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A class act is a class act. The Burglar Who Thought He Was Bogart, now available in paperback for those of you who turned down the special priced hardback (poor fools) is the latest manifestation of Lawrence Block's classiest act of all. Bernie Rhodenbarr. Since Burglars Can't Be Choosers in 1979 the plot has been this; Bernie commits or is inveigled and tempted into a burglary, usually connected with a specific item (you can work out the nature of the items from the titles). It goes horribly wrong, usually involving a dead body that Bernie is liable to be blamed for. He puts more work into solving the crime than into the original burglary. He evades the police and solves the crime. Characters have grown up around him - lesbian dog-groomer Carolyn Kaiser, corrupt cop Ray Kirschmann, a cat; a bookstore has been added, but the basic formula remains the same. Burglary. Burglary goes wrong. Bernie solves it.But this is like saying the Jeeves books are about a man and his butler. To sustain a fairly limited joke over two decades is no mean feat, and at least half the pleasure is in seeing if we can spot Block sandbagging us again. Nope, missed it.This time Bernie has become obsessed with Bogart movies, and finds himself involved with people - Caspar Gutman, Ilsa, Wilmer, Victor Lazlo - who have stepped straight out Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon. They're not called by those names you understand, but by ones even less believable. There is no sense regurgitating the plot either - it meanders like a drunk at a wake - but it's essentially the one outlined above. Block rings enough changes to keeps us off balance, and through Bernie's unreliable eyes even the most unlikely escapades seem reasonable. Basically this book is faultless entertainment. If you want a book that will make you laugh, give you the warm feeling that life isn't all bad and provide a reasonably credible mystery, this, like all the Burglars before is does the job.