Saint Odd Review

Saint Odd - Dean Koontz

Half a fucking star, because I can't give it zero.


I cannot begin to express how disappointed I am. I went in with basement-low expectations and Koontz still managed to stoop below even that. I didn't even get the weepy send off I was looking for. I could have ignored the rehashing of ideas, the typical Koontz thriller-filler bullshit, and the morphing of Odd Thomas into goddamn 007, but I cannot forgive a ruse. 


This isn't the last Odd Thomas book. The ending is left wide open. Because of that, Odd's "death" means fucking nothing to me. Any fucks I could have given were completely erased by this cheat of an ending.

The dead don't talk but they finish writing their manuscripts in progress? If that were possible, why didn't every ghost since book one hunt down a goddamn computer, or typewriter, or better yet, piss their lamentations into the goddamn snow. You cheated, Koontz. [Rocketman] didn't get out of the cock-a-doodie car!


(show spoiler)


Gregor Xane must be acknowledged regarding this next analogy. He and I were discussing one of my updates I made while reading this book. He said to me: "It's like one of those TV flashback episodes." And you know what? I couldn't have said it better myself. You know how in the second- or third-to-last episode of a sitcom's final season, they'll post the show's most cherished characters around a table and have flashback after flashback, and all these flashbacks are are clips from previous episodes from earlier seasons? That's this book. Flashbacks of previous books. 


In summation: Fuck this book. Fuck this series. Fuck what this author has become. Yeah, it's just a book, but I feel betrayed. You were one of my heroes, dude. 


Final Judgment: The lowest rating I've ever given.