The latest thriller from Newton Thornburg, the acclaimed author of Cutter And Bone, starts like an Elmore Leonard novel, a character-driven quasi-romantic caper about a charismatic sociopath and the collection of quirky human flotsam he picks up during the course of a crime spree. Brian Poole, "improvident and reckless and hopelessly honest," is infuriated by a planned Hollywood biopic implicating him in the heroin-overdose death of a country-music star he dated. So he begins an escalating terrorist campaign aimed at halting the film's production. Brian's baffled girlfriend Eve, lacking the money to bail him out of jail after an early episode involving a bulldozer and the movie's set, calls up his sedate, successful brother Charley to act as cavalry and literary foil. Eve and Charley set about wrecking the latter's marriage, while Brian flaunts his infidelity, arrogance, and apparent death wish, all amid writing that ranges from terse to florid to downright maladroit. Brian's careening career as the world's first "hopelessly honest" pathological liar is an enjoyably unpredictable ride, but bathetic thoughts like, "Here he was, a fool with empty pockets and empty dreams" act as speed bumps throughout. And the book's lack of resolution is the equivalent of a brick wall at the end of the Autobahn. More significantly, Thornburg never gets into Brian's head; he chooses instead to concentrate on Eve and Charley, whose color-by-numbers romance could just have taken place in a footnote. She's young and sexy, he's handsome and rich, they're both emotionally needy. What more needs to be said? In this case, a lot more—starting with why either of them believes a word Brian says after the fifth or sixth self-serving lie. Thornburg's oft-repeated excuses—Brian's beauty and inveterate charm—stop convincing the reader about 100 pages before Eve and Charley catch on. Leonard's quirky criminals lead exciting lives, too, but they also tend to make a little more sense, and generally have skills other than shiny teeth and a nice build.