By Ron Hansen
In line with a true case whose lurid info scandalized americans in 1927 and bought thousands of newspapers, acclaimed novelist Ron Hansen’s newest paintings is a travel de strength of erotic rigidity and looming violence. Trapped in a loveless marriage, Ruth Snyder is a voluptuous, reckless, and altogether impossible to resist lady who needs not just to flee her husband yet that he die—and the earlier the higher. No much less depressing in his personal tedious marriage is Judd grey, a dapper corset-and-brassiere salesman who travels the Northeast peddling his wares. He meets Ruth in a big apple diner, and shortly they're engaging in a white-hot affair concerning inn rooms, mystery letters, clandestine travels, and specifically, Ruth’s expanding insistence that Judd kill her husband. may possibly he do it? could he? What follows is an exciting exposition of a homicide plan, a police research, the lovers’ try to get away prosecution, and a last reckoning for either one of them that lays naked the horror and sorrow of what they've got performed. Dazzlingly well-written and artfully developed, this impossible-to-put-down tale marks the go back of an American grasp identified for his stylish and bright novels that reduce cleanly to the essence of the human middle, continually and immediately mysterious and packed with wish.
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Extra info for A Wild Surge of Guilty Passion
Calm yourself, dear, really . . you must try. ” Alicia nodded, composing herself. “Dark, yes. The sun was up, but the curtains were drawn. I turned in the bed. Dennis was beside me. I reached out for him, and his skin felt so cold. And then I felt something sticky. I turned on the bedside lamp and then I saw . ” Her voice trailed off and Niagara Falls turned on. Okay, that’s it. Between Alicia’s unremitting tears and this room’s aquatic color scheme, I was beginning to get that drowning feeling.
His torso appeared shaved—all the better to show off his body-sculpting labors. Unfortunately, Mr. Universe had performed his last rep. The twelve-inch carving knife protruding from his chest had seen to that. I took a deep breath and swallowed down a bit of bile—along with the primal urge to flee. “The man’s no longer alive,” I whispered to myself, trying to stay steady. “That’s clear enough . ” His chest wasn’t moving, and his complexion carried that “gray-white pallor of death” as Mike referred to it after one of his countless crime scene visits.
And no more arguing. ” TWO LEAVING Mike Quinn’s big, warm body felt about as right as pouring a fresh-pressed pot of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe down the drain. He felt the same but (being the amazing man that he is) let me go without a grilling. He even agreed to come downstairs to wait for Nancy Kelly to show. Nancy was my newest barista, an apple-cheeked twenty-something from “all over,” as she put it, “upstate mostly”—rural was my guess since she was the only member of my staff who bragged she got up with the sun.
A Wild Surge of Guilty Passion by Ron Hansen