A chunk. Maybe overlong, but untangling the different skeins was never going to be easy. The first of a second L.A. trilogy. A thumping book, with an army of characters, working to place themselves in the confusion of the aftermath of December the 7th, 1941, and the onset of mistrust of all things Japanese. Some of them are real, some are imagined. And some appear elsewhere in the Ellroy multiverse. Which is good. A graphic novel, imaged by words. Lots of words; hence, the three weeks it took me to finish. I feel I could read Ellroy for ever, going around and around, wincing at the casual brutality, sneering knowingly (but not) at the criminality of the police. On the take, and on the make. This one left me dazed; punched repeatedly, exhausted by a barrage of words.