The writing in Mission to Paris, sentence after sentence, page after page, is dazzling. If you are a John le Carr fan, this is definitely a novel for you.

I love you Max,"Fang said..."God, Max I love you so much." I know. I thought. I've always known

Hollywood is a peculiar beast - people in Hollywood are nuts.

I whirled around and saw no one. No psychotic mad scientists, anyway. "Jackpot, Max! Jackpot!" It was was Fang, and he was giggling hysterically. For those of you just joining us, Fang doesn't giggle. Especially hysterically. So for a second, this seemed like one of the weirder dreams of recent days.

Great, they give blind kids guns," I said, trying to lessen his horror. "I don't even let Iggy have a gun. Usually.

So the first thing we're gonna do," I told him, "is push you off the roof.

Well, I don’t know. Mostly I just suck up what life throws my way, stomp on it, and then keep going. I don’t dwell much on what I am or how I got this way. It just is. I just am. I’m Max, and whatever form I take, it’s good enough for me.