Stephen Woodfin

A promising thriller: a rogue CIA element colludes with a heartless pharmaceutical company to infect the unsuspecting population with Alzheimer’s. The book’s thrill, however, diminishes for lack of editing.

The plot develops nicely and the climax has startling elements; but the finale is saccharin and unbelievable. Tighter revisions would abbreviate the tearful confessions and fanciful hugging, and might discover other ways to satisfy a reader’s happy-ending quotient. There are other flaws, too.

People: The author uses the shortcut device of dubbing his characters with peculiar names rather than painting them with memorable traits: a limp, a weird tic, a scar, peculiar lisp, or an odd wardrobe. These flat characters are unremarkable since they lack significant details. Foreign-sounding surnames are intended to suggest some xenophobic fears. Some of the baddies include Schoenfeld, Brokowksi, Seidelman. Even Simon Gobels hints to a Nazi of memory. Ray Copernicus is an odd moniker for a central character; but implied here is that the notion that the eye of the storm of this story is akin to the author of helio-centric theory. Lawyer Eisenhower Richter is the antagonist. Attorney-author Woodfin shows his prejudice for the legal community by continually having his characters refer to Ike as “Mr. Richter.” In casual conversations, people don’t refer repeatedly to an attorney as “Mister.”

Places: Chase scenes and travel routes read like gazetteer renderings from an atlas. For any non-Texas reader the routings are meaningless, although they lend authenticity to the story. But a few picturesque scenes along the way would invite us along for the ride and make the trips more memorable.

Things: The use of washed-up or has-been politicians as exemplars—a “John Edwards haircut”; a “Mike Huckabee comb-over”—might prove hollow to anyone but an historian. Rather, more popular and recognizable personalities might be better appreciated especially by a younger audience. Usually, writers are warned to avoid slang (“ginga” for Pete’s sake). Woodfin loves to employ the slang “Bimmer.” Is he fixated on BMW cars or is he lecturing us on vernacular jargon (“Beemer” is the slang for BMW’s motorcycle)?

Some other problems: (a) The typographic use of italics in Chapter 21’s dream sequence is a bit odd. A better use might be to use this section as a first-person memory flashback. (b) The medical/chemical jargon is vague enough to be believable without being technical; but, serum production in a hotel room seems a far stretch of the imagination. And, (c) When not preaching, some characters deliver rather robotic, bland, and stilted dialogue.

One description for this novel is “forgettable.” This novel is a raw read—perhaps it is a draft rushed to print. It cries for more polish to be memorable.… (plus d'informations)

I have heard the phrase “spine-tingling” used countless times to hype the feeling of thrill and fear that audiences would experience when reading books about monsters or viewing horror films. Indeed, one film producer went so far as to equip theater chairs with devices to invoke a “tingle” in the backs of the audience. In truth, I have thought there must be something wrong with me. Nothing has ever made my spine “tingle,” until now. The first chapter of Stephen Woodfin's novel, Last One Chosen, did it.
The story begins when a brilliant scientist who has hidden himself away as an obscure heating and air conditioning repairman, is arrested by Homeland Security. He has devised a horrifically dangerous weapons system and refuses to help deploy it or craft a defense against it. Thus, he faces the death penalty for espionage and overzealous government agents use super-legal means to prosecute the case. Some find this unbelievable. My spine tingled because it rang too true.
Anyone watching the antics of our government since the terrible events of 9/11 must agree. They and the author of Last One Chosen serve to remind us of another work of fiction, A Man For All Seasons. In that play Sir Thomas Moore is about to be betrayed to King Henry VIII by Richard Rich. Rich is going to lie to curry favor from the King and Moore's family encourages Moore to jail Rich before he can. Moore refuses because Rich has not broken any laws, and his son-in-law, William Roper, complains, “...you would give the Devil the benefit of law!”
That is the crux of the problem that author Stephen Woodfin takes on in Last One Chosen. Should we give accused terrorists the benefit of law?
Woodfin's heroes, two lawyers attempting to defend the accused, are stymied at every turn by the prosecution's extra-legal maneuvers. They, like Moore, believe that, ...when you cut down every law in pursuit of the Devil, “and the Devil turned 'round on you, where would you hide?”
The Last One Chosen is built on the premise that we in this country have been cutting down laws in pursuit of terrorists, and innocents have suffered together with the terrorists. Most may not be aware, but we've all suffered because our freedom and our very lives may now depend on the whim of a member of Homeland Security and a federal prosecutor.
That's why my spine “tingled” as I read this book.… (plus d'informations)