It’s a bit like admitting you loved ELO back in the 70s. In certain circles (these ones, for instance, but not only) it treads beyond unhip into some kind of unacceptable. But to slag off Jeffrey Archer as an author is to enter into a game you can’t win. If he’s that bad, how come you’ve read him? And if you haven’t, how come you know he’s that bad? His real crime writing-wise is simply to not be trendy.
George Berger is back. And not a minute too soon!