By Mario Puzo
"PUZO IS IN best FORM."
*Time
The final Don is Mario Puzo at his most interesting, exciting us along with his maximum Mafia novel because the Godfather *a masterful saga of the final nice American crime relatives and its robust succeed in into Hollywood and Las Vegas.
"THE such a lot exciting learn because the GODFATHER."
*The big apple instances e-book Review
The final Don is Domenico Clericuzio, a smart and ruthless previous guy who's decided to determine his heirs verified in valid society yet whose imaginative and prescient is threatened while secrets and techniques from the family's previous spark a vicious struggle among blood cousins.
"SKILLFULLY CRAFTED . . . IT provides US HOLLYWOOD, LAS VEGAS, AND THE MOB in a single candy DISH."
*Los Angeles occasions ebook Review
The final Don is a enthralling story that takes us contained in the both corrupt worlds of the mob, the motion picture undefined, and the casinos *where attractive actresses and ruthless hitmen are governed by way of lust and violence, the place sleazy manufacturers and grasping studio heads are inebriated on strength, the place crooked police officers and determined gamblers play harmful video games of betrayal, and the place one guy controls all of them. . . .
"Head-long leisure, effervescent over with corruption, betrayal, assassinations, Richter-scale romance, and, in fact, family members values."
*Time
"Puzo returns after 1 / 4 century to the terrain of his maximum luck, The Godfather, to inform a moment masterful story of Mafia life."
*Variety
"A compelling story peopled by means of memorable characters. . . . Puzo is a grasp storyteller with an uncanny facility for information that strength the reader to maintain the pages turning."
*USA this present day
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Extra resources for The Last Don
Sample text
When he saw me he got up and took a Sig Sauer pistol from the table, stuffing it into his waistband, the grip hanging over the lip of his drawstring pants. We shook hands and he walked me over to my bike. He straddled it, started it up, and rode the throttle in neutral. He yelled over the engine, “That Spectre pistol Core's selling you? ” “Mommy. That's too much for a pistol, Bird. It was me I'd charge you three hundy” “That's cool of you, dude, but he ain't budging. ” I stuck my chin at the bike.
Or get shot here and let my partners waste him? Or hope one of them gets a clean line on him right this second? Or lie down and try to stay out of the way of everyone's bullets that were sure to puncture the Monte Carlo any second? Or, or, or … drop the keys? Yes, drop the keys. If I was going to die, then he was going to die too. I pulled the keys out of the ignition and let them fall into the footwell. ” “Motherfucker—” I leaned forward and Provestgaard did too. Mellor, who was closest to the passenger's side of the car, stuck his revolver in the rear window gap and emptied it.
Shoot, in that year, 1987, he probably even had his own computer. It didn't appeal to me. The bullet put the rush of the streets in me and through me. It guaranteed I'd never direct anything but myself, and convinced me that large desks were for castrated dummies. I thought, Fuck that, I'm gonna be an undercover. ” AUGUST 2001—JANUARY 2002 IF ANYTHING, THE shooting proved that my job, and therefore my life, was not glamorous in any way. Pathetically, I'd imagined that undercover life would be like Miami Vice—full of cigarette boats, fast cars, expensive clothes, and perfect tens in bikinis sitting in my lap while I negotiated with drug kingpins.