I don’t think I’ve been able to use the very fun words: madcap, zany, whirlwind, and jaw-droppingly-laugh-out-loud to describe a book in a long, long, too long time. This book is all those things and more. Granted, you’ve got to like your humor a bit (quite a bit) on the dark side for these adjectives to apply, but it you’re a fan of off-kilter heist books, you’ll love this one.
Morty Martinez is a feeler: a man who clears out the homes of the deceased in East Brooklyn and chooses his jobs based on feel. He “feels” whether or not the deceased has stashed money away in the house. And since the current owner of the property signs over all the proceeds of the house to Morty, he can legitimately keep whatever he finds. Like the 32 tight ones (money rolled tightly into Planters Peanut cans) with over $800,000 in them stashed under the last guy’s stained plaid couch. Unfortunately others are interested in Morty’s sudden good fortune. Like the man who just got out of prison for robbing an armored car fifteen years ago. The same man who hid the five million dollars in his Uncle’s house. The same Uncle who died just a couple of weeks ago and had a feeler clean out his house…
This book has a great Brooklyn feel (excuse the pun) to it. The whole story is a written confession by Morty to a priest and his eloquent use of language, and the lack of eloquence by his associates, makes for a fun mix.
