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In novels that crackle with wit and suspense, Harlan Coben has created one of the most fascinating heroes in suspense fiction: the wisecracking, tenderhearted sports agent Myron Bolitar. In this gripping third novel in the acclaimed series, Myron must confront a past that is dead and buried—and more dangerous than ever before.
The home is top-notch New Jersey suburban. The living room is Martha Stewart. The basement is Legos—and blood. The signs of a violent struggle. For Myron Bolitar, the disappearance of a man he once competed against is bringing back memories—of the sport he and Greg Downing had both played and the woman they both loved. Now, among the stars, the wannabes, the gamblers, and the groupies, Myron is embarking upon the strange ride of a sports hero gone wrong that just may lead to certain death. Namely, his own.
"Fast action, snappy dialogue...[An] enjoyable read."—Toronto Star
Harlan Coben is the winner of the Edgar, Shamus, and Anthony awards. His critically acclaimed novels have been published in thirty-three languages around the world and have been number one bestsellers in more than half a dozen countries. In addition to the Myron Bolitar series (Deal Breaker, Drop Shot, Fade Away, Back Spin, One False Move, The Final Detail, Darkest Fear, and the upcoming Promise Me), he is also the author of Tell No One, Gone for Good, The Innocent, The Woods, and Hold Tight.
Debuting in 1995, the series that cemented Coben's reputation revolves around Myron Bolitar, a wisecracking sports agent who always finds himself getting into trouble, via his clients or his own past. What's endearing about these books is Coben's willingness to have fun as he spins a story. He might poke fun the yuppie wardrobe of Bolitar's partner, Win, or his gal Friday (and sometime female wrestler), Big Cyndi's, tendency to wear "more makeup than the cast of Cats." There's a slight boys' club air to the series, but it's more frat house than locker room -- or more appropriately, rec room, since Bolitar finds himself still living at his parents' in his early 30s.
Sports-averse readers should not avoid the Bolitar books; in the end, sports play only a peripheral role in the story, which is primarily about the mystery. Given this, it's not surprising that Coben has called William Goldman's Marathon Man one of his favorite thrillers and has cited Philip Roth and Alfred Hitchcock as influences.
And yes, there's certainly life beyond Bolitar! Coben has crafted a number of superb stand-alone thrillers filled with tortuous twists and turns and peopled with characters you can't help but root for. In a 2001 interview, the author stated, "I love a book that sneaks up behind you at the end and slaps you in the back of the head." Ultimately, that describes everything in Harlan Coben's oeuvre.
Coben advises aspiring writers thusly: "Write. Don't take classes. Don't join workshops. Don't listen to me," he told the Charlotte Austin Review. "Just write. Oh, and cut. Cut a lot. You're probably not editing yourself enough. Then rewrite. Then rewrite again. Repeat. Like with shampooing."
Coben says his mother was his best literary inspiration in an interview with the Page One literary newsletter. "We'd go to the old Barnes & Noble in Manhattan (back then, if you can believe this, I think there was only one) and spend the entire day. We didn't have much money back then and we almost never bought toys -- but we were always allowed to get whatever books we wanted."
In our interview, Coben shared more fun facts:
"I once worked as a tour guide in the Costa del Sol of Spain."
"I pretty much only wear Lilly Pulitzer ties because my best friend owns the company."
Chapter One
Just behave.”
“Me?” Myron said. “I’m always a delight.”
Myron Bolitar was being led through the corridor of the darkened Meadowlands Arena by Calvin Johnson, the New Jersey Dragons new general manager. Their dress shoes clacked sharply against the tile and echoed through empty Harry M. Stevens food stands, Carvel Ice Cream carts, pretzel vendors, souvenir booths. The smell of sporting-event hot dogs—that sort of rubbery, chemically, yet nostalgically delicious aroma—wafted from the walls. The stillness of the place consumed them; there is nothing more hollow and lifeless than an empty sports arena.
Calvin Johnson stopped in front of a door leading to a luxury box. “This may all seem a bit strange,” he said. “Just go with the flow, okay?”
