The Black Echo (Harry Bosch Series #1)

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For maverick Lapd homicide detective Harry Bosch, the body in the drainpipe at Mulholland Dam is more than another anonymous statistic. This one is personal...because the murdered man was a fellow Vietnam "tunnel rat" who had fought side by side with him in a hellish underground war. Now Bosch is about to relive the horror of Nam. From a dangerous maze of blind alleys to a daring criminal heist beneath the city, his survival instincts will once again be tested to their limit. Pitted against enemies inside his own...

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The Black Echo (Harry Bosch Series #1)

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For maverick Lapd homicide detective Harry Bosch, the body in the drainpipe at Mulholland Dam is more than another anonymous statistic. This one is personal...because the murdered man was a fellow Vietnam "tunnel rat" who had fought side by side with him in a hellish underground war. Now Bosch is about to relive the horror of Nam. From a dangerous maze of blind alleys to a daring criminal heist beneath the city, his survival instincts will once again be tested to their limit. Pitted against enemies inside his own department and forced to make the agonizing choice between justice and vengeance, Bosch goes on the hunt for a killer whose true face will shock him.

Lone LAPD detective Harry Bosch must walk the line between criminals and crooked cops following the death of an old war buddy. Billy had been a fellow "tunnel rat"--fighting with Bosch in the nightmare underground war in Vietnam. But soon Billy's murder is linked to a bank robbery via complex tunnels beneath the bank.

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Connelly, a crime reporter for the Los Angeles Times , transcends the standard L.A. police procedural with this original and eminently authentic first novel. Hieronymus (Harry) Bosch--former hero cop bumped from the L.A. homicide desk to the lowly Beverly Hills squad--gets the call on a drug death at Mulholland Dam. Harry recognizes the corpse as that of a fellow soldier in Vietnam; both were ``tunnel rats'' who searched for Viet Cong in the network of burrows beneath Vietnamese villages. Investigation connects his old pal to an unsolved bank job--the vault was tunneled into from the storm drains below--and Harry takes his information to the FBI. The Bureau alerts the LAPD, which reactivates internal affairs surveillance (the previous IAD episode is explained throughout the narrative), only to have the FBI backtrack and request Harry as liaison on the case. Paired with beautiful FBI agent Eleanor Wish, Harry makes sense of the Vietnam connection to the bank job--a discovery that puts them both in danger from deadly ex-Marines and a powerful insider from either the LAPD or the FBI itself. Police higher-ups are somewhat cliched, but Connelly avoids L.A. stereotypes and delivers this front-page story with military precision. (Jan.)
Library Journal
Los Angeles police detective Hieronymus (a.k.a. Harry) Bosch discovers something odd in what appears to be a routine drug overdose case. The victim has a face from Harry's past, a fellow ``tunnel rat'' from Vietnam named Billy Meadows. Convinced that Meadows's death is really murder, Harry searches for the killers and soon clashes with the FBI, investigating Meadows for another reason. Trying to walk through a minefield of deception and corruption in high places, Harry works with FBI agent Eleanor Wish to solve the case before they both get killed. Whose tracks have to be covered at the cost of their lives? Fans of Joseph Wambaugh and William Caunitz will enjoy this realistically detailed police procedural. Connelly, a Pulitzer Prize-winning crime reporter for the Los Angeles Times , knows his turf well and demonstrates it in this complex and satisfying thriller. This one could very well hit the best-seller lists; highly recommended for any popular fiction col lection.-- Dean James, Houston Acad. of Medicine/Texas Medical Ctr. Lib.
School Library Journal
YA-- Harry Bosch likes order, contends that there are no coincidences, and keeps meticulous records in his ``murder book.'' When the body of a former ``tunnel rat'' from Vietnam is found in a drainpipe, Harry is the detective on duty and is called to the scene. His identification of the body begins an investigation that leads to more murder, bank robbery, heroin, diamonds, and betrayal. Connelly's descriptions of autopsies, murder scenes, and police procedure are vivid and realistic. The use of acronyms and police jargon puts readers in the middle of the action. A real page turner with gutty realism and an unusual twist.-- Debbie Hyman, R. E. Lee High School, Springfield, VA
New York Times Book Review
"One of those books you read with your knuckles - just hanging on until it's over...good and thrilling."
From the Publisher
"One of those books you read with your knuckles - just hanging on until it's over...good and thrilling."
New York Times Book Review

