Stolen Prey is the latest from my very favorite trashy-detective-thriller writer and, as so often happens to me, I read it in two days and then had to go re-read another one (or two, or the whole series, depending, but this time only one). I have read every novel John Sandford has written, even the obscure one about paparazzi in L.A. and the novels about the computer hacker. The Davenport books and the Virgil Flowers books I’ve read through at least three times for each series, and probably more like 5 or 6 times for a few. This is the definition of a guilty pleasure or comfort read, as they’re designed to be, since both Davenport and Virgil Flowers are hot, urbane cops with good-old-American streaks, there to protect women from horrible, titillating menaces. They’re set in Minneapolis/St.Paul, which for me, an East Coast city girl, also feels exotic and romantic. I don’t know men who drive trucks, have boats and carry guns, but I’d kind of like to and John Sandford knows it.
I clearly have a greater appetite for this kind of thriller than is being met, but the key difference between these books and their competitors is writing. John Sandford books are tight, brilliantly paced and stylishly penned, the dialog and humor is spot-on, the prose is logical, economical, just hard-boiled enough to be fun without getting self indulgent, and the heroes pull it off without being ridiculous. Also, it’s a good mystery/ police procedural but with lots of sex, romance and social interest. If there is another thriller writer working today who hits this sweet spot, I haven’t found him.
I’ve read most of John Sandford’s published comments about the craft of writing, and I’ve also worked quite a bit to break down how he structures these books. I’m envious of his skill.
An Anthology of Clouds 
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