Odd Thomas - Dean Koontz

During my stay in Matane, i read the last series to Odd Thomas. I will wait with much fingers drumming for Koontz to write another one of Odd adventures, "loop me in, odd one"

I now leave you with excerpts and reviews...

Excerpts:

CHAPTER ONE

Embraced by stone, steeped in silence, I sat at the high window as the third day of the week surrendered to the fourth. The river of night rolled on, indifferent to the calendar.
I hoped to witness that magical moment when the snow began to fall in earnest. Earlier the sky had shed a few flakes, then nothing more. The pending storm would not be rushed.

The room was illuminated only by a fat candle in an amber glass on the corner desk. Each time a draft found the flame, melting light buttered the limestone walls, and waves of fluid shadows oiled the corners.

Most nights, I find lamplight too bright. And when I'm writing, the only glow is the computer screen, dialed down to gray text on a navy-blue field.

Without a silvering of light, the window did not reflect my face. I had a clear view of the night beyond the panes.

Living in a monastery, even as a guest rather than as a monk, you have more opportunities than you might have elsewhere to see the world as it is, instead of through the shadow that you cast upon it.

St. Bartholomew's Abbey was surrounded by the vastness of the Sierra Nevada, on the California side of the border. The primeval forests that clothed the rising slopes were themselves cloaked in darkness.

From this third-floor window, I could see only part of the deep front yard and the blacktop lane that cleaved it. Four low lampposts with bell-shaped caps focused light in round pale pools.

The guesthouse is in the northwest wing of the abbey. The ground floor features parlors. Private rooms occupy the higher and the highest floors.

As I watched in anticipation of the storm, a whiteness that was not snow drifted across the yard, out of darkness, into lamplight.

The abbey has one dog, a 110-pound German-shepherd mix, perhaps part Labrador retriever. He is entirely white and moves with the grace of fog. His name is Boo.

My name is Odd Thomas. My dysfunctional parents claim a mistake was made on the birth certificate, that Todd was the wanted name. Yet they have never called me Todd.

Reviews:

"Engaging?. An irresistibly offbeat mix of supernatural horror and laugh-out-loud humor."—Publishers Weekly

"Odd Thomas' latest adventure will make a believer out of even the hardest-nosed soul."—Denver Post

"An irresistibly offbeat mix of supernatural horror and laugh-out-loud humor."—Arizona Daily Star