Sunday, 1 December 2013

Dead Water by Ann Cleeves

Jimmy Perez stopped for breath and looked out to sea.

Poignant like a Turner painting, but I prefer viewing a painting rather than reading one.

A still, calm day, the light filtered through high cloud so that the water was shiny grey, like metal.  On the horizon a bank of fog.

If the author's mission is to bore me, she's succeeded. The only problem here is the moody character. There is a simile and some pathetic fallacy. But I find neither device entertaining in themselves.

Page 1 rambles on about pebbles in pockets and more description of a hill and lambs salted with some back story. Some lady called Fran is dead.

First thing said:

Some swearing at the end of chapter 2.

The only thing this opening does is make me want to travel to Shetland. Consequently, I imagine this book filling bookshelves in travel agencies around the world or serving as a resource for amateur meteorologists interested in the region.

Verdict: Fail

Rudy Globird

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