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Jim Thompson's 1952 pitch noir pulp classic is about as dark as dark gets. Lou Ford is a deputy sheriff whose life is a half-hearted attempt to stop himself from murdering anyone, and as we get started he's just about to lose the battle.

It's a totally successful book. Thompson's an efficient writer, and even when he indulges in loopy noir purpleness - "I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead." - I mean, that stuff's always fun, and he pulls it off.

Stephen King makes an argument in his forward that this is a Great American Novel, and yeah, sure, why not? This is America too.