I don't really know why I thought it was a good idea to read Nelson DeMille's new novel, "The Gate House." It's a sequel to "The Gold Coast," the very funny and well-observed Gatsby-Meets-The Godfather thriller from 20 years ago. I had managed to resist picking up his previous best-seller, still bearing a grudge from "Night Fall," which used 9/11 as a shoddy deus ex machina.
Maybe I was looking for a palate cleanser after "Anathem."
Anyway, I picked up "The Gate House" and was suckered in by DeMille's smart-ass dialogue and the return of some well-liked characters. Then it all started to fall apart. The characters began acting like idiots, the chief antagonist disappeared for half the book and nothing much happened. Perversely, I continued reading.
Finally, after more than 600 pages, everything was resolved by a stupid shootout and the arrival of a letter that could have been read at nearly any point in the narrative and thereby stopped everything in its tracks.
So, if you ever see me reading another new Nelson DeMille "thriller," please slap it out of my hands.