In this classic novel of murder and menace, Graham Greene lays bare the soul of a boy of seventeen who stalks Brightons tawdry boardwalk with apathy on his face and murder in his heart. Pinkie, the boy with death at his fingertips, is not just bad, he worships in the temple of evil, just as his parents worshipped in the house of God. Crime, in his dark mind, is a release so deep and satisfying that he has no need for drink or women or the love of his fellows. He is an astounding character, sinister and fascinating — a chilling specimen of the Adolf Hitler type, in the words of J. M. Coetzee.