THE 1ST DEADLY SIN

Full (October) selection of the B-O-M, a first printing of 100,000, an advertising kickoff of $50,000 — and you get the picture — the big picture (that too — Columbia) for a conglomerate novel which is half police procedural (remember The Anderson Tapes — here sans gadgetry), a quarter entailing some slinky, kinky sex (remember Sanders' Pleasures of Helen and Love Songs) and fill in the rest with a great detective, a detective's detective, Ed Delaney by name, and the additional grab (as if it needed it) that his wife Barbara is dying (is she?) of a strange illness called Proteus infection. Even if you can't diagram that sentence, you'll get the fight answer. On the dark side, this is about Daniel Blank who rides around in a Stingray in silk underwear and a Via Veneto wig when he isn't off mountain climbing, and his black madonna, one Celia Montfort, who introduces him to all kinds of perverse erotica in her search for evil qua evil also called finitude. Either one of them would put Krafft-Ebing at a disadvantage. On the other hand you have Delaney in whose precinct the first of four wanton murders takes place via an unidentifiable instrument (it will be a special kind of ice ax) — Delaney who works almost around the clock in between the hospital vigil to get the evidence which will justify a collar. There's not enough — but there are other ways, original and unorthodox, to stalk and spook a killer. Of its kind — commercial but classy commercial (far better written than say The Exorcist) — it's as addictive as anything you're likely to read for several uninterrupted evenings this season.