Andrew Neville, a failing playwright, kills a stranger during a petty argument, and after meeting his victim's widow and child, he gains their confidence and slowly starts to become the man he murdered. 17,500 first printing.
There is something very clever yet something very wrong within the normal, human world of "Split Image" that bothered me while reading the book. First off, it seems that everyone, including the people closest to the actually-deceased-rich-fella-being-copied-by-an-unknown-playwrite, have all but struck by the same silly "eye disease" that had afflicted poor Lois Lane, which rendered her incapable of telling apart Superman from Clark Kent. It didn't make me believe the character enough that he was able to flawlessly assume the life and being of another man without anyone noticing, apart from a quack detective who resorts to trolling him from afar just to make sure that his suspect is really not who he claims he is.
Second, the fact that the author allowed his anti-hero to die at the end felt more like a cop-out than a "fitting" conclusion to the novel. Because really, if he's that good at assuming someone else identity (for the first time in his miserable life, if I may add), I believe the story would spawn a series of books that'll probably be as long as the hit series "Dallas".
I don't like it at all.
I'm giving it 2 stars still because in spite of all these, I think the novel was well-written.
This is one of those books that has always stuck with me. The twists and turns in this story and how Neville completely takes his victims life keeps you on the edge of your seat at all times.