A review by ericbuscemi
The Serialist by David Gordon

4.0

This article, about author David Gordon being famous in Japan and not even realizing it, made me curious enough to read the book that made him an accidental, foreign celebrity.

The book starts with a really great, memorable opening, including this line -- which isn't the first line of the book, but the last line of the first chapter:
It all began the morning when, dressed like my dead mother and accompanied by my fifteen-year-old schoolgirl business partner, I opened the letter from death row and discovered that a serial killer was my biggest fan.
That hook follows a bit of preamble, including this line, which is the first line of the book:
The first sentence of a novel is the most important, except maybe for the last, which can stay with you after you've shut the book, the way the echo of a closing door follows you down the hall.
These two lines should give you an idea of both the humor in the book, and how it plays with the narrative structure, as the narrator, Harry Bloch, is a writer of pulp genre fiction novels. His bibliography, all written under pen names, includes an erotic space opera series, an erotic detective series starring a black man from Harlem, and an erotic vampire series.

It becomes quite interesting to note that Bloch discusses, near the end of the story, how writing the middle of his books is the trickiest part, after I had -- naturally -- already finished the middle of the book and thought it dragged a bit. It seemed like a bit of a postmodern mea culpa.

But this slight drag in the middle is more a speed bump than an impediment. This story is well worth the read. The opening scenes, introducing the characters in Bloch's struggling existence, are funny and occasionally poignant, and the meat of the story, when Bloch's agreement to ghostwrite a serial killer's memoirs turns dark, is captivating. And the crux of the mystery was sufficiently tricky -- which was impressive and a bit infuriating, as Bloch points out more than once that the clues are already laid out in what he has already written to discover exactly whodunnit before he reveals it.

Another narrative twist is that about half a dozen chapters of the novel are chapters from these various pulp novels, interspersed throughout the narrative. While they aren't necessary to the story, or allude to events that are concurrently happening, they give Bloch's character some depth since it gives an idea the kind of writer he is. For any reader not enjoying these brief infrequent intermissions, know they can be skipped with no loss whatsoever to the main story.

Finally, I feel compelled to mention the narrator of the audiobook, Bronson Pinchot, as I listened to this book. I would deduct a star from this book solely for its narration (although I did not, as I didn't want to punish the author for this shortcoming). Despite Pinchot being a professional actor, his voice work is lacking, at best. He gave Harry Bloch a whine that made the first person narrative difficult to listen to at points, and every female character sounded like Mickey Rourke in drag. While I would heartily recommend this book, especially to fans of the genre books it plays with, I would not recommend the audio version.