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A review by kkbe
The Lock Artist by Steve Hamilton
4.0
First, a disclaimer: I have a soft spot in my heart for the amazing Mr. Hamilton, who gifted me with his time and expertise when I was new to this whole fiction-writing stuff. I can't thank him enough for that. Plus, I feel a special affinity for any fellow Michigander who sets their novels here, even if 'here' is waaaay 'up north,' as it is in some of the author's other, wonderful novels.
The main character in 'The Lock Artist' doesn't speak, not a word. We're privy to his thoughts, though; his memories...we understand him through his sign language and deeds. We travel back and forth through time with him, beginning with his present: he's in prison, writing in fits and starts about how he came to be there, the choices he made and why he made them. The premise--a person who doesn't speak asks us to listen--is so unique, then Hamilton twists that premise by telling the story in a non-linear fashion, leaving readers dangling time and again in one cliff-hanger more harrowing than the last.
I rate this novel four stars only because the ending wasn't quite what I expected, which was . . . not disappointing; instead, I felt some vague consternation there. Not Mr. Hamilton's fault--that's on me. Alas, 'tis the bane of fiction writers that they can't satisfy every adoring fan by writing the book that person erringly thinks she wants to read.
The main character in 'The Lock Artist' doesn't speak, not a word. We're privy to his thoughts, though; his memories...we understand him through his sign language and deeds. We travel back and forth through time with him, beginning with his present: he's in prison, writing in fits and starts about how he came to be there, the choices he made and why he made them. The premise--a person who doesn't speak asks us to listen--is so unique, then Hamilton twists that premise by telling the story in a non-linear fashion, leaving readers dangling time and again in one cliff-hanger more harrowing than the last.
I rate this novel four stars only because the ending wasn't quite what I expected, which was . . . not disappointing; instead, I felt some vague consternation there. Not Mr. Hamilton's fault--that's on me. Alas, 'tis the bane of fiction writers that they can't satisfy every adoring fan by writing the book that person erringly thinks she wants to read.