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Andrew Coburn's writing is taut. Tense. The language is crisp, tearing right along the perforated line. His characters are so close, they pluck, poke and puncture.
Paul Jenkins, Boar Bluff's chief of police, is someone we think we know, but don't. His sergeant, Wilbur Cox, brawn and bloat, is a man we never want to know, but do.
The three summering visitors, Joan Weiss, Laura Kimball and Pamela Comeau, ice-sculpture beautiful, shimmer in the reflection of the bloodied East Coast waters, and are witness to Boar Bluff's underbelly as the summer days melt into night and reveal secrets, savvy and slayings.
Among the cast of characters who give spring to the coil is the man-child Bud Brown who is "a mistake in his mother's life;" and Skelly, the manly woman who runs the Mobile station whose mother's mantra, when Skelly was but a bit of a kid, was "leave 'em be, Ralph...just leave 'em be" (but Skelly's father didn't let 'em be) and who later sought safety in the grown-up body Mother Nature gave her to hide in; then there's Hazel Cox whose strength lies covered up like a dormant volcano. And the coils heat up in this sunny New Hampshire town.
Andrew Coburn's Widow's Walk is not a plot with character. It is characters with plot, and those characters--complex, ironic and layered--irk, beckon and repel. They pluck at you. Poke at you. Punctuate the summer days so real that you feel like you are a caught, sweating Peeping Tom.
But you can move to the shade... I'd highly recommed this sizzler!
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The downside to the book is that it ends without giving the full reaction to the ending. Although the book skips around from personas, toward the end, it skips too much to give the full perspective of anyone.
Due to some sexual content, I do not recommend this book to those under the age of thirteen.
Hear the tainted timbre of Helen's maternal voice; the rasp on consumption in Rudy's. We want to wipe Shell's desperation from our sweaty palms. We know Father Henry's meancholy as he views with awe a rush of river that he knows will continue to flow, though he won't. And we feel the rod of Mrs. Dodd's spine straighten with cold resolve.
Coburn's words breathe; the metaphors emote. Don't miss it. And beg Coburn for more.
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The answers will surprise you in this tightly written worthwhile book.