I forget where I first heard
about The Truth About The Harry Quebert Affair by Swiss author Joel Dicker (who
born grew up in Geneva, Switzerland, a French speaking city, so this novel was translated from the original French version), but I knew it had
been a huge success overseas –it sold something like two million copies and translated
into 32 languages. I also read that Ron Howard’s Imagine Entertainment had acquired
the film rights, and that Penguin Books paid a fortune to publish the book here in the US -hoping that the book would be this year’s phenomenal bestseller from an
unknown foreign writer, ala Stieg Larrson (The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo).
But being the sucker I am from time to time, I decided to pounce on this title
early –I sort of came to the Larrson party late in the game.
After securing it from my library, I sat down late last week
to begin it. Quickly, however, I realized how bad this book was going to be. It’s
as if James Patterson (I realize he doesn’t exactly write his books, but he
does plot out the wild and creepy scenarios and then hand it off to others to
complete) and Bret Easton Ellis (he who thinks he's the greatest writer of his generation) had a kid and his name was Joel Dicker. The
author knows no cliché he can’t use for his benefit, and stacks the book with
just the most horrible dialogue (one of my favorites, of many, is when his
publisher –seeing money now that he can cash in on the drama, is astounded that
Marcus might have doubts about betraying his friends: ''Oh, Goldman, I'm so
sick of your morals and lofty principles”).
When the book begins its 2008 and popular author Marcus
Goldman (who is arrogant, pretentious, and one of the mostly unlikable and
pretty much stupid hero’s in this genre) has writer's block. He visits his old
teacher Harry Quebert in a stereotypical New Hampshire town that is filled with
smiles and deep secrets –Twin Peaks but without all the interesting characters and situations.
But what starts out as an attempt to clear his mind turns dark when the remains
of missing 15-year-old girl named Nola Kellergan, who vanished 33 years before,
is discovered on the grounds of Harry’s property. Quebert –a bestselling author
himself who won accolades for a novel called The Origin of Evil, is –of course-
implicated in the girl’s death. But Harry says he innocent, and Marcus believes
him –even when his friend admits that back in 1975, then 34-year-old Harry was
having an affair with the girl.
Yes, much like Larrson’s Millennium Trilogy, Dicker sort of
treats women as angels, before revealing them as whores (and let’s not go into
the moral implications of Quebert being in love with an underage girl –Hey, we
really loved each other, so It’s okay, don’t be creeped out by it). That is only
one of many disturbing things about the book. But unlike Larrson, who brought a
bit of creativity and attempted to add some literary value to his pulp books,
Dicker just plots out his novel as if he’s watched every modern American
procedural show –with its ripped from the headlines stories and the truth is
odder than fiction style.
So we have to sit through some 600 pages of some the most flamboyant
purple prose we’ve seen since publishers unleashed James Patterson on the
American market so we can get to the unbelievable twist ending (though I
guessed wrong on who the murder was, I was only off by one degree of separation)
that plays out like every episode of the Law & Oder franchise.
I suppose the book does what says on the tin –it’s one of
titles people would read on the beach when on vacation. It’s silly, maybe slightly
fun, but completely improbable and ultimately forgettable.
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