"Connelly...transcends the standard L.A. police procedural with this original and eminently authentic first novel."
Publishers Weekly

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780446612739
  • Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
  • Publication date: 12/2/2002
  • Series: Harry Bosch Series , #1
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 496
  • Product dimensions: 4.25 (w) x 6.75 (h) x 1.00 (d)

Meet the Author

Michael Connelly is a former journalist and has won every major prize for crime fiction. He lives in Florida.


Best known for his dark police procedurals featuring the tough, complex and emotionally scarred LAPD detective, Hieronymous "Harry" Bosch, Michael Connelly has been called "infernally ingenious" (The New York Times), "one of those masters...who can keep driving the story forward in runaway locomotive style" (USA Today) and "the top rank of a new generation of crime writers" (The Los Angeles Times).

Consistently exquisite prose and engrossing storylines play an integral role in his swelling success. However, Connelly believes that solid character development is the most important key. As he explained to, "I think books with weak or translucent plots can survive if the character being drawn along the path is rich, interesting and multi-faceted. The opposite is not true."

A native of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Connelly attended the University of Florida; there he discovered the works of Raymond Chandler -- author of many classic Los Angeles-based noir dramas such as The Big Sleep, The Long Goodbye, and Farewell, My Lovely. The cases of Philip Marlowe inspired Connelly to be a crime novelist -- and by studying journalism, he put himself in the perfect position. "I went into journalism to learn the craft of writing and to get close to the world I wanted to write about -- police and criminals, the criminal justice system," he told

After graduation, Connelly worked the crime beat for two Florida newspapers. When a story he and a colleague wrote about the disastrous 1985 crash of Delta Flight 191 was short-listed for the Pulitzer, Connelly landed a gig in Marlowe's backyard, covering crime for one of the nation's largest newspapers -- The Los Angeles Times. Three years later, Harry Bosch was introduced in The Black Echo, which earned Connelly the Edgar Award for Best First Novel. Connelly has since won every major mystery honor, including the Anthony (The Poet, Blood Work) and the Macavity Award (Blood Work).

While Connelly has written stand-alone novels that don't feature his tragic protagonist Harry Bosch, he is best identified by his rigid, contentious and fiery -- but also immensely skilled and compassionate -- detective. According to The Boston Globe, the Bosch series "raises the hard-boiled detective novel to a new level...adding substance and depth to modern crime fiction."

Called "one of the most compelling, complex protagonists in recent crime fiction" (Newsweek) and "a terrific...wonderful, old-fashioned hero who isn't afraid to walk through the flames -- and suffer the pain for the rest of us" (The New York Times Book Review), Bosch faces unforgettable horrors every day -- either on the street or in his own mind. "Bosch is making up for wrongs done to him when he rights wrongs as a homicide detective," Connelly explained in an interview with his publisher. "In a way, he is an avenging angel."

Bosch is clearly a product of his deadly, unforgiving environment. "The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote that when you look into the darkness of the abyss the abyss looks into you. Probably no other line or thought more inspires or informs my work," said Connelly in the same interview. With each passing novel, Bosch looks deeper and deeper into the abyss; and readers continue to return to see just how far he will gaze.

Good To Know

  • Michael Connelly received a huge career boost in 1994 when then President Bill Clinton was photographed walking out of a Washington bookstore with a copy of The Concrete Blonde under his arm. Connelly remarked to USA Today, "In the six years I've been writing books, that is the biggest thrill I've had."

  • Real events have always inspired Connelly's plots. His novel Blood Work was inspired by a friend who underwent transplant surgery and was coping with survivor's guilt, knowing someone had died in order for him to live. The book was later developed into a feature film starring Clint Eastwood, Angelica Huston, and Jeff Daniels.

  • One of Connelly's writing professors at the University of Florida was cult novelist Harry Crews.

