Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, Relic.
Some nice light brain-candy.
My mom had brought home Preston's new book, Codex. It was quite awful. Trite, obvious, overly predictable, and corny. So I decided to go back and reread Relic, which is actually decent for this odd genre that mixes detective/horror/sci-fi in a jangled mishmash.
I quite enjoy Special Agent Pendergast; he's in that detective tradition to which I'd be quite happy to belong.
Rereading this book, though, had the unfortunate side-effect of renewing my desire to visit the Museum of Natural History, though.