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I managed to muddle through the first two parts of the Western Canon (Harold Bloom) before finally deciding to throw in the towel, for the moment. Clearly, I’m not ready for this tome, which is not to say I didn’t take anything away from it. At least I can now manage to pull off a decent literary-name-dropping. =.=

Anyhow, I’m going to go on a paperback reading spree to unwind my head a bit, focusing on the thriller/suspense genre--my all time favorite. Let it be a lesson to never pick a random paperback from library shelves without first reading some reviews on the author (but in my case, the reviews I would later read are just as misleading). The random paperback I happened to choose is Urge to Kill (John Lutz). I'm not familiar with this author at all, but the cover looked promising. Boy, was I wrong. What a royal waste of three half-days. So I'm going to lash out a bit to make myself feel better.

                                      ★ 1/5

This is by far THE worst thriller/suspense paperback I’ve read. After finishing the book, I was rendered speechless by all the disappointments I felt toward this book, I had to go on Amazon to see what other readers felt about it. To my utter surprise, Urge received an average 4-star from about 30 readers. 30 is not many, I know, but still, what have you people been reading to give this book a 4 star?! Some headings from their comments include “Lutz always rocks”, “keep you on the edge of your seat”, “urge to read all Lutz books”. Well, if this kind of writing is supposed to keep me on the edge of my seat, the fact that I'm a loyal fan of Preston and Child would have made me leaping out my second-floor window half a dozen times already, out of genuine terror. Honestly, a few of their books DID keep me on the edge of my seat, and made me stare, wide-eyed, underneath my sheets after turning off the light (I often read them right before hitting the sack).


Urge falls flat on almost every front it's kind of unbelievable this book was actually published in this state. Maybe when rookies become veterans, readers (the ones who decided to stay around) become more forgiving and don’t really care anymore, acting out of simple habit to keep on reading their favorite authors? I suppose I can relate to that, since I have read every single Pendergast episode by P and C, even though a few of them clearly pale in comparison to the Relic, the Cabinet of Curiosities, and A Still Life of Crows. But over the years, I have built a certain level of confidence with regard to their writing and storytelling skills that even though sometimes they fail to pull out all stops, every P and C book still manages to land safely without crashing. But the case with Urge was quite different. NOTHING about this book impressed me. The writing is forgettable to say the best, redundant, all-over-the-place, and slightly affected. The smart-ass remarks did not impress in the beginning and got on my nerves as the so called “story” unfolds.


My greatest problem with the Urge is the story itself and how it is told. The idea that wealthy men who excel at safari-hunting and can’t hold back their overflowing male pride involve themselves in some kind of modern-day dueling contest in NYC is actually something very workable. But Urge manages to cast a dull and boring light over everything. And NYC's "Best", the team of exceptional and seasoned detectives (Frank Quinn-the protagonist, Pearl, and Fedderman) that gets recruited whenever high-profile cases occur, is the team of most inept detectives I’ve ever read. What exactly does this team contribute to solving the gruesome murders (the 25-caliber-dueling murders and the Slicer murders)? NEXT TO ZILCH. That’s right, the murders basically unfold as God sees fit and eventually get solved themselves. The detectives are too busy worrying about their smart-ass remarks, love affairs, and whether or not a mole on the nape could lead to malicious cancer (I’m not kidding).


The Lavern Neeson sub-story is another reason the Urge fails as a whole. Lavern Neeson almost becomes one of Slicer's prey if it weren't for the fact that she is a long time victim of domestic abuse. The Slicer, likely being a perfectionist, only chooses "prime meat", so he lets Lavern go without harming her. One brief chapter is more than enough to recount and wrap up Lavern's major lucky break. But the author, defying explanation, goes on and on about Lavern’s struggle against male abuse and her eventual triumph over self-degradation.


These random offshoots contribute nothing to advancing the case and just kind of trail off, leaving behind an awkward mess. It is not that thrillers can’t raise issues of social concern, it’s that these social concerns are MISSING THE POINT of the story, and making the storytelling incredible loose and all-over-the-place.


I also found it a bit far-fetched that the entire NYPD finds it acceptable to let Quinn and the murderer engage themselves in a final showdown of dueling, claiming it to be the ONLY way to solve the case. OH, and did I mention the NYPD decides not to back Quinn up in any way, and basically just sits back to enjoy a wild-wild-west show?


“Urge to read all Lutz books”? No, thank you. Next time, I will try my luck with a Connelly or a Baldacci.