At first glance I was convinced most of David Hewson’s books were not my thing. My reading fare does not usually include murder and mayhem. I have read some Richard North Patterson, Scott Turow, maybe some Patricia Cornwell and a few others I can’t remember when I’m in the mood. But I’m not in the mood often. It’s not clear to me why since I love puzzles. Maybe when I have a great stretch of time and absolutely nothing to do, I’ll examine it.
Despite my prejudice, I subscribed to Hewson’s blog, and something surprising popped into my in-box. As I read, I started to grin and then I laughed out loud. A real LOL. Imagine that, and provoked by a serious journalist and crime novelist. Here’s the part where you start thinking of all the crime novelists you know who are funny. Goodie. Feel free to share. Until Hewson, I didn’t know of any.
And now I’ve bought A Season for the Dead and have just started reading. Even if I find no caped crusader, why do I get the feeling Hewson will be into me for several more dollars before this is over…
And that my friends is how a book or two is sold.
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