It is hard to understand how the author of An Evil Cradling could write such a badly-written book as this. It lacks, mood, atmosphere, tension, drama, humour or anything of note to commend it. It is as flat as Belfast taddy bread, but nowwhere near as savoury. I can only conclude that his earlier work had significant editorial input and re-drafting by his publishers because of their heavy investment on the basis of his high public profile following his release from being a celebrity hostage. It seems, that this time round he is on his own, and the end result is dismal. Someone should have advised him to quit while he was ahead.