The Terminal List by Jack Carr – Book Review

The Terminal List by Jack Carr – Book Cover

Would you dare not to pick up a book endorsed by Chuck Norris on the cover? Obviously not, especially if Jack Carr’s “The Terminal List” promises to be an excellent action thriller.

A full SEAL unit led by Major Reece is blown up in Afghanistan. If that weren’t bad enough, Reece finds himself entangled with NCIS, who turn out to be a bunch of fools. (Hey, isn’t that what we learned from the TV series!) Reece is then whisked back to the USA, where another pech hits him: his family is slaughtered. There’s a smell of a nose-tickling conspiracy here! Blood is demanded!!!

And then what happens? NOTHING. Although Jack Carr relentlessly drills into Reece and into you that the Major must seek revenge, instead of opting for a more civic approach like filing a police report, still NOTHING happens.

You’re just plunged into a long and monotonous buildup, during which you realize that the main character of “The Terminal List” is sorely lacking in charisma, just a template of a thick-necked, tough, and kind-hearted American patriot (God, country, family!). His wife is GOOD and BEAUTIFUL too! (I admit, from this point on, I myself fondly reminisce about the idyllic family life of Reece and set it as a shining example for us, especially when the fucking Screaming and Yelling starts here at home.)

The evil conspirators turn out to be very evil. Moreover, they’re idiots like hell because they turn SEALs into guinea pigs for their conspiracy, who are known to be the elite commandos of the US Navy. Instead of, say, trying with Mexican immigrants, where it might not even be noticed if a dozen of them blow up.

When the Major finally takes action… Ta-da-dam… the novel remains just as sluggish. There’s no one among the adversaries who could match Reece’s weight class, except maybe Holden, but the author doesn’t even exploit him. Although you would rightfully expect Reece, driven by righteous vengeance, to occasionally whack the bad guys with a club before GENTLY sending them off to a better place, the confrontations in “The Terminal List” lack any tension. Nobody is chasing Reece at all, so he just strolls forward and neatly shoots everyone down one by one.

The author perhaps attempts to offset the naive perspective of his somewhat clumsy and drawn-out work by sporadically interjecting rather simplistic right-wing propaganda into the narrative (Similar to the wise, thoughtful, and far-sighted President Trump, he probably watched Fox News too much as well.) The essence of which: no matter how many filthy scumbags his bad luck throws his way, by some strange coincidence, they always seem to turn out to be filthy Democrats.

The STUPIDEST SENTENCE IN THE BOOK is uttered in the context of the over-idealized, perfect American family, concerning the Major’s declining mother:

„…to put her in a place that would take good care of her, and she had quickly become a staff favorite.”

Ah, of course, she must have won the esteemed title of “Demented of the Month” in a row…

Overall, except for a few more exciting scenes, “The Terminal List” is like a simple „Shopping List”: 2 kilos of potatoes, a liter of cooking oil, four pieces of bratwursts, etc., which Major Reece ticks off happily after putting them in his basket. (But it would be better if good old Chuck didn’t hear about my opinion!)

6.7/10

The Terminal List (Terminal List #1) by Jack Carr
407 pages, Hardcover
Published in 2018 by Atria/Emily Bestler Books

The Crooked Staircase by Dean Koontz – Book Review

The Crooked Staircase by Dean Koontz – Book Cover

If your brain fried from the overthought metaphors in Dean Koontz’s previous series (see The Whispering Room) then I have both good and bad news for you about The Crooked Staircase.

But before we dive in, let’s have a good example:

You look out the window, and a gentle breeze stirs your pathetic peach tree outside. In the book, it would go something like this:

“For a moment, it seemed as though the wildest typhoon, the Divine Wind itself, swept through in front of your window’s time-frozen glass, and with an irresistible force of a prehistoric giant, tore and tugged at the stubborn, robust roots of the furrowed, oxygen-breathing creature, that clinging tenaciously to existence, perhaps reaching down to the burning center of the Earth.”

Sounds good, right? Yep. (Actually, not really.) Twice a page? Not so much anymore.

The bad news is that the author’s beloved heartstring-pulling metaphors still plague The Crooked Staircase. The good news is that their quantity has become more tolerable, thus presumably reducing the harmful effects on your mind. Hooray!

