Driver, the half-hero, half-anti-hero of this slim thriller, is a guy who drives. He drives by day for stunts in Hollywood action films and by night for the getaway cars of ever-downward-spiraling robberies. In true noir fashion, about halfway through the story, Driver is sitting against the wall of a Motel 6 in Phoenix, the rising sun’s light leaking into the room. He watches a pool of blood move toward him and wonders if he’s made a big mistake. Of course, he has, and Sallis moves us backward and forward through Driver’s life, slickly careening around literal and metaphorical corners with the perfectly clipped prose of someone you don’t want to mess with. Its scenes seep in and around you.