This is the second novel by Robert Galbraith, aka
she-who-will -not-be-named. I’m curious as to why, after the truth about the
author’s real identity was revealed, they didn't just plaster her real name on
the cover of this one, but the deeper I dig, the more confused I become. Robert
has his own website … you can even follow him on Twitter and Facebook. No joke!
And “he’s” tweeting! Though “he” only has 18.4K followers and 2K Facebook likes,
whereas Ms JK has an equal 3.5 million on both platforms. So what’s the point?
I don’t get it. Maybe it helps her with her process, but for me it’s just a
distraction from what I do like, and that’s the books!
Rowling’s standard form is on full display in The Silkworm.
Interesting (and over the top) characters, a sweeping and drawn out plot, and
thorough descriptions that carry you into another world, only this world is London
and not Hogwarts. Cormoran Strike is on the case of a missing writer, and in
the process of trying to find him he uncovers all sorts of oddities and
perversions in the publishing world. You can’t help but wonder if this is JK’s
own bit of “revenge” against some of the people she undoubtedly had to deal
with over the years.
The tone of this novel is a little dark, even more so than
the first one, and there is a gruesome murder straight out of Silence of the
Lambs/Seven, but it’s still classic gumshoe, with Strike and his gal Friday Robin
unearthing bits of the literary puzzle that eventually leads to the missing
author and his (spoiler alert) killer. Towards the end it does feel like
Rowling is writing to form. There is a
little too much of the keeping-the-secrets-til-the-big-reveal-at-the-end, and
it gets a little annoying, but I guess that’s the standard detective novel
playbook for you. Speaking of which, I’m not usually fan, but I will continue
to read this series, as let’s face it, the woman, I mean, man… whatever, can
write
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