Sorry I’m late tonight, and I’m afraid I’ll be short as well. Tonight I read scripture for our Ash Wednesday service (turned out the verses they’d given me to prepare were the wrong ones. No matter, I’m a quick study), and my bathroom sink has suddenly developed a massive clog. I hadn’t even noticed it was running slow before this morning.
Must be my renter’s fault.
I’m currently reading Dean Koontz’ Intensity. I remember, back when I had cable, that one of the networks ran it as an original film. I remember looking at the ads and thinking, “That’s precisely the kind of story I don’t want to see or read. I have no interest in spending quality time with a psychopath.” I’m pretty sure that was one of the reasons I avoided checking Koontz out for so long.
My opinion, as far as this book goes, haven’t changed with the reading thus far. Usually Koontz treats us to a group of interesting good characters whom I enjoy getting to know. There was such a group in this book, but they got removed from the stage early on. Now there’s just the heroine and the psychopath. The heroine’s fine. I like her. But I’m spending much more time with the serial killer than I’d choose if given my druthers.
That’s my personal taste. Apparently a lot of people feel differently.
I gave up reading Koontz years ago because his plots seldom varied: a woman (usually accompanied by child) falls into the clutches of a psychopath, but is rescued in the nick of time by a man, who agrees to marry her and adopt said child. Has he changed?
I’ve found Koontz’ work far more varied than I expected it to be, though I’ll grant there are a lot of recurring themes. I guess they’re generally themes that give me pleasure.
Your mileage may vary.