  • Connelly named his most famous character after the 15th Century Dutch painter, Hieronymous Bosch. As he told Bookends UK in an interview, Bosch "created richly detailed landscapes of debauchery and violence and human defilement. There is a ‘world gone mad' feel to many of his works, including one called ‘Hell' -- of which a print hangs on the wall over the computer where I write." Some interesting outtakes from our interview with Connelly:

    "I wrote a mystery story as a class paper in high school. It was called The Perfect Murder. The protagonist's named was McEvoy, a name I later used for the protagonist in The Poet. Being a witness to a crime when I was 16 was what made me interested in crime novels and mystery stories."

    "I wrote my first real murder story as a journalist for the Daytona Beach News Journal in 1980. It was about a body found in the woods. Later, the murder was linked to a serial killer who was later caught and executed for his crimes."

    "Everything I want people to know about me is in my books."

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      1. Hometown:
        Sarasota, Florida
      1. Date of Birth:
        July 21, 1956
      2. Place of Birth:
        Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
      1. Education:
        B.A. in Journalism, University of Florida, 1980
      2. Website:

    Read an Excerpt

    The Black Echo

    By Michael Connelly

    Grand Central Publishing

    Copyright © 2013 Michael Connelly
    All rights reserved.
    ISBN: 978-1-4555-5061-6


    Sunday, May 20

    The boy couldn't see in the dark, but he didn't need to. Experience and long practice told him it was good. Nice and even. Smooth strokes, moving his whole arm while gently rolling his wrist. Keep the marble moving. No runs. Beautiful.

    He heard the hiss of the escaping air and could sense the roll of the marble. They were sensations that were comforting to him. The smell reminded him of the sock in his pocket and he thought about getting high. Maybe after, he decided. He didn't want to stop now, not until he had finished the tag with one uninterrupted stroke.

    But then he stopped—when the sound of an engine was heard above the hiss of the spray can. He looked around but saw no light save for the moon's silvery white reflection on the reservoir and the dim bulb above the door of the pump house, which was midway across the dam.

    But the sound didn't lie. There was an engine approaching. Sounded like a truck to the boy. And now he thought he could hear the crunching of tires on the gravel access road that skirted the reservoir. Coming closer. Almost three in the morning and someone was coming. Why? The boy stood up and threw the aerosol can over the fence toward the water. He heard it chink down in the brush, short of the mark. He pulled the sock from his pocket and decided just one quick blow to give himself balls. He buried his nose in the sock and drew in heavily on the paint fumes. He rocked back on his heels, and his eyelids fluttered involuntarily. He threw the sock over the fence.

    The boy stood his motorbike up and wheeled it across the road, back toward the tall grass and the bottlebrush and pine trees at the base of the hill. It was good cover, he thought, and he'd be able to see what was coming. The sound of the engine was louder now. He was sure it was just a few seconds away, but he didn't see the glow of headlights, This confused him. But it was too late to run.

    He put the motorbike down in the tall brown grass and stilled the free-spinning front wheel with his hand. Then he huddled down on the earth and waited for whatever and whoever was coming.

    Harry Bosch could hear the helicopter up there, somewhere, above the darkness, circling up in the light. Why didn't it land? Why didn't it bring help? Harry was moving through a smoky, dark tunnel and his batteries were dying. The beam of the flashlight grew weaker every yard he covered. He needed help. He needed to move faster. He needed to reach the end of the tunnel before the light was gone and he was alone in the black. He heard the chopper make one more pass. Why didn't it land? Where was the help he needed? When the drone of the blades fluttered away again, he felt the terror build and he moved faster, crawling on scraped and bloody knees, one hand holding the dim light up, the other pawing the ground to keep his balance. He did not look back, for he knew the enemy was behind him in the black mist. Unseen, but there. And closing in.

    When the phone rang in the kitchen, Bosch immediately woke. He counted the rings, wondering if he had missed the first one or two, wondering if he had left the answering machine on.

    He hadn't. The call was not picked up and the ringing didn't stop until after the required eight rounds. He absentmindedly wondered where that tradition had come from. Why not six rings? Why not ten? He rubbed his eyes and looked around. He was slumped in the living room chair again, the soft recliner that was the centerpiece of his meager furnishings. He thought of it as his watch chair. This was a misnomer, however, because he slept in the chair often, even when he wasn't on call.

