James Ellroy’s trademark is his language: it is sometimes caustically funny and always brazen. When he’s hitting on all cylinders, as he is inMy Dark Places, his style makes punchy rhythms out of short sentences using lingo such as “scoot” (dollar), “trim” (sex), and “brace” (to interrogate). But the premise forMy Dark Placesis what makes it especially compelling: Ellroy goes back to his own childhood to investigate the central mystery behind his obsession with violence against women–the death of his mother when he was 10 years old. It’s hard to imagine a more psychologically treacherous, more self-exposing way in which to write about true crime. TheNew York Timescalls it a “strenuously involving book…. Early on, Mr. Ellroy makes a promise to his dead mother that seems maudlin at first: ‘I want to give you breath.’ But he’s done just that and–on occasion–taken ours away.”