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Nothing To Lose (Jack Reacher, Book 12) [Format Kindle]

Lee Child
2.5 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (2 commentaires client)

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Descriptions du produit

Extrait

Chapter One


The sun was only half as hot as he had known sun to be, but it was hot enough to keep him confused and dizzy. He was very weak. He had not eaten for seventy-two hours, or taken water for forty-eight.

Not weak. He was dying, and he knew it.

The images in his mind showed things drifting away. A rowboat caught in a river current, straining against a rotted rope, pulling, tugging, breaking free. His viewpoint was that of a small boy in the boat, sitting low, staring back helplessly at the bank as the dock grew smaller.

Or an airship swinging gently on a breeze, somehow breaking free of its mast, floating up and away, slowly, the boy inside seeing tiny urgent figures on the ground, waving, staring, their faces tilted upward in concern.

Then the images faded, because now words seemed more important than pictures, which was absurd, because he had never been interested in words before. But before he died he wanted to know which words were his. Which applied to him? Was he a man or a boy? He had been described both ways. Be a man, some had said. Others had been insistent: The boy's not to blame. He was old enough to vote and kill and die, which made him a man. He was too young to drink, even beer, which made him a boy. Was he brave, or a coward? He had been called both things. He had been called unhinged, disturbed, deranged, unbalanced, delusional, traumatized, all of which he understood and accepted, except unhinged. Was he supposed to be hinged? Like a door? Maybe people were doors. Maybe things passed through them. Maybe they banged in the wind. He considered the question for a long moment and then he batted the air in frustration. He was babbling like a teenager in love with weed.

Which is exactly all he had been, a year and a half before.

He fell to his knees. The sand was only half as hot as he had known sand to be, but it was hot enough to ease his chill. He fell facedown, exhausted, finally spent. He knew as certainly as he had ever known anything that if he closed his eyes he would never open them again.

But he was very tired.

So very, very tired.

More tired than a man or a boy had ever been.

He closed his eyes.

Chapter Two


The line between Hope and Despair was exactly that: a line, in the road, formed where one town's blacktop finished and the other's started. Hope's highway department had used thick dark asphalt rolled smooth. Despair had a smaller municipal budget. That was clear. They had top-dressed a lumpy roadbed with hot tar and dumped gray gravel on it. Where the two surfaces met there was an inch-wide trench of no-man's-land filled with a black rubbery compound. An expansion joint. A boundary. A line. Jack Reacher stepped over it midstride and kept on walking. He paid it no attention at all.

But he remembered it later. Later, he was able to recall it in great detail.

Hope and Despair were both in Colorado. Reacher was in Colorado because two days previously he had been in Kansas, and Colorado was next to Kansas. He was making his way west and south. He had been in Calais, Maine, and had taken it into his head to cross the continent diagonally, all the way to San Diego in California. Calais was the last major place in the Northeast, San Diego was the last major place in the Southwest. One extreme to the other. The Atlantic to the Pacific, cool and damp to hot and dry. He took buses where there were any and hitched rides where there weren't. Where he couldn't find rides, he walked. He had arrived in Hope in the front passenger seat of a bottle-green Mercury Grand Marquis driven by a retired button salesman. He was on his way out of Hope on foot because that morning there had been no traffic heading west toward Despair.

He remembered that fact later, too. And wondered why he hadn't wondered why.

In terms of his grand diagonal design, he was slightly off course. Ideally he should have been angling directly southwest into New Mexico. But he wasn't a stickler for plans, and the Grand Marquis had been a comfortable car, and the old guy had been fixed on Hope because he had three grandchildren to see there, before heading onward to Denver to see four more. Reacher had listened patiently to the old guy's family tales and had figured that a saw-tooth itinerary first west and then south was entirely acceptable. Maybe two sides of a triangle would be more entertaining than one. And then in Hope he had looked at a map and seen Despair seventeen miles farther west and had been unable to resist the detour. Once or twice in his life he had made the same trip metaphorically. Now he figured he should make it for real, since the opportunity was right there in front of him.

He remembered that whim later, too.

