I admit: I’m kind of a snob. I try to avoid writers that are always seen with the “bestselling author” tag affixed to their name. I’ve been ignoring Dennis Lehane for a while now, ever since Mystic River became a runaway hit and an Oscar-winning film, but my curiosity was piqued when I read the back cover of Shutter Island. I picked up a nearly-new paperback edition from the public library’s booksale for $2; I figured it would be an okay use of money that would otherwise get me 1/2 of one latte. And I consumed it as quickly as possible.
I can’t say much about this book without ruining the mystery, but a brief synopsis: it’s 1950. U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels arrives on Shutter Island, a psychiatric institution holding violent offenders, with his new partner, Chuck Aule. The two men are there to investigate the disappearance of one of the inmates, Rachel Solando. Of course, this is a mystery, and therefore many of the characters are hiding secrets.
At first, this seemed to me like a decent enough detective story with creepy psychological undertones, but at about page 322, I screamed out loud in terror and excitement. Luckily I was alone in the house, and I devoured the last pages of the book with goosebumps on my arms. I’m not a huge mystery buff, but if you like mysteries I can almost guarantee you will love this. Thanks to Shutter Island, Dennis Lehane is officially off my ignore list.