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Strangler's Serenade, by Cornell Woolrich writing as William Irish (1951)



This book accidentally fell out of my coat pocket as I was taking some pictures. I didn't notice it was missing until a half block later; and only because some dude in a U-Haul drove past shouting at me that I "dropped your book!"

I was like, How cool. Dude didn't have to do that. Could've driven on with out saying a word. Glad he did, though. Book cost me twenty bucks.

That's my interesting story regarding this book. Sorry.

As with a lot of Popular Library books of the period, the cover is a lot more racier and jucier than the actual ingredients (the killer is also crazy for male victims...and doesn't necessarily strangle them). But it was Cornell Woolrich. And I was semi-prepared.

But under a pen name, he's a bit more...jovial. When the book isn't a mystery about a serial killer, it is kinda a romantic comedy about a New York detective trying to vacation in a sleepy New England town.

Well written, but not really my cup of tea.

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