Get Carter remains among the great crime novels, a lean, muscular portrait of a man stumbling along the hard edge - toward redemption. Ted Lewis cuts to the bone.

Life sends us messages all the time - then sits around laughing over how we're not gonna be able to figure them out.

Get Carter remains among the great crime novels, a lean, muscular portrait of a man stumbling along the hard edge - toward redemption. Ted Lewis cuts to the bone.

Bombs fall and wipe out civilization as we know it, two things come up out of the ashes: roaches and F-150s.

Mostly what you lose with time, in memory, is the specificity of things, their exact sequence. It all runs together, becomes a watery soup. Portmanteau days, imploded years. Like a bad actor, memory always goes for effect, abjuring motivation, consistency, good sense.

Truth is, of course, relative. But then, so is relative.

Time went by, which is what time does, what it is.