[In the following review, Junker praises The Lady in the Car with Glasses and a Gun.]

Whodunit? Who is responsible for keeping this magnificent thriller hidden? Why haven't critics heaped praise upon it? Why haven't readers fought to buy it? Unlike most novels published this year, The Lady in the Car can be—and must be—read in one sitting. It cannot be put down, and that, mystery-lovers, is the ultimate test. Last year in France, Lady spent months on the best-seller list—an achievement few suspense novels ever match. And it also won the coveted Prix d'Honneur. In 1963, Sebastien Japrisot's second novel, Trap for Cinderella, won the Grand Prix de la Littérature Policière. And his first novel was made into the brilliant film The Sleeping Car Murders, with Yves Montand, which had a big success in the U.S.

Japrisot is obviously a great talent, whom students of the popular novel and of the narrative form in general will want to analyze. For suspense seekers, Lady is the first-person adventure of a near-sighted blonde, an advertising secretary who wouldn't ordinarily take a joy ride in her boss's Thunderbird but, on a rare impulse, does just that. This first time is almost her last.

It is, of course, the classic situation, the damsel in super-distress, while various sinister types plot her downfall. But assisted by well-remembered advice from "Mama Supe," the head of the orphanage where she grew up, and helped by the kindly attention of a prepossessing hitchhiker (who should be played by Belmondo) and by a kindly truck driver (obviously Jean Gabin), the nearsighted heroine … well, to find out what she does and what is done to her, you must read the book. It is a chilling, baffling psychological fooler that sparkles with all the juicy terrors that can attack the heart and body.