The basis for Francois Truffaut’s film, this novel is brimming with bohemian characters up to no good. In each section another man is murdered by a mysterious woman—the murders are linked, but the woman always has a different appearance, a different m.o., yet always seems to have an uncanny knowledge of her intended victim. The effect is unsettling; sometimes you think you know who the killer is, and sometimes there are more than one suspect. Unfortunately, Woolrich tacked an impossible twist onto an interesting ending, one that really damaged the overall effect. Still, I enjoyed the sort of “cross section of society” effect.