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The Boy
in the Box by Lee J. Nelson Rating: • (Read only if your interest is strong) |
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Click on title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Welcome Back Kafka Lee J. Nelson’s new book, The Boy
in the Box, presents schemes and schemers in New York City with a strangeness
and alienation reminiscent of Franz Kafka. If that’s your cup of tea, then The Boy
in the Box is the book you’ve been waiting for. I don’t enjoy Kafka, and
found this book dreary and dreadful. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 2 (pp.
30-31): In the lobby, as he waited by the elevator, a
movement at the end of the hall caught his attention. The janitor was
standing on the stairs, on the steps halfway down to the basement. With just
his upper body visible through the balusters, he resembled a prisoner or an
ape in the zoo and was waving at Smith, not making a sound. When the elevator
arrived and Smith reached for the door, the janitor's urging grew more
frantic. Smith hesitated. Had the suspect been dangerous,
the police probably would not have released him so quickly. He decided to
hear what the man had to say before passing judgment. As he came closer, the janitor headed farther down
the stairs toward the poorly lit and deserted basement corridor. Smith stayed on the landing, growing nervous.
"I'm not going down there. If you want to tell me something, you're
going to have to tell me here." Grasping
that Smith would not descend with him, the gargoyle conceded and came up a
few steps closer to Smith but was still hidden from anyone entering the
lobby. "What's
your name?" Smith asked. "Shhh!” Smith lowered his voice and spoke slowly and
clearly. 'My name is Smith. What is your name? Is it Dezmun?" "Kogat,"
came the answer. "Ko-Gat?" 'Kogat." 'Kogat Dezmun?" The
janitor nodded. "I know you," he said. "That's not possible." "I know you," he repeated, and his hands
started up as if to reach and touch, then dropped to his sides. Smith was
alarmed but did not retreat. What proceeded from Kogat Dezmun, accompanied by
apprehensive peeks through the balusters and guided by the ever useful hand
gestures, was another turbulent account tangled in a thicket of
incomprehensible language. Smith recognized a now familiar description of the
boy in the box, who was in some way connected to the one true beggar. Dezmun
mentioned Chinatown again, and he repeated pressingly that only Smith could
succeed, but at what was unclear; finding the boy. Smith assumed. As sordid
and as unintelligible as the man's tale was his manner: leering while
describing the most horrible events; staring at Smith without blinking,
adjusting his glasses to stare more intrusively; babbling on with the
misplaced confidence that Smith was following every word. Smith cut short the exposition. "If you know
anything about a missing boy, you must notify the police." "No," Dezmun pleaded anxiously. "Why did the police take you into custody last
night?" "No police," Dezmun insisted. His smile
was gone. "No police." He pressed his index finger to his lips. "Did
they ask you about the missing boy?" He shook his head. "I know noting." Strange people doing strange things do
hand out in New York apartments. The Boy
in the Box reveals some of them. Unless you’re up for a downer, take a
pass. Steve Hopkins, March 25, 2003 |
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ã 2003 Hopkins and Company, LLC The
recommendation rating for this book appeared in the April 2003
issue of Executive
Times URL
for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/The
Boy in the Box.htm For
Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins
& Company, LLC • 723 North Kenilworth Avenue • Oak Park, IL 60302 E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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