I don't read much in the way of crime novels, but, like a
million others I suspect, I was gifted this on
the strength of the author's
previous books.
Good characters, good story, good setting, (Although a
friend of mine tells me there are some accuracy errors here, but as a writer
myself, I tell him 'poetic licence'.) and there's a good twist at the end.
So all good than! Here endeth the review!
Well, not quite.
Well, not quite.
If I could, I would have knocked half a star off of this and
gone for three and a half. Why? Stupid names!
I know our influences come from a hundred, a thousand
different places, my characters haven't always got standard or English names, I
have a Dumonbreville in my latest book and a Mai-Ling in my first, but these
are names I have come across, people I have met, and in the case of
Dumonbreville, I use it very little in the book because I feel it might interrupt
flow.
And that is my main issue, flow.
When I read I want the book to flow, I don't read fast, so
it isn't a speed thing, but when the book is encumbered with names like
Cormoran Strike and Lula Landry, things start slow down a bit. Throw in a Bryony,
Tansy, Deeby, Cyprian and a Ciara and I start thinking about putting the book
down.
I'm glad I didn't because the story was good, but next time
I'll think twice before reading a Robert Galbraith novel. Maybe the next one
could be about the Bristow family. They all had nice, normal names.
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