First the good news. A new Harlan Coben novel. A mildly diverting thriller, and one I enjoyed (to a point). If you're heading for the beach this summer and want an undemanding read, you could do a lot, lot worse. (Although not a lot, lot, lot worse because the new Dan Brown - god help us all - is not available until September).
The not so good news, in particular for long-time devotees of Myron Bolitar is that this is such a long way from being Coben's best work that I wonder if the Myron series has now run its course. At its best this series was funny, fast and fulfilling. I loved the early stuff so much I trudged around the book stores of London hunting down import copies before they were published in the UK,and did not resent the inflated prices I had to pay for US hardbacks.
It's just as well I didn't have to do this for Long Lost, I would not have been happy. Much of the book felt contrived and forced as if Coben had a template for location and character development and then shoe-horned a plot into it. A square plot into a round hole.
The book starts with Myron in New Jersey, apparently settled in a relationship and busy in work. But then a desperate request for help from an old flame in some trouble in Paris. He is disinclined to help. But suddenly after a bizarre fight with a local cop at a little league game, he not only is no longer in relationship and needs to get out of the country quickly!! And why not Paris?
At this point my mind wandered back to Ne Le Dis à Personne, the excellent French film adaptation of Tell No One, and I started thinking that after Coben's time on the set there (he appears in the background at one point as a train passenger) he's decided to introduce the delights of gai Paris to his readership. Because there really didn't seem to be any other reason for him to be there.
Anyway, you'll get over that I told myself. And (again, to a point) I did. A decent enough plot develops around the murder of Myron's old flame's ex-husband for which the old flame, Therese, becomes number one suspect, while the DNA of her long-dead daughter is found on the scene.
As Myron investigates, however, the implausible, incredible and unlikely quickly pile up. First we're in London, fleeing the French police. And here's Mossad beating Myron up. Win (Myron's ultra rich, psychotic side-kick) conveniently shows up with a friend in the NSA, or the CIA or some other shady organisation with a TLA. Myron is abducted, water-boarded, tortured personally by Dick Cheney while Therese disappears. (I made the Cheney part up, but you get the point). And in the background is the least likely, silliest terror plot imaginable all of which builds up to a fairly silly conclusion.
It's a great shame. In his heyday, Myron was a wise-cracking Jerry Maguire, one of the most enjoyable and funny characters out there. But this was a mess, and Myron was a bit of a mess with it.
There are some redeeming features. The dialogue, particularly the interplay between Myron and Win, crackles along in places - in particular in some schoolboy humour, Carry On movie scenes revolving around Win's latest squeeze, a woman called Mee. ("Mee horny", "some Mee time" etc etc. And Coben still manages to keep the daft plot moving at such a place and on occasion with such flare that you can overcome the flaws and the silliness and enjoy the narrative.
But from one of the great exponents of the genre - and I defer to nobody in my admiration of Coben's work - this is a weak outing and one in which the Myron franchis felt tired and deflated. Has it run its course? I do hope not, but it needs some revitalising after this.