“Okay.”
Calvin reached for the knob and took a deep breath. “Clip Arnstein, the owner of the Dragons, is in there waiting for us.”
“And yet I’m not trembling,” Myron said.
Calvin Johnson shook his head. “Just don’t be an ass.”
Myron pointed to his chest. “I wore a tie and everything.”
Calvin Johnson opened the door. The luxury box faced midcourt. Several workers were putting down the basketball floor over the hockey ice. The Devils had played the night before. Tonight was the Dragons’ turn. The box was cozy. Twenty-four cushioned seats. Two tele-vision monitors. To the right was a wood-paneled counter for the food—usually fried chicken, hot dogs, potato knishes, sausage and pepper sandwiches, that sort of stuff. To the left was a brass cart with a nicely stocked bar and minifridge. The box also had its own bathroom—this so the corporate high rollers would not have to urinate with the great unwashed.
Clip Arnstein faced them, standing. He wore a dark blue suit with a red tie. He was bald with patches of gray over both ears. He was burly, his chest still a barrel after seventy-some-odd years. His large hands had brown spots and fat blue veins like garden hoses. No one spoke. No one moved. Clip glared hard at Myron for several seconds, examining him from head to toe.
“Like the tie?” Myron asked.
Calvin Johnson shot him a warning glance.
The old man made no movement toward them. “How old are you now, Myron?”
Interesting opening question. “Thirty-two.”
“You playing any ball?”
“Some,” Myron said.
“You keep in good shape?”
“Want me to flex?”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
No one offered Myron a seat and no one took one. Of course the only chairs in here were the spectator seats, but it still felt weird to stand in a business setting where you’re supposed to sit. Standing suddenly became difficult. Myron felt antsy. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He took out a pen and held it, but that didn’t feel right. Too Bob Dole. He stuck his hands in his pockets and stood at a weird angle, like the casual guy in the Sears circular.
“Myron, we have an interesting proposition for you,” Clip Arnstein said.
“Proposition?” Always the probing interrogatory.
“Yes. I was the one who drafted you, you know.”
“I know.”
“Ten, eleven years ago. When I was with the Celtics.”
“I know.”
“First round.”
“I know all this, Mr. Arnstein.”
“You were a hell of a prospect, Myron. You were smart. You had an unbelievable touch. You were loaded with talent.” “I coulda been a contenda,” Myron said.
Arnstein scowled. It was a famous scowl, developed over some fifty-plus years in professional basketball. The scowl had made its first appearance when Clip played for the now-defunct Rochester Royals in the forties. It grew more famous when he coached the Boston Celtics to numerous championships. It became a legendary trade-mark when he made all the famous trades (“clipping” the competition, ergo the nickname) as team president. Three years ago Clip had become majority owner of the New Jersey Dragons and the scowl now resided in East Rutherford, right off Exit 16 of the New Jersey Turnpike. His voice was gruff. “Was that supposed to be Brando?”
“Eerie, isn’t it? Like Marlon’s actually in the room.”
Clip Arnstein’s face suddenly softened. He nodded slowly, giving Myron the doelike, father-figure eyes. “You make jokes to cover the pain,” he said gravely. “I understand that.”
Dr. Joyce Brothers.
“Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Arnstein?”
“You never played in a single professional game, did you, Myron?”
“You know very well I didn’t.”
Clip nodded. “Your first preseason game. Third quarter. You already had eighteen points that game. Not bad for a rookie in his first scrimmage. That was when fate took over.”
Fate took the form of big Burt Wesson of the Washington Bullets. There had been a collision, a searing pain, and then nothing.
“Awful thing,” Clip said.
“Uh huh.”
“I always felt bad about what happened to you. Such a waste.”
Myron glanced at Calvin Johnson. Calvin was looking off, arms crossed, his smooth black features a placid pool. “Uh huh,” Myron said again.
“That’s why I’d like to give you another chance.”
Myron was sure he’d heard wrong. “Pardon?”
