Take a photo of a barcode or cover
theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)
adventurous
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
The World of This Novel
This is a Fantasy world where the Muggles (here, they’re called “Usuals”) know about Magic and the Supernatural populace (called “the Unorthodox”). They’re largely not that comfortable with them, it doesn’t seem—and maybe look down upon them. We don’t get a lot of Usual/Unorthodox interaction, so it’s difficult to get a good read.
The Unorthodox are policed by a division of the Department of Unorthodox Affairs called Auditors. They’re witches with the power to enforce the laws governing the Unorthodox. And there are rules governing how the Unorthodox interact with Usuals. We don’t get to see a lot of them here—but you know they exist.
It occurs to me now that we really don’t get that much insight or information about all the situation the protagonists find themselves in (more below). Dead Man’s Hand cares about the story and will let the rest take care of itself. It took me until now (and this is the last section of the post I’m writing) to realize just how little we know because I didn’t care. My mindset apparently was the same as the novel’s: just tell me the story. I got the impression that there were rules and bureaucracy and some sort of history, but my focus was on this case.
That’s kind of cool, really—until it comes time to think about and write about the book.
So What Exactly is Dead Man’s Hand About?
One of our two protagonists is Grimshaw Griswald Grimsby. Grimsby grew up wanting to be an Auditor and tried to work on the requisite skills as much as he could to prepare himself. He’s not the most powerful witch, but he can do a lot with what he has (roughly the equivalent of “street smarts” vs. “book smarts”). He’s flunked out of the Auditor Training Program at the very end and has to go find a job in the Usual world.
He ends up as a performer/custodian at a Chuck E. Cheese-style restaurant, where the animated figures are powered by his magic. It’s humiliating, embarrassing, and eats at his soul. Grimsby went through some big trauma in his childhood; was on the verge of his dreams coming true before that ended; and now he’s scraping by demeaning himself and his abilities. It’s hard to find a character with supernatural abilities downtrodden or pitiful, but…Grimsby is. To put it concisely, he’s a schlub and he’s fully aware of that.
The other protagonist is a Usual who worked with the Auditors, Leslie Mayflower, better known as The Huntsman. He’s responsible for enough death and destruction amongst the Unorthodox that many don’t believe he actually exists—he’s an Urban Legend to keep people in line. In reality, he’s a guy who’s seen too much, done too much, and when personal tragedy hits, he’s done. He retires to drink himself into oblivion to avoid the memories and his own tragedy.
The Auditor who flunked Grimsby is considered one of the most powerful and dangerous witches in the world. Mansgraf is respected and feared—mostly feared. And when the novel opens—she’s been killed in a fairly brutal fashion (the only way she’s going to be able to be taken out). Mayflower spent his career (at least the bulk of it) as her partner—and he’s brought in to look at the scene to see if he can pick up any clues. He comes up with one—and doesn’t share it with the Department—and it points right to Grimsby as his prime suspect.
The Huntsman is back in the saddle for one last ride—to get vengeance, and his target is a man currently wearing a pink tutu with taco wings and an avocado wand. The Taco Fairy at Mighty Magic Donald’s Food Kingdom.
It’s almost patently obvious to Mayflower that Grimsby can’t have killed Mansgraf, but that’s where the evidence points. The Auditors won’t be far behind, and they’ll be less inclined to listen to Grimsby. So Mayflower has to stay one step ahead of them while protecting the witch and using him to help the investigation. The result is a buddy cop kind of story—without that much comedy or much in the way of buddy-ness. The duo drag themselves and fight their way through a variety of hazardous situations facing a variety of supernatural obstacles (some are solid takes on well-established ideas—some are new and surprising twists to them).
Broken Heroes
Mayflower is your typical brooding, laconic, action hero. He’s grizzled, he’s serious, and he really only cares about wrapping this up so he can get back to destroying his liver. But he’s fair, he’s got a strong moral core, and on some level, he feels sorry for Grimsby and wants to help him out. We know just enough of his backstory to understand what kind of man he is and the scars he carries.
We get more information about Grimsby and the hardships he’s endured. His cowardice, his lack of confidence, and his lack of career prospects make him a relatable kind of character, and you want to root for this underdog. Although you (and Grimsby) know that he’s going to need a lot of help from Mayflower to survive, much less succeed here. His problems are both played for laughs and treated with respect—frequently in the same paragraph. He has a genuine reason for being scared by things, but it can result in some laughs/grins. I keep thinking about Arthur from The Tick.
