A good book’s like juicy gossip. You just can’t stop!
This is quite precisely what’s happening to me right now. Four hours into Caught feels like two minutes. I can’t get to the end fast enough. The writing’s beautiful, easy, art ( and now I sound pretentious, but, good Lordy!) You don’t wander, skip pointless paragraphs to get back to the story, frown at the misplaced cussing…and the characters? Each seems to have an individual voice…like actors on stage.
And to think I almost quit early on! See, the writer had, as one does, introduced this seemingly kind, handsome Dan Mercer in the picture. Then killed him off just as I was beginning to fall in love. Snap! Just like that. So cruel, right? I don’t like it when George R R Martin does it and I sure as hell didn’t like it when Harlan Coben did it either.
Give up, I think. This ass is mean and his book is shit anyway ( I’m a hopeless hater when bruised…guilty ) But then the story grows, the mystery around Dan Mercer moves like a living thing and all through I wonder what the truth must be; puzzled in like a riddle that way.
In the end though…I’m brought back to the beginning and forced to learn that in this world, Harlan’s world, bad things just happen.