This was an enjoyable enough thriller but, while I liked it I did not love it as much as I really wanted to.
Some of the things I failed to love about it may be due to the fact that the author is still a relatively young writer and, at least in this case, is writing a book set in America when he is not American. It seems to me that this may account for how flat a lot of the scenes felt to me, the writing didn't transport me to the locations I was reading about, they just seemed like anonymous backdrops. A lot of the praise I have read for this author's previous work was based on using Auckland as a setting and perhaps the first book by this author that I should have read is one of those.
Early in the book, I felt that there were too many individual narratives: While it was clear that eventually all the separate threads would tie together it made the early part of the book, at times, something of a chore which is not really what you want when starting a new novel. This was very much exacerbated by the fact that the chapters were tiny enough to make me grit my teeth; Five pages is NOT chapter! Five pages is so short that as you start to get the hang of what you are reading about the narrative frustratingly chops off, and, my bad, but I was at chapter four before I realised that each title gave you the name of the person you were reading about, this was essential information because at that point two of the characters were so identically I was struggling to tell which I was reading about.
Which brings me to my next criticism, the chilly detachment of the lead characters, both the main men, for sure, but also the woman. While the characters struck me as really well conceived and remarkably understated in a pretty awesome way (which, for me, made them a little less believable as Americans) and while they were written in a straightforward manner that made them very accessible for a thriller (at least when you get to read them for more than a couple of pages at a time), despite this, they remained frustratingly distant from the reader. Marshall and Bannister especially, they did not give enough of themselves, early enough in the book to become emotionally involved in their stories at all. Rojas was better, he seemed more fleshed out and while he was a despicable character he was actually easier to bond with than the mains. Or was that the intention of the author? I suppose it might have been.
Since this is a #1 in a series that (according to the publisher) aims for the Lee Child type of ongoing character, perhaps Marshall's detachment is an attempt to plan for a long slow exposition of his personality. For me, Marshall did not have the depth that Jack Reacher had and there was a superficiality to him that left me unintrigued by his history and which did not draw me in to his storyline. This character building is part of what made me very aware of the fact I was reading a work by a young writer. The young Marshall felt more real than the current day one and the 'bad guys' ended up with more depth and more accessible to the reader than the lead characters, two things I associate with younger authors.
There seemed to me to be a very high level of random behaviour as plot builders. By the last third of the book there were dozens of questions about why people were doing things, not doing things, there at all, or general wtf. Now most of these questions do end up being addressed, but it feels a bit as though they were being held onto for too long so they could be popped out as a series of exposes at the end when it might have been more organic to reveal them along the way.
So by now, you, the review reader might be excused for thinking I hated this book: Not at all, I actually liked a great deal of it, I am certainly keen to read one of the earlier books by this author (the ones set in NZ) and I might well read more of this series if it keeps going. Because despite all the gripes I have written it is still very enjoyable a lot of the time. The actual narrative is comfortable to read and descriptively vivid, which is to say that I often received a visual image of teh scenes I was reading about. The situations were intriguingly structured and the blending of intention, coincidence in the events portrayed was cunning. The novel was for the most part well planned (though at times a bit laboriously) and even while I was reading things that annoyed me (as I mentioned above, there were a few of them), I was still wanting to like the novel it more than I could as I was reading it. It was an odd sensation.