The Confession
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Like Carl Lewis, this one got me from out of the gate. But unlike Lewis, the promise that “The Confession” reeled me in with vanished down the stretch.
This book had it all: successful shrink with a penchant for infidelity, sexy Marin, intriguing (if not fresh) plot, a sleazy prosecutor, an angry wife, and a crooked cop. But where did it go wrong?
Good question. But I want to start with where it went right.
The first thing that stood out to me was the complexity written into the hero’s character. He’s a self-made man from humble beginnings. Yes, I know, lots of cliche right there. But what I liked about this character is that he was well aware of his shortcomings from a perspective we really don’t get in such books. He’s a shrink and early on he lets us know what to expect with him.
In an interesting peek, he uses a trick on himself that he uses with his patients — who are not really patients but instead people awaiting trial — and he describes himself from different angles in a form of self-evaluation to lead to greater insight. He’s a kid from a broken home with an absent father; he’s an adulterer; he’s a professional, successful and shallow.
All of these things give a twisted look at the man who’s leading us on the path of mystery. The complexity of his make-up plant us with the seed that he could have been the one to kill the many women in his wake — drugged and then strangled with neckties, no less!
From the outst, I found the pace of this book to be perfect: nice switches from the lead’s professional and personal life; illicit sex; the inkling that the good guys may not be so good. It wasn’t until the mid-point of the second act that things began to drag for me. I think it’s because I could tell where it was going. Perhaps because it actually began to drag.
In all, this wasn’t a bad read. I don’t wish to have my time back. But I think “The Confession” would have been shorter and been better.
Tags: books, goodness, intrigue, promise, promises, reading
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This nonsense has no redeeming value