Like a terse American Psycho
, this first novel from British writer and actor Glynn suffers from familiarity even as the voice of the narrator, Peter Crumb, fascinates. Believing he will kill himself in a week, Crumb decides to succumb to his id and do whatever he pleases—and killing people is near the top of his list, along with making witty social observations. His particular mental illnessrequires him to have conversations with a crueler version of himself while butchering London neighbors, misusing prostitutes and making the Marquis de Sade’s most ferocious work look like part of the Nancy Drew series. Crumb’s monumental appetite for carnage and self-examination drives what there is of a plot. While the reader definitely believes in Crumb, the problem is that in an age of reality shows and slasher movies even the worst degradations have lost their power to shock. Glynn’s visceral prose convinces, but the sell-by date on this novel passed long ago. (Jan.)
