This week I finished up Black Flies, and then moved on to Renegade by Richard Wolffe. I love watching Richard Wolffe on MSNBC; his commentary is usually very insightful. That’s why I was particularly disappointed by Renegade. Mr. Wolffe’s writing seemed unnatural, with sentence fragments and repetition of the word “renegade” that felt forced. The campaign was presented disjointedly, without chronological or any other logical order of events. Perhaps Mr. Wolffe hasn’t figure out how to escape his journalist roots; I felt as though I’d read a greatest hits of newspaper election coverage.
Black Flies was excellent – highly recommended. A former paramedic in Harlem, Burke isn’t the strongest writer in an academic sense. But he writes with an incredibly strong voice, stronger than many novelists who may be considered to be technically “better” writers. Though categorized as a novel, Burke writes so graphically, drawing (I assume) from his own experiences, that I had to keep reminding myself it was fiction. An outstanding book, but not for the faint of heart.
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