Copyright 2000 by Lee Child. Published by Berkley, New York.

Yes, another Jack Reacher book.  I always expect to be entertained and I am never disappointed.

Some of the Reacher books are set during the time when he is in the army, but most are set post-Army when he is an aimless drifter.  This one is in between: he is out of the army, but he has inherited a house and, at least temporarily, has a permanent address.  He doesn’t know how to deal with that situation and it won’t last, but for the duration of this book he has both a house and an SUV.  His internal conflict with this (to him) unnatural situation is a subplot in this book, but it is pretty obvious that it will be resolved shortly and he will, once again, be shiftless.

He also has a girlfriend and this might be a little more permanent.  Jodie appears to be the love of his life.  But her life goals conflict deeply with his and, though he clearly cares for her, the attachment will not be sufficient to root him.  This subplot resolves itself rather neatly by Jodie becoming a partner in her law firm and being sent to London for 2 years.  Problem solved.

So much for the subplots.  The main plot centers on a serial killer.  Someone is killing women who, while in the army, accused men of sexual harassment or worse.  The FBI is on the case and their top profiler has identified the characteristics of the man they are looking for and, wouldn’t you know, his profile looks a lot like Jack Reacher.  The first two women, in fact, knew Reacher because he was the investigator assigned to their cases when he as still an MP.  The FBI haul Reacher in for questioning.  But his status as “prime suspect” is short-lived as a third woman is killed while he is in custody.  Rather than just letting him go, however, the FBI decides that he might be a useful addition to the investigative team.  Reacher is not interested but is coerced into participating.

The murders themselves are bizarre.  The women are all found in bathtubs filled with army-issue green paint.  There is no obvious cause of death and no sign of a struggle, no sign of forced entry.  The women apparently let the murderer in and then, quietly and without complaint, strip naked, sit in the bathtub filled with paint and just die.  Figuring out the “how” and “why” is what makes this story interesting.

Reacher figures it out, of course.  And so did I, mostly.  I was pretty sure I knew who the killer was halfway through the book, but Child fooled me with some deft misdirection and convinced me that I was wrong.  But I wasn’t.  But I can’t claim that I figured out the “how” though in retrospect I should have.

This book, more than most of the Reacher books, is a classic whodunit.  Like all Reacher books, it is a quick read.  I had a hard time putting it down.

8 out of 10.  I would have given it a 9 if I hadn’t figured out whodunit halfway through the book.

Last Kid Books, April 2019

This is a collection of essays. That, alone, makes this book unique among the books that I have reviewed. It is also written by a guy I know very well – a good friend who goes way back – he was my best friend in high school.

So this will be my first book review that might actually be read by the author.  Oh, the pressure!

I guess I can eliminate the suspense for him – and you – by saying right up front that I liked the book very much. I will go into some of the reasons why, but the big one is this: it made me laugh.  Not just chuckle laughs but LOLs. Some of these essays are just hilarious.  But others are thought-provoking, insightful or sad.  They are all different.  The book is like Forrest’s box of chocolates; you just never know what you are going to get.

Some of this variety is geographical.  The author, who, as you will discover by reading the book (some of which is autobiographical), had humble beginnings but has lived in Paris, Japan, Brooklyn, Boston, California and Wisconsin.  He has also visited Las Vegas many times and, because his wife is an expert on cutting-edge electronics, he knows quite a bit about electronic gizmos, too.  Essays from each place are included.

Some of the variety is temporal.  The essays were penned between 1994 and 2016.  Some of the essays delve into the topics of the time.  The Iraq War, the financial meltdown, the death of Annette Funicello.  But some of the essays are timeless.  His grandfather’s hands, Paris in the early morning, linden tree helicopters, Yankee fandom.

Because I know him and shared part of his past, the autobiographical essays are particularly meaningful to me.  Growing up in Tomah, Saturday matinees, high school friends, his less-than-heroic father.  Poignant, even if you don’t know the places or the people.

David Benjamin is a wordsmith which in my view ranks a bit higher than “author.”  He knows the English language intimately (and shows off his knowledge in one of his essay rants).  He has a huge vocabulary and if you want to understand every word you had better have a dictionary handy.  Looking up all the unfamiliar words could be tedious, but it will be rewarding.

Some of the essays are whimsical and I think I like these best.  Several essays feature his outrageous “idea man,” Wilhelm Bienfang, a guy who would make Jonathan Swift proud. One essay is a satirical piece about a cell phone app that serves as spermicide – it emits a high-pitched sperm-killing squeal when it hears the words “Oh God! Oh God!”  The next essay delves into just how many people took that essay seriously and tried to buy the app. Hilarious.

Because they are essays they are short – about 1,000 words each.  I like that, too.  If you don’t like a particular essay, just turn the page.  I turned them all and felt a bit sad when I turned the last one.

9 out of 10.

Copyright 2011 by James Patterson, Grand Central Publishing

I NEVER read books of the famous-author-and-some-nobody variety because you know damn well that the book was written by the nobody and the famous author is just getting paid to put his name on the book.  So I don’t know how this one slipped into my “to be read” pile.

But since it was there I decided to read it anyway.  I still have the same opinion of books of this type and I will continue to avoid them in the future, but I have to admit that I enjoyed this one.  It isn’t an American literary classic, but it is well written with interesting characters.  And the chapters are very short – an average of just over three pages – which I really like.  The edition I had also had very large print which meant I could read it without reading glasses.  I liked that, too.

The protagonist is Michael Bennett, a NYPD detective who lands the unenviable task of catching a serial killer who is mimicking or paying tribute to some of the most notorious serial killers in New York City’s long illustrious history of murder.  He has to try to catch the culprit while on vacation on Long Island with his 10 adopted children and their young siren of a nanny.

He succeeds, of course, but it is due more to the killer finding him than him finding the killer.

The style of the book was intriguing.  About two-thirds of the book is first person, from the eyes of Michael Bennett.  The other third is third-person, giving us insight into the life and evil intent of the killer.  There is a little misdirection in this that I won’t divulge as it would spoil the fun,  but as a literary device it works pretty well.

I enjoyed the book.  I won’t go out of my way looking for more by the Patterson/Ledwidge duo, but this was not a waste of time.

7 out of 10.