Down in Bristol weekend before last I bought six books. I’ve now read two of the blighters – the ones that could fall into the fritterature category.
Hell on Wheels is by a guy called Daniel Evan Weiss who I remember well from “The Roaches have no king.” The narrator is a bi-lateral transfemoral amputee (thus the title). Meh. Failed to engage me.
It’s a promising premise – the heroine is hack on a local newspaper, a local council with its head in the proverbial sound over pollution on its beaches, a smarmy over-powerful chief exec, and – after a few pages, the involvement of Greenpeace (“Groundswell” herein).
Trouble is, the plotting is all over the place, the heroine not particularly engaging, the implausibilities pile up (and there’s a lot of Basil Expositioning from the omniscient narrator.)
It’s a pity, because the corporate crime at the centre of it is plausible, and I really wanted to like the book…
I was forgiving it until the last five pages – the ending is like an under-thought-out episode of CSI: Miami, if you can imagine such a thing…