Traitor

I'm fascinated by how an author's Intent and Self-Belief permeates their writing. Intent beyond the scope of the writing content. An author's personal beliefs relating to value-of-product, the larger deeper frame-of-perspective and connection to what they're undertaking, their deeper beliefs of purpose and justification. Traitor is an enjoyable read, well written, better written than the overall impression conveys, a good story on a great topic, and yet...
All through the book, I enjoyed, but felt constantly a missing, an abscence of a something. The various elements for a great book are present, yet such levels aren't attained. Why? Technically, the book ought be more, as the story is not only enjoyable, but memorable, even impactful, a tale which affects us and leaves us changed, but, but this does not happen. For no good reason readily perceived. Why?
My read happened to be spread out over a number of weeks, thus opportunity to ponder these ineffable missing elements was ample.
I felt the book was missing soul. A peculiar perception for a thriller one might say. Perhaps it's simply my perception of a seriousness of intent and belief in the work which isn't forthcoming from the author. I puzzled over what the writer might have added to leverage his work, to add the essential salt of fullness to an otherwise fine recipe. Only when I came to the author's note at the very end did this mystery of writing resolve.
The author right near apologised for his book, his story, his efforts, expressing as a disclaimer how the rationale for the book was a personal perception of the importance of certain issues. In addition he communicated a lack of confidence in his own work, a not-believing in its excellence. He also, despite specifically stating how the overall topic was one of importance, did not seem to feel his efforts had much by way of serious affect for the reader. (Yes, grammar checker, I mean affect.)

To me, that missing element throughout the work, which could have elevated this book to truly excellent, is the overall underlying lack of belief of the author in his endeavours. All the work is done, all the efforts of craft are present, all the elements of good story are presented, but that key ingredient of the author's deep energy of belief and intent as to the excellence of their work is missing. The author does not seem to feel their product is justified as a book.
The author's note is an attempt as such a justification. If the reason for the story's existence has to be explained it's not in the story. If not in the story, it's not in the author. A powerful reminder to me how our entire being, and the More-of-Us, affects what we do. If we're not fully ‘into' our efforts, we dilute them. Modesty and Humility have to be balanced by Belief-of-Self, which, along with Impeccability-of-Effort, make for Excellence.