The Price of Celebrity... When "Reality" Bites Back (Harlan Coben's The Match REVIEW)

Everybody knows the saying—and maybe, most people even believe—“there’s no such thing as bad publicity”. 

I’ve never considered myself “everybody”, though… and have always found it to be a patently ridiculous truism. (Seriously, it doesn’t take that active an imagination to envision plenty of scenarios in which “bad” publicity would be the polar opposite of “desirable” or “beneficial” for anyone.) And, hilarious jokester that she is, Fate even decided to put me smack in the middle of some very bad publicity, a few years ago, just to make really sure I’d never think otherwise. [Thanks, Fate. Really, got the memo. We’re good.] 

But back to “everybody” (else). What happens to someone who genuinely believes that any publicity is good publicity… until the moment they find out how very wrong that can be? Harlan Coben explores that—and a whole lot more—in his latest thriller, The Match.

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An effervescent cocktail whilst reading? Don't mind if I do! ;)

Wilde is one of those people who marches to his own beat, full stop. Following his (undoubtedly) memorable introduction in Coben’s preceding book, The Boy from the Woods (which I haven’t read), the man who mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, all those years ago, a sort of “wolf-boy”—a child with no memories of anything other than living on his own in the woods of upstate New York—remains something of an oddity, a loner… and most definitely someone more comfortable with his beloved forest than with any concrete jungles.

And yet… the man with no early memories also feels an irresistible pull to find out something about his past: where did he come from? Who were his people, and how on earth did he end up all alone in the wilderness? (Can he “go on” without finding the answers to these questions? Of course; he has a handful of friends [aka the people who found him] if/when he feels the need for some sort of tether or belonging… but there’d at least be something nice in knowing a little bit more.)

So, he does what we do, now—sends his DNA off to a find-out-about-yourself site, to see if there are any matches.

And, voilà, there are. A couple of them, in fact. Someone who seems, miraculously, to be Wilde’s birth father(!), and another relation, a semi-distant cousin. 

After a less-than-illuminating meeting with his father [but honestly, what could anyone reasonably expect, after some three-and-a-half-plus decades of not being in contact with each other?], Wilde attempts to reach out to the cousin [figuring the person closer to his own age might have more intel on matters]. 

And that’s when things get really interesting… because the cousin, after having found himself in the very brightest of limelights, as a celebrity (in the whole, now-otherwise-completely-ordinary-people-can-suddenly-be-celebs-when-they’re-REALITY-show-faves! genre) who was once a media darling, but—following an epic scandal [Very Bad Publicity, of the absolute worst kind]—has become a media pariah (of equally-epic proportions). In fact, the cousin’s shame is so monumental that it’s made him pull a disappearing act, like he were a famous magician, going “poof!” into thin air.

As Wilde seeks to unravel the mystery behind his cousin’s disappearance—not just where he is, but who, at heart, he is now/was before the whole reality thing, and how things went downhill so quickly—Wilde discovers that he’s far from the only person (or group) looking for the maligned man. Rabid reality fans, local police, a federal alphabet group (or two), and a sketchy dark web entity—known only as “The Stranger”—are all on the manhunt, as well. 

Someone will find this missing link to Wilde’s still-unknown past… but will it be Wilde, who only wants to talk (and possibly help) his newfound relative… or will it be someone who wants to make him pay, either in a court of law, or even, worst-case scenario, with his life?

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I knew, when setting out to read The Match, there was a chance I’d be sitting behind the eight ball, not having read the prior book setting up the characters and Wilde’s situation. I also knew, though—after years of reading him—that Coben is one of those storytelling masters undoubtedly up to the task of getting me up to speed, even without benefit of the first book. [And yeah, if you haven’t already guessed, I was right. Reading The Boy from the Woods first would be the ideal way to go, here, but I had zero difficulty figuring out the backstory.]

The Match is a deliciously-engrossing, twisty, ripped-from-the-headlines kind of tale, that sets off at a brisk little jog, before diving into a marathon, and ending with a photo-finish-worthy, all-out sprint. [Apparently I need to… run more?] Reading it, I had no idea where, exactly, things were going… and even less, where they’d end up. [Saying that in the best way, in case it wasn’t clear.]

As much or more than the intricately-plotted suspense, though, I really appreciated Coben’s commentary pertaining to the vicissitudes of celebrity [or “celebrity”, when dealing with “reality” stars] in the twenty-first century, the lengths people will go to, to try and achieve it, and the myriad potential downfalls available to those who taste it. His observations—carefully interwoven with the tale, itself—are thoughtfully considered and absolutely on-point.

The Match—like, frankly, anything from Harlan Coben—is an easy (and hearty) recommendation. It’s an of-the-moment thriller not soon forgotten.

Now, enduring the wait until a filmed version of it comes to Netflix..! ;)

~GlamKitty