    Morning light cut through the crack in the curtains and slashed its mark across the bleached pine floor. He watched particles of dust floating lazily in the light near the sliding glass door. The lamp on the table next to him was on, and the TV against the wall, its sound very low, was broadcasting a Sunday-morning Jesus show. On the table next to the chair were the companions of insomnia: playing cards, magazines and paperback mystery novels—these only lightly thumbed and then discarded. There was a crumpled pack of cigarettes on the table and three empty beer bottles—assorted brands that had once been members of six-packs of their own tribe. Bosch was fully dressed, right down to a rumpled tie held to his white shirt by a silver 187 tie tack.

    He reached his hand down to his belt and then around back to the area below his kidney. He waited. When the electronic pager sounded he cut the annoying chirp off in a second. He pulled the device off his belt and looked at the number. He wasn't surprised. He pushed himself out of the chair, stretched, and popped the joints of his neck and back. He walked to the kitchen, where the phone was on the counter. He wrote "Sunday, 8:53 A.M." in a notebook he took from his jacket pocket before dialing. After two rings a voice said, "Los Angeles Police Department, Hollywood Division. This is Officer Pelch, how can I help you?"

    Bosch said, "Somebody could die in the time it took to get all that out. Let me talk to the watch sergeant."

    Bosch found a fresh pack of cigarettes in a kitchen cabinet and got his first smoke of the day going. He rinsed dust out of a glass and filled it with tap water, then took two aspirins out of a plastic bottle that was also in the cabinet. He was swallowing the second when a sergeant named Crowley finally picked up.

    "What, did I catch you in church? I rang your house. No answer."

    "Crowley, what have you got for me?"

    "Well, I know we had you out last night on that TV thing. But you're still catching. You and your partner. All weekend. So, that means you got the DB up at Lake Hollywood. In a pipe up there. It's on the access road to the Mulholland Dam. You know it?"

    "I know the place. What else?"

    "Patrol's out. ME, SID notified. My people don't know what they got, except a DB. Stiff's about thirty feet into this pipe there. They don't want to go all the way in, mess up a possible crime scene, you know? I had 'em page your partner but he hasn't called in. No answer at his phone either. I thought maybe the two of you was together or something. Then I thought, nah, he ain't your style. And you ain't his."

    "I'll get ahold of him. If they didn't go all the way in, how they know it's a DB and not just some guy sleeping it off?"

    "Oh, they went in a bit, you know, and reached in with a stick or something and poked around at the guy pretty good. Stiff as a wedding night prick."

    "They didn't want to mess up a crime scene but then they go poking around the body with a stick. That's wonderful. These guys get in after they raised the college requirement, or what?"

    "Hey, Bosch, we get a call, we've got to check it out. Okay? You want for us to transfer all our body calls directly to the homicide table to check out? You guys'd go nuts inside a week."

    Bosch crushed the cigarette butt in the stainless steel sink, and looked out the kitchen window. Looking down the hill he could see one of the tourist trains moving between the huge beige sound studios in Universal City. A side of one of the block-long buildings was painted sky blue with wisps of white clouds; for filming exteriors when the natural L.A. exterior turned brown as wheat.

    Bosch said, "How'd we get the call?"

    "Anonymous to nine one one. A little after oh four hundred. Dispatcher said it came from a pay phone on the boulevard. Somebody out screwin' around, found the thing in the pipe. Wouldn't give a name. Said there was a stiff in the pipe, that's all. They'll have the tape down at the com center."

    Bosch felt himself getting angry. He pulled the bottle of aspirin out of the cabinet and put it in his pocket. While thinking about the 0400 call, he opened the refrigerator and bent in. He saw nothing that interested him. He looked at his watch.

    "Crowley, if the report came in at four A.M. why are you just getting to me now, nearly five hours later?"

    "Look, Bosch, all we had was an anonymous call. That's it. Dispatcher said it was a kid, no less. I wasn't going to send one of my guys up that pipe in the middle of the night on information like that. Coulda been a prank. Coulda been an ambush. Coulda been anything, fer crissake. I waited till it got light out and things slowed down around here. Sent some of my guys over there at the end of shift. Speaking of end of shifts, I'm outta here. I've been waiting to hear from them and then from you. Anything else?"