There’s more good news: The Crooked Staircase, as a thriller, is just as gripping as its predecessors, and the author piles on even more excitement for this installment. Teetering on the edge of believability though, the continuous action, cat-and-mouse chase, and thrill of the hunt are all captivating. Moreover, beyond the usual recipe (where Jane, in their own home, stalks and dispatches one scumbag after another, then starts the whole process over with someone new), two new threads emerge to avoid the allure of repetition.

One of these new paths in The Crooked Staircase follows Jane’s friends, Gavin and Jessie, which not only brings refreshing diversity but also creates tension beyond Jane’s basic storyline: after all, you know Jane is indestructible, but worrying about her friends becomes serious business, especially since they have the little boy. (And it would be such a shame for that adorable young lad.)

Two new characters also enter the scene whose fates are cause for concern: Sanjay and Tanuja. It’s not entirely clear why they’re here, as they never intersect with Jane or her friends, making their inclusion somewhat baffling. Although the quantity of pages doesn’t particularly require it, it’s hard not to think that they’re just present to fill space – even if these two characters are well-crafted, along with their clever improvisations and desperate escapes, which only add to the tension. Unfortunately the outcome of their plight becomes increasingly ominous along the way.

Mr. Koontz wisely discovered while writing the third installment of the Jane Hawk series that if all the villains are evil, cookie-cutter sociopaths or remotely controlled broccoli brains, whose resistance Jane can overcome within moments, it becomes boring after a while. So, he singled out two miserable blockhead from the wild bunch and began to flesh them out with their own chapters.

This creates a puzzling situation: “Bob and Bobek” are two unscrupulous bastards, but as you get to know them better, you somewhat develop a liking for these two dirty rascals. Or you just get used to them, I don’t know, as they amusingly annoy each other. (And less amusingly, murder innocent people.) May they step on a Lego in the dark!

The consistently high quality of The Crooked Staircase easily surpasses the previous two installments of the series. However, it also becomes apparent that after Koontz uncle hastily got rid of the main financial and IT geniuses of the conspiracy, he struggles to create another believable main antagonist for us.

8,3/10

The Crooked Staircase (Jane Hawk #3) by Dean Koontz
491 pages, Hardcover
Published in 2018 by Bantam

Perfect Remains by Helen Fields – Book Review

Perfect Remains by Helen Fields – Book Cover

Well, here we go again, another blonde chick with a psycho-thriller? Which, according to authoritative opinions (primarily my own), is the bottom of the barrel in crime literature. “-Why did you even bother, smarty pants?” Well, because I thought Perfect Remains was just a regular crime thriller.

And indeed, half of Helen Fields’ book is exactly that: Inspector Callanach, exiled from Interpol to Scotland, has plenty of problems dealing with a serial killer and his own French accent.

The investigation starts promisingly, and based on the beginning, you’re sure the inspector will have his hands full with a wicked genius, but the chase for the culprit gradually loses its significance. Lacking ammunition, Fields tries to fill the void with side plots: a colleague’s case takes more space, then some romance pops up, and the inspector’s less-than-glamorous past comes to light.

The weakest parts of the book are the forced conflicts with colleagues, but aside from these few scenes, there’s not much wrong with Perfect Remains… until about halfway through the book, where the style starts to deteriorate, which is most evident during Superintendent Overbeck’s hysterical outbursts… later compounded by the addition of an irremovable amateur profiler, making the pursuit of Dr. King downright laughable and unprofessional. And Helen Fields’ book as well.

Parallel to the investigation, in chapters intended as psychological thrillers, you get a glimpse into Dr. King’s petty and pathetic mind. Evil genius, you say? Yeah, sure! He’s just a simple psychopath afflicted with inferiority complexes, getting himself deeper into trouble with his increasingly grandiose plans. The realistic description of the tortures committed by tricky Dr. King would be better suited for horror movies than crime novels. I wouldn’t be surprised if at the point when Dr. King demonstrates his autodidact knowledge of dentistry, some people would throw Fields’ psycho-thriller out the window in terror.

By the end, the standard of Perfect Remains completely sinks: relatively intelligently written chapters alternate with logical somersaults (the cunning Dr. King bases his plan on an utterly unfounded assumption, which, darn it, works for him) and plot twists akin to shark jumps. When the old acquaintance appears at the “payroll” and also during the pathetic bargaining with the car dealer, it’s you who feels ashamed, deeply so, instead of Helen Fields.

