Review of Two-Dollar Bill (Stone Barrington Novels) (Hardcover)

This book should be called 38 dinners at Elaine's instead of `2 Dollar Bill.' It seems like Stone, Dino, and a slew of other characters are spending every other page entering the restaurant. I feel a little bad trashing this book. The author photo of Stewart Woods shows the face of a man who appears humble and defenseless. But it was so bad, that even a defenseless chap like Woods deserves no sympathy. I am trying to remember earlier Barrington books. I know that I have not enjoyed the last couple of titles in the series. They are getting so outlandish and inconceivable that its like spending some time in the mind of a five year old playing with action figures rather than being led on a taught story under the capable hands of a true suspense writer.

`Two Dollar Bill' is probably the worst Barrington novel yet. It is very shoddily pieced together. There is no other way to put it than that Woods has lost his grasp as to what it is to be a genre writer. To start with the ins and outs of the plot are sheer lunacy. The amorphous character that is the namesake for the title is such a mass of conflicting personalities that it is difficult to accredit him with being little more than a device. `Two Dollar Bill' is used at the whim of the author to fit any need at any time in order to further along the story. Its as if he were an idea at the back of Woods mind that never seems to have been fleshed out.

Barrington himself has turned into a comic stereotype of his old self and his antics along with his friend's correlates with the old Keystone Cops movies of the silent era. A bunch of bumbling buffoons that belies the very notion of whether or not to take them seriously with out liberal uses of salt.

I would entirely pass this book by. Try one of Harlan Coben's earlier books that dose not employ the character of Myron Bolitar. Open up a Denis Lehane book or a Jim Harrison suspense novel. Any of these authors have easily distanced themselves from the dregs of Woods imagination. Save yourself the suffering of having to plow through one page of poorly written prose after another.




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Review of Dead Heat (Hardcover)

After I was "introduced" to Dick Francis a decade ago, I had a great time in the library, going through his many books.They are uniquelyDick Francis... he developed his own sub-genre of mystery writing.His last two, however, were, quite frankly, weak.

Was this the end?

Then came Dead Heat.

It's got that poor guy who gets beat up and in over his head.It's got that bulldog determination to right a wrong, and get the bad guys.And it's got horses and horse racing.

In other words, it is definitely Dick Francis.However, this time it is Dick Francis and son (Felix).

The plot line is intriguing and sharp.Culinary mastermind Max puts together a catered dinner for 200 and most become desperately ill with "food poisoning."To make matters worse (much worse), the very next day, a bomb goes off in Max's next meal event.

What is a restauranteur to do?

Find out "who dun-nit."

And that Max attempts to do, in typical Dick Francis style and grit.

You know, his novels aren't great literature.They are just plain fun.Max is a realistic character, with his own set of trials and tribulations.But he's pissed off that somebody is trying to wreak his restaurant and his good name.

He happens to also fall in love with something attached to a viola.

So, welcome back to Mr. Francis, and welcome forward to son Felix.I know that I speak for other Dick Francis fans in saying we look forward to your next installment!



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Review of Corsair (Hardcover)

I have noticed several reviews which acknowledge Clive Cussler's writing on Corsair--but I would like to clear something up: the Oregon Files books are NOT written by Cussler...NONE of them were. The first couple were written by Craig Dirgo (and were abysmal btw), and the rest have been authored by Jack DuBrul. Sure, Clive comes up with the story outline and makes suggestions here and there, but the ACTUAL novel is written by DuBrul.

Okay--enough of that...on to the review: Jack has outdone himself here with Corsair. This is one of those books where you either like it or not (for the most part anyway). Face it, some people have a talent for accepting a story, whether outlandish or not, and some want 100% authenticity throughout or it borders on pure drivel. While I'll admit that there are some places where authenticity are stretched a bit thin--but honestly, I don't CARE. Cussler has written several novels that border on outright science fiction (the base on the moon comes to mind...) and yet nobody seems too concerned with that...so perspective, folks...perspective.

DuBrul is a great writer and I've said for quite some time now that I've felt that if ANYONE in the action/adventure arena has the writing chops to de-throne Cussler, it's him...and I'd say Corsair goes a LONG way towards proving my point. Paul Kemprecos has managed to mirror Cussler's writing style MUCH better than Clive's son has in the last several Dirk Pitt stories. Reading the NUMA Files books are (for ME anyway) as close to reading a Cussler novel the way he USED to write back in the day as you can find. DuBrul's style is certainly every bit as cinematic as Clive's but also quite different. He places his own imprint on each story making it as unique to him as the earlier Pitt novels are to Cussler.

Again, the story is well told if not a bit far-fetched in a few places, but for THIS reader, that did NOTHING to alter my pure enjoyment of the latest Oregon Files tale. DuBrul really IS one of my favorite authors writing today and while I really, REALLY like his books with Cussler, I'm waiting to read another thriller featuring Phillip Mercer and his elderly half-drunken sidekick. Please tell me I won't have to wait much longer...???

Jack: WELL done! Now GET BUSY and bring back Mercer, dangit!



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