Plum Island Review

Plum Island - Nelson DeMille

With any review I do, I ask myself a single question: "How much do you care whether or not people read this book." This time, the answer is not so simple. I honestly have no idea whether or not people are interested in Nelson DeMille. Dude has a following. He doesn't need my help. Also, he's not terrible, so I don't feel the need to be satirical with my review. He's somewhere between Greg Iles and Howard Stern. Basically, this guy writes really verbose books for middle-aged men. There's some mention of sex or tits or ass on every page. Much beer is swilled. Everyone cracks wise. If you like that kind of thing, you should enjoy yourself. If not, you'll likely hate it.

I should have hated this book. It was predictable, the comedy wasn't always funny, and the writing was basic and repetitive. The main character is a womanizer who sees every woman he comes across as an object to be filled, and the women he meets along the way actually like that about him. There's one point where a woman says, (I'm paraphrasing) "You're not like most men, John. Most men want to know more about me. You just want to have sex. I like that about you." I had to laugh. I know some of you ladies like a stiff dick just as much as we like a place to put it, but this came off as silly in places. None of the women in this book could be confused with strong, independent females. One lady who's a homicide detective allows the MC to leave her behind because she might get her fragile little self hurt. Oh fuck off.

The odd part is, I never wanted to stop reading, and the best excuse I have for that is this analogy.

You know that one stupid-as-fuck friend we all have? Well, if you don't, you're probably that friend. Just saying. Anyballs, so we all have that one friend who's dumber than a load of bricks dropped on a horny ostrich, but they are fun to be around. If you need a math problem done, you're not going to call Nelson. But if you're in a mood to drink thirty beers and burn some shit, Nelson's definitely your go to guy. You don't invite him around your girlfriend because he's rude and disgusting. But if you're ever expecting a tussle with a buncha inebriated rednecks, Nelson's gonna fuck 'em up for you. Yeah, that's this book.

And yes. To address the 800-pound swinging dick in the room, yes, this book is overlong. No book of this kind should be almost 600 pages. But, once again, I never once wanted to stop reading. Take that for what it's worth.

In summation: If Columbo took all season to solve a case instead of a single episode, and then, while he was attempting to solve the crime, he catcalled every passing female and fucked the ones who didn't run away, this book would be the result. You're either going to love it or hate it. Me? I'm in the middle. I'd read more about this character, but I'd have to be in the right mood for him. You ladies have your Mommy Porn and such. Guys have Nelson DeMille. As far as I see it, we're even.

Final Judgment: The most sexist thing you're likely to enjoy.