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I'm not ordinarily impressed with urban lit, but a novel of this genre was my book club's selection for this month, so I dutifully undertook the task that would allow me to participate in the group discussion that would take place at an upcoming meeting. The book was written by Carl Weber, who I am vaguely familiar with, and it is entitled "Up To No Good". In the version I had, the text was in large print and I'm sure this contributed to my finding it an easy read. My old eyes need all the help they can get. As I got into this tale of contemporary black life, the next thing I found encouraging was that the book had obviously been proof-read and edited. So I wasn't distracted by the typos and bad sentences and incorrect grammar that often clutter up self-published efforts. I vaguely remember hearing somewhere that Weber only comes up with a rough draft manuscript and then relies on a book doctor to turn out a finished product that is professional and polished. Thank you, Mr. Weber! The book was, indeed, well-written, and well-plotted, heavy on dialogue, and short on long descriptive passages, with just enough Zanesque sex scenes to spice things up. The story was a fairly plausible one replete with interesting plot twists and believable characters who, although not particularly likeable, were at least authentic in their stereotypical vein. Even the bittersweet ending had a certain appeal. As is the case in melodramatic novels, Carl Weber's "Up to No Good" dealt with people whose lives became entangled by circumstances that were the result of irresponsible behavior and the random events that complicated such matters, - while Fate, as usual, had the final say... My final say? I liked the book. it reminded me of how engrossing reading can be as a past time and revived my waning affinity for the printed word.