Hardfall [Mass Market Paperback]

There is no excuse for purposely murdering innocent people. On the other hand he shows how a political movement (ecology in this case) can become the germ for terrorism. + 1/2 point. The setting is good, the murky European background handled well, the madness and genius of the killer aptly described. The dual love stories and the father-son bond were superb tales in themselves and the way it all intertwined was a joy to behold. A little dated but still an excellent read.

Cam Daggett shook his watch, questioning its accuracy, and glanced a
quarter-mile ahead at the dirty, exhaust-encrusted sign that indicated the
lane change for National Airport. Heat waves rose in fluid sheets from the
pavement, distorting the distance, carrying gray exhaust into the canopy of
smog. Given this traffic, they would never make it in time.
News radio explained that . . . (etc)

First the minor stupidity: 1/4 of a mile is 440 yards, I'd like to know how
he could even read a sign from that distance, let alone see that it was
'exhaust encrusted'.
Secondly, heat waves cannot distort 'the distance' they distort your view of
distant objects.
Third, and worst by far, the last NOUN mentioned is the heat waves carrying
the gray exhaust. Then he writes 'they would never make it in time'. What?
The heat waves would never make it in time? What bloody tripe. The writer,
three sentences later, talks about the car occupants who must be 'they' but
you can't relate a pronoun to a LATER sentence, that's a basic mistake.
Maybe his editor was on holiday all the time this book was being produced. .
.

Page 3:

Dagget was thinking: To come all this way - to within a mile or two of
finally interrogating Bernard - and now this loaf taps me on the shoulder
and steals the dance.
** LOAF? Maybe he meant to write 'OAF' instead. Ever been tapped on the
shoulder by a loaf?

It's terribly overwritten. Page 2:

Impatience gnawed at Daggett like a stray dog at the mailman's heel. (THE
mailman? When were we introduced to the mailman character?)

Page 4:

He grabbed for the button but missed, which held significance for him.

(Pardon? what "significance"? Perhaps Pearson's readers are prescient.
This reader isn't.)

Frankly this novel is absolutely unreadable. Besides the crummy plot, the
cardboard characters, the overwriting, the cliches, and the stereotypes, it
is heavily loaded with passive voice and wishy-washy 'to be' verb
constructions. This writer should find another occupation, one that doesn't
involve inflicting rubbishy sentences on unsuspecting readers. Unbelievably
he has published 5 other books. What a waste of paper.