Mmm, mmm.

I, Sniper is the best book Hunter has written since Pale Horse Coming.

The story is simply arresting. And simultaneously compelling. I am 130 pages in, and don’t have the digits to count the number of times I paused to think “Holy Shit” – only to drop it and immediately jump right back in because I couldn’t wait to get to the next paragraph.

I thought I would share tonight’s 42nd such moment. Describing Bob Lee sitting in an uncomfortable “terrible plastic chair” at DFW, homeward bound, Hunter has Bob Lee think:

…the old man could get back to his rocking chair and watch the weather chemistry manufacture clouds the size of castles and more complicated structures over the blue-green meadow that fell back for miles until it broke apart on a sawtooth snarl of mountains.

Poetry. Billions of english words have been published since Gutenberg was inspired, and Hunter still manages to come up with fresh stuff like this.

I’m done now. Back to the book…