The Midnight Line is Lee Child’s twenty-second novel featuring Jack Reacher. Reacher sees a West Point class ring in a pawn shop window. Being a product of West Point himself, he knows it is not something a graduate would part with easily. So, he sets out to find what happened to its owner.
In any other author’s hands, this setup would be too improbable a beginning for a suspense novel. But Lee Child is not any other author, and what’s improbable for others makes perfect sense for Jack Reacher. I received The Midnight Line from Amazon yesterday morning and started reading it after my youngest kids went to sleep at 7:00 p.m. I finished it at 12:04 a.m. today.
Child writes the most kinetic prose of any author I have ever read. Reacher seems constantly on the move, physically and intellectually. The only way to keep up with him is to keep turning the page. And trust me, The Midnight Line is a page-turner.
The problem, though, comes once you close the book. At least it has for me, especially after the last few novels. Any piece of fiction requires a willing suspension of disbelief from readers. I get that. In reality, no one finds himself perpetually embroiled in whodunits, matching wits and fists with criminals. I’ll suspend my disbelief on that score.
What bothers me, however, is this: Reacher was born in 1960. He retired—or was retired from—the Army in 1997. In the intervening twenty years, he has hitchhiked from place to place, living in motels, eating at greasy spoons, and working when he feels like or it or needs extra cash. He buys inexpensive clothes, wears them a couple of days, then dumps them in the trash for a new set. He has no home, no possessions (other than sturdy boots, a folding toothbrush, and a canceled passport), no family, and no friends.
And yet, he still operates at peak performance—intellectually and physically. He beats down men half his age. He even finds time for short-lived romances in most of the novels. I’m finding it increasingly difficult to suspend my disbelief about these matters.
Don’t get me wrong: The Midnight Line is a well-written page turner. I didn’t like the ending much, however. I won’t spoil it for you, but the last few pages of the book were pathetic and lame. You’ll know what I mean when you read it.
So, it’s four out of five stars for me for The Midnight Line. As much as I like Jack Reacher, as quickly as I read Lee Child’s novels when they’re published, I find myself increasingly closing them at the finish and thinking, that was fun, but Reacher’s getting too old for this.
Lee Child, The Midnight Line (New York: Delacorte Press, 2017).
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