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A review by weaselweader
The Final Detail by Harlan Coben
4.0
“But bosoms do funny things to people.”
“Men … become brain-dead. It’s as if the nipples shoot out like two grapefruit spoons, dig into their frontal lobe, and scrape away all cognitive thought.”
Myron Bolitar is an aging wannabe professional basketball player whose pro career was destroyed by a knee injury before that career even had a real chance to get started. So he settled on the career of sports management and agency but he seems to be a perennial magnet for criminal shenanigans, most notably murder. Given that it’s typical thriller brain candy, THE FINAL DETAIL’s plot line is hardly material. That said, the problem is that Myron’s friend and business partner, Esperanza Diaz, has been charged with the murder of one of their clients. And that, of course, is definitely a problem. Aside from the obvious, the likelihood is that such a scandal will simply crush their livelihood and business forever. Myron is going to clear Diaz by whatever means it takes, fair or foul.
Aside from the obvious mystery and thriller components of THE FINAL DETAIL, Harlan Coben has gifted his protagonists, Myron Bolitar and his über-wealthy but definitely noir compatriot Windsor Horne Lockwood III, with the gift of wise-cracking repartee. Despite the fact that the smart-ass dialogue never seems to run dry, Coben seems to have mastered the ability to keep it under control and prevent it from going stale, going over the top, or simply becoming tiresome. Move over Spenser, Elvis Cole, and John Corey – you need to share some smart-aleck bench space with newcomer Myron Bolitar.
Perhaps part of the reason that Bolitar’s wit and wise-cracking never run to stale is because Coben has often couched Bolitar’s lines in intelligent insights on a variety of issues facing today’s society – sexism and misogyny, for example, as per the above quotation. Or how about this one on the thin line that separates a professional athlete’s fame, celebrity, and wealth from the rest of the world?
“ … with athletes, you can see your alternate life a little too clearly. You have the ability to throw the ball just a little faster than the next guy, you end up a god rather than the most pitiful of mortals. You get the girls, the fame, the big house, the money instead of the rats, the dull anonymity, the crummy apartment, the menial job. You get to go on TV and offer life insights. People want to be near you and hear you speak and touch the hem of your cloak. Just because you can hurl the rawhide with great velocity or put an orange ball in a metallic circle … You are special. Nuts when you think about it.”
(And the USA is about to put the truth to that by allowing a certifiable moron like Herschel Walker to actually run for public office. But I digress)
Not memorable but definitely enjoyable and a simple novel to recommend.
Paul Weiss
“Men … become brain-dead. It’s as if the nipples shoot out like two grapefruit spoons, dig into their frontal lobe, and scrape away all cognitive thought.”
Myron Bolitar is an aging wannabe professional basketball player whose pro career was destroyed by a knee injury before that career even had a real chance to get started. So he settled on the career of sports management and agency but he seems to be a perennial magnet for criminal shenanigans, most notably murder. Given that it’s typical thriller brain candy, THE FINAL DETAIL’s plot line is hardly material. That said, the problem is that Myron’s friend and business partner, Esperanza Diaz, has been charged with the murder of one of their clients. And that, of course, is definitely a problem. Aside from the obvious, the likelihood is that such a scandal will simply crush their livelihood and business forever. Myron is going to clear Diaz by whatever means it takes, fair or foul.
Aside from the obvious mystery and thriller components of THE FINAL DETAIL, Harlan Coben has gifted his protagonists, Myron Bolitar and his über-wealthy but definitely noir compatriot Windsor Horne Lockwood III, with the gift of wise-cracking repartee. Despite the fact that the smart-ass dialogue never seems to run dry, Coben seems to have mastered the ability to keep it under control and prevent it from going stale, going over the top, or simply becoming tiresome. Move over Spenser, Elvis Cole, and John Corey – you need to share some smart-aleck bench space with newcomer Myron Bolitar.
Perhaps part of the reason that Bolitar’s wit and wise-cracking never run to stale is because Coben has often couched Bolitar’s lines in intelligent insights on a variety of issues facing today’s society – sexism and misogyny, for example, as per the above quotation. Or how about this one on the thin line that separates a professional athlete’s fame, celebrity, and wealth from the rest of the world?
“ … with athletes, you can see your alternate life a little too clearly. You have the ability to throw the ball just a little faster than the next guy, you end up a god rather than the most pitiful of mortals. You get the girls, the fame, the big house, the money instead of the rats, the dull anonymity, the crummy apartment, the menial job. You get to go on TV and offer life insights. People want to be near you and hear you speak and touch the hem of your cloak. Just because you can hurl the rawhide with great velocity or put an orange ball in a metallic circle … You are special. Nuts when you think about it.”
(And the USA is about to put the truth to that by allowing a certifiable moron like Herschel Walker to actually run for public office. But I digress)
Not memorable but definitely enjoyable and a simple novel to recommend.
Paul Weiss