A review by willywonka3435
Host by Robin Cook

2.0

This review might be a bit tainted by the fact that I’ve been reading a lot of Jonathan Kellerman lately, and arguably I’m comparing apples and oranges here, but I feel like this should be pointed out.

Here we have two white men who’ve been writing medical thrillers and psychological thrillers, respectively, since 1977 (Cook) and 1985 (Kellerman).

This book, as many other reviewers have noted, reminds the reader that Michael is black and Lynn is female approximately every other page, and loads Michael down with as many stereotypes as it can. This book was published in 2015.

Kellerman — on the other hand — was publishing books in the *1980s* featuring an openly gay male detective as one of the main characters. I mean, that’s a fucking accomplishment in 2020, let alone in the 80s.

Anyhow, not a lot of a point to this review; I just wanted to point out that I’ve so far found Cook’s books a bit of a slog to get through partially for this reason. The plot to Coma, for instance, was great, but I almost gave up a few times because of the blatant sexism. Cook, do better, man. Kellerman was doing better 30 years ago.