Fateful Mornings

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Another "wish I'd liked it better" book. And it's another "it's probably not the book, it's me, and your mileage may vary" case. There are lots of rave reviews.

It's the second in a series (of, so far, three) detailing the exploits of the chief cop in (fictional) Wild Thyme, Pennsylvania, in the northeast part of the state, up near the New York border. The cop, Henry Farrell, is kind of a sad case, widowed, but canoodling surreptitiously with a married lady. And in (requited?) love with the wife of his best friend. And his beat is full of lowlifes, wife-abusers, pimps, drug dealers, and polluters (fracking is big in the area), sociopaths, and the borderline mentally ill. Into all this drops a robbed house and a missing girl.

And it takes many, many months for this combination to work itself out. A dizzying array of characters are introduced, most of them of dubious morals. A lot of geography is covered. At my age (yes, I'm using that excuse again) it's hard to keep the characters and geography straight. Bluegrass music is played, pot is smoked.

The author, Tom Bouman, occasionally breaks into some very nice, evocative, prose in describing people, places, and things. Just wish I cared a little more about what happened.