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A review by spygrl1
Nerve Damage by Peter Abrahams
3.0
Another enjoyable Abrahams thriller, devoured in a day. It doesn't quite match "Oblivion" and "End of Story," possibly because the spy shenanigans are less plausible (although maybe that's my naivete talking).
Sculptor Roy Valois is a virile 47, still playing hockey with his buddies, skiing and snowshoeing and seriously considering proposing to his 34-year-old girlfriend. But then Roy gets some very bad news--lung cancer, the kind caused by asbestos exposure (the legacy of a long-ago summer job). Roy wonders what his obituary will say, and a friend suggests hacking The New York Times to find out. Roy succumbs to the temptation (and the presence in his life of a loser teen-anger who is adept with computers) and finds an error in his obituary. His wife, Delia, dead now for 15 years, didn't work for the U.N. as the obituary claims; she was an economist with the Hobbes Institute, a private think-tank.
He reports the error to a Times reporter who begins nosing around. And then the reporter dies in what could look like a home burglary.
Between experimental chemo treatments, Roy tenaciously pursues the few clues he can find--the widow of a man who worked with Delia, conversations he and his friends recall with Delia about her job, and the suspicious way someone gained entrance to Roy's home and studio, taking away with them only a worthless sketch ... of the Hobbes Institute building in Washington.
Sure, the resolution seems far-fetched, but the ride is fun while it lasts.
Sculptor Roy Valois is a virile 47, still playing hockey with his buddies, skiing and snowshoeing and seriously considering proposing to his 34-year-old girlfriend. But then Roy gets some very bad news--lung cancer, the kind caused by asbestos exposure (the legacy of a long-ago summer job). Roy wonders what his obituary will say, and a friend suggests hacking The New York Times to find out. Roy succumbs to the temptation (and the presence in his life of a loser teen-anger who is adept with computers) and finds an error in his obituary. His wife, Delia, dead now for 15 years, didn't work for the U.N. as the obituary claims; she was an economist with the Hobbes Institute, a private think-tank.
He reports the error to a Times reporter who begins nosing around. And then the reporter dies in what could look like a home burglary.
Between experimental chemo treatments, Roy tenaciously pursues the few clues he can find--the widow of a man who worked with Delia, conversations he and his friends recall with Delia about her job, and the suspicious way someone gained entrance to Roy's home and studio, taking away with them only a worthless sketch ... of the Hobbes Institute building in Washington.
Sure, the resolution seems far-fetched, but the ride is fun while it lasts.