The road between the two towns was a straight two-lane. It rose very gently as it headed west. Nothing dramatic. The part of eastern Colorado that Reacher was in was pretty flat. Like Kansas. But the Rockies were visible up ahead, blue and massive and hazy. They looked very close. Then suddenly they didn't. Reacher breasted a slight rise and stopped dead and understood why one town was called Hope and the other Despair. Settlers and homesteaders struggling west a hundred and fifty years before him would have stopped over in what came to be called Hope and would have seen their last great obstacle seemingly within touching distance. Then after a day's or a week's or a month's repose they would have moved on again and breasted the same slight rise and seen that the Rockies' apparent proximity had been nothing more than a cruel trick of topography. An optical illusion. A trick of the light. From the top of the rise the great barrier seemed once again remote, even unreachably distant, across hundreds more miles of endless plains. Maybe thousands more miles, although that too was an illusion. Reacher figured that in truth the first significant peaks were about two hundred miles away. A long month's hard trekking on foot and in mule-drawn carts, across featureless wilderness and along occasional decades-old wheel ruts. Maybe six weeks' hard trekking, in the wrong season. In context, not a disaster, but certainly a bitter disappointment, a blow hard enough to drive the anxious and the impatient from hope to despair in the time between one glance at the horizon and the next.

Reacher stepped off Despair's gritty road and walked through crusted sandy earth to a table rock the size of a car. He levered himself up and lay down with his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky. It was pale blue and laced with long high feathery clouds that might once have been vapor trails from coast-to-coast red-eye planes. Back when he smoked he might have lit a cigarette to pass the time. But he didn't smoke anymore. Smoking implied carrying at least a pack and a book of matches, and Reacher had long ago quit carrying things he didn't need. There was nothing in his pockets except paper money and an expired passport and an ATM card and a clip-together toothbrush. There was nothing waiting for him anywhere else, either. No storage unit in a distant city, nothing stashed with friends. He owned the things in his pockets and the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet. That was all, and that was enough. Everything he needed, and nothing he didn't.

He got to his feet and stood on tiptoe, high on the rock. Behind him to the east was a shallow bowl maybe ten miles in diameter with the town of Hope roughly in its center, eight or nine miles back, maybe ten blocks by six of brick-built buildings and an outlying clutter of houses and farms and barns and other structures made of wood and corrugated metal. Together they made a warm low smudge in the haze. Ahead of him to the west were tens of thousands of flat square miles, completely empty except for ribbons of distant roads and the town of Despair about eight or nine miles ahead. Despair was harder to see than Hope. The haze was thicker in the west. The place looked larger than Hope had been, and teardrop-shaped, with a conventional plains downtown mostly south of the main drag and then a wider zone of activity beyond it, maybe industrial in nature, hence the smog. Despair looked less pleasant than Hope. Cold, where Hope had looked warm; gray, where Hope had been mellow. It looked unwelcoming. For a brief moment Reacher considered backtracking and striking out south from Hope itself, getting back on course, but he dismissed the thought even before it had fully formed. Reacher hated turning back. He liked to press on, dead ahead, whatever. Everyone's life needed an organizing principle, and relentless forward motion was Reacher's.

He was angry at himself later, for being so inflexible.

He climbed off the rock and rejoined the road twenty yards west of where he had left it. He stepped up onto the left-hand edge and continued walking, long strides, an easy pace, a little faster than three miles an hour, facing oncoming traffic, the safest way. But there was no oncoming traffic. No traffic in either direction. The road was deserted. No vehicles were using it. No cars, no trucks. Nothing. No chance of a ride. Reacher was a little puzzled, but mostly unconcerned. Many times in his life he had walked a lot more than seventeen miles at a stretch. He raked the hair off his forehead and pulled his shirt loose on his shoulders and kept on going, toward whatever lay ahead.

Chapter Three


Despair's downtown area began with a vacant lot where something had been planned maybe twenty years before but never built. Then came an old motor court, shuttered, maybe permanently abandoned. Across the street and fifty yards west was a gas station. Two pumps, both of them old. Not the kind of upright rural antiques Reacher had seen in Edward Hopper's paintings, but still a couple of generations off the pace. There was a small hut in back with a grimy window full of quarts of oil arrayed in a pyramid. Reacher crossed the apron and stuck his head in the door. It was dark inside the hut and the air smel...