There’s a stoic, stay standing while the waves crash against you, feel to Mayflower’s outlook and the way he treats Grimsby. Yes, life is hard, but keep moving because that’s what you have to do. Whatever problems there are with that worldview, the immediate circumstances the duo finds themselves in, it works. if they survive it, maybe more nuanced approaches and help can be found. But that’s a problem for another day.
Comparing This to that Other Butcher
I really don’t want to spend a lot of time comparing this Butcher to his father, but 1. everyone I talk to about this asks about it and 2. the publisher’s description mentions him, basically inviting the comparisons. I’d prefer to consider him on his own—but here we are.
Honestly, I don’t see a lot of similarities—beyond seeing the influence that Jim Butcher has on many UF series (see Anton Strout, Kevin Hearne, Mike Carey, Benedict Jacka, etc., etc.). Sure, there are similar attitudes portrayed, similar character types and voices, and even a couple of situations that feel like I could easily name some parallels to in The Dresden Files. But again, every time I could point to something and say, “That’s his Dad,” I could point it and say, “That’s Peter Hartog” or “That’s Jacqueline Carey.” So maybe it’s just James J. Butcher.
His writing style is different, the characters aren’t just retreads of Harry or his friends, and the particulars of the plot don’t seem to fit something for Harry.
If you’re looking for someone who writes things in the same general vein as Jim Butcher, you can look to James J. Butcher. But if you’re looking for Butcher 2.0? There are other options that would be better.
So, what did I think about Dead Man’s Hand?
This is a solid introduction to a series. I want more of the worldbuilding, I want to see how Usuals/The Unorthodox interact when they’re not at a lousy restaurant, etc. But I’m more than content to wait for it—like I said, I didn’t really realize what we didn’t get until now.
I would say I’m not a huge fan of the epilogue—the events of it should prove interesting, even if I might want for a different storyline to be pursued—but I don’t like the way it functioned in the novel. Personally, I’d have been happier if it had been a prologue to book 2 or 3, and let the book end without it. I don’t think it was needed, and I think the book ending with Chapter 47 would give a stronger impression.
Aside from that, I really have no complaints about the book—I was solidly entertained and invested from Chapter 1 onward. I don’t know that I can say that I was blown away by anything—but there are some things I’m not talking about here because of space/don’t want to give something away, that I will be talking about for months (and have already started doing so). I’m not going to be announcing to the world that the next Jim Butcher/Seanan McGuire is here. But I will say that this new writer is really good and absolutely worth reading. You’re going to be entertained. Seriously, pick this up just for the kid’s birthday party scenes, and then stick around for the excitement.
In the last twelve months, we had to say goodbye to Jane Yellowrock this year and Alex Verus the year before, I’m glad we got to say hello to The Unorthodox Chronicles now. I think this series could be as long and as satisfying as those if it’s given the chance to grow naturally and doesn’t get overshadowed by Butcher’s DNA.
adventurous
tense
fast-paced
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
What’s Wealth Management About?
Not that long ago, Catherine, Rafe, and Majid had attended Harvard Business School together—they were competitors, friends, and (at least briefly) more than friends. After graduation, they’d each gone their separate ways, but life has brought them all back together in Geneva, Switzerland.
Catherine is working for a large and important bank, Majid and his partner run a fairly new hedge fund management firm, and Rafe…well, there’s what he tells people and what’s really going on with him. The personal entanglements have started/resumed before we see the reunion of the trio, and they become more entangled after the book begins. As do the professional dealings—and here’s where it gets messy.
It turns out that one of Catherine’s more significant clients seems to be involved in some money laundering (and is dragging her along with him)—and possibly some worse crimes. Majid’s firm is in serious cash problems, that might have been saved by one client—but he and his partner are concerned about this client and how he knows just the right stocks to sell short. And Rafe just might be able to save both of them from these, shall we say, complications.
There’s at least one murder, a terrorist act or two, some CIA agents, a persistent (and possibly honest) Nigerian police detective, and other assorted criminal and conspiracies afoot as well—and once Majid and Catherine become aware of them (and/or stop lying to themselves about how complicit they may be), it looks like Rafe’s help isn’t only attractive—but their sole lifeline.
Can Rafe help his friends/lover/frenemies? Can they uncover—and maybe stop—a terrorist plot?
