It was campy Hardy Boys, you know what's waiting for you with the sickly boy, it's a virgin boy fantasy, the protagonist is a Stu. All things you could say this is.
It was lovely read. Sweeps you up in nostalgia, and that sweet emotional minefield of youth, and makes no apologies.
It is what it is, and it's perfect at it.
Extra note: The guy that narrated the audio, I think it was the same from Christine and The Sun Dog? Awesome. Spot on performance.
I went back to the first pages to make a list of characters, because I realized I was getting some details mixed up, and two things dawned on me:
There is a huge amount of names when you start compiling them, but somehow, like magic, it doesn't feel like a crowded cast.
And the bastard introduced Annie and Mike at the beginning. The mid-book preface-intro spot is a paraphrasing of the start of the damn book. Gee King! He even throws a lamp-shade in!
I remember the warm croissants I ate as I walked, and the circling gulls, but of them I can’t be completely sure. They became such an important part of the scenery—such a landmark—that it’s impossible to pinpoint the first time I actually noticed their presence. Nothing screws with memory like repetition.
I'm finishing this baby tonight.