I love a good private investigator thriller story. They’re some of my favorites. Partially because I find that I don’t have to think as I read them. I can just float along and let the author’s written word guide me to the desired conclusion. It’s quite peaceful and relaxing, at least to me.
Marsh Island by Oliver F. Chase, was slightly different from your average run of the mill P.I. thriller. Chase gives just a few glimpses of the killer’s point of view and I found them completely fascinating. The first glimpse, the opening of the book, was a bit gory for me, but the excessively descriptive violence stopped there. The rest of our insights into the killer are intriguing and they left me with more questions than I had to begin with.
The main character was very human, making both good and bad decisions. I’m not sure that I would have trusted as blindly as he did, but I appreciated truly not knowing what decision he was going to make. In most thrillers, you can usually predict what the main character will do, but it wasn’t the case in this story. Some of the choices that he made truly surprised me and I very much enjoyed that aspect.
The other part that I really enjoyed was that unlike most thrillers, the story is not wrapped up in a neat little bow at the end of the book. There is much more to the story! That was very refreshing. While I’m anxious to know how it ends, I like that there is a continuation in the next book. It definitely gave it an edge in my mind.
I recommend this book! And I’m looking forward to reading more of the story!
Here is a link to the book.
And some bio information! (With the author’s permission)
Never tell a hormone-infused college kid that he cheated on a take-home exam. That’s what happened to Oliver Chase at a small college in central Florida. The essay was pretty innocuous and easy, but his grades before were dismal. The fix was in, or so believed the professor. Oliver was promptly awarded a D and given a stern warning with no appeal. The next semester, he chose the same professor, took the same take-home exam (in the classroom this time), and earned an ‘A’ in thirty minutes. He didn't give a wit about the subject but was out to prove something.
Oliver graduated and would be able to fly, which was really all he ever wanted. The war was on and the Marines offered a way. He took it. Some five years later, Oliver was a combat veteran with a Distinguished Flying Cross and a long list of missions – some public and some in the netherworld of political deniability. In his opinion, he was only trying to get out of bad situations in one piece. The Marines saw it differently. Seemed like a pattern was emerging.
Oliver spent the next few years in a police department working narcotics and SWAT, and then he joined the FBI. In these as well as the intervening years, he never stopped writing. Publishing, however, was not an option. Way too many complications and compromises in the world of black operations, and besides, rebel streaks only go so far. Times are different now and even though old loyalties and friendships will never go away, no one is watching over his shoulder.
Oliver and his wife decided against the exotic and instead chose a small farm along the Mississippi Gulf Coast near New Orleans. There, he finds great flying weather for his little Grumman Tiger, friendly neighbors with difficult accents, and plenty of physical labor. He travels around the country meeting new people, and discovering secrets about his world and himself. Currently, Oliver is in cahoots with his publisher to write a screen treatment for television while preparing to publish a third novel about love, world crisis, and the inside track on America’s failed struggle to remain preeminent in space. “Life has never been more interesting,” he contends as he sneaks away from farm chores to that little room with a computer, yellow pad and pencil, and his imagination.