    Bosch felt like asking if it ever occurred to him that it would be dark in the pipe whether they went poking around at 0400 or 0800, but let it go. What was the use?

    "Anything else?" Crowley said again.

    Bosch couldn't think of anything, but Crowley filled the empty space.

    "It's probly just some hype who croaked himself, Harry. No righteous one eighty- seven case. Happens all the time. Hell, you remember we pulled one out of that same pipe last year.... Er, well, that was before you came out to Hollywood.... So, see, what I'm saying is some guy, he goes into this same pipe—these transients, they sleep up there all the time—and he's a slammer but he shoots himself with a hot load and that's it. Checks out. 'Cept we didn't find him so fast that time, and with the sun and all beating on the pipe a couple days, he gets cooked in there. Roasted like a tom turkey. But it didn't smell as good."

    Crowley laughed at his own joke. Bosch didn't. The watch sergeant continued.

    "When we pulled this guy out, the spike was still in his arm. Same thing here. Just a bullshit job, a no-count case. You go out there, you'll be back home by noon, take a nap, maybe go catch the Dodgers. And then next weekend? Somebody else's turn in the barrel. You're off watch. And that's a three-day pass. You got Memorial Day weekend coming next week. So do me a favor. Just go out and see what they've got."

    Bosch thought a moment and was about to hang up, then said, "Crowley, what did you mean you didn't find that other one so fast? What makes you think we found this one fast?"

    "My guys out there, they say they can't smell a thing off this stiff other than a little piss. It must be fresh."

    "Tell your guys I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Tell them not to fuck anymore with anything at my scene."


    Bosch knew Crowley was going to defend his men again but hung up before he had to hear it. He lit another cigarette as he went to the front door to get the Times off the step. He spread the twelve pounds of Sunday paper out on the kitchen counter, wondering how many trees died. He found the real estate supplement and paged through it until he saw a large display ad for Valley Pride Properties. He ran his finger down a list of Open Houses until be found one address and description marked CALL JERRY. He dialed the number.

    "Valley Pride Properties, can I help you?"

    "Jerry Edgar, please."

    A few seconds passed and Bosch heard a couple of transfer clicks before his partner got on the line.

    "This is Jerry, may I help you?"

    "Jed, we just got another call. Up at the Mulholland Dam. And you aren't wearing your pager."

    "Shit," Edgar said, and there was silence. Bosch could almost hear him thinking, I've got three showings today. There was more silence and Bosch pictured his partner on the other end of the line in a $900 suit and a bankrupt frown. "What's the call?"

    Bosch told him what little he knew.

    "If you want me to take this one solo, I will," Bosch said, "If anything comes up with Ninety-eight, I'll be able to cover it. I'll tell him you're taking the TV thing and I'm doing the stiff in the pipe."

    "Yeah, I know you would, but it's okay, I'm on my way. I'm just going to have to find someone to cover for my ass first."

    They agreed to meet at the body, and Bosch hung up. He turned the answering machine on, took two packs of cigarettes from the cabinet and put them in his sport coat pocket. He reached into another cabinet and took out the nylon holster that held his gun, a Smith & Wesson 9mm—satin finished, stainless steel and loaded with eight rounds of XTPs. Bosch thought about the ad he had seen once in a police magazine. Extreme Terminal Performance. A bullet that expanded on impact to 1.5 times its width, reaching terminal depth in the body and leaving maximum wound channels. Whoever had written it had been right. Bosch had killed a man a year earlier with one shot from twenty feet. Went in under the right armpit, exited below the left nipple, shattering heart and lungs on its way. XTP. Maximum wound channels. He clipped the holster to his belt on the right side so he could reach across his body and take it with his left hand.

    He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth without toothpaste: he was out and had forgotten to go by the store. He dragged a wet comb through his hair and stared at his red-rimmed, forty-year-old eyes for a long moment. Then he studied the gray hairs that were steadily crowding out the brown in his curly hair. Even the mustache was going gray. He had begun seeing flecks of gray in the sink when he shaved. He touched a hand to his chin but decided not to shave. He left his house then without changing even his tie. He knew his client wouldn't mind.

