This is a book review for The Memory Killer by J. A. Kerley, available here.
I’ve been a huge fan of Jack Kerley for several years, tracking down his early books when they weren’t readily available in the UK, after picking up a copy of The Hundredth Man in a charity shop and loving it. Recently I’ve been binge reading his latest books in an effort to catch up and most of them I’ve loved, but this one missed the mark with me and I don’t know why.
It had all the Kerley hallmarks – twisty moral dilemmas where Jeremy is concerned, plot twists and surprises and everyone’s favourite detective, Carson Ryder. It should have pressed all the magic buttons, but it really didn’t.
I don’t know if it’s maybe that there was no Harry Nautilus in this one or if the crime just didn’t spark my horror receptors in the usual way. Jeremy, who is perversely my favourite character of the whole series, didn’t have any input of use in this book, which made all the discussion about him superfluous to this story, although I can see how it fits in to the wider universe.
I still have another book to read from him, but it’s safe to say I’ll be devastated if he’s sold or burnt out because he’s one of my favourites, indeed one of the few authors I still collect in paperback. I’m hoping this was just a blip in an otherwise stellar series.