I think I made it to child 4 or 5.
No, not really. As they used to say in Soviet Russia, I keed, I keed.
I was mostly just unhooked here, not gripped by context, protagonist, or plot. It was all fine enough, but.... meh. It did irritate me a little that the conceit (the hero is an investigator in '50s-era Russia who is faced with a serial killer, even though party doctrine has it that Russia does not have crime let alone serial killers) was intriguing but so quickly, conventionally worked through. Of course our hero sees the light, that crime does happen, and he stops being a true believer; that's when the book became more (blandly) familiar to me. I think I'd rather have read an investigation by that guy who didn't believe in serial killers and NEVER changed his mind, never had the scales of Soviet indoctrination drop from his eyes. But, as I said, it may just be me or my mood, and I didn't give this much of a shake, dropping it at page 100.