I’m fully aware that I often need a good, swift kick in the ass, but seldom do I realize it so fully when I state that I treasure my time living this humdrum life above anything else on this planet, and proceed to squander it by reading something like Harlan Coben’s Hold Tight. Worse yet, I’ve got no one to blame but myself; I often reassure myself that a bad recommendation was someone else’s mistake, or a book endowed with awards and acclaim should have been better, and I was merely duped. This one was entirely my call, and I’ve got no excuses.
Adam Baye is a typical teenager, he’s generally a good kid that loves his family and playing on the school hockey team, but isn’t totally without his faults; he might occasionally skip a trig class to finger-pop that pimply girl with a low self-esteem who’ll do anything for a smidgen of acceptance, he might steal a few of mom’s Xanax to assist in his quest to get whack while chugging 40’s with his peeps, he’s cut in line at the cinema, and rumor has it that he once kicked a puppy. After the suicide of his best friend Spencer, Adam’s folks notice that he’s become increasingly withdrawn and behaving off kilter, and unable to effectively communicate with the kid in his time of duress, they decide to put spyware on his computer in the hopes this will give them a glimpse into what’s happening to their son. Mike Baye, Adam’s father and an accomplished surgeon, is against the idea, but his wife Tia eventually talks him into it, citing that it’s his responsibility as a father to protect his family and this is sadly part of the deal at this junction. Initially, their shady program uncovers distressing habits they would expect but are still a little uncomfortable having confirmed; the kid’s jacking off to bukkake videos, he’s pirated some Matchbox 20 songs (why, Lord, why?), and he’s friends with me on goodreads. These minor errs in judgment are completely cast aside when some of his IM conversations begin getting cryptic and seem to suggest their son might be getting involved in something a tad too dangerous and potentially illegal along with the son of the neighborhood cop, always a bad sign as those kids end up either total punks or policeman themselves, an undesirable fate either way. Concurrently, Spencer’s grief-stricken mother is playing Sherlock Holmes from home between snifters of cooking sherry and has come across some pretty solid evidence establishing that her son wasn’t alone on the night he allegedly committed suicide. When she presents this to the Baye’s, there’s no longer a doubt that something rotten is afoot.
As if this isn’t enough white-knuckle action, there are a few other storylines running through this clunker. A maniac named Nash is on a killing spree, and also menacing the local dive-bar denizens with his theory that if the bible is factual, than Adam and Eve’s children were either incestuous or monkey-fuckers to kick-start the human population. This absurdity provides an invitation for the inclusion of a wily female investigator, Loren Muse, following these irrational crimes and her valiant struggles to obtain and maintain respect in her nepotist precinct which refuses to take her seriously based solely on her gender. One of the Baye’s neighbor’s, a well-meaning-but-oft-shat-upon dude and his hairy, outcast daughter (befriended only by the Baye’s daughter, Jill, showing how prudently the focal family has imparted the concept of ‘seeing beneath the surface’ as their parental teachings) are used mainly as filler until their deeper involvement is uncovered. Lastly, Tia Baye is about as minor a major character as you can have, and while not acting as a privacy-invading tyrant at home, she’s a paralegal or something (I have no idea what a paralegal actually does) for an established ball-busting bitch who is finally giving Tia an opportunity to advance her career as her family begins falling apart. While the last does somewhat flesh out Tia’s character, the storyline itself is a failure from the start, as I wasn’t expecting the wife of a transplant surgeon to be hard up enough for employment to completely disregard her family in dire straits.
All of these elements eventually converge to form the sort of hokey climax which can be expected of the typical NY Times Bestseller in this day and age.
Now, nobody has actually approached me demanding an explanation for why I bothered to read this, but I really wish they would, as I’ve already got my alibi worked out, so I figure it would be a shame not to share it. I’d seen this book on the best-seller rack at the grocery store a few times, and actually managed to avoid giving in to the temptation of paying $9.99 for it. This was mainly because I couldn’t possibly justify spending ten bucks on a paperback. And even though I’ve recently been given some very sound advice from a fellow goodreader “if you wouldn’t buy it a cover price don’t buy it on sale” I hadn’t been clued in to this wisdom when I read Hold Tight and was ecstatic to save $9.49 by picking it up used. What had me intrigued was the whole spyware angle, I was totally sold on a story which vilifies this practice and exposes this software as the devil’s work. This is because my crazy girlfriend has spyware on this very computer, some shit called Specter Pro and a ‘keylogger’, which might be one and the same program, I’m unfortunately about a tenth as computer savvy as she is and I’m not really sure. This has proved to be somewhat inconvenient for a former scoundrel such as myself, and also seems a bit unfair seeing as this is a pretty one-sided deal, as I have no such methods of gathering intelligence on her activity. Now, I should probably confess that I’ve done things in the past which certainly tarnish my standing as a mate, and that a little heightened surveillance is probably warranted, but where this logic fails is assuming that it’s happening on the computer, as none of my actual wrongdoings involved email or instant messaging. What the hell am I going to do, talk all raw and nasty to someone and hump the floppy drive? Even if I did, is that so wrong, hell, that’s a shameful egg on my face, sister. In spite of years of walking the straight and narrow, the stigma lingers, and the Specter Pro remains, utilizing copious amounts of the computer’s memory/RAM stuff and causing it to run slower than a Biggest Loser contestant with diarrhea.
Everyone I’ve related this story to has asked why I put up with it. And that’s a pretty good question, isn’t trust supposed to be an integral part of a healthy relationship? At the same time, I also seem to see the sense in her assertion that if I have nothing to hide, what’s the big deal? These two points of view have proved irreconcilable over the years, and needless to say, my desire for continued intercourse with her has trumped my moral standings on the issue. Also, I do have to say that if there was anything of a computer-related nature which could have resulted in my behaving badly, constant fear of Big Brother keeps me in line (even though I’m still routinely bitched out at for things, which never ceases to amaze me, such as accepting a Facebook friend invitation from people I’ve never gotten my freak on with).
So, having firsthand experience as a tragic victim of the spyware epidemic begat by insecure significant others and paranoid parents the world over, I thought that I’d have some sort of commonality with this book making it more interesting, but unfortunately, none of my shenanigans were as remarkable as to involve teenage prescription drug abuse and a former black ops agent gone homicidal, only making me feel as if I’m not living my life to its fullest potential.