6.5/10

Perfect Remains (D.I. Callanach #1) by Helen Fields
416 pages, Paperback
Published in 2017 by AVON (HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.)

The Nine by Tracy Townsend – Book Review

The Nine by Tracy Townsend - Book Review Cover

Finally, a fantasy where there is no magic. In Tracy Townsend’s book “The Nine,” instead, there is a bit of mystique and a unique premise: a book that writes itself. At least seemingly. Because who else could be the author of such a work in a world where science and religion have merged, where temples have become bastions of knowledge, and where logarithmic equations adorn the walls instead of Stations? Probably none other than the Lord Himself. At least presumably.

You know that old Jewish legend that says the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of thirty-six righteous people? Well, it seems that in Lucy Townsend’s novel “The Nine,” they have been reduced to nine. The mysterious author of the book writes their fate on its pages. And of course, there are those who want to defy God’s plans, even if it’s pretty clear from the start that planning such things usually only causes trouble for oneself.

At first, you might think that the setting of “The Nine” is a twisted, slightly steampunk version of our world. (Although, truth be told, it wouldn’t hurt our world if priests focused on science instead of committing sexual abuses.) But then it turns out to be a parallel world, because there are two other races besides humans. The tree people, okay, they’re passable with a bit of fertilizer. But the others, the aigamuxa, are the book’s biggest, laughable blunders. They wear their eyes on their FEET, and if they want to LOOK, they have to stand on their hands. From an evolutionary standpoint, it would be more useful if they peeked out from their own butt cracks.

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Ready Player One – Film Review

Ready Player One - Film Poster

It starts off well, I must say, the first 20 minutes of Ready Player One, even with significant changes, capture the spirit of the novel. And the moment when Wade Watts’ name first appears on the Oasis leaderboard is ALMOST as impactful as it is in the novel.

The story unfolds in a near, dystopian future where life revolves around obtaining the hidden, inheritable key of a virtual reality that dominates every aspect of life (education, work, entertainment). However, the changes, which were obviously necessary for the story to work as a film, and even more so as a visually stunning one, gradually overshadow the narrative.

From the overwhelming computer animation that makes up 99-100% of Ready Player One, your head soon starts to buzz, and you feel like you’ve sunk into a Japanese role-playing game filled with manga characters, watching with increasing boredom from the sidelines as the avatars of other characters duke it out.

It’s like being in one of those muddled Transformers movies.

The youth-level black-and-white characters and childish humor don’t help much, nor does the shivery programmer god, Halliday, who seems to look like he’s pooped his pants at every appearance. But the worst is clearly the ultra-lame main antagonist.

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Killer on the Road by James Ellroy – Book Review

Killer on the Road by James Ellroy - Book Cover

Ellroy was 10 years old when his mother was brutally raped and murdered; the perpetrator never came to light, and Ellroy could never recover from this trauma. Written from the perspective of a serial killer, “Killer on the Road” predates Ellroy’s truly great works (hello, “L. A. Confidential”) and Martin Plunkett’s early years bear a striking resemblance to the author’s own biography, from petty theft to serial breaking and entering. And as it’s well known, Ellroy didn’t have to venture far for a little panty sniffing – at least not once he had pinched said underwear from the neighbor’s place.

Ellroy’s trademark, the endlessly stripped-down, short sentences forming a monumental mass of text, doesn’t appear in this early book (1986); quite the opposite: the book’s style is incredibly loose, saturated with self-irony and cynicism, and it does read quite well. At least for a while. Plunkett, the protagonist of “Killer on the Road,” a brilliant and lonely outsider, is initially quite likable, although his many fantasies and dreams – as tends to be the case with others’ – are rather tiresome.

And although you know Martin is as mad as a hornet, you’re still rooting for him and hoping against hope that he’ll eventually turn things around, because someone as smart as him couldn’t possibly go down the wrong path. And those few sexual aberrations, my dear God, honestly, who doesn’t have them? You clap with joy when he meets a gorgeous and mischievous girl who seems to be just right for him. She’ll take care of him, you think, and from then on, everything will be fine. The sick motherfraker instead kills the woman without hesitation!