From Publishers Weekly

At the start of bestseller Child's solid 12th Jack Reacher novel (after Bad Luck and Trouble), the ex-military policeman hitchhikes into Colorado, where he finds himself crossing the metaphorical and physical line that divides the small towns of Hope and Despair. Despair lives up to its name; all Reacher wants is a cup of coffee, but what he gets is attacked by four thugs and thrown in jail on a vagrancy charge. After he's kicked out of town, Reacher reacts in his usual manner—he goes back and whips everybody's butt and busts up the town's police force. In the process, he discovers, with the help of a good-looking lady cop from Hope, that a nearby metal processing plant is part of a plan that involves the war in Iraq and an apocalyptic sect bent on ushering in the end-time. With his powerful sense of justice, dogged determination and the physical and mental skills to overcome what to most would be overwhelming odds, Jack Reacher makes an irresistible modern knight-errant. (June)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 1259 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 546 pages
  • Editeur : Transworld Digital (4 septembre 2008)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B0031RSBS2
  • Synthèse vocale : Activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Non activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 2.5 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (2 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°7.962 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
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Commentaires client les plus utiles
7 internautes sur 8 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
1.0 étoiles sur 5 Not vintage Reacher 14 juillet 2008
Format:Relié
I have been a fan of Jack Reacher since he first appeared but this last book is rather weak and does not bear comparison with the others,

Given that the police in Despair want to keep Reacher out they are very inept in their efforts.

I found the plot unconvincing

A real let down
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4.0 étoiles sur 5 assez bien 11 avril 2014
Format:Poche|Achat vérifié
trouvé ce que j'ttendais, bon livre dans la moyenne pour lire dans la train ou sur la plage opu le soir avant de s'endormir.
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Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon.com (beta)
Amazon.com: 3.3 étoiles sur 5  1.230 commentaires
391 internautes sur 436 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
1.0 étoiles sur 5 Rare miss for Child 10 juin 2008
Par JOHN ONEIL - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié|Achat vérifié
Disappointing. After reeling off 11 good to (often) great Reacher novels, Lee Child struck out with this one. It starts promising enough. Despair had all the makings of a great stage for Reacher to be Reacher, reminiscent of the Killing Floor. But the promise is never fulfilled. The meandering plot doesn't pull you in. Unlike previous stories, the villain is flat, two dimensional and far from frightening - a death sentence for any story of good vs. evil. The action is sparse.

Previous Reacher novels were impossible to put down. You were torn between your desire to get to the end and your hope that the story would keep going. After all, it would be another year before you got the next one. Sadly, that was not true here. The ending seemed slapped on, left lots of loose ends untied and seemed very uncharacteristic for Reacher. But worst of all, it didn't come too soon. It could have come 100 pages sooner.

These were the big problems with the book. Reacher's detour into politics and criticism of the war did seem out of character but not because I had any assumptions about his politics. He always struck me as outside of politics - outside of almost everything for that matter.

Lee, everyone is entitled to a miss, especially after the roll you have been on. Here is hoping the next one is back to your old form
147 internautes sur 162 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
2.0 étoiles sur 5 Shockingly pedestrian 28 juin 2008
Par BeachReader - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
After reading about 8 of Child's Jack Reacher books, I finally found a dud. It started out thrilling, as expected, but quickly become almost boring. I can not believe I am typing those words.

Reacher's repeatedly doing the same thing, over and over (returning to a bad place) was tedious and so unlike our hero's usual behavior. The plot wandered all over the place and the book was too long.

I found it impossible to buy into the far-fetched "conspiracy theory" with its pathetic "villains" and was surprised at Child's foray into political opinion (putting his opinions into Reacher's mouth -which completely changed Reacher's character). This was totally out of place, I thought, and awkward at best.

I just hope that Child has not run out of stories and that he will return Reacher to his previous inventive adventures.

