Customer Reviews

Final Round

5 star:		(6)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(18)

 

 

Let me preface this review by saying that I was extremely exited about this book. I read and enjoyed the author's previous book, Murder One, and I am also an avid golfer. I was really looking forward to reading this book. That being said, I am at a loss to describe the depths of my disappointment in this novel. Did anyone edit this thing? This book will alienate both golfers and fans of Bernhardt by combining a severe lack of familiarity with the game of golf with a plot that resembles that of an old Scooby Doo cartoon. Allow me to explain.

Golfers who read this book will find themselves in a state somewhere between disgust and amusement. The amount of mistakes that the author makes in regard to golf would be comical if not for their frequency and absurdity. For instance, the author continually refers to water traps on the course. I've seen sand traps, and water hazards, but never a water trap. He refers to 'cart trails' several times, even though they are called cart paths and do not exist at Augusta. As for his hero, Connor Cross, he hits some truely amazing shots and attempts many others. During the Par 3 tournament, Cross decides to hit 9-iron off the tee (which the author refers to as 'tee-offs', not tee boxes) into a hole that measures 450 yards (remember, this is a Par 3 tournament) because the 9-iron is his best club and he thinks he can reach the green in one. 450 with a 9-iron? Another stellar example is when Cross decides to hit Driver into a par 3, and his ball lands on the green and spins back into a 'water trap.' The best of all comes toward the end of the book, when Cross finds himself in contention during the final round of the Masters. After nearly reaching a par 5 in one, Cross thinks he can reach the green in one on the 425 yard 17th as his caddy ponders whether someone has ever reached that green in two during the masters. Alas, he comes up 5 feet short. A 423 yard drive. Yes, he's got some power. Never fear though, Cross makes eagle regardless. He also manages to eagle the 18th. Simply remarkable. Pointing out these errors may seem picky, but they occur so frequently that anyone who plays the game of golf will be so distracted, they will find it impossible to get into the story.

As far as this book's appeal for non-golfers, I just can't imagine anyone being able to take this book seriously. Again, the author's mistakes are plentiful, the most egregious of which is when the hero's find themselves crawling through a pipe that measures 'three feet in circumfrence'. Said pipe would be less than a foot in width, but Cross, who is 6 foot, 205 lbs., manages to move around by crouching. The plot races around from here to there with no discernable direction. The killer comes out of nowhere and is completely unexpected, but not in the smooth, "wow-I-should-have-seen-that" way that marks the end of good books. The reader gets the feeling that he got tired of writing and picked the bad guy at random simply to end the story. Before this occurs, the plot basically boils down to a pathetic comedy of errors on behalf of the Augusta PD.

I am rarely this harsh on a novel. As a person who would one day like to write, I respect the effort and research that goes into the process. I've never even given a book 1 star before. This book, however, is one that should not have been published. It is easily the worst book I have read in recent memory, and quite possibly ever. I would not be surprised to learn that Bernhardt had never even picked up a golf club, and I would be astounded if he has, even once, watched the Masters on televison. This is an incredibly bad novel that I finished in one sitting (it is mercifully only 244 pages) just to be done with it. This author should fire his editor tomorrow and his publishing company should begin issuing refunds. Consider yourselves warned.

