Neanderthals by John Darnton is a mixed bag.

Written by a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist, it's one of his many best-sellers (he started publishing fiction fairly late in his life). It is admittedly something of a page turner, so props for that.

As an adventure story in which you set your willing suspension of disbelief to ten and switch off your critical sense, it works. It has the pacing and the general feel of a summer action movie based on some scientific headline. You have to enjoy it for what it is.

Where it fails is... where, to be fair, where every summer action movie based on some scientific headline fails. Although the book was apparently critically read by a few scientists before publication, its science is so wrong as to be infuriating; this is made worse by having the bad science spouted in a very smug way by characters who are supposed to be experts. The dialogs between "biologists" sound as fake and expository as Star Trek engine room discussions.

The characters are not particularly sympathetic; relationships seem defined by some kind of "how to write an action novel" checklist. The romantic bits are perfunctory and would sometimes be seen as assault were the book published today. Coincidences are so frequent as to be farcical, and characters often act in very stupid ways. "Oh, come ON!" is not how I like to react to chapters in a book.

The plot is about Neanderthals having survived in a lost valley in Tajikistan, and about Russian and American efforts to harness their telepathic abilities. A few hapless scientists are brought into the mix under false pretence and hilarity does not ensue, as part of the cavemen are peaceful hippies but others are homicidal maniacs.

As a novel to read when stuck at an airport terminal, it's okay. In the genre, however, there are many others that I would rate more highly.

Fletch And The Man Who by Gregory McDonald

Fletch finds himself the new press secretary for a Presidential candidate in the heat of decisive primaries.  And, Fletch being Fletch, he finds himself with a string of murders on his hands.  

I had been pretty disappointed in the last few books by McDonald I had read.  Both in the Fletch series and the second Flynn book.  So I was about ready to give up if this one was a continuation of the weak sauce I'd been reading from McDonald.  Luckily this was pretty good.  Not by any means as good as the first two Fletch books or the first Flynn book, but leaps and bounds better than the ensuing efforts.  It's not without its issues.  The identity of the killer was pretty evident fairly early on, despite a red herring.  And the title and the use of "The Man Who" as an identifier for the Governor/candidate as stupid as all hell.  But it was compellingly readable (I killed it in two decent reading sessions).  And Fletch was almost back to being his funny witty self.  It bought McDonald a couple more reads to avoid me giving up.