“We have a slot open on the team. I’d like to sign you.”
Myron waited. He looked at Clip. Then he looked at Calvin Johnson. Neither one was laughing. “Where is it?” Myron asked.
“What?”
“The camera. This is one of those hidden camera shows, right? Is this the one with Ed McMahon? I’m a big fan of his work.”
“It’s not a joke, Myron.”
“It must be, Mr. Arnstein. I haven’t played competitive ball in ten years. I shattered my knee, remember?”
“All too well. But as you said, it was ten years ago. I know you went through rehabilitation to rebuild it.”
“And you also know I tried a comeback. Seven years ago. The knee wouldn’t hold up.”
“It was still too early,” Clip said. “You just told me you’re playing again.”
“Pickup games on weekends. It’s a tad different than the NBA.”
Clip dismissed the argument with a wave of his hand. “You’re in shape. You even volunteered to flex.”
Myron’s eyes narrowed, swerving from Clip to Calvin Johnson, back to Clip. Their expressions were neutral. “Why do I have the feeling,” Myron asked, “that I’m missing something here?”
Clip finally smiled. He looked over to Calvin Johnson. Calvin Johnson forced up a return smile.
“Perhaps I should be less”—Clip paused, searched for the word—“opaque.”
“That might be helpful.”
“I want you on the team. I don’t much care if you play or not.”
Myron waited again. When no one continued, he said, “It’s still a bit opaque.”
Clip let loose a long breath. He walked over to the bar, opened a small hotel-style fridge, and removed a can of Yoo-Hoo. Stocking Yoo-Hoos. Hmm. Clip had been prepared. “You still drink this sludge?”
“Yes,” Myron said.
He tossed Myron the can and poured something from a decanter into two glasses. He handed one to Calvin Johnson. He signaled to the seats by the glass window. Exactly midcourt. Very nice. Nice leg room too. Even Calvin, who was six-eight, was able to stretch a bit. The three men sat next to one another, all facing the same way, which again felt weird in a business setting. You were supposed to sit across from one another, preferably at a table or desk. Instead they sat shoulder to shoulder, watching the work crew pound the floor into place.
“Cheers,” Clip said.
He sipped his whiskey. Calvin Johnson just held his. Myron, obeying the instructions on the can, shook his Yoo-Hoo.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Clip continued, “you’re a lawyer now.”
“I’m a member of the bar,” Myron said. “I don’t practice much law.”
“You’re a sports agent.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t trust agents,” Clip said.
“Neither do I.”
“For the most part, they’re bloodsucking leeches.”
“We prefer the term ‘parasitic entities,’?” Myron said. “It’s more PC.”
Clip Arnstein leaned forward, his eyes zeroing in on Myron’s. “How do I know I can trust you?”
Myron pointed at himself. “My face,” he said. “It screams trustworthiness.”
Clip did not smile. He leaned a little closer. “What I’m about to tell you must remain confidential.”
“Okay.”
“Do you give me your word it won’t go any farther than this room?”
“Yes.” Clip hesitated, glanced at Calvin Johnson, shifted in his seat. “You know, of course, Greg Downing.”
Of course. Myron had grown up with Greg Downing. From the time they had first competed as sixth graders in a town league less than twenty miles from where Myron now sat, they were instant rivals. When they reached high school, Greg’s family moved to the neighboring town of Essex Fells because Greg’s father did not want his son sharing the basketball spotlight with Myron. The personal rivalry then began to take serious flight. They played against each other eight times in high school, each winning four games. Myron and Greg became New Jersey’s hottest recruits and both matriculated at big-time basketball colleges with a storied rivalry of their own—Myron to Duke, Greg to North Carolina.
The personal rivalry soared.
During their college careers, they had shared two Sports Illustrated covers. Both teams won the ACC twice, but Myron picked up a national championship. Both Myron and Greg were picked first-team All-American, both at the guard spots. By the time they both graduated, Duke and North Carolina had played each other twelve times. The Myron-led Duke had won eight of them. When the NBA draft came, both men went in the first round.