The Financial Side
Like I said last week when talking about Nineteenth Century Monetary Crime—I’m not particularly interested in, or seemingly that capable—of rolling up my sleeves to get into the nitty-gritty of the World of Finance. I get the broad concepts—and can even appreciate the broad outlines of a discussion of short-selling (and things along those lines).
I was a little apprehensive about that idea before I started the book. Would this get into the weeds with that kind of thing? I remember learning too much about nuclear submarines or the inner-workings of an aircraft carrier deck’s operations back in the 80s and 90s when all I wanted was some action. Would the infodumps/background information slow things down too much?
Yeah, I was also a little worried about not being able to follow the focus of the action—no one likes their novels making them feel dumb. Or even if I could understand it, would it really be interesting enough to hold my attention?
Thankfully, it didn’t get too far into the weeds. I could understand the financial actions—and it wasn’t dull at all. Actually, I think this is the kind of thing that’d be good to see more of. Just how do terrorist groups—or even criminal organizations (outside of theft or selling drugs/guns/whatever)—fund themselves? It’s not like you can reuse explosive materials or bullets, and they don’t grow on trees—the money has to come from somewhere, and it sure isn’t from bake sales. The idea that certain targets/plots are motivated as a way to generate income for a terrorist group is a great way to cost a guy some sleep (and hope that “the good guys” are able to stop them).
And if cryptocurrencies reared their head at all, it was so briefly* that it didn’t leave a lasting impression—right now, you have to be grateful for that.
* Also, a quick word search didn’t turn up the term.
I’m Not Entirely Sold On This…
There’s a Love Triangle here among our protagonists—it’s not a significant part of the story, but it’s not insignificant either. Well, “Love” might only apply for 1-1.5 of the sides, but “Friends-With-Benefits Triangle” doesn’t have a great ring to it, and “Sex Triangle” seems to suggest all sorts of things that Zuckerman didn’t have in mind.
If this is a product of a “you have to have sex in a thriller to sell” kind of a thing, I guess it fulfilled its cynical function—and didn’t put off prudes like me.
If it’s to round out these characters and make them more than young professional types out to make all the money they can—or to ground them in reality and/or make them more interesting? I guess it succeeded (maybe not in the interesting part, but its possible).
If it’s to add layers of additional and conflicting motivations to the characters—giving them reasons to trust, distrust, and be unwilling to work with each other? It’s not bad—but I think it could’ve been played up a bit more—or at least more thoroughly. We get some of this, but I think it could’ve been explored a bit better.
It’s likely all three of these things—and probably more—and as such, it largely succeeds. But my gut tells me that it could’ve been done a bit better without turning the book into something all about the Triangle.
So, what did I think about Wealth Management?
Okay, I called this a Financial Thriller (as does the publisher)—but never fear, there’s the requisite gunplay, hand-to-hand violence (and threat thereof)—and actual terrorist activity. The thrills aren’t all in deft trades and market chicanery. The money material is the focus and does provide most of the thrills—and it’s what distinguishes this book from the rest of the market. In the end, we get a tight and intricate novel full of intrigue.
At one point, I counted a dozen competing/conflicting motives/goals/actions at work among the named characters—plus a handful of people we don’t meet. Zuckerman keeps the action jumping from character to character quickly, advancing each plot line a little at a time so they can come together in a nicely dramatic fashion.
Some of the characters aren’t that developed—but there’s enough to hang on to. With most of them, it’s easy to see that in another 50-100 pages or so, you could see them being described as such. But with a cast as big as this one in under 300 pages? You’re going to get some that are undercooked, there’s just no way to do that. Like with most thrillers—if it comes down to a choice between plot vs. character, plot wins—especially when it’s paced the way this is. It’s not a bug, it’s a feature (not my favorite feature, but it is one).
My initial reaction when I was emailed about this book was, “‘MBAs,” ‘Banking’, and ‘Thriller’ are not terms I’d expect to be together”—and they’re still not. But when done right—done the way that Zuckerman did it in these pages—I’m glad to say that I was wrong.
This is a very effective thriller, a little something different in the diet—and generally a good time. Yes, I think that another hundred pages could’ve been added to better develop characters, the whatever-triangle, and to flesh out a few other aspects of the book—but I think that might have sacrificed pace and tension, and you don’t want a ponderous thriller. So, I think Zuckerman made the right choices there. A quick glance at IMDB shows you, that he knows his way around a tight plot—also any author who is able to induce a moment of acrophobia deserves kudos.* I’m glad to recommend Wealth Management and encourage you to check it out.
