This is not just a book, it's a complete sensory experience. Not the sort of book you want to be reading if, like me, you are used to gobbling down books, giving a satisfied belch every couple of chapters. Nor is it the sort of book you should attempt to sit down and read in one sitting. That's not to say it's not a page turner, just that if you do attempt to read it that way, your poor brain will quickly become overloaded with an explosion of images, scents and finely drawn characters that leap off the page and take up residence in your lounge for the duration of each sitting. It does get pretty crowded on my sofa.
No dear reader, this is a book to be swirled, sipped and savoured like an extremely fine wine. So you will need to switch off the phone and tv, shut down your laptop and tell your friends you won't be tweeting for at least an hour. Accord this book the respect it deserves; do it in style with a large glass of something tasty, a few nibbles and a large box of Kleenex, just in case.
Breathe deeply, open the page and immerse yourself in the sheer musicality of Frank's voice. As I read, in my head, the words appeared in an elegant hand, grown spidery with the onset of arthritis. Slowly, I shake off the cares of the day and allow myself to be teased into Frank's world where I luxuriate in the sinuous, sensual dance that sings to my blood just as loudly as my sword and trusty steed normally do.
This is not just a gripping tale, a fast-paced romp through blurring settings with pencil-sketched characters on a mission to do something awfully exciting for a few hundred pages. To experience SILENCE OF CENTERVILLE properly, you must submit yourself to the writer's mastery of the journey - sit back and enjoy. Who cares how much farther it is, I'm not sure I even want to get there.