First off: if Norman Partridge wasn't a good writer, if the set-up wasn't interesting, if the characters didn't make me curious, if I hadn't been surprised at the end and more than once on the way through... if all these things weren't true, it would have gotten a lower rating.
Because all these things were true, I rated it better than I was otherwise going to.
The pacing seems a bit choppy in places. That's not the problem, for me; the problem is that the protagonist is an unredeemed emotionally flat overly-entitled murdering jackass. I started off working through this. I got to the point of trying to ignore it. And halfway through the third section of the book, I was slogging onwards because I was hoping that possibly the story would be redeemed by something incredibly painfully horrible
happening to the man.
This wasn't an "I love to hate the guy" feeling, let me be clear. This was more of a "great, fine, he invests his interaction with the world with all the subtle emotional connection you could find in a game of Grand Theft Auto
, oh he's killing more
people, yay that he's noticed one girl expected him to help her but why am I expected to believe that
expectation mattered and not the ones of all those people who were expecting not to be casually murdered?" I haven't disliked hearing about a character so much since a bad RPG experience.
Not disliked a character. Disliked hearing about
a character. The one involves emotional investment. The other involves grinding through the pages where the character in question shows up, trying to pick up the bits that aren't flawed by his spoilt superior sulking and skulking.
The latter is particularly annoying when the character in question is the viewpoint protagonist.