When I reviewed Walter Mosley’s Debbie Doesn’t Do It Anymore, I wrote at length about how his late period works take on this sort of mumble-noir tone with an atmosphere that feels ethereal. Much like Mosley’s Leonid McGill series, these all seem to take place on a parallel plane of human existence. Mosley seems more interested in using these stories to explore the existential rather than tell a simple gangster or noir tale, like say the Easy Rawlins series. For the most part, in his other books […]