Bait reads like an automotive repair manual. The characters are flat to the point I had no feeling for the protagonist and couldn't care whether he lived, died or blew up in a cloud of smoke. In fact, everyone in this book feels wooden, like furniture.
Thrillers need to move quickly and typically do this through economic prose. But there is economy and there is terseness. Abel is so terse and ground is covered so quickly, it is nearly impossible to follow the plot. I gave up after three chapters and I read a LOT of thrillers.
No. It's so bad, it's in a class by itself.
No. His performance was as flat as the text.
Buy something else—anything whatsoever.
Some of the worst writing I've ever encountered: "Her look made him have to answer her again"; "He had a headache from having his head whacked hard against the wall"; "He grabbed him by his husky wrist". How did he ever get published? Please tell me Goodkind is a high school sophomore who got lucky.
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