Double Dexter: A Novel
I cannot remember when I last got within 50 pages of the end of a book, especially a "mystery" like this one, and said to myself, "I really don't care what happens at the end, I can't stomach another page." And I closed the book. I had tried to read Lindsay's first in this series, Darkly Dreaming Dexter, and found it so bad I quit after 100 pages, but I expected more from the latest in a supposedly successful series. But this book fails on all fronts. The principal character is still only an inch deep, and the others are little more than cardboard cliches. We are still subjected to Dexter's nauseating, and groundless, self-laudatory musings. His actions exceed all of the reader's efforts at suspension of disbelief, making you feel he is little more than an idiot. The dialogue continues to be a disappointing combination of inanity and foul language. Lindsay clearly feels there are a lot of third graders out there, and he wants to write for them.
So I got to the point where the Bad Guy has kidnapped Dexter's two children, and the world is supposedly holding its collective breath to see if he can rescue them, and I said, "To hell with it!"