FAIR WARNING

As an avid Harry Bosch fan I love Connelly's books. But this is boring and tedious. Like reading Scientific American or The Wall Street Journal. I gave up after 50 or so pages and put on a Frank Morgan vinyl.

I see that the great majority of reviewers are established fans of Michael Connelly. This is my first acquaintance with his books, so I arrived with no particular expectations or preconceptions. Perhaps I chose the wrong book. For me it was all rather flat. Connelly has his strengths: the plot quickly gathers momentum and thereafter rattles along to the conclusion. Certainly, Connelly can write. The opening to Chapter 16 is a good example of how clarity and imagination combine in sharp, precise prose.On the other hand, the material never really caught my imagination and the characters, with the possible exception of the rather self-centred McEvoy, have little depth or interest. It is difficult to be held by events if the people involved are unable to excite any real sympathy or empathy. I found them disappointingly wooden. It may be that what Connelly has written here might translate to a cinema script more effectively, especially if good actors could flesh out the characters. I’m told that the Bosch series are much better, so I shall not give up on Connelly yet.

Over the last few years, I have probably read more different books by Michael Connelly than any other writer, having worked my way through the whole canon. I have reached the stage where I am now eagerly awaiting the next one. In all too many ways, I have failed to grow out of certain childish traits, one of which is a frequent failure to defer gratification.This book proved to be yet another instance of that failing. Having bought it on the day it was published, I had originally planned to leave it for a little while, thinking it would be nice to have something to look forward to. I genuinely intended to put it to one side for a while … and I did … for at least three hours after it was delivered. Then, however, temptation got the better of me (not a concept I have been unfamiliar with over the last fifty odd years) and I simply plunged in.I do worry when an author I like brings out a new book – there is always the fear that the weight of expectation might prove too great, and the book won’t live up to them. After all, an author as prolific as Connelly might be expected to waver every now and again. Fortunately, however, he hasn’t wavered here.The ageing Hieronymus “Harry” Bosch is given a rest (perhaps he is on furlough), and the protagonist this time around is the journalist, Jack McEvoy, I would be interested to know to what extent McEvoy is grounded on Connelly himself, as I know the author started out as a journalist covering the crime beat in L<os Angeles.Jack McEvoy has appeared in a couple of novels before, and will be familiar to readers of [The Poet] and [The Scarecrow], in each of which his journalistic endeavours led to the recognition of active serial killers. This time around he is working for the Fair Warning website which conducts investigations into areas of consumer concern. Away from the main crime beat, he is brought into the case because a former acquaintance is found dead with unusual neck injuries. McEvoy is contacted by the police as a ‘person of interest’ and, true to form, manages to fall foul of the investigating detectives, which leads him to look into the case further on his own account.As ever with Connelly, the plot is fast moving, but always underpinned with procedural viability and overall plausibility. McEvoy is far from perfect, and finds himself straying down some red herrings. He is, however, always open to advice and support, and finds himself ably assisted by his former partner Rachel Walling (one of my favourite characters from the so-called ‘Universe of Harry Bosch’) as well as one of his colleagues from the websiteThis is another welcome addition to the Connelly canon. My only regret now is that I read it too quickly, and will probably have to wait another year for the next one.

OK, so we have generally become accustomed to Michael Connelly delivering books that satisfy on several levels. His Harry Bosch character is one of the greatest detective characters ever put to paper. Jack McEvoy was the star of one of the greatest of his novels, The Poet (why is this not a major studio film?), and here he returns with his on-off sidekick Rachel Walling. Their can't live with, can't live without relationship provides a good backdrop to the novels they appear in, and here it is much the same.There are some interesting points raised about data mining, use of DNA and Character Profiling that should serve as a real-world warning, but where Connelly would often create great depth around the central plot, here it is slightly lacking, almost as if he had writer's block and had to rush the book to meet a deadline.If this sounds like it is not worth reading I can only say that in my opinion, it is. Connelly sets such a high bar that when a book like this comes along it almost feels like a missed opportunity. Taken in isolation, however, this is a good read and I was still keen to keep turning the pages frokm the first to the last.

Tedious beyond belief (the glowing reviews are beyond belief too). Leaden prose, cardboard cut out characters, no pace, no atmosphere. Frequent lengthy mention of which roads the character drives to reach his destinations - boring and utterly pointless, except it fills a few lines on the page - shameless padding by a writer who is cranking out pot boilers. Similarly the frequent resort to such dreary , over extended trivia as ' he put his cup down on his desk' - anything to add a few extra words. There is a kernel of potentially interesting plot but the wooden writing is so dull and irritating I didn't care enough to read to the end - I was just too bored