Darby Frown has had it up to here with bourgeois respectability and lives out his relentless quest for clarity as a rough-and-tumble hitman while participating in surface reality just enough to seem almost human. Are his crimes real or only imagined? Is his ruthless pursuit of grim deathnirvana a futile sham, or is it the only way to survive the identity meltdown of postmodernity? This is a story that is less than the sum of its plots, and the reader is advised to keep alert to the risky seductions of its paranormal and criminal sallies into paranoid nonsense. Nevertheless, it is difficult to read Hitman and not feel an eerie sense of recognition. Darby's strange delusions remind us how fragile and cheap sanity is in an over-administrated and hyperstimulated late-capitalist environment whose domestic comforts threaten us with spiritual emasculation and giddy tedium, where BDSM and PTSD are just similar acronyms symbolizing our rancid ennui and our yen for the beyond, always kept tantalizingly out of reach by the thought-police." -Aleksandr Meckel Jr. (Ardella Creek Examiner)