Nightmare in Pink by John D. MacDonald (1964) I wanted to check out a few of these Travis McGee mystery novels because they all have a different color in their titles, and apparently I'm the idiot who finds that kind of thing irresistible, as well as series books in general, as well as being the guy Hollywood comes to for advice about writing the next 100 million dollar check. Plus, I found an old paperback copy of this with a totally nutso cover. The beginning is rough (as well as the wrap-up); McGee showing his “sensitive” side, as every woman he comes into contact with wants to sleep with him, and he shows some degree of restraint and a bit of a queasy version of respect. The heart of the story, though, where he gets slipped some nightmarish version of LSD and gets involved with a worse-than-Nazi “research” hospital that lobotomizes, rather than murders, threats to its revenue stream seems plausible enough to create real suspense and a sense of dread. The action and the NYC setting are all crystal clear and pleasurable enough to get through the moist, kind of creepy version of valor the adventure's encased in.
Books I've Finished Reading