Endlessly grim and surprisingly graphic for its time, this novel served as the basis for Alfred Hitchcock's 1972 film, Fren…Endlessly grim and surprisingly graphic for its time, this novel served as the basis for Alfred Hitchcock's 1972 film, Frenzy. Originally titled Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square, Frenzy was adapted for the big screen by the talented Anthony Shaffer (Sleuth, The Wicker Man); and, by the way, that film adaptation is superior to the novel in every way. However, since this is a book review, we'll skip over the film and get to the business at hand. Richard Blamey, a luckless alcoholic and former war-hero, finds himself slumming it as a bartender in a noisy Covent Garden pub. Already disheartened by the prison cell suicide of a friend and fellow war veteran, Blamey loses an allegedly surefire bet on a horse race, rendering him penniless and even more miserable. In desperation, he pays a visit to his caring ex-wife who just happens to run a successful marital agency in the neighborhood. However, due to Blamey's drunkenness and self-loathing, a loud argument ensues in her office. A play-nice dinner with his generous ex finds Blamey a few pounds richer, if none the wiser. In many ways, he is an exceptionally stupid man. Things go from bad to worse as a psychopathic sex deviant appears to be shadowing Blamey's movements, gruesomely dispatching the women in his orbit. Naturally, Blamey, ever the hothead, becomes the prime suspect and a game of cat-and-mouse ensues with Blamey attempting to outwit and outrun the Murder Squad charged with finding him. Only one investigator harbors doubts about Blamey's guilt but none of his superiors are interested in hearing his theories: they want the case closed. Now. Meanwhile, the seemingly-normal serial killer, unhindered and unsuspected, continues to remain free to plot more mischief behind the scenes. …