The personal rivalry crashed and burned.
Myron’s career ended when he collided with big Burt Wesson. Greg Downing sidestepped fate and went on to become one of the NBA premier guards. During his ten-year career with the New Jersey Dragons Downing had been named to the All-Star team eight times. He led the league twice in three-point shooting. Four times he led the league in free-throw percentage and once in assists. He’d been on three Sports Illustrated covers and had won an NBA championship.
Suzi_K
Posted Fri Apr 09 00:00:00 EDT 2010
I Also Recommend:
This book is the First Myron Bolitar series and I could not put it down. The first Book of Coban's I read was The Woods and after that I was hooked. As I explained to my father (who also enjoys a good book) Coban's books are non stop from page 1 throughout the end. I used to think Dan Brown was my favorite author, but Harlan Coban beats him by leaps and bounds. Read this book and all the rest - anyone who enjoys a good can't put down book will love all the Harlan Coban's.
4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.
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Posted Mon Aug 25 00:00:00 EDT 2008
Fade Away is a solid Thriller/Mystery novel from cover to cover. I am not usually a big fan of the genre and even though my father bought this book for me, I still really enjoyed it. Coben's character Marvin Bolitar is a ex-FBI agent who previously had a career ending injury and is now asked to join the New Jersey Dragons, a NBA team. The reader is thrust from the beginning beyond this simple story of living ones dream when we learn that Bolitar is not expected to actually play for the team, but rather he is investigating the murder of one of the star players who has mysteriously dissapeared who just happens to be his former rival. The novel begins with basketball being a main focus eventually transitioning to more of a mystery and involves a robbery and many other elements of crime from the past. One of the reasons I enjoyed the novel is because it is able to remain serious throughout the novel while being humourous at the same time because of Marvin's actions and thoughts. Many of the characters such as Esperanza and Big Cyndi have a large part in creating this effect. The main part of the storyline keeps the reader interested and preparted for the fantastic ending that Corben has written, which was truly surprising and fufilling of a great novel such as this one. One of the main reasons that this novel really kept me entertained was the dialogue. It was able to move the story foward in an effective manner while at the same time able to remain witty and insightful. Marvin's many comments on the world around him serve as one of the more entertaining parts of the novel to me. The best part of the novel to me was the ending. Coben is able to create an ending that though it is not expexted and surprising is still reasonable and makes sense when one looks at the novel at a whole. Harlan creatively ties together the multiple story lines of the novel into one cohesive ending, and even leaves the reader with some suspsense of what is going to come afterwords. I would recommend this book to others and I plan on reading more of Corbens work.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Posted Tue Jun 26 00:00:00 EDT 2012
If you like any of Bruce Willis's movies where he is a tad bit of a smartie pants, you'll love Myron. I've thoroughly enjoyed this series and can hardly wait to start the next book.
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Posted Fri Jun 22 00:00:00 EDT 2012
I'm addicted to the Myron Bolitar series. I never really figured out "who did it" till the very end. Great book and as always Harlan Coben kept my attention with his "witty" sense of humor and Colorful characters.
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Posted Fri Apr 20 00:00:00 EDT 2012
Some of my favorite books of all time are from coben like Tell No One and No Second Chance. I love sports and thought the combination of basketball and mystery would be great. But this book was not memorable and the basketball scenes are not possible. Still one ofmy top 5 authors.
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Posted Sun Oct 23 00:00:00 EDT 2011
Harlan Coben is in my opion one of the top mystery writers today, he keeps you in suspense and has twists and turns throughout while being reall down to earth,, I am on my 6th Myron Bolitar series book....Stallion
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.This 3rd installmenr was the best so far.
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Posted Sun Apr 11 00:00:00 EDT 2010
I discovered Harlan Coben and Myron a few months ago and I just love it. I have so much reading them and this book is no different than the others. They are equally great and the best one is whatever I am currently reading. The audio-books are great too if anybody is interested. The characters make these books so much fun. Winn is the coolest guy ever! i hope they have a Myron Bolitar movie or movies one day.
