It should go without saying that I'm a bit of a snob. My friend Adam and I have a long standing joke that ends with, "Of course you don't," in regards to my taste. Fairly elitist when it comes to all things artsy, but books especially. However, when I fly on airplanes, I read trashy magazines. When I ride on trains I read newspapers. When I go home for a week to watch my grandmother die and attend her funeral, I tend to not have the attention span or mental capacity to concentrate or think much. So...Adam had literally just recommended that if I were to ever lower myself to read a Michael Connelly book, it should be the Poet. To use one of his euphemisms, the universe farted the right way and I ended up reading this. Quite quickly...and enjoying myself, to boot.
(Random snotty asides: The introduction is written by Stephen King... "Of course it is." Also, one night when I was reading this, my roommate Lindsay walked by the door and stopped to ask, "Are you really reading a Michael Connelly book?")
Jack McEvoy is a crime reporter for the Rocky Mountain News (go Denver!) who gets personally involved with his work when his twin brother, a Denver Police Officer, apparently commits suicide. Jack takes his bereavement leave as a sort of investigation period, and turns up a list of cops who've apparently killed themselves, linked directly to cases where the cop was working a case involving a child. In addition, the cops all leave notes consisting of only one line...all quoting Edgar Allan Poe.
McEvoy eventually goes to the FBI, and is granted special access to cover the story after cooperating with their ongoing investigation. While the entirety of the book is not predictable, there were a few things that I dreaded would happen that eventually did. As a whole, I enjoyed this book and Connelly's style...and will soon be reading The Narrows, a follow-up to this book.
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