Silent Night by Mary Higgins Clark (1995)

‘Tis the season for blasts from the past, apparently. It’s normally uncommon for me to read books multiple times, but recently I’ve had a string of them—Gary Paulsen’s Hatchet and the Glady’s Aylward biography, These Are My People to name two (and these just from this week alone!).

It’s been nearly three decades since I read Silent Night by Mary Higgins Clark, and it was most certainly the first “adult book” I ever read. I was about 13 years old (or thereabouts) and the book had just been released when of all people my dad, the pastor and mystery-lover, recommended it to me as something new to try—something even better than Garfield. I recall enjoying it immensely, not only as a suspenseful story but as a doorway into another world of possibilities in that mysterious world of adult fiction. For that, the books will forever hold a special place in my heart.

I picked it up recently because it’s Christmastime and because I needed a mental distraction from my dissertation. The story follows that of young Brian Dornan, a seven-year-old boy kidnapped from New York City by an escaped convict bent on reaching his girlfriend in Canada or death in trying. The entire ordeal takes place on Christmas Eve, making this one of those oddly satisfying pieces of Christmas distraction like Christmas Vacation or Die Hard.

It’s been a while since I read a popular thriller like this, and I’m glad it’s not my normal fare. I’ve watched enough crime series on TV to know that nibbling on a book like this is akin to watching a single episode of Castle. It’s a good story and a fun escape, but the time invested in reading it is far greater than the time required to watch a single episode—and yet the “rewards” are about the same. I’m certainly not bashing reading, but taking the time to read pop novels like this, well, I just don’t think it’s worth my time invested. I’d say this is more the case with the likes of Robin Cook and John Grisham, but it’s all the same.

Overall this was an enjoyable book. Content-wise, it’s not one I’d read to my kids just yet, but certainly one I’d let them read in a few years. There was one “Jesus Christ” towards the end of the book, and I can only imagine that my dad had already hit that with a Sharpie before handing it over to me (maybe even if it was a library book), but otherwise clean.

One thing I really liked about my copy was the authorial Q&A at the end in which Mary shares a bit of her own backstory. Pretty amazing that she was widowed with 5 young children long before she ever took to writing! That’s an insight that makes me want to read her all the more! Maybe some night when the internet’s down and TV shows aren’t an option, I’ll do just that.

©2022 E.T.

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