I’m very, very disappointed. I was all set to dislike this book, and I couldn't do it. You see, I’m a certified Corso-holic. I loved G.M. Ford’s Frank Corso novels. I couldn’t believe it when I read on the flyleaf of this book that it wasn’t another Corso book. How and why could Ford do it? How could this not be another Corso book? I was crushed, and then royally frosted. I was so ticked I looked up the author on the Internet to give him a few pieces of my mind - not that I could spare them. When I couldn’t find an email address for him, I got even more ticked.
I stewed for another minute or two, finally resigned myself, fixed myself a coffee, and sat down to glare at my reflection in the window. “Oh, well! (sigh) I guess I may as well read the damned thing, now that I have it,” I decided, and a funny thing happened. I cracked the book and the next thing I knew my coffee was cold and the clock had jumped ahead by two hours.
My two hours of reading started as if I had been walking down a street I’d walked a thousand times before when all of a sudden a store I’d never noticed appeared. I stopped and looked closely. I couldn't believe it, but I was right. I’d never seen it before. I walked on a little further and a second shop I’d never seen appeared. “Am I on the right street?” I asked myself, looking around. When a third, previously unseen shop loomed ahead, I knew I wasn’t where I thought I was.
That’s the way the story of Nameless Night begins, and then continues. I knew where the plot was going, until suddenly I didn’t. Suddenly I was in a plot I didn’t see coming. Even when I was in the midst of it, I was still completely at sea.
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