Night Train

It will be hard to talk about this book. So I’ll just talk like this book. That should give a good idea of what non-readers of this one are missing.

I am a read. When I read, that’s what I am, and I know to read makes me a read. No need for qualifiers when read is what we are. Got that? Good. That’s enough, right? You read me? Now we’ll talk about the narrating voice, which is a police.

(By the way, now I’m the narrating voice.)

Read this. I’ll give it to you to read. Maybe after reading you’ll understand. Maybe not. Probably you’ll think I’m a hack and don’t belong a police. Especially since I was set up to be such a typical police, me with my weird masculine name and checkered past and troubled childhood. But I’m the best police, and I’ve got nothing but awesome on me. So I got this case, the one that’s going to change me. Everybody gets this case, so it’s my turn. Maybe I’m just a hack police. I don’t know. I’ll solve this case. It’ll change me. Then I’ll lie about it. I don’t want anybody else to be changed. That’s just me.

Not you either. I’m not telling you. You read all this crap, then you’ll wonder, and you’ll never be changed. Except you’ll be 150 pages older. And I did that to you.

And I only used punctuation half the time. That was fun.

(I’m not the narrating voice anymore.)

So, confused? So was I. And I’m now 150 pages older, and I still don’t know whodunit. But I do know any cop book about a female police detective named Mike is a cliché waiting to happen, and I should have known better.