Call me crazy, but I picked up this book in Barrons a few weeks ago, read the back cover and all the endorsements and thought–hey, this will be a fun story. Well, many chapters into it and I still hadn’t laughed. I even went back to the scene that one ‘endorser’ promised was was a howl and realized I thought it was just sort of . . .sick. What’s wrong with me? I’m a Southerner. I’ve lived in rural areas AND I have an active imagination. So why can’t I get the humor in Clyde Edgerton’s novel about con men in 1940s Carolina? It’s dialogue driven, which I love, and has colorful characters too. I guess I thought the whole thing was sort of spit out like the staccato of a machine gun–all punch, no fluff. Maybe you ‘ll like it better than I did.