PicoBlog

Harlan Coben is one of those names that you kind of recognise. You’ve seen it on a poster, or it’s popped up online at some point. Now, his name is probably most well-known for preceding a considerable number of Netflix original series’ titles; Harlan Coben’s Shelter, Harlan Coben’s Safe, The Stranger, Stay Close and other punchy titles enigmatic enough to pique the interest of a passing browser.

He’s also known for the books that serve as source material for these productions. Like Jeffrey Deaver and Dan Brown, an apparently endless supply of his novels are seen in any secondhand bookshop, his name sprawled across the cover in a way that makes it clear his name is the selling point.

That tactic seems to be working, as according to the reputable website Celebrity Net Worth dot com, Coben has a net worth of $25 million. Not an unimpressive sum (although it pales in comparison to Dan Brown’s estimated $160 million), and one that will surely be rising steadily as he continues to churn out story after story.

In 2018, the author signed a deal with the aforementioned devil (Netflix) for 14 of his novels to be adapted for the screen. Amazon Prime also got a look in with the shoddy, one-season-then-cancelled Shelter. As an avid watcher of Netflix original series and a lover of high-stakes, ridiculous plots, I have watched a fair number of these productions.

The best part is, there are so many of these shows to choose from. They span languages and countries, and a new one seems to be released every few months. Just as the man himself churns out novels at breakneck speed, Netflix rattles off limited series after limited series.

Can I remember the plots of any of them? No. And that’s really saying something—if you drop me in at any episode of Gossip Girl or Gilmore Girls I will most likely be able to tell you the context for whatever’s going on. With six and seven seasons respectively (not counting spinoffs), I think this is a testament to my ability to remember unimportant information about TV shows. But when it comes to Harlan Coben shows, I can’t even remember which ones I’ve seen.

This is not meant to be an insult to the calibre of these shows. It’s quite nice to be able to watch something so overly complex and then immediately forget it. Filled with red herrings, convoluted tangents and incomprehensibly connected webs of characters, each of these series is a great way to spend a few evenings after work when you want to escape your own life a bit. They’re like a palette cleanser for your brain, something to watch in between stints with highly-regarded productions that really have something to say.

Most of the series dabble in social issues, generally on a surface level and without much nuance. Part of that is because there simply isn’t enough time for them to delve into everything they set up—it’s not just themes that get left behind but entire plotlines, either tied up tangentially into a more central narrative or abandoned once they’re no longer needed as a diversion from the main mystery.

However, the lack of consistent quality between each series—the production of which is farmed out to any number of groups and individuals—means that the real mystery when you start watching is whether it will be completely terrible, middling but compelling or actually good TV.

The recently released Fool Me Once, the name of which I forgot while writing this because it has such a similar tone to its siblings, was capital-a Alright. It was compelling at times and had a few interesting side plots that were, of course, left by the wayside as the tangled tale reached its conclusion, but the ‘big twist’ (or twists) weren’t particularly jaw dropping.

Shelter, released on Prime Video around the same time, was capital-a Abysmal. Although the actor playing ‘Spoon’ (Adrian Greensmith) was genuinely entertaining, his better-written lines and well-timed delivery couldn’t save an absolute mess of a plot. Unsure of what it wanted to be, with characters who acted at best irresponsible and often nonsensically, it’s no wonder that news of its cancellation was swift.

Whether or not the original Shelter novel is worth its weight in trees is something I can’t answer, having only engaged with Coben content of the televisual variety, but based on the rest of his output I assume that it has at least some merit. At the very least, I assume it makes at least a modicum of sense.

It seems that any project connected to his name is given the green light no matter the quality. It’s a tactic that makes sense—an increasing percentage of media output is being driven by celebrity writers, presenters, and producers. Recently, the BBC came under a degree of criticism due to their next slate of podcasts all having celebrity hosts. When people are already famous, opportunities open up for them to try new formats and industries with no-questions-asked backing, while the majority of people trying to break into creative spaces are left to fight for the scraps that remain. With layoffs in these areas occurring at what seems to be an unbreakable pace, it’s demoralising that rapidly dwindling funding is assigned to ‘celebrity’ projects with a more guaranteed (at least initially) audience.

No matter how much I enjoy the intrigue of a Harlan Coben series, it’s hard to ignore the fact that their constant production—and my frequent watching—is contributing to this. When streamers like Netflix are cancelling shows every minute, all based on statistics that rarely correlate to their popularity (the most recent example being The Brothers Sun, the cancelation of which is terrible decision that makes no sense), what we choose to spend our time watching has a more profound effect than ever on the media landscape and the careers of those trying to make their names in it.

In all honesty, I’ll probably watch the next Harlan Coben series that comes out, just like I watch Netflix’s terrible Christmas films every year and keep up with their new series. But I’ll still feel guilty about it.

ncG1vNJzZmikpZjGrbjCZ6qumqOprqS3jZympmegZMGpsYyipZ6rk5a9oq7IpaCtsV2ks260wKujmqZdmLyjsc0%3D