Let me start by saying this: James Crumley's The Last Good Kiss isn't just a crime novel—it's a full-bodied, whiskey-soaked experience. From the first page, you're thrown into the chaotic world of C.W. Sughrue, a Vietnam vet turned P.I. who’s equal parts brilliant and self-destructive.

The plot hooks you immediately—Sughrue is hired to track down a missing alcoholic writer, only to stumble into a decade-old cold case involving a runaway girl. What follows is a wild ride across the American West, filled with eccentric characters, dark humor, and enough booze to drown a small town. The real magic? Crumley’s writing. It’s lyrical yet raw, like Chandler on a bender.

But here’s the thing: this book isn’t for everyone. If you’re squeamish about graphic violence, drug use, or morally ambiguous protagonists, steer clear. Sughrue spends half the book drunk or high, and suspension of disbelief is required when he somehow solves cases between blackouts.

That said, the journey is worth it. The dialogue crackles with wit, and the supporting cast—including an alcoholic bulldog—steals every scene. The mystery itself takes a backseat to Sughrue’s existential musings and the bleak beauty of his world.

Fair warning: the 1970s vibe is strong (expect casual sexism and period-appropriate grit). But if you love hard-boiled noir with heart and humor, this is a must-read. Just keep a drink handy—you’ll need it.