Jeffrey Archer is a menace. His books should be pulped and an Act of Parliament passed to ban their sale. They are the Maltesers of publishing. Once you’ve started one you can’t finish until you’ve scoffed the whole lot.
And that can be very troubling. I missed stations, was late for meetings and kept the wife awake reading his last book, Only Time will Tell. The new sequel, The Sins of the Father, is no exception. It will keep your blood pressure high and you’ll risk back injury just from being kept on the edge of your seat.
You may recall that, when I reviewed Only Time Will Tell, I revealed it finished on a spectacular twist of plot. Our hero, blown up at sea by the Germans, thinks it would be a cunning plan to take a dead colleague’s identity, only to land in New York and be arrested for murder.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in