I was intrigued by Brighton Rock’s premise: an exploration of evil through a disturbed, murderous teenager with a sinister mind. I suppose that is the novel Graham Greene wrote, but for some reason, it never really grabbed my attention or made me think deeply or feel much of anything at all. Brighton Rock was much grittier and more realist than I was expecting, and unfortunately, it is rare that I get excited about novels written in that style. Greene tackles serious and dark subject matter, including murder, suicide, morality, and hatred, in a clinical, cold way that I found pretty off-putting. I understand that the main character, the murderous, disturbed Pinkie, is supposed to come across that way. The problem is, so does everyone else—the narrator included.
I wouldn’t say Brighton Rock is a bad book by any means, and I’d be willing to give another of Greene’s works a try at some point, but I probably won’t be revisiting or thinking very much about the dour tale of Brighton Rock in the long term. I love a good villain, but I just did not enjoy spending an entire novel in the head of a mean, repressed psychopath who seems disgusted and hateful toward everyone and everything.
The Once and Future Lit 