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kahn_johnson 's review for:
Cockroaches
by Jo Nesbø
I'm still not sure how I became such a Harry Hole fan. Somehow, after reading one book, I decided reading them all was my next logical step.
Which means owning them, obviously.
Now, yes, I'll grant you, they look really cool on the ol' shelf, but there's always that nervous moment where you find one isn't quite as good as you hoped.
Thankfully, this hasn't happened with Lee Child or Caimh McDonnell yet, and it's probably small mercies that it's happened on book two of Nesbo's Hole escapades.
Granted, there are factors at play. I'm run down, fighting a cold and thanks to being unable to breathe am somehow getting by on about two hours sleep a night.
All of these will impact concentration, knowledge retention. They make following a surprisingly complex plot quite tricky.
But I remain convinced this isn't all on me.
Cockroaches just doesn't quite hang together.
For a start, Nesbo makes the classic mistake when putting the hero in a foreign location - we get all the tourist spots ticked off. Nesbo actually goes one further and mentions all of the major roads in Bangkok.
This adds bog all to the narrative, but does tell us he went there once and wanted to make sure we knew it.
Then there are the two major plot strands, one of which has an added political twist for shits and giggles. They intertwine in the end, but for at least half the book serve only to distract from the other.
There's a great story about an ambassador getting stabbed in a motel here. There's an interesting story about paedophiles. We get both.
And in many ways, end up with neither.
The paedophile is also quite disturbing, as Nesbo feels inclined to include a debate on the nature of such people and whether urges can be controlled.
I'm not saying it reads like getting a defence in early, but....
Also writing this as a direct sequel to The Bat causes some stumbles, as it requires the reader to have read the first book, and then to have actually remembered it.
However....
Once you have ploughed through the first two-thirds of this - and plough you will because despite all the problems it is still well written and still has Harry Hole in it - your reward awaits.
The final third - with Harry talking about the guilty party as if we should all have worked it out and a delightfully bloody showdown - really delivers.
Shorn of all the added gumpf Nesbo felt obliged to throw in, he rolls up his sleeves and delivers a roller-coaster ride that will keep you on the edge of your seat and turning pages while your tea goes cold.
Which, thankfully, reminds you of why you picked up the damn book in the first place.
Which means owning them, obviously.
Now, yes, I'll grant you, they look really cool on the ol' shelf, but there's always that nervous moment where you find one isn't quite as good as you hoped.
Thankfully, this hasn't happened with Lee Child or Caimh McDonnell yet, and it's probably small mercies that it's happened on book two of Nesbo's Hole escapades.
Granted, there are factors at play. I'm run down, fighting a cold and thanks to being unable to breathe am somehow getting by on about two hours sleep a night.
All of these will impact concentration, knowledge retention. They make following a surprisingly complex plot quite tricky.
But I remain convinced this isn't all on me.
Cockroaches just doesn't quite hang together.
For a start, Nesbo makes the classic mistake when putting the hero in a foreign location - we get all the tourist spots ticked off. Nesbo actually goes one further and mentions all of the major roads in Bangkok.
This adds bog all to the narrative, but does tell us he went there once and wanted to make sure we knew it.
Then there are the two major plot strands, one of which has an added political twist for shits and giggles. They intertwine in the end, but for at least half the book serve only to distract from the other.
There's a great story about an ambassador getting stabbed in a motel here. There's an interesting story about paedophiles. We get both.
And in many ways, end up with neither.
The paedophile is also quite disturbing, as Nesbo feels inclined to include a debate on the nature of such people and whether urges can be controlled.
I'm not saying it reads like getting a defence in early, but....
Also writing this as a direct sequel to The Bat causes some stumbles, as it requires the reader to have read the first book, and then to have actually remembered it.
However....
Once you have ploughed through the first two-thirds of this - and plough you will because despite all the problems it is still well written and still has Harry Hole in it - your reward awaits.
The final third - with Harry talking about the guilty party as if we should all have worked it out and a delightfully bloody showdown - really delivers.
Shorn of all the added gumpf Nesbo felt obliged to throw in, he rolls up his sleeves and delivers a roller-coaster ride that will keep you on the edge of your seat and turning pages while your tea goes cold.
Which, thankfully, reminds you of why you picked up the damn book in the first place.