I have greatly enjoyed Bill O’Reilly and Brian Kilmeade’s “Killing” series books. The first of these, “Killing Lincoln,” was perhaps the quickest-paced, most intense and utterly fascinating historical book I’ve ever read. “Killing Kennedy” was well-done and interesting, as well. “Killing Reagan” was, I thought, less so, but I did like “Killing Patton.” I have not read “Killing Jesus.”
More recently, “Killing the Rising Sun” and “Killing England” have been published. I have read both, and, while I didn’t think either of them were as riveting as “Killing Lincoln,” I believe they each have merit. History has so much to teach us. As much about the future as the past.
Now comes “Killing the S.S.” Whereas this book, too, could have its moments, I am beginning to be concerned that O’Reilly and Kilmeade could be running out of things to kill. Or, more properly stated, I’m worried they may be running out of legitimate and cogent tales of people, countries and other entities that have already been killed to relate to the rest of us. At some point, the writing style or hook utilized in the beginning of the series might just wear thin. It’s one thing to refer to “the man with 24-hours to live,” but quite another to say, “the major fascist paramilitary organization with 2-years to live.”
What’s next? Will we soon see titles such as “Killing Two Birds with One Stone,” “Killing the Goose That Lays the Golden Egg,” “Killing the Fatted Calf,” “Killing Oneself,” “Killing the Clock,” and “Killing with Kindness?” Perhaps “Killing It” is next. Or, maybe, “Killing Time.” (“The year with 48-hours to live?”).
The suspense is killing me.