The Doorman: A Novel

by Chris Pavone

And what’s with these Michigan alums? They’re like a cult.

It can be a dangerous mistake to laugh at a man’s ridiculousness.

So it was that in the middle of middle age, Julian found himself greeting each dawn with pessimism, and each evening reaping the dubious reward of having proved himself correct. Each day he felt less and less valued, more and more irrelevant, a progression that looked inexorable.

If there was one band that sounded like a white-guy bar, it was Boston.