Horrible, Halfbaked and a Rip-off Of JEFFERY DEAVER. CONNELLY HAS REALLY LOST HIS MOJO - BIG TIME.
Michael Connelly really disappoints. All of those reviews lauding him as the greatest crime writer are outdated and in the past. He is not a great crime writer - this book is about as disjointed as a Ferrari engine running on a Ford Transmission. The two themes of the dying newspaper industry and our technology dependence did not jive with the murder plot. It was always so obvious when Connelly sprinkled in his sour opinions on the fate of newspapers, so obvious that it felt ill-placed in the book to the point that he was beating readers over the head with his viewpoints.
Connelly claims to explore his characters in depth, but Jack McEvoy and Rachel Walling were about as one dimensional as James Patterson's characters. In fact, at points I thought I was reading a Patterson novel.
Connelly has really lost his touch. And he created a book that felt rushed to print, full of cardboard characters, unbelievable plotlines that jump around and result in more unbelievable reactions from the characters.
And the book strangely just - ENDED. There was no clever wrap-up except for an epilogue that read like a Reader's Digest snippet. Leaving so many unanswered questions and so many missed opportunities to explore the plot and the characters further. Too much energy focused on the dying newspapers that at some point, you almost wanted to turn the book over, look at Connelly's picture and say to it "Who cares Connelly, GET OVER IT AND GET ON WITH YOUR BOOK!"
It was also very second-rate that this book was a rip-off of JEFFERY DEAVER's The Broken Window, published a year before the Scarecrow. The similarities were so obvious and striking that the dust jackets could almost have been interchanged with readers not being able to tell the two apart. It seems as though Connelly wanted to vent on his newspaper views, then became a story idea thief and used Deaver's plot as a schematic for his poorly written, half-baked imitation.
And there is no explanation on the implausible antagonist. Why he does what he does is blown over with some strange child-abuse, one paragraph mentioning. It would have been more of a story to explore this guy called Carver then to read about McEvoy and his dying newspapers, or Rachel Walling and her childish on-again off-again association with the FBI. That stuff really does not happen that way. Do your research Connelly.
HERE IS A NEWSFLASH FOR ALL OF YOU PROSPECTIVE READERS: The newspapers are one their way out, and so, too, is Michael Connelly. Pathetic writing and half-baked, copied ideas make this an unsatisfying, grossly overrated book - a sin and a let down to the craft of writing.
Connelly can't get it together anymore.
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