I've read three books in the last two weeks. I haven't done
that in years. First, Harry Potter and
the Sorcerer's Stone, then Bruno,
Chief of Police, and now The Cold,
Cold Ground. It's interesting to compare the different styles of writing.
J K Rowling has a simple, straightforward style that's
accessible to any age from about the third or fourth grade. It's a bit lumpy
but moves forward.
Martin Walker's style is more lyrical and soothing, even
when dealing with a vicious murder. It meanders a bit, much as life does in the
South of France, but carries you along.
Adrian McKinty's style is harsh and cold. Clipped as tight
as possible to avoid anything in the way of honest comfort. It's a murder
mystery set during the hunger strikes in Northern Ireland, dealing with a
series of murders amidst riots and politics and territorial hate spiced with
sectarian violence. It's told in a first person style that even Raymond
Chandler would think is bleak.
I brought it with me on the train, since I didn't have WiFi
to keep me busy, and finished it just shy of
Poughkeepsie. It also helped distract me from the Dutch woman behind me,
who seems to have either pneumonia or bronchitis or both. If I get sick, I will
be pissed.
Again, reading a book's helped me see how I should change
something in CK. Nothing major, just a small shift in the final bit at the end
that makes a lot more sense. And a willingness to back away from the conspiracy
theories I like to go for. That won't
work for CK. They've become so prevalent, people expect them so should not be
indulged.
Of course, with The
Vanishing of Owen Taylor, all bets are off.
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