I've had two failures with this blog so far, and this is the second one.
- I can handle most dialects, but the Australian dialect in which this book was written was really difficult for me. I'm not sure why, but the plot of the book was harder to follow because of it.
- The style of the writing was frustratingly informal. The authors seemed to almost be dictating the story from a conglomeration of police reports and testimony and interspersing their own narratives, but it was not done well. (Want an example of a book in which this was done well? Try any of the true-to-life books by John Grisham.)
- The momentum of this book was like driving stick in a Suzuki Sidekick with a rotten clutch and a fussy brake pedal. It was fast, slow, dull, and then gruesome. It did not keep my attention.
- I really had to work to remember the multitude of names and pseudonyms that were used by the Bandidos and their competitive motorcycle gangs. It was so confusing after a while that it became the reason I decided to give up this book in the first place.
Thank goodness I didn't buy it.