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Max Allan Collins is one of my favourite classic crime writers, his hard-edged Quarry and Nolan novels are up there  with the best. He's also an unimaginably prolific writer, so while I was interested in seeing what he would make of Eliot Ness - a series of books based on the famed real-life Prohibition agent that would certainly not be lacking in opportunities to write about crime and corruption - there was a little concern that Ness might lack the morally ambiguous character that makes the Nolan and Quarry books so daring. Ness's "cops and robbers" background and his clean-cut anti-corruption image might not make him as adventurous a figure as Collins's deadly killers, but he is certainly as driven, perhaps even more so. You might think that working with a real-life figure and keeping close to actual historical might constrain Collins, and there is an aspect of formality to how events play out, there is no shortage of challenges and thrilling action in the fir

I've only read one of Thilliez's Sharko and Henebelle thrillers before - at the obvious starting point of Le Syndrome [E] , and Lucie Henebelle' debut in Le chambre des morts , but even with just those two books you get the impression that they must be two of the most long suffering police detectives in crime fiction. Franck Thilliez puts them through the mill. Having contended with serious personal loss and schizophrenia (Sharko) and family responsibilities mixing uncomfortably with dangerous duties as a police officer (Henebelle) in Le Syndrome [E], Thilliez lifted some of the burden of guilt and mental illness from Commissioner Sharko only long enough to throw in the disappearance of Henebelle's twin daughters from a beach at the end of that book. It seemed like an unnecessary personal burden to land on them after a shocking case, but it really did set the scene for what follows in [Gataca] , and again lives up to it. At the agonising opening of [Gataca] then, Lucie

La Giovinezza (1981) I wasn't keen on opening the Corto Maltese l'integrale complete Italian language Corto Maltese collection with a later work as it's far from Hugo Pratt's best work, but chronologically I suppose it belongs at the start. A short introduction by Corto relates how he was a friend of Jack London in Manchuria during the 1904/1905 Russo-Japanese war and it was there that he first encountered Rasputin, who makes his 'first appearance' with a series of typically senseless killings. The war is nearing an end, but one of the Siberian regiment is not ready to put down his arms. Rasputin is introduced immediately as ruthless and challenging of authority not out of principle but it's in his nature. He intends to join up with other like minded rebels and head for the coast, but since he doesn't make himself likeable to the Japanese either - nor indeed anyone - he doesn't get too far. The famous adventure writer Jack London however makes arran

I've read and admired Hugo Pratt's work on the Corto Maltese series for a long time recognising it as one of the greatest creations of comic art. Unfortunately, English editions have been randomly produced over the years, with little sense of continuity and variations in quality, and quickly go out of print. Some have been colourised with approval of Pratt, but even some black and white editions in an effort to make them more accessible have been reformated for pocket editions, cropping artwork and frames. None of this has taken away greatly from the brilliance of Hugo Pratt's artwork and creation, but I always felt like I wasn't getting the full experience. Having only previously read a few Dylan Dog adventures in Italian while on holiday, I sampled a few of the Italian eBook editions of Corto Maltese: ( Vudù per il Presidente ,  Concerto in O' minore per arpa e nitroglierina ,  Le Elevetiche Rosa Alchemica   to see how readable they were, and found that with aid