Atlantic Hotel

The protagonist of this short novel, pictured in my mind, looked a lot like Anton Chigurh from the Coen Brothers’ No Country for Old Men. Not that this character was nearly as menacing and evil, but he did find himself, over and over again, on the road, in motels, surrounded by trouble. The writing, also, was reminiscent of McCarthy-esque spare, sinewy prose. The story telling here did not embellish or indulge. And sometimes that made it difficult to get lost in. There’s an evocative feeling to the writing but not enough to truly capture and keep my attention, despite its use of strong mystery devices.