A review by psalmcat
Box Nine by Jack O'Connell

4.0

Sort of postmodern noir, a la [a:Carol O'Connell|42353|Carol O'Connell|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1262654769p2/42353.jpg] (I actually kept wondering if this was the same author--it's not). Set in the fictional town of Quinsigamond, somewhere in New England, this follows a set of twins who both get wrapped up in trying to figure out who has unloaded a crateful of a new drug called Lingo onto their city. Lingo makes one able to speak faster and remember everything you've said. It also makes you talk so fast your jaws are a blur and the words are a nasty insecty hum.

One of the twins, Lenore, is a cop who has not slept in 6 months. For her, working in the Narcotics Division means access to speed. So she's developed a use for it in her life. She is brought in to solve the Lingo issue. Her brother, Ike, is a postal worker who is about as milquetoast as a person can be, and he keeps finding icky (really, the only word) parcels being delivered to an unused mailbox.

Together they not only re-establish their need for one another but also open the question of which of them is actually the stronger.

There's virtually no one in this book who is decent and good, and certainly no one you'd want to hang around with for more than, say, uhm, 30 seconds. But, as in all noir, at the end, decency wins out and (some of) the bad guys are solidly defeated. For today.