Category Archives: Writing


61 Hours by Lee Child review on goodreads

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The latest review is for 61 Hours by Lee Child.

61 Hours (Jack Reacher, #14)61 Hours by Lee Child

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

61 Hours was my introduction to Reacher. And what an introduction.

Reacher is a loner, a former military police officer highly trained in offence, defense and weaponry. He travels throughout the States as he has spent his former life travelling the world but does not know his own country. It seems that each town he walks into has trouble afoot. And who best – with his tortured moral code – to tackle the trouble head on?

Lee Child has honed his tight thriller writing and character development that is sadly lacking in the 2nd and 3rd Reacher novels I’m trying to get past halfway through. The first in the series Killing Floor has the best first paragraph / first chapter I have come across in a thriller. He put a lot of work into it – certainly wanted the manuscript bought and published. Give me a later novel from the series and I’m hooked. Cancel all social engagements – I’m with Reacher til the last page is turned.

A memorable illustration of Reacher’s fast reflexes – He tells of an Army psychological study of reactions to fear in children when Reacher was six years old. This has stuck in my mind – possibly because of a fascination with the studies that were conducted back in the 50s, 60s and 70s before they were banned (think Pavlov’s studies done on children, the jail study, the electric shock experiment).

A friend tracks how many times Reacher showers / changes his tshirt through the novels. It’s a compelling occupation, only I get too caught up in the story to properly remember the (rather low) numbers. But I shall leave this with you in case you don’t get so caught up.

Cheers and happy reading.

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Her left hand rested on the counter. The nails were carefully manicured, the french tips just longer than the tips of her fingers. Heavy creases, blue veins and tendons stood out across the back of her hand, showing a life lived longer than her face showed.

She tapped her fingers, waiting for the attendant. “I could be in Siberia for all the attention I get round here.”

“It’s a long queue today. Longer than yesterday. We could freeze waiting out in the cold like this.” The old man standing behind her huddled further into his coat.

“No Ma’am,” the attendant looked up. “We don’t exchange Siberian dollars here.”


More flash fiction / short stories at The Writing on the (Palace) Wall