The Ginger and I have completely different reading habits. He doesn’t read many books but remembers every detail. I read hundreds and can sometimes be halfway through one before realising I have read it before.
We both enjoy reading the same amount but he wants to picture the dappled light tripping across the mossy ground, whereas I want to know who stepped in that moss and where they are headed. In short, I’m in it for what happens next.
This, I imagine, makes me the ideal Douglas Kennedy reader because he is definitely a writer who knows how to keep you turning those pages. In his latest book – and yes, the last one was only five minutes ago – the main character Harry Ricks has lost nearly everything and yes, Douglas Kennedy’s main characters usually have.
In this case, Harry has fled to Paris and is hovering somewhere marginally above rock bottom when a sexy older woman enters the picture. Things were already pear-shaped and you couldn’t exactly say they improve once Harry starts keeping regular rendezvous with the mysterious oagrit, but to tell you any more would ruin the delectable urge to keep turning those pages.
Suffice to say, everything you think is odd has an explanation but the explanation is the oddest thing of all. No one does trapped-in-a-living-nightmare quite like Douglas Kennedy. A very different look at Paris, and the dark forces that just might haunt a man who has lost nearly everything.
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