M. Dunn

I agree with many of the other reviews; the story line was interesting, but the narrator messed it up badly. Long, mistimed pauses, constant sucking on a cough drop (nauseating), strange voices for the different characters, and worst of all, she made the heroine sound like an idiot. I will not waste another book credit on a book narrated by Rosenblatt; she just detracts too much from the story.

Where was Lee Child when he wrote this? Recovering from twilight sleep after a colonoscopy? Enough already with the "it could've been this, or that, or maybe the other obsure thing". Yes, we got that Reacher was on a long and boring drive, but did Mr. Child have to take the reader on one too? If I didn't value my electronics, this would have been a wallbanger. And Dick Hill's overdone nasal voice made me think Jack Rreacher not only had a broken nose, but that he had been stupid enough to deserve it. It's maddening to think that Lee Child still gets paid for this stinker.

I wish I had held off on buying the audio version of this book until I had read what other reviewers had posted. The pace at which the narrator spoke was so slow that the audio could probably been an hour shorter if read by someone else. I felt as though the narrator thought perhaps my first language was not English, or that I I was old and feeble, or that perhaps his true manner of speaking is so mired in dialect that he had to try too hard. Yes, these were my thoughts as we ground through the narration, and so I lost the thread of the story on occasion. Frankly, I just didn't care by the end. Just glad it was over.

There were so many times I needed to stop and go back to find out what I missed when I zoned out. It just wasn't worth it. Scott Brick's overly dramatic, trembling-voiced narration had me rolling my eyes and wishing for another reader.

The story line is a poorly done Stephanie Plum novel with barely likeable characters. Zany antics become shrill, supposedly smart women act too stupid to live, and by the end I was grateful it was over.

I can't imagiine having enjoyed this book as much if I had read rather than listened to this book. Mark Feuerstein's poetic, sensuous , mesmerizing reading pulled me in, lured me to complete the story, amde me feel the desolation, the isolation, the human need for contact and love in the midst of loneliness. I will carry the message of forgiveness with me long after hearing the last word read.

I must agree with the other reviewers. Scott Brick's narration was awful, alternating between laughable, distracting, and annoying. I needed to turn the book off a number of times b/c I was concentrating on the narration style as oppposed to the storyline. I've often listened to other books he has narrated and never found him to be THIS aggravating. He's now on my do-not-buy narrator list with Barbara Rosenberg who sounds like she's smoking and eating peanut butter sandwiches while reading.

Predator should be the final book for Kay Scarpetta, as it's obvious that even Cornwell doesn't like her characters any longer. By the end of the book, I couldn't care less about the outcome, I was just glad it was over. Kay is cranky, superior, aloof. Marino is nasty, petty, and without any redeeming qualities. Lucy is just screwed up. Benton is as flat as wallpaper. The plot was convoluted, but boring. I'm done with Kay Scarpetta. I hope Cornwell is too.

This title was actually written in 1987, and is very typical of romances written 18 years ago. The hero takes forever to get it through his head that the woman on whom he is forcing his affections is actualy saying "no", and then it's all her fault for turning him on. She must be frigid. Arghhh! The heroine is sweet,spineless, conflicted, and sends out mixed messages right and left. Sandra Brown had an annoying habit of overuse of adjectives and metaphors during that period of her writing, which had my eyes rolling more than once. Vintage stuff, and not worth a book credit.

If this novel were in book form, it would have been a wallbanger. The plot was slow, overly dramatic, but worst of all, boring. The inner musings of Jimmy Tock were flowery and absurd, and added little to the ridiculous plot. I had to force myself to finish listening, but found my mind wandering frequently. When I went back to hear what I had missed, I found it usually was nothing important. Not up to Koontz's usual standards, and I'd be hard pressed to waste a book credit on him again.