Having read the promos for this, I expected a thriller. In fact, it’s an extremely interesting mystery, with about 50pp of domestic drama as the opener, and a short thriller sequence close to the end! It held my interest throughout, and in fact I’d been going to give it five stars … until about the p380 mark, at which point the book loses its sense of pace.
It doesn’t slow down; far from it. But the rhythm or timing, of an absolutely excellent book are nearly as important (especially on the last lap) as the plot itself. Right at the point where the reader’s tongue is hanging out to know the why, what, how, when and who -- in other words, the resolution -- Goddard piles on more twists and mystery elements, until the plot blurs itself, confuses itself, loses focus.
No, it never became boring; but no, it never delivered the kick one expected, because it was overcooked, mis-timed -- a very strange criticism to level at the work of a writer with a colossal list of bestselling works behind him. But there it is … and there’s worse. The ending is “woolly.” There’s no other word I can use to describe it.
Yes, answers of a sort are given, but nothing is firm. The last person in the world who actually knew the truth has shuffled off this mortal coil, and rather than a razor-sharp ending, such as you get in any Dan Brown novel, or Indie Jones or Ben Gates movie, you’re left with a bundle of fascinating, informed speculation. You wanted answers. After 450pp, you *needed* answers. You didn’t get them. Not proper ones.
The characters who drive this story are rather difficult to like. Every one seems to need therapy! That doesn’t make them unrealistic, just rather unsympathetic. And there’s one other thing that didn’t gel…
These characters are crying poverty, desperate to coerce the clan patriarch into selling the family home in Cornwall for a tidy sum. They need the money badly, apparently -- two are out of work, two are desperate to retire, one is rapidly going bankrupt. So far, so good. But as the plot progresses, they start to hose money around without counting the cost: multiple plane tickets, international train tickets, hotels, restaurants, booze by the mega-liters. It all adds up to the kind of small fortune that people who’re short of cash Can. Not. Afford. Where the heck did they get this kind of dosh? And if they can afford to jet about, shell out for hotels and run up huge bar bills … the argument set out at the start of the book, that they’re desperate enough for cash to strongarm the old patriarch, doesn’t hold water.
Soooo … three stars only. It’s a good read, but if you were hoping for a sharp conclusion, characters you like, and no gaping loopholes, you’ll find yourself saying “hmmm,” as I did. Still, I enjoyed it enough to read Goddard again. I only paid $2 for this at an op shop, and if I can track down others of his books at the book exchange, I’ll go for another one!