An insistent yet irrelevant sub-plot involving Ronan’s wife, for example, evokes a particularly clunky romance novella, while the thoughts of possessed citizens that Ronan is able to hear are oddly mundane. It’s a powerful whodunnit set-up, which kept me invested - just - for the ten hours it took to reach the reveal, despite narrative shortcomings elsewhere. Yet the mystery lying at his feet is more unusual than most, as Ronan has a series of bulletholes in his chest and his ‘unfinished business’ is to discover the identity of his own killer.
Our hero Ronan is a roughly sketched amalgam of every anti-authority, lone-wolf detective popularised in film during the late ‘60s and early ‘70s a gravel-voiced cliche under a fedora.
0 kommentar(er)
