The greatest writer you never heard of

Michael Marshall, or sometimes “Smith” is appended. I stumbled over him when “Bad Things” appeared on the New-in-Paperback shelf. I read the book and wondered where this guy had been and why I hadn’t come across him before.

I may be alone, there. DreamWorks snapped up the rights on one of his books and Warner Brothers holds the option on another. I ordered a half dozen of his titles and am avidly chewing my way through them.

Perhaps he suffers from straddling genres. If Raymond Chandler channeled Stephen King, or vice versa, it might’ve come out as a Marshall book. I’m not a huge fan of science fiction or horror, but the supernatural aspects of Marshall’s books are imaginative and well-integrated with the plot. The mystery angles are gripping, save for one example. Most of all, the writing is beautifully crafted.

For stimulating reading over the long winter nights, you could do worse. If you enjoy the far out stuff, start with “Only Forward.” For a taste of something you might’ve suspected was going on with those people who always seem to discern the turn in the road that most others miss, crack open “The Intruders.”