By David Smith with Carol Calef. One of those crimoirs you see the wisdom of as an exercise in healing for the author, but may not be able to stomach as a reader.
Should you choose to proceed, this hardcover is in okay shape: the jacket's looking a bit rough, with a tear at the top front and some wear to all corners; strangely advanced page toning for a book I suspect nobody ever opened. A perfectly good reading copy, though.