by Richard Connell
Connell’s prose reminds me of Cornell Woolrich. At times his writing feels amateurish, but like Woolrich, the man knows how to build suspense and tell an original tale. At just 35 pages, Game is really just a short story, but Connell packs more action into those pages than Tolstoy does with ten times the length. The plot: An American falls off a yacht in the Caribbean and is swept to shore on a mysterious island. Once there, he becomes the “guest” of an aristocratic Russian hunter who informs the American that they will go hunting together – with the Russian as hunter and the American as prey. It’s melodramatic hokum, but it works. My only complaint is with the Hollywood ending, which feels false.
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