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The Siege by Arturo Pérez-Reverte – Book Review

The Siege by Arturo Pérez-Reverte – Book Cover

You might have stumbled upon a few nasty mistakes by Pérez-Reverte before? Like “Good People”? Which, check it out, cunningly mistranslated, is actually “Boring People” in the original title. No worries, though. You always give the author another chance because of “The Fencing Master” (Or the woman’s shadow on the man’s heart), which is a bit like a neo-western, only with rapiers instead of firearms – and more sophistication.

1811. 99.9999 percent of Spain has been occupied by Napoleon’s troops, but Cádiz flips the bird to the emperor with infinite calm, peacefully nestled behind its high stone walls, happily trading through its port. The siege of Cádiz spans about another year and a half, and you follow it through the eyes of three main characters and the kaleidoscope of supporting characters swirling around them.

Inspector Tizón chases a serial killer, on which not only his job but also his own faith depends. And although the inspector is a foul jerk, who mostly gives his investigations a final shape with a bludgeon, he now has to rise above himself. The enjoyment value of the investigation is diminished by the fact that it unfolds first on a philosophical and then on a metaphysical level, until finally, it painstakingly finds its way. But the excitement of the obsessed pursuit is enough to make the incredibly unsympathetic inspector somewhat acceptable.

The other two characters, in return, are much more likable: Pepe Lobo hunts hostile ships with a privateer’s license. In his case, Pérez-Reverte’s book turns into a trace of an adventure novel, but if you have any romantic ideas about this profession, you sober up quickly at the sight of the everyday life of piracy: it sucks, plain and simple.

Lobo’s employer, Lolita Palma, who from a 19th-century perspective is slowly aging into an old maid, reluctantly takes over her father’s trading company. The evolving relationship between these two characters, socially distinct from each other and initially rooted in mutual antipathy is the greatest virtue of the book titled “The Siege.” Lolita has been my favorite from the start; I sometimes found myself flipping ahead to see when her chapter would come. (Just like in the good old days reading Game of Thrones with Arya). I have to admit, from the moment these two characters met, I found the story irresistibly exciting.

And although the book is much more a historical novel than a crime or romance novel, the siege itself mostly consists of the opposing sides shooting cannons at each other with not much efficiency. The essence lies much more in the everyday life. However, the description of these everyday lives is E-N-D-L-E-S-S-L-Y meticulous. I can easily imagine that during the “handicraft workshop” afternoon meeting, when the colonial rebellions’ commercial and political aspects are deeply explored, the dear reader suddenly goes wild and bites off a considerable chunk of Pérez-Reverte’s hefty work. Additionally, some supporting characters are entirely unnecessary; they don’t contribute anything essential to the story, like the salt miner, but the difficulties of the French artillery’s shooting range seem to be somewhat overrepresented. But seriously!

And during the last hundred pages of “The Siege”, perhaps because as you approach the endgame, you increasingly sense a foreboding, you feel that less would have been more.

7.7/10

The Siege by Arturo Pérez-Reverte
624 pages, Hardcover
Published in 2014 by Random House

Fatal Isles by Maria Adolfsson – Book Reviev

Fatal Isles by Maria Adolfsson – Book Cover

Oops, another Scandinavian crime novel, and to top it off, written by a blonde chick. What does this most likely mean? Well, that Fatal Isles is a psycho-thriller? More precisely? Whining and whimpering? Well, no, you’re mistaken (at least in this case). Once you successfully get through the opening pages, which dissect the aftermath of an alcohol-fueled night, going into excessive detail, Maria Adolfsson’s novel turns into a pro crime story.

The initial setup, with Karen Hornby, a criminal inspector, sleeping with her jerk boss, is entirely self-serving and could easily be dispensed with; and once the investigation kicks into gear, it won’t hold much significance. Though things get complicated, at least for Karen, as the victim turns out to be the prick boss’s wife. The boss is sidelined, and Karen takes over the investigation.

The setting, the Doggerland archipelago, where British and Scandinavian cultures mingle, seems highly fictional. If geography isn’t your forte, and you were planning to vacation here next year, you might be disappointed. (Your feet might dangle in the water, or those darn wind turbines might drive you nuts…) Your suspicion, however, is cleverly assuaged by the islands’ professional environmental and sociological depiction, which seamlessly integrates into Fatal Isles’ text.

