This is my first Clive Cussler book (although I’ve loved the films of Sahara and Raise the Titanic). And all throughout, I kept thinking: is this what it’s like to read a Chuck Tingle book? Like, every time Dirk Pitt arrived on the page, Cussler would go into such intense details about his rugged good looks, his cold, opal eyes, and his masculine prowess that I actually started to feel uncomfortable. Do you need me to leave the room, Clive?

Also, we can add this to the list of books that use black coffee as a shorthand for telling us how incredibly manly the hero is.