His name is Driver, and what he does is drive. That's it. Stunts for Hollywood, getaways for crooks that's his business, and he's pretty damn good at it, and all he wants is a paycheck and no complications. So when he finds himself in a motel room with three dead bodies, you betcha heads will roll. That's how Drive starts, and it's full throttle from there. James Sallis' riveting novella reads the way a Tarantino or Soderbergh neo-noir plays, artfully weaving through Driver's haunted memory and fueled by confident storytelling and keen observations about moviemaking, low-life living, and, yes, driving. Short and not so sweet, Drive is one lean, mean, masterful machine.