by Annie Bevan
Malcharist bounds like a hound as Lee Majors spies with his own eyes, his master is unaware he is up-the-creek, without a paddle.
Griffin Wagner is fighting the devil’s work and suddenly his botched-up visions give him a break into a new world where right is wrong and wrong is right.
America’s psychiatrist charms and harms, ladled thick like butter spread on the luscious lips of a brilliant pen pusher whose guilt takes them through archives, through back alleys and through a race against time, against the mobsters.
In scenes reminiscent of Shelley Jofre and Karen Barth Menzies and a study akin to 329 the twisting and turning romps home to a place where Children of the Cure puts in the virtual.
A bonafide media drama licks along with a pace. Griffin is squirrelled, out-paced by the smoothies and shakers, excruciatingly belittled as the small-time hack in a world where destruction is an art-form.
Selling their souls for their slice of the action, there is layer upon layer of disparate enjoinders woven in around a “holy shit slide” and a “pantomime of science”.
Sniffing around with laugh-out-loud moments, that only a seasoned writer with impeccable craft can muster, for pure eviscerating entertainment value a crescendo of an ending.
Put Children of the Cure next to Malcharist and a winning combination of the tortuous and the hysterical gives Pharma a run for its money, but more important than that, two sides of the same can reach latitudinal heights in these rollickingly good reads from the house that Samizdat built.
Annie Bevan has contributed to David Healy’s Blog and RxISK.org since 2012.
Former VP, Sales and Marketing, North America and Canada, with primary interests in electronics
Winner of a prestigious award from the British Overseas Trade Board for concept, concise and eloquent report writing and presentation
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