Look I was without my enormous Christie omnibus database for a day, so I had nothing to read, and I'm housesitting, and this was literally the only book in the house that wasn't by Susan Powter/about raising golden retrievers/the bible/the encyclopedia of Popular Mechanics. I've never read Dean Koontz before but he's so popular and there's nothing on television ever so I thought, ok, I'll read it.

My GOD what a waste. It's just terrible. It can't even follow its own logic. It's a not-at-all-veiled attack on critics of Koontz' oeuvre, and it's embarrassing (he names a number of prominent newspapers but not the NYT--is his evildoer supposed to be Michiko Kakutani, but a dude because ladies aren't capable of action-style evil?). I had considered delving into the extreme awfulness of it, but many Goodreads reviewers aready have, so there's no need to waste my time. At least now I know my lifelong assumption that Dean Koontz novels are terrible was correct, and that's quite gratifying. And oh how I longed for good old racist classist predictable Agatha. She may be repetitious and dull, but her universes are logical. And I've never stared at a photograph of her and imagined slapping her face, repeatedly, unlike old Koontzy. What a smug useless bastard.