual clues, the reader gleans vivid depictions of his prolix characters, with glimpses of the horrors of modern celebrityhood, pro gambling and pro sex in a suburb of Boston. There are plenty of cops-and-lawyers stories and wicked, offhand humor. Drouhin's boyfriend never appears, but if that's a flaw, it's minor. (Is it possible the maestro can't do an antique dealer's voice?) The talk may go on a bit, but it is to be hoped that Higgins never makes a long story short. Author tour.
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.
