In my house a Linwood Barclay novel never graces a book shelf until it has been read. They are my liquid gold these days and this was no exception, the minute I saw it was the same minute, it superseded everything else on my to read shelf. It’s an affair we have been having, one that started three books ago; this marks the fourth, one of those sinful delights.
I love getting into his stories involving ordinary people, or so it would seem, living their ordinary lives; until….drum roll please…. and a domestic thrill ride ensues.
This one started out that way and I was in, still there were some parts where I felt an involuntary eye roll coming on. It was like I was trapped in a hyphen, you know the type I have that connects Arah and Lynda only this one seemed to connect books, at least one of which I have not read.
I was not looking for a hyphen, it was a thrill ride, I lusted after. Still I gave myself over to Barclay’s magic pen, but this pen of which I speak, left me on a bridge with no exit sign in sight and quite low on gas.
I feel duped.
Perhaps my rating is too harsh; Mr. Barclay is a fine writer. In fact, I am sure it is; but hey when I fly high, I crash hard.