I only read the Amazon reviews after finishing the book, and must say I am not surprised that there are 110 reviews and the average is an abyssmal 2.5 stars. Most of his other books have averaged 4 stars.
185 internautes sur 218 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
1.0 étoiles sur 5 "Nothing to Lose" except time wasted reading this one. 17 juillet 2008
Par PrakThomas - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
Lee Child/Jack Reacher novels are "Gotta get the hardback today" books for me. His previous efforts range from very good to great. His plots/locales have varied, but his formula for a page-turning thriller has not. "Nothing to Lose" not only lacked the usual page-turner formula, but was actually a chore to finish. This novel has to be compared to Child's previous efforts to appreciate it's failings.
"The Hook"- Child can set the hook like no other author. The action starts hard and heavy, and is mysterious enough to keep the reader engaged. "Nothing to Lose" had no hook. By page 45, I was still waiting for the hook to get me interested. Never happened.
"The Bad Guys"- Child always has fascinating and diabolical bad guys, often with a clever plot twist to throw reader off of who's good-who's bad. But by the end of the novels, I can't wait for Jack to take care of these guys as he always does. The End Times preacher was a [yawn] low-grade baddie who [yawn] only truly gets defined as a baddie after he's been blown up [yawn].
"The Roller Coaster"- Every Reacher book to date has hit a point where I cannot put it down until it is finished. I call this the "top of the roller coaster"- usually about 100 pages from the end. 3 AM, have to be up at 7AM- too bad. Have to finish the Reacher book. In Nothing to Lose, 75 pages from the end, I just lost interest, and put it down for three days. I forced myself to finish it.
"Politics"- If Lee Child is actually interested in continued sales of his novels, he might be wise to realize several points. Jack Reacher probably doesn't have mass appeal for left-wingers, peaceniks, or academic liberals. Also, the Jack Reacher character is almost by definition apolitical. "Nothing to Lose" is basically a platform for Child to espouse his anti-Iraq War, anti-administration views and twist them into a discoherent plot.
"Memorability"- Within one hour of finishing most Reacher novels, I could recite a fairly tight outline of the main story lines. It's now an hour since I finished Nothing to Lose, and realize I can't do it. Let me try. Jack wanders back and forth from Despair to Hope. Beats up some guys who weren't really bad, but pissed him off. Goes back and forth a few more times and occasionally beats up some more guys. Finds out the town is weird with something going on. Gov't/current administration coverup of gross failures in Iraq exposed. Pitiful brain injured Iraq vet demonstrated for all to see. Pipeline for military deserters desperate to escape duty in Iraq and head to Canada left unexposed. Gets the babe. Blows up the dirty bomb which really wasn't that dirty. The end. Hmmmm.
Technical Accuracy- OK. It's just a story. A few loose ends are inevitable and forgivable. Truth can be stretched for novels sake. Nothing to Lose took these liberties to the point of constant distraction. Acute radiation sickness from depleted uranium??? Come on. Massive Abrams battle tank losses covered up by the gov't??? Come on. His description of a chronic brain-injured patient was so off base it was distracting. (If Child would like an MD/surgeon to proof his next book, I volunteer).
In summary, No Hook, Bland Bad Guys, an 8 ft. roller coaster, politically polluted, unmemorable, and technically inaccurate. Worst Reacher book of all times. I think I'll wait for the paperback when "Gone Tomorrow" comes out.
35 internautes sur 38 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
3.0 étoiles sur 5 Wait for it in paperback. 7 juin 2008
Par Gary Seiser - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
Lee Child's Jack Reacher series is one of the few I purchase in hard cover as soon as they come out. I buy them, I read them, I keep them, and then I read them over again, sometimes several times over the space of a couple of years. This one, though, I wish I'd waited for the paperback. I may keep it, but I doubt I will reread it. For the first time I actually found times when I didn't like Jack Reacher, when he acted out of character in a way that lost my favor. I won't say how or why, since you may also be a Reacher fan, and I want you to read this. Just wait for the paperback.
34 internautes sur 37 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
1.0 étoiles sur 5 Nothing to waste your time on 3 février 2009
Par S.L. - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
I'm no kind of literary critic, but I had to laugh at the endless repetition of the phrase, "Reacher was no kind of this," or "Reacher was no kind of that." Child seems to have phoned this one in, for it's the first Reacher story that not only was I not unable to put down, I had to force myself to finish it. The plot is convoluted and implausible, and if I did not already "know" Reacher from the prior novels I would have had little clue to his character from this one. The novel seems to have been concocted as a wet dream for the moveon.com or Daily Kos crowd, replete with the wholesale destruction of American tanks in Iraq, the wanton murder of Iranian civilians, wanton contamination of the environment and wanton mistreatment of injured vets back home -- all covered up by the government -- capped off by a dirty bomb plot hatched not by Islamists (perish the thought) but by Christian fundamentalists (naturally). Come to think of it, Child's target audience really must be America-bashing Hollywood producers -- I bet this is the first Reacher novel to make it to the big screen!
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