I don't mind admitting that I winced when I plucked an 800-page novel from my review bag, having long advocated that authors don't need more than 400 pages to say what needs be said. The back cover describes it as an espionage novel. I don't recall Ian Fleming or John le Carré penning tomes.
The Paris Diversion is the fourth book by Yank scrivener Chris Pavone. As the title says, it's set in the City of Light. He leaves us in no doubt that he knows the metropolis like the back of his hand. During the course of his story, he mentions every site and rue. Not necessary. He's showing off, I think. The agents, theirs and our men and women, top-heavy with women. As is expected of agents, they are paranoid, carrying two handguns. Their worry is they won't live another day. Are their fellow agents really on their side? Are instructions from their minders death warrants? Several are with families. They sit at outdoor bistros. What if one of their children is kidnapped? Would they become turncoats to get their son or daughter safely back? Could they retire and settle down in France without repercussions?
Pavone leaves us in no doubt that the glamour of being an agent is a myth. There are numerous characters in the story. Some reappear, others are merely mentioned. The beauty of Paris is a downer. A gun is pointed. "Are you going to shoot me?" The trigger is pulled. A body falls. Not yours. Suspense.
The Paris Diversion has a unique way of numbering pages. Instead of a number per page, every chapter heading has the number of pages in that chapter. Different, but I don't recommend it. Unhelpful.
Criminally insane
In classifying murderers, none are more horrifying than the criminally insane. They defy analysis because they have neither conscience nor doubt that what they are doing is antisocial. In simple terms, their heads aren't on straight.
They kill because it is as natural to them as toileting. Managing to hide behind a "normal" façade while lining up their next victims, they are unrecognisable -- until they strike. In their twisted minds, the death is inevitable but slow. A game is played first to make the poor man or woman plead for mercy.
All this is described in detail in A Gift For Dying by Yank author M.J. Arlidge. His literary protagonist is forensic psychologist Adam Brandt. When not consulting for the Michigan police, he's treating his group of weirdos. It's a thankless job with little to show for it. Among them is Kassie, who asserts that anybody looking deep into her eyes will die.
Most-wanted on the police list is a serial mad man given to methodically mutilating his victims before dumping their bodies in public places. Their torture is excruciating. Then Kassie disappears. Is it possible that she has fallen into the fiend's hands? Well into this crime thriller of over 400 pages, he's identified as Joseph White.
I should warn you that reading what he makes her suffer will put you off your feed. Using a cleaver, he rips her apart bit by bit. We are asked to believe that not only doesn't she beg him to stop, but has him look into her eyes. An unusual penultimate chapter, to say the least.
It is left for Dr Brandt to explain it all. I somehow doubt the readers can follow it or will care to. The criminally insane lack fascination. Our only wish is that they be caught before they prey on us. Psychological novels may have a following. A Gift For Dying is up their alley. Non-fans, let them be.
M.J. Arlidge worked in television for 15 years before picking up a quill in 2014, and has been turning out a book yearly since. This reviewer is unaware how many of them is a psychological novel. Here, his painful descriptions are what stick in the mind.