* Sure, in real life or on film (or via a Go Pro video), I’m on a hair trigger for that kind of thing, but to do it without visual stimuli is a trick.
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
"I guess drinking was his way of dealing with it tonight.”
“That was always my first option,” Jesse said. “And second. And third. But no matter how many times I tried, it never seemed to work.”
There was a pause at her end.“He didn’t get into any fights, did he?”
“Just with himself,” Jesse said. “Spoiler alert? He lost.”
What’s Fallout About?
There are two murders for the Paradise Police Department to focus on in this book—and both have a lot of personal resonance.
The first is the suspicious death of Suit’s nephew. He was a senior in High School and a hot college baseball prospect—naturally, a great athlete—and had been getting better because of Jesse’s mentoring. Suit thought of Jack as a son more than a nephew and he’s devastated by this. It’s unclear if he died after a drunken fight at a party, or if he’d been driven by inner demons to end his own life. No one wants to believe the latter—but they can’t rule it out. A very not-subtle cone of silence around the team is being enforced—as that was pretty much all of Jack’s life, that means the investigation isn’t getting very far.
Some time ago, a former Paradise Police Chief moved back to town and befriended Jesse. The two regularly had dinner together, and one of the first things we see is a meal between Jessee and Charlie Farrell. The woman that Charlie’s been seeing was recently swindled out of a few thousand dollars and now it looks like scammers have targeted Charlie. He’s been retired for decades, but still has the instincts and reflexes to try to track them down himself rather than turn things over to Jesse’s crew. He must’ve been on the right track because he was killed. This shakes (an already shaken) Jesse, who sets his sights on this case so much that he turns Jack’s death primarily over to Molly. He was Chief before any of the officers we know joined the force (as far as I can tell), but it’s still about “one of their own.”
Jesse’s Battle with Alcohol
I’m not crazy about Lupica’s way of dealing with Jesse’s alcoholism compared to Coleman’s—but it’s better than Parker or Brandman did. But I really liked Jesse’s ruminations about people being able to stop drinking while the bottle still had something left, or when the option to order another glass was available. Actually, all of the material about his drinking in this book was good—better than he’s given us so far. Hopefully, the trend continues.
Miscellaneous Bullet Points
I don’t have time/inclination to expand these beyond brief paragraphs—but I felt compelled to mention a few things.
- Okay, the over-use/over-reliance on Crow, basically making him Jesse’s Hawk, bugs me. It also doesn’t do that any favors for the character of Crow or Jesse—and really doesn’t help Molly’s character in any conceivable way (although Lupica may have a long game there). Parker (inadvertently?) tamed Hawk by using him too much—and was well on the way to doing that with Bobby Horse and Chollo, too. And now Lupica’s doing that with Crow. Use him less (far less) and he retains his mystery, his edge, and his ability to do the things that Jesse won’t do.
- This isn’t evaluative, per se, I guess I’d file it as a general musing—it felt to me like this book was (for lack of a better term) swear-ier than I’m used to. Parker and the other authors in the Spenser-verse have never been reluctant to use a four-letter word when the situation called for it, by any means. It seemed like a noticeable uptick in those words. I’m not saying that Lupica’s turned into Kevin Smith or anything, it just gave everything a slightly different feel. I wonder if that’ll continue, if it was just a blip, or if I’m imagining things.
- It really feels like Lupica is trying to write off Jesse’s son, Cole. Had Coleman continued with the series, I’m curious about how he’d have handled the character. I’ve had so many questions about his introduction in the first place, and now it feels like Lupica’s trying to pull a Chuck Cunningham with him—sending him to law school in London and taking him out of Jesse’s life. He actually thinks, “The kid sounded happy. Leave him alone.”
- So Molly came clean with her husband about her fling with Crow several years ago. Now her marriage is all but over. No one has given us enough time with Molly’s husband over the previous 20 books for us to get that invested in the marriage—so putting it on the rocks doesn’t do much for the character either. I really don’t care either way, except that it feels like Molly’s character is drifting and becoming a different person. But that happens to all of us, so I can’t complain on principle, just…
- Yeah, Parker created his three series in a way to allow the characters to intersect—but other than the Jesse/Sunny love story, and the Sunny/Susan therapy relationship, the primary characters didn’t intermingle too much. I’m not sure if the current approach of bringing them all together so much is the right way to deal with them. I’m not sure it’s not, either.
