Oh pressure, oh yeah
Pressure is gonna drop on you…
Or so the lyrics go.
Disappointed is not the adjective I’d use when I think of Pressure Drop, the fifth novel by Peter Abrahams I’ve read thus far.
Puzzled? That’s probably better.
The story was well-written because, well, the man knows how to write, but it felt as though I was reading three or four different stories that were forced to connect in one whole tome, pretty much like trying to bring together nazis and jews into the same room.
Well, that’s actually part of the plot.
Every time I get my paws on a new book I like to read the synopsis, it’s sort of something I believe a fat person would do if she -let’s face it, it’s always a woman- reads the nutrition label on that can of soda she probably shouldn’t drink. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. It’s actually smart. Therefore, after reading the book jacket on Pressure Drop, I was surprised there was only a mention of one storyline, the one about the woman who just out of a whim decides to get pregnant by artificial insemination because she ostensibly got tired of men. And then, nine months later, the nightmare starts. The baby is born. And someone steals it.
Someone steals the baby.
So far, so good, right?
Then, all of a sudden, I encountered a whole new character, male, who lives in a whole other place and has a mission of his own. No, he is not stealing babies, but that was my first thought or assumption. My question is: why wasn’t there a mention of that character on the cover of the book? It should be part of the synopsis, right?
The author tried getting women on board, presenting the story in such a way that would have them hook. But women aren’t dumb. They are going to figure out there is a whole other plot. And then you wonder why women get tired of men. We’ve got to stop concealing shit like this. Tell them what the entire book is about, for Christ’s sake!
There is another book I have to read by Abrahams, but this one has definitely dropped, without pressure, to the last spot, gaining the title of my least favorite book.