The Cuckoo's Calling

I did enjoy this. I now want to, and will, read the other novels in the series. Cormoran Strike comes across as believably lost and downbeat. I loved every appearance of his assistant Robin Ellacott. But here's the thing: when did a private eye mystery get to be – or even need to be – 552 pages long?

It’s all well-written. The characters are vividly drawn. The dialogue is good. And I did, I repeat, enjoy it. I wanted to find out what had happened. I wanted to see the mystery solved. But somewhere around the 300 page mark, when I realized that there were still another 250 to go – the length of the average private eye story -  I did begin to wonder how the story could be stretched out to fill them all. And I was beginning to lose track of the names. (A cast of characters at the front wouldn't have gone amiss.)

I don’t know. Maybe JK Rowling’s such a name now that no editor dares to suggest any cuts. Or perhaps readers expect such a hefty tome from her. One thing's for sure: books have definitely gotten bigger in the last few decades. Thicker. We’re a long way away from the brisk and nifty 150-page thrillers of the 50s, 60s and 70s.

Are we all too used to 10-part, 10-hour Netflix dramas?