Kindle. The sequel of The Name of the Game is Death (1961). It reeks of being a money job. Much of it rehearsed what happened at the end of the first one. Much of the other stuff recounts our protagonist's stay in the prison wing of a hospital and the plastic surgery required for the series to continue. The first had the wit to be set post-heist but the meat of this is about the overly-familiar setup for a bank job in and around Washington DC and Philadelphia. It traded a lot of kook, specifically the incipient rise of the American pornography industry and closely-related moral panics, and tries to sideswipe the lives of the suburban middle class ala Updike and so on. What is there is well executed but none of it had the jagged edges of its predecessor.
Unfortunately it doesn't function as a time capsule for the area, unlike, for instance, Raymond Chandler's efforts.