- Building from that—if you’re going to bring these worlds together so much, and if you’re going to introduce and kill off a police chief that coincidentally(??) shares the last name of a frequently used supporting character who is also a cop? Someone had better say something. If only so that readers stop thinking about it. In a Spenser-verse book, if someone talks about “Farrell,” I reflexively think, “Lee.” I can’t imagine I’m alone there—I just don’t get that character name choice. I bumped on it every time it was mentioned (and, as the central death in one of the two major storylines, it came up a lot).
So, what did I think about Fallout?
This was entertaining and occasionally clever. I don’t know that I felt the emotional impact of either murder—I felt for Suit, but I’m not sure I cared too much about it. Maybe if we’d been able to focus on what Suit was going through while he was doing the investigation—keep it a Jesse and Suit thing with some backup from Molly. In the end, it became primarily a Molly and Jesse thing with Suit in the background.
I don’t know if Lupica’s capable of delivering a great Jesse Stone novel, instead, I think we’re going to get a streak of pretty good—and consistently so—novels (well, he’s probably capable, but I don’t get the impression that it’s his goal). That’s good enough for me, I might want something more, but consistently good and entertaining will sustain my interest.
I’m not sure if this is the place to jump onto the series—but it’s not necessarily a bad place. It’s the 21st in the series, but you don’t need the knowledge that comes from the previous twenty. It might help, but not that much, you’ll not miss much at all.
A good time will be had by those who take a dip into these waters.
adventurous
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
What’s An Easy Death About?
I’ve tried this, and it gets too detailed (read: dull), so I’m going to borrow from Simon & Schuster’s website:
In a fractured United States, a new world where magic is acknowledged but mistrusted, a young gunslinger named Lizbeth Rose takes a job offer from a pair of Russian wizards. Lizbeth Rose has a wildly fearsome reputation but these wizards are desperate. Searching the small border towns near Mexico, they’re trying to locate a low-level magic practitioner believed to be a direct descendant of Grigori Rasputin.
As the trio journey through an altered America—shattered into several countries after the assassination of Franklin Roosevelt and the Great Depression—they’re set on by enemies. It’s clear that a powerful force does not want them to succeed in their mission. Lizbeth Rose has never failed a client, but this job may stretch her to her deadly limits.
The Worldbuilding
It’s always interesting to see how someone launching an SF/F series introduces the world and its rules (eh, even in Crime/Non-Genre fiction this can apply), in this case, the Alternate-History, too. Harris takes a pretty bare-bones approach, on pages 3-4 you get a decent sketch of where this Earth’s history diverged from us and a hint about the resulting politics. A few details will be added along the way, but not many (all that you need, and not a word more).
Throughout the book, she tosses in just enough to get you through the magic system, although most of that is left vague and mysterious.
You might be curious about several other things—both on the history and magic front. But you don’t need to know about it for the novel to work, and Harris is just focused on Lizbeth and her clients. The rest just doesn’t matter.
It’s both frustrating (as someone who is curious about more than a few things) and refreshingly satisfying (who needs the info dumps and background?).
So, what did I think about An Easy Death?
I enjoyed it. I think of all the books I’ve been recommended for this 12 Books Challenge, Zane’s is most likely to get me to read another by that author/in that series.* I’m very curious about what a second Gunnie Rose adventure looks like—how it differs (and how it doesn’t) from this one.
* Although, to be fair, if a second book in the King Oliver book was actually out, it’d probably be a tie.
Gunnie’s a compelling character, that’s for sure. But, like the world-building, Harris has been sparing with the details about her. I think a lot of my conclusions about her so far are based on my preconceptions and assumptions about characters like her more than on what Harris provided. The differences in my mind between her and Shining Smith (for example) are mostly based on genre and the time setting of the books. What I do know, I like—and I want to fill in some of those missing details. I’m not sure either Gunnie or Harris are going to be all that forthcoming with the details, they seem to be playing things close to their vests.
The Alternate-History stuff was interesting enough, but it’s not going to bring me back by itself. The idea of California-Oregon-Washington making up a Holy Russian Empire is intriguing, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not sure we’re going to get more about it than what’s provided in this novel. As for the rest? Eh, I could go either way.
But the sparse and stark, Depression-era territory of Texoma and the pseudo-Western atmosphere and storytelling possibilities? That’s a draw I feel, particularly with Gunnie around.
