It's A Kind Of Zen Question: If

I Think My Books Come Out Very Visual, Which Is An Obvious Consequence.

He Picked Up The Wrench And Broke The Guy’s Wrist With It, One, And Then The Other Wrist, Two, And Turned Back And Did The Same To The Guy Who Had Held The Hammer, Three, Four. The Two Men Were Somebody’s Weapons, Consciously Deployed, And No Soldier Left An Enemy’s Abandoned Ordnance On The Field In Working Order. The Doctor’s Wife Was Watching From The Cabin Door, All Kinds Of Terror In Her Face. "what?" Reacher Asked Her.

Everything You Could Want - Action, Suspense, Character And Setting, All Floating On The Easy Lyricism Of A Fine Writer At The Top Of His Game.

I Wanted Readers To Be Genuinely Unsure As To Whether She's Telling The Truth Or Lying. It Meant Making Her Partly Sympathetic, And Partly Unsympathetic, Which Wasn't Easy.

I Grew Up In Birmingham, Where They Made Useful Things And Made Them Well.