It seems like a good place overall, maybe just finding the machismo in the police force a bit exaggerated. But as a one-time reader, it still affects you because you’d most likely prefer to smack the meddling colleagues with a larger-than-average shovel instead of the patient Karen.

Karen already has a low opinion of herself, and she somewhat harps on the fact that the investigation is progressing slowly. If you were her boss, you’d let her do her job; it’s evident she knows what she’s doing. She conducts her work professionally and conscientiously, and her investigation doesn’t turn into some sort of obsession, like, say, Bosch’s investigations (see Michael Connelly’s The Concrete Blonde).

Karen’s personal life isn’t intrusive either; even if some scenes end up slightly longer than necessary. And because of her past tragedy, which is slowly revealed to keep your curiosity piqued, you’re generally forgiving towards her.

The investigation runs on two tracks, but reading the flashbacks, you can still guess where the resolution might lie. Yet, thanks to the cunning dosing of information, you still manage to get a bit uncertain at times. And in the end, just when you think you know everything, you get quite surprised. Or, well, maybe not you. I, for one, was surprised.

And then, you might even get moved because, it seems, a blonde lady just can’t entirely shed her skin, and by the end of The Fatal Isles, she must include an almost unnecessary, yet emotional closure. But in the case of a fundamentally good crime novel, this can be forgiven. And its effect will surely be nullified in the next installment of Adolfsson’s Doggerland series.

8.1/10

Fatal Isles (Doggerland #1) by Maria Adolfsson
514 pages, Paperback
Published 2021 by Zaffre

The Greed by Scott Bergstrom – Book Review

The Greed by Scott Bergstrom – Book Cover

Scott Bergström’s book series is celebrated as a rejuvenator of the young adult genre, although it’s highly debatable whether it can even be called young adult at all; after all, the only connection is the protagonist’s age, and even that’s mostly true only in the first book, where Gwendolyn, who certainly isn’t your typical teenager, was a 17-year-old youngster. In ” The Greed,” she’s now trampling through her 19th grim year. (And their adversaries. She tramples them too.)

The not-so-human-friendly world of espionage isn’t a common theme in YA literature either (the Alex Rider books come to mind suddenly, although they’re aimed at a much younger audience). So, this series can be enjoyed by mature teenagers and up, as it’s fundamentally entertaining.

Scott Bergström is no longer as modest when it comes to sex as he was in the first part: little Gwendolyn has become somewhat more daring; although it’s true that the momentum slows down during the romantic parts, the author fails to convincingly convey deeper emotions. Here, you really sense a bit of a taste for young adult literature, although fortunately it’s only for a few chapters.

As cliché as “The Greed” is in matters of romance, it is just as unpredictably engaging as a thriller. In the first book, Gwendolyn discovered the cruelty within herself needed to stay alive, and now she’s presenting the bill for all the suffering. After the well-developed opening chapters, she embarks on diverse adventures: hiding, fleeing, investigating her own parents’ past, a bit of reluctantly accepted hitman work, and then stiffly opposed “hospital treatment”; however, her adventures occasionally trespass into the realm of unseriousness for brief moments.

Fortunately, although Gwendolyn is at least as sharp as, say, Jane Hawk (see Dean Koontz’s “The Whispering Room“), it turns out she’s not (always) invincible. And fortunately—better late than never—Bergström also realizes that what doesn’t work (and here we mean romantic troubles) doesn’t need to be forced—even if it means traveling all the way to Budapest.

In similar novels, the good side is usually represented by Americans, but here, the faceless CIA is the antagonist—no super-secret clique or a few treacherous scoundrels; Gwendolyn and her father anger the entire company, indeed the entire glorious American nation. A more believable and tangible main antagonist wouldn’t have hurt the story.

The ending of „The Greed”, however, is too, um, bombastic, and the clumsy melodramatic final scene is just another reminder of the young adult toolkit. But at least you can guess what the title of the next book will likely be. Envy? Pride? Lust? Ummm, no, more like something related to irreconcilable vengeance.

7.7/10

The Greed (The Cruelty #2) by Scott Bergstrom
416 pages, Hardcover
Published in 2018 by Feiwel & Friends