Stray Dogs

John Ridley

Stray Dogs is the epitome of the needless book. There is nothing to be learned from it, no deep meaning involved, no moral to the story. A guy on his way to pay off some loansharks he's into has a breakdown on the outskirts of a very strange little town in Nevada. While waiting for his car to be repaired, he finds himself in a unique situation (for him, anyway): he meets a beautiful young woman, then meets her husband. Each wants to hire him to kill the other. Nothing much to it, really.

So why is Stray Dogs, then, such a fine piece of work? It is mostly because John Ridley knows how to keep the pages turning without ever dropping into genre fiction; there's no real genre this book would fit into anyway. It has elements of hardboiled detective fiction, a dash of the action thriller here and there, and it's loaded with the weirdness one expects from many “postmodern” European authors, but it never settles down. It just keeps moving along as fast as it can. As well, Ridley knows when to quit. Stray Dogs is a very short novel, and its brevity adds to the punch it packs. The ending may be a little too pat for some readers, but it does have a poetic justice-style twist to it that will allow the majority to at least get a cynical smile out of it. Good stuff.