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Posted Wed Nov 11 00:00:00 EST 2009
Coben has a writing style that is fun to read and the characters are fun to follow
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Posted Wed Jul 01 00:00:00 EDT 2009
love myron bolitar!! keep 'em coming
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Posted Sat Jun 06 00:00:00 EDT 2009
i love the myron bolitar series
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.If you were a successful mystery writer and you suddenly needed to come up with some pocket money, say to buy something frivolous, maybe a boat, you might go away for a long weekend and churn out a cute little story that was short on substance and maybe a little long on heart. Your readers would be happy, you'd have your quick cash, and the next thing you'd be sailing away, maybe thinking about that next real novel you were going to write. You know. The one with some substance, some character, some real plot- the kind that keeps your name up there with the good crime writers. After all, you wouldn't want to fade away.
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Posted Thu Aug 07 00:00:00 EDT 2008
Ten years ago an injury ended his stint in the NBA without him playing one professional regular season game, but though Myron Bolitar has always thought of what could have been he uses self deprecating humor to move on and mope over what was lost to fate. He spent time as the most visible undercover FBI agent in the country (remember this is pre Plame days) before deciding to become a sports agent.---------------- New Jersey Dragons owner Chip Arnstein wants to hire Myron to find his longtime sports rival going back to the sixth grade and the ACC, Greg Downing, who has had an illustrious pro career. The word to the media is he sprained his ankle but on the street and in the Dragons front office Greg vanished five days ago. Using his not so honed FBI skills, Myron investigates with clues leading to a corpse, gambling, bold thirsty point shaving mobsters and a bit of everything else. Myron realizes he never came to grips with the injury that ended his career before it began.--------- The reprint of the third Bolitar tale (see DEAL BREAKER and DROPSHOT) is a superb story that easily overcomes the initial credibility of an owner hiring a sports agent to play sleuth due to the hero. Myron is wisecracking throughout targeting himself more so than others, but as he gets closer to finding his firmer rival, he realizes the humor hides his disappointment. This is a terrific series that holds up nicely a decade plus since its first printing as this entry affirms.------------ Harriet Klausner
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Posted Thu Oct 26 00:00:00 EDT 2006
A great read, a touching conclusion, and an outstanding addition to the Bolitar series.
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Posted Thu Dec 15 00:00:00 EST 2005
I am addicted to Myron Bolitar so this noevel was, i have to say, one of the best books i have read. The plot is gripping form start to finish, the humor out of this world-Harlan Coben is simply the best.
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Posted Sat May 15 00:00:00 EDT 2004
Wow... that sums up this novel. I've read 3 other Myron books and 3 of his stand alones, and 'Fade Away' is as good as my previous favorite of Coben, 'Gone For Good' (a stand-alone). Fade Away definitely deserved the Edgar Award. It was also the wittiest of all of Coben's books that I've read. I literally laughed out loud. The fact that Coben followed this masterpiece with such an average novel 'Backspin' is beyond me.
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Posted Thu Aug 28 00:00:00 EDT 2003
Excellent book -- worthy of the Edgar award. Harlan Coben keeps a quick pace, high wit, and adds lots of intriguing characters who are never quite what they appear to be. He is a joy to read and this book, in my opinion, rates as one of his best.
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Posted Fri Jun 29 00:00:00 EDT 2001
The writer suspends his reader from beginning to end...great story, great plot, one for everyone.
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Posted Tue May 03 00:00:00 EDT 2011
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Posted Wed Jan 19 00:00:00 EST 2011
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Overview
In novels that crackle with wit and suspense, Harlan Coben has created one of the most fascinating heroes in suspense fiction: the wisecracking, tenderhearted sports agent Myron Bolitar. In this gripping third novel in the acclaimed series, Myron must confront a past that is dead and buried—and more dangerous than ever before.
The home is top-notch New Jersey suburban. The living room is Martha Stewart. The basement is Legos—and ...