Most of The Doomsters is one of those whodunnits that follows a family so dysfunctional that any one of them could be guilty of the multiple murders and assorted nastiness our hero finds himself in the middle of. I’m not much of a mystery-solver, so I need interesting characters and situations to keep me interested instead of frustrated, and fortunately, these are abundant. I will say that the mystery becomes so convoluted, and takes place in such a short time frame, that this book is best enjoyed in as few sittings as possible. Otherwise, you might find that what was three days ago for you was only last night in the novel, which is a bit disorienting.

The ending features a surprising, almost shocking twist, but not of the plot. Instead, Archer, who we’ve come to know in seven books as our moral guide through the ugly side of Southern California, starts to question the unspoken bedrock of the crime thriller: the idea that right and wrong are easy to identify, and that the only thing needed for goodness to triumph is to see to it that the evil can do nothing.

“I didn't want to be stuck for the rest of my life with the old black-and-white picture, the idea that there were just good people and bad people, and everything would be hunky-dory if the good people locked up the bad ones or wiped them out with small personalized nuclear weapons,” says Archer, thinking aloud as the narrator. “For years I'd been fighting fire with fire and violence with violence, running on fool's errands while the people died: a slightly earthbound Tarzan in a slightly paranoid jungle. It was time I traded the picture in on one that included a few of the finer shades.”

And a sympathetic character, a hospital nurse, says: “Since I've been doing hospital work, I've pretty well got over thinking in terms of good and bad. Those categories often do more harm than—well, good. We use them to torment ourselves, and hate ourselves because we can't live up to them. Before we know it, we're turning our hatred against other people, especially the unlucky ones, the weak ones who can't fight back. We think we have to punish somebody for the human mess were in, so we single out the scapegoats and call them evil. And Christian love and virtue go down the drain."

A blurb from The Atlantic Monthly says “Most mystery writers merely write about crime. Ross Macdonald writes about sin.” If you broaden the concept of “sin” from its religious context to include moral right and wrong, the realm of the conscience, this is exactly right. I can’t imagine Archer’s ruminations sat too well with many fans who read thrillers for the satisfying pleasure of seeing the guilty get their comeuppance. Macdonald is explicitly making the case here that it’s not that simple. And I salute him for it. ( )

Just a fantastic Lew Archer novel about a rich but dysfunctional California family, beset by mysterious murders. Loved this novel, and could not put it down. ( )

Maybe more like 4 1/2. wasn't so interested in the story as story, but did like the meandering way Archer is drawn in, the house in the orange groves, and the innocent (but not) wife of the crazy man. Excellent spinning out of control evening of houses burning down, ladies murdered, revelations coming in waves and final existential resolution. The doomsters are from poem - the gloomy ones chasing the family and never allowing a happy ending. ( )

Good twist to the plot near the end but for some reason, I found Lew Archer less likeable in this one. ( )

Between Hammett and Chandler, MacDonald is my choice. Archer's broody, moral, reflective and self-critical stance is a refreshing addition to the genre. A little bit of Faulkner on the mean streets. Not a great book, but a welcome reminder of reading MacDonald from the Cedar Rapids Public Library long, long ago. ( )