Loren D. Estleman: Infernal Angels
The voice of experience should be a basso profundo, like Tennessee Ernie Ford’s. Instead it’s a mealy little whisper, like the teller’s at a window informing you your account’s overdrawn.
Some writers (and no doubt their editors) feel the need to begin a book with an ostentatious bang, something along the lines of a graphic torture killing or a dramatic explosion. True masters like Loren D. Estleman know how to ease into a narrative, gradually turning up the heat until things are at an irresistible boiling point.