Few books have the distinction of being both a compelling read and one that the reader is reluctant to finish. When action isn’t filling the pages, plot twists and original dialogue consistently hold the reader’s attention. He had black eyes and a nose that had been broken into angles like a lump of shattered pottery.” His face was a skull: tight, sly, except where a half-dozen wrinkles crossed his sunburned forehead. He was fast, with ropy muscles, and mean, like an aggressive orangutan. What is Sandford’s secret to writing 40 novels using basically the same characters and maintaining the same level of page-turning excellence? First, the man is a master of brief but arresting character description, such as with this antagonist in Neon Prey:
Add a brief appearance by Virgil “f-ing” Flowers, who escaped the Davenport-centric world to star in a series of his own, and, in the words of my father, “There was never a dull moment.” In order to assist him on his mission, Davenport brings in two of his colorful marshals, named Bob and Rae for the Baby Boomer generation. But catching a clever cannibal is never easy.
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The criminal moves to the top of the most-wanted scale when it’s determined that he left behind a garden full of dead bodies, most of which supported his own meat-eating. Marshal Davenport is assigned to track down what originally appears to be a low-level enforcer who has skipped bail.
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Serial killers are not strangers to Davenport, and his prior successes give him considerable latitude when he is pursuing the worst of monsters. The hero of the series, Lucas Davenport, has been sliced, diced, and shot, yet still is quite capable of catching the bad guys. Too many years ago, a fellow thriller aficionado handed me a rumpled paperback of Rules of Prey, Sandford’s first, and I was hooked. The highlight of the trip was helping churn and create homemade peach ice cream, aka “nectar of the gods.”Įven before we arrived at his home, before he pulled out the fresh peaches and custard filling, and before I cranked for what seemed like an entire day, my taste buds knew: Without a doubt, it would be delicious.Īfter 29 Prey books and 11 Virgil Flowers books, I smile even before I turn to the first page of any John Sandford novel.
When I was a child, I always looked forward to visiting my grandfather in the tiny city of Lewisburg, Tennessee.
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