Worth Dying For, II
On Sunday, I wrote that Lee Child’s 15th and newest Jack Reacher thriller, Worth Dying For, would be available on Tuesday. I speculated that “I’ll start it Tuesday night, read a little bit each night through Friday, then finish it Saturday.
Ha. I finished it half an hour ago, which is to say, Thursday night. I feel cheap, somehow. Manipulated, powerless to resist. It wasn’t even one of Child’s better efforts, much weaker than its predecessor, the superb 61 Hours, which came out last May. But no matter. One page in and I was hooked.
At least I’m not alone. My friend Werner wrote me last week saying he needs to join Reacher Addicts Anonymous. And get this. The current New Yorker, which arrived at our house today, has a four-page (!) ad for Worth Dying For. Evidently I’m completely predictable, a high-brow type of guy living a more dangerous, adventurous, violent (but all-observant, brilliantly calculating) life through Jack.
In case you’re thinking I can’t be that swept up by Reacher novels if I can put one down to look at a New Yorker, let me assure you that I have yet to read a word of the new issue. Joel’s the one who paged through it, found the ad, and showed it to me.
I have my life back. But I want Jack to get to Virginia already. And I want to be there when he does.
