in typical mysteries? Are there mitigating factors that lead readers to pardon their actions? If vengeance is portrayed as malevolent, must the protagonist adopt a merciful view towards them? Can readers afford to be less forgiving than Matt without betraying the novel's spirit?

A central social dilemma in Even the Wicked revolves around the exploitation of AIDS victims through a scheme known as "viaticum." In this scheme, individuals can purchase the life insurance policies of AIDS patients, wagering on the patient's imminent death to reap profits exceeding twenty-five percent. The insurance company pays these patients a paltry sum compared to the policy's face value. With this money, the patients can cover medical expenses, ensuring they aren't left desolate when work is no longer an option.

Among the webs of intrigue, detective Matt Scudder delves into the murder of an AIDS patient, a dear friend of Ginnie, a companion from Alcoholics Anonymous. Scudder, driven by a personal connection, takes on the investigation as a favor, ensuring that Byron Leopold's demise doesn't become a forgotten statistic amidst the police's overflowing caseload. Overworked officers prioritize solvable cases, while a legal loophole—murder mistakenly classified as accidental death with a double payout—serves as a dark, ironic temptation for viaticum investors eager for even greater profits.

On one level, AIDS itself is the pressing social issue; on another, it's the cold indifference of insurance companies, who reduce patients to mere financial assets, offering them a fraction of their policies' true value. Such behavior sets a treacherous precedent for avaricious investors who aren't content with high returns but seek to double their gains. These investors can easily justify hastening inevitable deaths. The pervasive social ailment here is greed, mirrored in minor acts of theft by police rifling through the victim's belongings and pocketing valuables, and by the building's superintendent who suggests Matt take the brass elephant—a sentimental gift from Ginnie to Byron—expecting a share of the spoils.

Another thread of social concern entwines with the primary case Scudder is hired to solve. He is on the trail of a killer posing as a vigilante, who sends letters to the press, condemning his targets as societal scourges. These marked individuals are subsequently murdered, inciting a vengeful fervor among the public. Block draws a parallel to the incitement typically seen in the most reckless talk radio shows, transposed onto print, reminding readers of the incendiary power of words.

The original perpetrator, self-styled as "Will of the People," inspires an imitator to murder a target on his list. Furthermore, when the first "Will," plagued by cancer, takes his own life, another copycat emerges, perpetuating the deadly vigilante acts for personal vendettas. This atmosphere of festering resentment and fury underscores a significant social issue, fueling individuals to bypass the legal system in favor of personal retribution. Although the victims are guilty of despised deeds in the eyes of certain community factions, the cycle of vengeance only breeds more hatred. The narrative suggests the futility of such actions, advocating for the law to prevail—a lesson often dismissed in conventional detective tales.

Block's Matt Scudder mysteries firmly plant their roots in the rich soil of hard-boiled private eye tales, harking back to the archetypal works of Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammet. For much of its history, this genre has upheld a masculine dominance, not only in its authorship and protagonists but also in its underlying ethos. Stories often skirted the edges of misogyny, portraying women as femmes fatales, seductive sirens who lure detectives with promises of wealth or romance to derail their murder investigations, or to seize the spoils for themselves. In stark contrast, Even the Wicked subverts this trope, presenting Elaine as Matt's steadfast partner, loyal and loving, despite her past as a prostitute. Affectionately calling him her "bear," Elaine stands as a beacon of independence, fortified by her own financial stability through real estate ventures and her boutique. Unlike her predecessors in the genre, she does not manipulate the detective for financial security, allowing her character to be painted with a sympathetic brush seldom afforded to women in such tales.

In the gritty world of hard-boiled mysteries, police officers are often sketched as corrupt and ruthless, serving as stark foils to the private detective, who embodies integrity amidst the chaos. These solitary sleuths, unshackled by institutional chains, can steadfastly refuse to bow to the demands of influential community figures eager to silence their inquiries. While a private investigator might show loyalty to their clients, their ultimate allegiance is to their own moral compass, determining the degree of force to employ or the extent of truth to unveil. In this narrative, Matt's interaction with the New York police is minimal, a departure from past cases where monetary exchanges for information were common. Instead, his character is juxtaposed with lawyers who, bound by duty, often defend the guilty. Matt relies on assignments from attorneys or a substantial security firm to make ends meet, yet retains the autonomy to accept or decline private cases. By infusing the story with lawyer characters, Block perhaps nods to the burgeoning interest in legal thrillers, yet the tale remains courtroom-free, focusing intensely on the detective's journey.

Even the Wicked stands apart from earlier Scudder tales, weaving a rich tapestry of legal intrigue and courtroom drama. Unlike its predecessors, this installment delves deeply into the labyrinthine world of lawyers and legal discourse. Initially, Matt Scudder was portrayed as a rugged, whiskey-soaked private eye, offering aid where the law enforcement, shackled by its own limitations, failed. Haunted by the ghost of his past—the innocent life taken in a gunfight—Matt was a man on the fringes of society.

As the series progressed, readers journeyed with Matt through his transformation. Sobriety came with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous, aligning him with a more conventional life. This newfound respectability was solidified by his relationship with Elaine, a savvy businesswoman who, despite her beginnings in the world's oldest profession, carved a niche in real estate. Her acumen was a cornerstone in Matt's redefined existence. Meanwhile, his camaraderie with Mick Ballou introduced darker, criminal elements into the narrative, showcasing Block's experimental foray into mysteries centered around lawbreakers. The burgeoning wave of lawyer-centric literature might have inspired Block to pen Matt's legal escapades beyond the courtroom.

Focus on Media and Responsibility

This installment also casts a spotlight on Marty McGraw, a journalist whose story arc delves into the murky waters of sensational journalism. Through McGraw's eyes, Block critiques the reckless nature of shock media, unraveling the dire consequences that can arise from incendiary rhetoric and tabloid negligence.