    Bosch found a space where there were no pigeon droppings and leaned his elbows on the railing that ran along the top of the Mulholland Dam. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and he looked through the cleft of the hills to the city below. The sky was gunpowder gray and the smog was a form-fitted shroud over Hollywood. A few of the far-off towers in downtown poked up through the poison, but the rest of the city was under the blanket. It looked like a ghost town.

    There was a slight chemical odor on the warm breeze and after a while he pegged it. Malathion. He'd heard on the radio that the fruit fly helicopters had been up the night before spraying North Hollywood down through the Cahuenga Pass. He thought of his dream and remembered the chopper that did not land.

    To his back was the blue-green expanse of the Hollywood reservoir, 60 million gallons of the city's drinking water trapped by the venerable old dam in a canyon between two of the Hollywood Hills. A six-foot band of dried clay ran the length of the shoreline, a reminder that L.A. was in its fourth year of drought. Farther up the reservoir bank was a ten-foot-high chain-link fence that girded the entire shoreline. Bosch had studied this barrier when he first arrived and wondered if the protection was for the people on one side of the fence or the water on the other.

    Bosch was wearing a blue jumpsuit over his rumpled suit. His sweat had stained through the underarms and back of both layers of clothing. His hair was damp and his mustache drooped. He had been inside the pipe. He could feel the slight, warm tickle of a Santa Ana wind drying the sweat on the back of his neck. They had come early this year.

    Harry was not a big man. He stood a few inches short of six feet and was built lean. The newspapers, when they described him, called him wiry. Beneath the jumpsuit his muscles were like nylon cords, strength concealed by economy of size. The gray that flecked his hair was more partial to the left side. His eyes were brown-black and seldom betrayed emotion or intention.

    The pipe was located above ground and ran for fifty yards alongside the reservoir's access road. It was rusted inside and out, and was empty and unused except by those who sought its interior as a shelter or its exterior as a canvas for spray paint. Bosch had had no clue to its purpose until the reservoir caretaker had volunteered the information. The pipe was a mud break. Heavy rain, the caretaker said, could loosen earth and send mud sliding off the hillsides and into the reservoir. The three-foot-wide pipe, left over from some unknown district project or boondoggle, had been placed in a predicted slide area as the reservoir's first and only defense. The pipe was held in place by half-inch- thick iron rebar that looped over it and was embedded in concrete below.

    Bosch had put on the jumpsuit before going into the pipe. The letters LAPD were printed in white across the back. After taking it out of the trunk of his car and stepping into it, he realized it was probably cleaner than the suit he was trying to protect. But he wore it anyway, because he had always worn it. He was a methodical, traditional, superstitious detective.

    As he had crawled with flashlight in hand into the damp-smelling, claustrophobic cylinder, he felt his throat tighten and his heartbeat quicken. A familiar emptiness in his gut gripped him. Fear. But he snapped on the light and the darkness receded along with the uneasy feelings, and he set about his work.


    Excerpted from The Black Echo by Michael Connelly. Copyright © 2013 Michael Connelly. Excerpted by permission of Grand Central Publishing.
    All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
    Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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      This is the first book of the thrilling Harry Bosch Series. Although this book isn't my favorite of the series, it really sets you up and helps you get to know Harry and how he operates. Michael Connely is a fantastic writer who gets better and better with each book he writes! This series gets your heart pounding as Harry Bosch gets closer and closer to the killer. When the book is over, only then will you realize you were holding your breath the whole time, and you won't be able to wait to pick up the next in the series.

      If you are planning to read this series I suggest that you go to Michael Connelly's web site and get a list of all his books. He also has the Terry McCaleb, Jack McEvoy, Rachel Walling and Mickey Haller series that all intertwine with the Harry Bosch series. I recommend that you read the books in the order they were written because it lets you get to know and understand these characters as they will all come into contact and have relations with Harry Bocsh in the following books. Enjoy!

      82 out of 86 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted April 11, 2011

      First Bosch Novel

      This is my third Connelly book,but first of the Harry Bosch series I have read.It turns out this is the first of the Bosch series Connelly wrote.I've really enjoyed all three books so far and look forward to many more.

