Don't Call Me a Crook! by Bob Moore

My friend Josh agreed to take up the challenge of reading this one and writing a review.* Thanks, Josh!

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“It is a pity there are getting to be so many places that I can never go back to, but all the same, I do not think it is much fun a man being respectable all his life…”

So begins a book--a dark memoir that this reviewer was shocked to learn was deemed worthy to be republished (originally published in 1935). I am not alone in my opinion that this book has no redeeming qualities.

As a precautionary measure before plunging in to Bob Moore’s telling of his life as a wayward Scotsman; don’t say I didn’t warn you!

A self-proclaimed thief, liar, and gunrunner (one must add racist, drunk, and murderer to the list!), Don’t Call Me a Crook! is a 245 page slog through the murky waters of violence, corruption, and all else in bad taste.

The book is separated into fourteen chapters but his telling of the story feels disjointed and hardly goes together seamlessly from one part to the next. And as an added insult grammatical errors abound; that Dissident Books (the publisher) purposely left in to illustrate the sparse and saucy language of the time. It does not work in the book’s favour, rather creates a choppy, broken progression that detracts from the prose.

More than once I was ready to throw the book in to the trash. It is painful to read. The author is a despicable character.

Don’t Call Me a Crook! is a work of self-denial. Bob Moore is a crook!


*I couldn't finish it; I read to page 79.