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Ok. Where do I begin? This book was left behind by the previous owner, and I became the lucky recipient. I thought, "Well, look at that. I've been wanting to read Faulkner, and here he is!" Actually, I wanted to read 'As I Lay Dying', but this would do. The blurb was quite intriguing, also. "Psychologically astute and wonderfully poetic...a powerful novel examining the nature of true evil..." Bless my poor little heart, I had no idea! This was neither astute nor poetic. Was he drunk or high (both) when he wrote this? The way he rarely refers to one character, in particular, by name was especially frustrating. Her name is Ruby, not "the woman!" Why bother naming her if you're not going to refer to her as such? Have mercy! His sentences are so long and convaluted that I quit re-reading them trying to understand just what the fuck he was trying to say. It should not be this hard to read a story. Sometimes he wouldn't even finish a thought. It's left hanging there, hopelessly flapping in the wind. I was under the impression that this was about the kidnapping of a MS debutante. As far as I could tell, it was about the all too true story of a man being convicted for something he didn't do. I felt no connection whatsoever to any of the characters. I didn't like them or hate them. Who are these people, and why should I care about them? These two important questions were simply not answered. The story itself was utterly uninteresting. I kept telling myself it would get better. It never did. After reading this, it's highly unlikely that I'll read anything else this man has to offer.