      While it is true this book contains many of the common cliches of crime novels,as other reviewers have stated,they don't take away from the readers enjoyment of this book.The story and characters still come off as believable.The occasional element of humor throughout the book makes it all the more enjoyable.The scene when Harry handcuffs the two internal affairs officers to the tree had me laughing out loud.All in all a good page turner.

      22 out of 23 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 8, 2011

      I'll buy more of this series.

      I loved the Lincoln Lawyer and when this book was offered for 99 cents, I eagerly bought it. I enjoyed the read, especially after reading a dreary cheap Nook book. I have already bought the second Harry Bosch book, Black Ice, and look forward to getting into that!

      11 out of 12 people found this review helpful.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted July 4, 2011

      Outstanding read

      Just enough twists to keep the balance. Great flow. Outstanding job here Michael.

      10 out of 13 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted April 12, 2011

      Love that Harry Bosch! sandy

      Where is this guy when you need him! This is the guy you want your side! A overlay of lively characters and side stories! Whoooha!!!

      8 out of 11 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 21, 2011

      Needs to research!!

      It is VERY clear that the author knows nothing of firearms, explosives or thier use. Harry didn't smell Cordite after C4 jad been used and the pd could tell that guns were full auto based on the impressions the butt plates made in the dirt!! Wow Mr Connelly can send me his next draft and I will edit the firearms,explosives and medical passages for free!

      6 out of 13 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 10, 2011


      Picked this up for. 99 would have been glad to pay the full price. Connelly is awesome.

      5 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted July 15, 2011

      Easy Read

      I found The Black Echo to be a very enjoyable and easy read. The story flowed from beginning to end with a level of detail that brought the story to life.

      4 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 12, 2011

      Loved it

      I could not put this book down from start to finish it was great...

      4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted July 9, 2011

      Good Read

      I bought this book because it was only 99 cents. I was pleasantly surprised at the way it kept my interest. I am going to continue to read the rest of the series.

      4 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted November 30, 2011


      I found reading the book to be "tedious" boring description after another of the routes Harry Bosch took driving thru LA. Also, there were many confusing/poorly constructed sentences... mistakes in punctuation and grammar. I was surprised because I have read and enjoyed several of Connelly's other books including The Lincoln Lawyer (my favorite) The Scarecrow and The Poet.

      3 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 21, 2011

      Loved it

      A terrific story highly recommend

      3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 11, 2011

      Slow read

      I bought this book as a 99 cent featured nook book. The reviews were great, but I cannot finish this book. It bores me to tears. I am abandoning a book for the first time ever. It's a typical who done it detective story. Very slow, unoriginal story. Not worth .99 to me.

      3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted September 15, 2011

      Unhappy with author

      These two boks are the same except for the first several pages. Ir read black echo and started black ice and was very dissapointed to see that the boks were baseicly the same. shame on the author or publisher for this disception.

      2 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 22, 2011

      Great cops and robbers book

      Great book good writing and storyline. Now I want to read the whole series . Ive never read Connelly before but certainly will continue to.

      2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 19, 2011

      An enchanting reaf

      This was my first novel by Miachel connelly. First i must say that the plot of the novel was quite good, how the seemingly disparate ends were tied up an progressed along. However, the end was not as enchanting as the beginning and middle sections of the plot. Yet, i would say that the author has done a very good job in presenting the different situations be it either at LAPD or at Vietnam tunnels. All in all both timeanc money well spent.

      2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 18, 2011

      Very good read

      This was my first Harry Bosch adventure. I enjoyed the writting of the story and the character. It has led me to purchase the next one in the series.

      2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 17, 2011


      Good twists, kept me guessing

      2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 16, 2011

      I'd recommend this book...

      I'm new to Michael Connelly. I thought this book was a worthwhile flowed nicely, the characters were developed sufficiently, and the plot was interesting...even though you do figure out "whodunnit" before it is exposed in the story line. But that's not always a bad thing because it adds to the suspense of when the hero will learn all the facts that you've learned through the development of the story. It was also educational in that I never really knew anything that detailed about our involvement in Vietnam.

      2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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    • Posted July 11, 2011

      Readable and realalistic

      Michael has become one of my favorite authors

      2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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