Mystery: One False Move, by Harlan Coben

Burning through mysteries in the offhours while reading this month’s challenge book.

The next in the Myron Bolitar series (after these). Still enjoying these, but not quite as much thanks to throwaway paragraphs with pedantic tones like this one:

Win waited by Myron’s car. He was bent slightly at the waist, practicing his golf swing. He did not have a club or a ball, of course. Remember blasting rock music and jumping on your bed and playing air guitar? Golfers do the same thing. They hear some internal sounds of nature, step on imaginary first tees, and swing air clubs. Air woods usually. Sometimes, when they want more control, they take air irons out of the air bags. And like teens with air guitars, golfers like to watch themselves in mirrors…

Seriously? Do tell. Who is the audience for that? Or, better yet, who does the writer think his audience is that he needs to write that? You can, indeed, take dumbing down a bit too far.

Dear Harlan Coben,
There aren’t that many Myron Bolitar books after this one. So I’m sure I’ll keep reading them up until the end. Because I like Myron. And I love Win, despite the fact that he’s a raving psychopath. (He makes Joe Pike look well adjusted.) But seriously? You can do better than that.
Sincerely,
who would’ve thought golf could be made more boring than it actually is,
Duff

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