The last two books I’ve read have been a disappointment.
The first, The Survivor by Gregg Hurwitz was about a man who thwarted a bank robbery and the bad guys came after him. The tilt was he was dying, was estranged from his family who didn’t know he was ill who were at loggerheads with each other, and he’d gone to the building to throw himself from the roof when the raid took place. He went barreling in having nothing to lose, and ended up being cast as a hero.
I read it in fits and starts, there was no happy ending, other than when he eventually died, it was on his terms taking the head honcho bad guy with him off another roof.
Epilogue followed of a reconciled family now remembering him with respect and loss rather than as a bit of a loser.
The second was The Dog Walker, my opinion of which you can read here.
I like to read at night, something to get me to that suitably mellow stage where the eyelids are drooping, the bed is cosy and warm, and I can bury myself in the land of nod under the covers.
I don’t have a kindle, and find it difficult to read anything off a screen anyway, so old-fashioned material of the bound kind is preferred.
Yesterday we went to Skeggy, and as it’s not payday until tomorrow, I nipped into The Works where they have paperbacks at two pounds each or three for a fiver.
I only had enough for one, and came away with Bad Guys by Linwood Barclay.
I’ve read some of his stuff before and this is a story within itself but in a series of others with the same character.
I read the first page in the shop, and laughed out loud at the line
‘Diazepam. It’s not a cooking spray.’
Although this is written in the first person which is a style I usually avoid, I read three chapters last night and had more than a few chuckles. It’s promising, with a touch of humour about family life and teenage offspring.
Dad being confronted with a shotgun as a Peeping Tom while the police were called, until he explained he was looking for his daughter who happened to be dating the guy-with-the- gun’s son was hysterical.