4 out of 5

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Ha – too good, Mr. Block.  Too effortlessly goddammed good.

Card mechanic Bill Maynard is on his way, hurriedly, out of Chicago, where his fast hands weren’t fast enough for a high stakes game.  He makes a stop to heal up and find his footing when he stumbles into what he, as a cheat, considers a safe bet: a local game with some mini high rollers with enough dough to spare a few losses.  One hitch: a big fish’s wife, Joyce, watches a game and makes it clear with some comments and a wink: brother, I know your game.  Soon enough, Bill and Joyce are thick as thieves and hot and heavy, planning how to make it out of there with their winnings, free of the hubby, and free to hit the road together.

Ah, you’ve heard it all before.  But so has Block, baby, and so have Joyce and Bill, for that matter, and so things don’t go that way but they go another, and another, and another, Block breathlessly keeping ahead of us (save maybe one sticking point that accounts for my star docking) up until the fantastic ending, which is a thrill a moment and a hoot.

I’ll get the hitch out of the way: Our anti-hero’s journey through the book’s con requires his moment of doubt: turns out he likes the potential mark; likes the life he’s setting up for himself.  And it tracks, but at the same time, his reversal is presented a bit too suddenly, considering that the story is his narration.  In other words, it’s presented somewhat like a twist, which, if he’s telling the tale, it wouldn’t be.  From a storytelling perspective, sure, it’s more exciting that way, but it was the one moment I was taken out of the book’s airtight immersion and momentum; otherwise, the characters are written to so purposefully swerve against type as to juxtaposingly register as real from the get-go.  Block gives the story stakes within sentences of its start.

And it’s a freakin’ blast as a result.