OK, the good Don wasn’t an overgrown lug who wasn’t satisfied until his victims screamed. Frankly, he reminded me quite a bit of Don Quixote. Unlike the latter, however, there’s a side to Marv that’s tender, even sweet. Marv is quite possibly one of the most perversely appealing fictional characters I’ve run across, barring Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. The results are a visceral-and I mean that in a literal sense-blood-soaked rampage through Sin City. The rest of the book traces Marv’s obsession with finding Goldie’s killer and avenging her death, no matter what the cost. Someone wants to frame Marv for her murder. When he wakes up, Goldie is dead, and police sirens are ringing. Those of you who watched the movie know the story already: Marv, a big, ugly psychotic (and psychopathic) killer spends a drunken night of pleasure in the arms of a gorgeous woman named Goldie.

was sidling up on me and my alarm clock was going to ring in five hours. Even then, I started over and re-read several pages before I looked at the clock, realized that 1 a.m. Despite knowing everything that happens, courtesy of the movie, the book firmly attached itself to my fingers and refused to let go until I turned the last page.

It was late for me-about 11 p.m.-and I was dog-tired, but I’m the kind of girl who needs a book to lull her to sleep. I made the mistake of reading this on Tuesday night.

The hard goodbye frank miller