Jon Cavalier

John McCree and Connor Cross were childhood friends from rural Oklahoma when they discovered the game of golf. Now both are pros on the PGA tour. John has smoothed out all the rough edges, married well, and made a name for himself. Connor's made a name for himself too. He's proud to be the wise-cracking, irreverent, rule-breaking, bad boy of golf. Now both have been invited to play in the Masters Tournament at Augusta National Golf Club, that bastion of tradition and prestige. All the stars of golf, past and present, are here, and the famous and coveted green jackets can be seen everywhere you turn this week. Unfortunately the splendor of this annual event is spoiled when Connor finds his best friend dead and buried in a sand trap off the eighteenth green. Who could have wanted John dead? He was a class act, popular among fans, and a friend to all on the tour. Or was he... John's wife begs Connor to stay in the tournament for John's sake, go undercover and investigate. And when the murder weapon turns out to be his nine iron, and he becomes the prime suspect, Connor decides he'd better do just that before he ends up losing more than just another golf match..... William Bernhardt, a master of the legal thriller and courtroom drama, shows, in Final Round, why authors should stick with what they know, and not be lured into an arena in which they are totally unfamiliar. It is obvious from page one that William Bernhardt has never played the game of golf, or even watched a golf tournament, and this poorly researched mystery is so full of inaccuracies, that it lacks all credibility. Mr Bernhardt's story line is completely transparent, and filled with repetitive, predictable scenes. His writing is immature, and his dialogue, inane. This is supposed to be a mystery, yet there's no suspense, tension, or intrigue. But worst of all, his characters are all one-dimensional, cartoon cliches...the bad boy turned good, the always drunken pro with the big mouth, the young and rising star everyone resents, the snobby and officious tournament director... It all adds up to a truly awful book that should never have gotten past an editor. Do yourself a big favor, and stay away from Final Round. This is definitely a book to miss.

This is probably the worst book ever written. Obviously Mr. Bernhardt knows nothing about golf and Ballatine Books should never have published it. Now I know why it was only $1 at our library sale. It is a 'tee box' not a 'tee off', people 'play golf' not 'golf' and who would even think that a 9 iron would be an alternate club to a driver? Augusta should sue for defamation of character. Aside from the golf gaffs, the plot was perdictable and stupid. Do even ask about the dialogue. Don't waste your time.

The dialogue is so bad that it makes you forget how ridiculous the plot is. Do not, under any circumstances, even look at this book. Its only purpose in life is as a paper weight.

Let me make this quick. I really like Ben Kincaid and have no intention of discontinuing buying and reading Mr. Bernhardt's books. However, I wish I had read the reviews posted on Amazon before picking this book off the bargain table at a not-to-be-disclosed local bookseller. It was below average as mystery and just plain awful as a golf story. STAY AWAY!

In the acknowledgments for Final Round, novelist William Bernhardt thanks his "golf experts, Richard T. McNeil and Frank Hurka" for their help and "priceless suggestions."

Obviously Richard and Frank have played a terrific practical joke on Mr. Bernhardt and the results are hilarious. I won't repeat all the golf errors and Masters Tournament idiocies that occur - just go to all the other one-star reviews below. But let me just cite one example of how Richard and Frank must have said, "Let's see just how much we can get away with."

At the start of the 4th round, with the protagonist Conner Cross in 4th place, Conner shoots the round of his life (an eagle on both the 17th and 18th hole being the highlights), then gives a half hour interview to the press while waiting for everyone else (14 players!) to finish, and then (wait, this is really good, ha-ha), goes to the locker room. And what did he do there? Hold on to your hats. "He changed into his street clothes and ambled upstairs to the bar."

I can hear Richard and Frank right now whispering to each other..."You think he ever heard about a tie? Or a playoff? Shhh, nah, don't tell him. See if he knows on his own..." And then, of course, is the rip-snorter of having all the pros waiting for one of the scoring officials to come in with a large white posterboard with the final scores so that everyone can find out where they finished. Whoo! That was the best yuck of all. I had to wipe the tears from my eyes. Rich and Frank, thumbs way up!!

I read one of Mr. Bernhardt's books before this one. Pretty good writing but concluded illogically. Same thing here with the murderer - straight out of left-field and about as satisfying as 4-putting a green. Fool me twice, shame on me. I won't be reading Mr. Bernhardt any more.

