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book coverYou Can't Catch Me

by Rosamond Smith

New York: Dutton, 1995

193 pages


Dust Jacket Blurb

The moment genteel Southern bachelor Tristram Heade arrives in Philadelphia in search of a rare book, a mysterious metamorphosis begins. He is mistaken everywhere for a man of whom he has never heard but soon comes to know fearfully well. His diabolical double is everything he is not: a high-living playboy and insatiable womanizer who goes by the name of Angus T. Markham.

The horrified Tristram Heade does his unsuccessful best to correct this macabre mistake—until an achingly lovely young woman comes to his hotel room to yield at last to Angus T. Markham's desire. Heade abandons all attempts to deny what is now his desire as well—and with this act, abandons his last hold on the guidelines of his past. He is in a time and place where all things are possible, and nothing is forbidden.

Tristram Heade follows the ravishing Fleur Grunwald into a world where pleasure and pain intermingle. Where the naked truth about her and her marriage is obscured by lies as intricately woven as the tattoos that cover her exquisite body. And where her startling shifts from outraged innocence to shameless sensuality make Tristram Heade stronger and weaker than he has ever been. He has become both her avenger and her slave. Can he believe that her husband has made her submit to the unspeakable practices she describes in depraved detail? Should he obey her entreaty to rid her of the man who has made her the plaything of his every unnatural lust? Should he act with the honor of Tristram Heade to come to her aid—or with the carnal appetite of a monstrous Angus T. Markham to revel in her vulnerability? Who is who, what is true and good and what false and evil, and where will it all lead?

In a story in which no one is who he seems and where murderous rage lurks behind every exquisite facade, Rosamond Smith once again shows her genius for irresistible narrative seduction and riveting psychological suspense. Rich in atmosphere and full of tantalizing twists and startling turns, You Can't Catch Me is a spellbinding work by a literary virtuoso.


Excerpt

tattooTristram was staring incredulously at the young woman's arms, which she held out, in the lamplight, with a curious sort of disdainful pride. She too was, it seemed, fascinated with her disfigured flesh.

"His work," she said, smiling.

"You don't mean Grunwald did this? This? With a tattooing needle?—It looks almost professional."

"'Woman is to be adored,' says He."

"What a madman!"

"He is never mad."

. . . Tristram thought it a hellish sight: the intricate, almost rococo pattern of tattoos in the soft pale flesh of the young woman's arms: geometrical shapes, grotesquely stylized flowers and vines, hieroglyphic figures of a kind Tristram had never seen before. (Except perhaps in the margins of medieval or Oriental texts.) Most of the colors were rich and vibrant, with a look of being heated; red, crimson, yellow, gold-yellow, emerald-green, turquoise-blue; others appeared faded. Above the wrists the tattoos ascended in a mad gay tapestry of interweaving and reticulated forms, an indecipherable code. Tristram could barely speak. "Is there more?"

Reviews

  • Kirkus Reviews, January 1, 1995, p22+
  • Booklist, January 15, 1995, p869
  • Publisher's Weekly, January 23, 1995, p60
  • Library Journal, February 15, 1995, p183
  • Chicago Tribune, March 5, 1995, 14, 7
  • San Francisco Chronicle Review, March 12, 1995, p5
  • New York Times Book Review, March 19, 1995, p29
  • Washington Post, March 20, 1995, D, 2
  • Armchair Detective, Fall 1996, p504

Epigraph

I am another . . . .

—RIMBAUD

Other Editions

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http://jco.usfca.edu/works/novels/cant.html

 
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