The book didn’t exactly come out yesterday, but I’m sure you could still find it in the bookstore or order it, and it’s worth it, possibly before you see the movie so you don’t spoil the final twist! Prepare yourself a good glass of red wine, find a comfortable spot on the sofa, warm the room and leave only the essential lights for reading. Make sure you are alone, and please … Don’t say a word!
They’re watching.
They’ve wiretapped the apartment.
They’ve got their daughter.
They told them they’d hurt her if they spoke about it.
They told them, “Don’t say a word . . .”
Or else . . .[1]
I’m not afraid of loneliness.
I’m not afraid of the dark.
But I have to stop reading thrillers after sundown, when I’m alone in the house! Because the atmosphere, the suggestion and the pathos are fine, but risk a heart attack because the neighbor banged the window a little harder than usual, or shoot with the tennis racket in hand at every creak of a piece of gear a little older is not good for my health, neither physical nor mental.
By the way: what’s a tennis racket doing at home? no one has ever played tennis in my house… Bah.
Nathan Conrad is a psychiatrist who treats the seriously ill and desperate…
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