The backhanded praise offered by the reader from Kentucky misses the mark. Questions of Woolrich's ability to hide "illogical" events by a "believable [writing] fashion" are not suitable points to be weighed by one considering reading this book. On the whole the work concerns itself with the mundane. The protagonist is described, at length, moving through hackneyed chores that wouldn't interest her own mother for more than a page or two. But that all falls to the background of the larger picture the work creates. The woman's life, maybe "illogical"-turned-"believable," is nonetheless a portrait of inner torment. There is a languid paranoia that seeps through everything she does. She is ensconsed in a perfect situation for herself and her child, but she lives in perfect terror of that world crashing to pieces because of past conflicts that lurk unresolved. Woolrich, as always, manages to communicate this slow and intense inner death with subtle ease. This is a good book. It's not my favorite hard-boiled novel, but it's not a book deserving of such uncertain adjecives as believable, either. If you are a fan of the school then it is worth a look.