Brighton Rock

To date I have read exactly half of Graham Greene's novels, encompassing Stamboul Train through Doctor Fischer of Geneva. There is an observable arc as his powers build from the early thrillers, peaking with such great classics as The Power And The Glory, The Heart of the Matter and The Quiet American, then declining through the series of low energy novellas with which John le Carré describes Greene completing his shelf.

In Brighton Rock I discern the stirrings of that great power which brings me back to Greene over and over. It's unquestionably the darkest Greene I have read so far. The dichotomous, tormented Pinkie is a frightening creation. It's a blessing this novel is only 250 or so pages long. Many more would result in too much time spent with Pinkie. Nobody escapes Pinkie's company intact.

Brighton Rock ends with quite possibly the most devastating final sentence of any novel, ever.

Superbly written but God how I hated each and every one of the characters in this book.

The criminal Catholic mind? fuck it, we're beyond redemption anyway! also sex will drive you crazy, drive everyone crazy!