I purchased this book just last night. Being an avid golfer, and having attended the Masters 8 times in the past, and owning several books about Augusta National I consider myself an amateur authority of the event. Mr. Bernhardt obviously did little or no research into this "annual rite of spring" in the golfing world, and I found myself actually angry, and then embarassed as I read the first several chapters. A few examples, just in the opening chapter, gave a hint of what was in store. For instance, the "hero" and his best friend are about to play a practice round, and their caddy is wearing Italian woolen slacks and a cashmere sweater!!! What a hoot! Even the casual observer knows they wear white coveralls and a green hat. Then a tee box marker is broken...its described as a minature version of the club house. In truth, small sections of pine are used on all the tees as markers. Then, increduously, the hero is fined 3 penalty strokes (remember, this is a practice round), and finally, he is told by his caddy not to use driver on the first hole because it might go to far!!!! Its nearly 300 yards to the group of bunkers on the right side of the fairway, but the author was referring to the green!!! What...??? He's going to over shoot the first green!!! Laughable....Terry C.

William Bernhardt has proven he can write good mysteries, but he needs to stay away from golf or at least do some research.

The trials and tribulations of Conner Cross, a PGA pro who attempts to win the Masters in the midst of his best friend and the friend's wife being axed, was typical mystery stuff. But when Bernhardt gets on the course to write about Cross's tournament, he gets nutty.

Bernhardt says in his acknowledgments that some of the yardage figures are incorrect. Why does he need to do that? There are many examples of unrealistic and flat out wrong information. For example, Cross wants to hit a driver off a tee but his caddie Fritz says to layup with a 7-iron. On a 450-yard hole? I doubt that. Hasn't Bernhardt heard of electronic scoring? Golfers no longer have to wait in the bar to see the scores posted. This isn't the Delco Thursday night league. There is real-time scoring all over the course and has been for a long time. Also, Cross was in fourth place heading into the final round, yet when he finishes, Bernhardt writes he must wait on 14 other golfers to finish. That's absurd, considering leaders are paired off last. In almost ho-hum delivery, Bernhardt writes that Cross eagles the 18th in the final round. That means he holed out from probably 165 yards, which would be a heck of a feat.

This goes beyond creative license and creeps into the realm of pure laziness. The author does mix in accurate history here and there, but his grasp of Augusta National lacks perspective.

This is it first time I've reviewed a book on amazon and I'm only doing it because this is the most poorly written book I've ever read. Or attempted to read, I couldn't make it past page 31.

I'm an infrequent golfer that rarely breaks 100 but even I know that the errors in this book are as bad as writing a book based in the United States and having car drivers drive on the wrong side of the road. Nearly every "fact" regarding golf and in particularly professional golf is wrong in the first 30 pages. By page 30 when there were so many errors I couldn't finish the book, I decided to write this review. And I was stuck on a plane with several hours to go with nothing to read, and I still couldn't continue the book.

Page 30...
The progessional golfer only has ONE ball that he FOUND the day before in a sand trap on the Masters course that apparently someone had left there for him to find, yet his caddie told him he had just BOUGHT some balls for him. The golfer with the one ball is said to be in the ROUGH at the Masters and needed a machete to get out.

No professional golfer would lose a ball in a sand trap so none could have been found.
Pro don't buy balls, they receive them as part of endorsement deals.
There is no real rough at the Masters, anything off the fairway that could be called the rough is lower than your front lawn, and certainly not junglelike.

etc. etc. I could go on but why bother.

In addition to be totally wrong with every golf fact, quite frankly, the book is just poorly written. Every attempt at humor is flat and there is just nothing to suggest it will get better in any way.

Terrible! To call this book terrible is an insult to all bad golf novels ever written. The author has no clue about his subject what-so-ever. How the publisher let this tripe get by is beyond me. The book lost me when the author mentioned "water
traps" and "pros' wearing shorts" at Augusta National. Silly putty golf ball centers, please. Anyone who has ever spent any time around golf knows that golf ball centers are made from Chinese herbs and goat eyes.
I have read hundreds of golf books over the years, and this book ranks last by a long shot. Do not waste your time and energy on this poor excuse for a golf novel.