At some point, every successful novelist seems to come up with a book in which the main character is a writer. Here, Koontz introduces mystery novelist Martin Stillwater and his wife and two young daughters. Mr. Murder is the name bestowed on Martin by People magazine; his wife, Paige, is a wonderful woman, and their little girls are, of course, adorable. Unfortunately, into this idyllic world comes a superhuman hit man who coincidentally happens to look just like Martin and who's decided he wants the family for his very own and will kill Martin to get them. After 100 pages of exposition, the robotlike killer confronts the family, and they desperately try to escape, with no help from skeptical police who think Martin has invented the look-alike for publicity for his novels. Actually, the story is farfetched, but Koontz is a master at creating a situation the average person can relate to and then giving it a macabre twist and piling on nonstop action. Koontz also flexes his iambic muscles with huge chunks of poetry that Stillwater has composed for his children, and the juxtaposition of cuddly family scenes with brutal violence is quite jarring. Despite his considerable and admirable research and often charming sense of humor, the author's constant barrage of pop-culture references smacks of pandering, as if saying, See? I've seen these movies and used these products, too. I'm a regular guy just like you, dear reader. Koontz fans are a loyal lot (this is his twenty-second book, and most of them have scaled the best-seller list), so the readership is there, but the tired evil twin device used here brings this effort in short of more inspired Koontz' books such as Watchers (date?) and Cold Fire (date?). (Reviewed Aug. 1993)

Koontz's earliest thrillers (Night Chills, etc.) were stripped-down vehicles designed for speed and suspense, nothing more. In its terrific visceral energy, this latest, with the author's simplest plot in years—one long chase involving a Frankenstein-like monster, his guardians, and his victims—harkens back to those early affairs; but Koontz is a literary phenomenon now and feels free to load his writing with all sorts of sermons about modern-day woes. The title itself is polemical: ``Mr. Murder'' is the hated sobriquet that People magazine gives to Marty Stillwater, a rising mystery writer who might as well be called Dean Koontz for his California address, stable family life, and strong opinions about the nobility of storytelling and the corruption of American society. At first, Koontz seems to be aping Stephen King here, not just for his put-upon writer-hero but also for the malevolent, perhaps not quite human, twin of Marty's who blows into town, shades of The Dark Half. Koontz is his own writer, however, and it's soon clear that Alfie is no figment made flesh but a wonderfully creepy organic killing machine with a surprising origin and astounding recuperative powers (fueled by Slim Jims and Big Macs) who wants only to take over Marty's life—his wife, daughters, and writing career—and will squash him to do it. Also, Alfie's moral code comes from films he's seen—including porno films in which severe discipline alone brings females into line. Meanwhile, the top-secret federal agents in charge of Alfie—as well as of the experiment that produced him—are desperately hunting their charge, who's gone AWOL and beserk.... Blood pours; children shriek; Alfie makes like a werewolf on steroids while Marty acts like a lion—and Koontz nails the reader to the page once again, despite the soapboxing. (Literary Guild Dual Selection for December)"