In my opinion though, there was a novel published in 1971 which set the bar so high it takes a bit of a miracle for it to be reached again: Frederick Forsyth‘s The Day of the Jackal. Novels about hitmen, killers and assassins are about a dime a dozen these days, and I’m sad to say many of them seem to be low-effort attempts at cashing in on trends and shock values. At this stage, it’s probably too deeply ingrained in all our cultures and societies to be completely rejected… the alternative is to accept and study it. Assassination is a tale as old as Cain and Abel, and is one of the few things we’ve very much managed to accomplish consistently over the course of our civilization’s development.
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