One of the most irritating things about the launch of a Jeffrey Archer book is the high pitched whine of indignation and scorn from that small, bitchy and endangered species, the literary community.
Well, after God knows how many years and the sale of 350 million books, they have been remarkably reserved about his latest, Only Time Will Tell. In fact, the old rascal has had some favourable reviews from some unexpected sources, The Guardian and The Independent. And well deserved too.
No doubt they will be punished by having to read every Booker prize winner’s offerings for the last 20 years. How cruel is that?
This is a cracker of a read. And quite unputdownable. The whole thing about Jeffrey is that he has always had the knack of producing page-turners.
When I told some well-read friends last week that I was about to review an Archer, there was a sharp intake of breath and a look of collective horror.
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