Review: Killing Floor

Killing Floor
Killing Floor by Lee Child
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Lee Child writes in short sentences. At least he does in this novel. This is the “first” Jack Reacher novel. Why did I read it. Why not, I guess. I saw the Tom Cruise film, was told it’s not like the books at all. I accept that books and movies are different. Like baseball and football. I’m being serious. But at least the movie intrigued me. You know, another one of these super-bad-ass types. Figured I’d read the book. It was sort of what I expected.

Bad-ass type accused of murder. And then it becomes personal. Lots of violence. Justified violence and sadistic, gut-turning violence. Conspiracies. Explosions. Some sex. A “thriller,” you know, a hard-boiled genre for men like “romance” novels are for women.

But let’s get back to those short sentences. Jack Reacher spends a lot of time inside himself. He’s a loner, and he wants us to know it. He saw things as a military brat, and then as a military cop. He can handle himself in a fight. He won’t hesitate to kill a man. Honestly, I think Lee Child might have wanted to write a noir-ish detective novel, but it turned into a thriller instead.

I have no idea what the hell the title is supposed to mean. The phrase “killing floor” is used once in the novel, almost in passing. It really has nothing to do with the story. Chalk it up to some publishers pushing pulp. “The Killing Floor” and a bloody handprint on the cover.

A bit slap-dash, like the novel’s style. Not necessarily a bad thing. Not sure if I’ll bother with any sequels, though.

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