I had so looked forward to Connelley's latest novel, and to read that the The Scarecrow was compared with his master work, The Poet, made it a read not to miss. But it does not compare, it just never takes off. It is a decent enough story but it lacks tension and passion and just plods on to the end. The only passion, if you could call it that, was McEvoy's annoyance at the demise of the newspaper industry and his career. Such a disappointment.
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