There was a time when I thought James Crumley would become the greatest writer the mystery genre ever produced, and achieve what Chandler only attained after his death, that is, literary respectability and recognition of his talents as a great novelist of contemporary fiction. Crumley had all the gifts a great writer needs - an engaging prose style, finely constructed plotting and a unique voice. And in his earlier book, The Last Good Kiss, he spun all those elements into a story that was intoxicating in it's brillance, a book truly worthy of comparison to the best of Chandler. But thats been more than 20 years ago now and Crumley has neither continued or built upon his earlier promise of greatness. Sure, he can still write a line so good so as to make your heart skip a beat, and he can be funny as hell, but it's in fits and starts and nothing ever comes of it all. Somewhere, somehow ,the discipline that could craft a book such as the Last Good Kiss has gone and we are left with the spectacle of a now undiciplined talent repeating himself to a lesser and lesser effect each time. If you want to read the real Crumley, read The Last Good Kiss or The Wrong Case and see what you've been missing, but don't read The Final Country - it just makes those of us who admired his earlier work sad.