But that’s for the series as a whole. What about An Easy Death? If in the first chapter or so you decide you want to see what happens to Gunnie, you’re going to be in for a fun ride featuring some good action scenes, a mysterious quest, and strange magic. If you’re not particularly interested in Gunnie’s character by the end of Chapter 3? Close the book and move on.
mysterious
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
But the theft of that which represents money—of pieces of paper that can be exchanged for money—well, there we have something new. Mr Fauntleroy is not accused of going into his bank’s vaults and taking money belonging to others, but of changing pieces of paper to make it look as though their money belonged to him. We police officers will have to learn new skills to catch such people.
What’s Fatal Forgery About?
It’s 1824, and Henry Fauntleroy is one of the leading bankers of London—it’s a smaller bank, but it has a stellar reputation. Fauntleroy is the son of one of the founders, and while he’s an utter and complete cad in his personal life, he earned both his position and reputation—it wasn’t handed to him.
But then evidence comes to light that he’s been forging documents and moving large sums of money around in some sort of complicated scheme. He’s determined to plead guilty and avoid a trial. While the winds of reform are blowing, this type of offense is a capital crime. Fauntleroy knows this and is still ready to plead guilty and accept the sentence.
At least one magistrate involved wants to make sure that the investigation is handled properly and there isn’t a rush to judgment/punishment. Sam Plank is a constable that works for him and has the same concerns–he is the one who arrested Fauntleroy and becomes somewhat invested in the investigation and his welfare (beyond what’s called for in his duties). Plank is convinced that everyone is missing something vital in this case, but he’s struggling to see what it is.
Will he be able to put the pieces together in time to save Fauntleroy’s life?
Financial Crimes
I get the impression that the monetary system was in a time of transition at the time the book was set, and the kind of crime at the center of this book was a new thing that the legal system wasn’t quite prepared for. Much like we might be today with cryptocurrencies and we’re still trying to figure out how to effectively police identify theft-type crimes. I’ve lost track of the number of books that I’ve read this year that include a discourse on cryptocurrencies (and I have a book to start this week that will likely feature a few of them), so it was nice to walk into a book about financial crimes that was sure not to include one—but behind all this is the equivalent, which is thankfully much easier to understand.
Now, I’m not a complete dunderhead when it comes to finance and economics, but (in both real life and fiction) things don’t have to get too detailed before my mind checks out. I was a little daunted about trying to understand 1820s banking in the first place—much less any kind of scheme involving defrauding it. But Grossey’s depiction of it was easy to follow—she wrote it in such a way that you don’t have to come in knowing the nuts and bolts* of the machinery to follow Fauntleroy’s crimes
* Nor will you walk out knowing them—it easily could’ve become a Tom Clancy-deep dive into Nineteenth Century monetary systems.
Martha Plank
I think that Sam’s wife, Martha, is going to turn out to be one of those supporting characters that turns out to be one of the MVPs of the series. At first glance, she seems to be simply a nice, supporting wife, who understands her husband’s moods better than he does—and understands that she’ll take a backseat to his job (at least from time to time). But at one point, she takes the reins for a bit and gets more information out of a witness than Sam would’ve been able to—and with far less fuss and bother.
I’m not saying she’ll become the asset that Marybeth Pickett is to Joe’s investigations, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns into something in the same vein.
So, what did I think about Fatal Forgery?
While Plank was clearly drawn to the case, trying to understand what made Fauntleroy ticked, and was disturbed by some of his non-financial crime activity, there isn’t the same kind of emotional investment that characterizes so much of Police Procedural/Detective Fiction today. Part of that has to do with the era, I’m sure—Plank caring the way that Renée Ballard or Malcolm Fox does about a case would be unseemly. Still, he spends personal time on the case—even using a date with his wife as a pretense to go track down someone associated with Fauntleroy–and will later go to great lengths to wrap things up.
I liked that feel to the character, and think it serves to help establish the setting. But that might say more about my preconceptions about the time—and how it’s been depicted in the fiction I’ve read.
I wondered if the setting—and the type of crime—would end up being a hurdle to reading and/or enjoying the book. But neither proved to be the case, I was pleased to see how easy it was to get into the book. And the pages just melted away when I got past the first chapter or so, which felt more like a speed bump than a learning curve. In the end, the setting and subject made this a very pleasant change of pace.
Fatal Forgery isn’t the kind of thing that would catch my eye when I browse, and ultimately, not it’s exactly my cup of tea–but I’m shooting to read at least one more in the series because I enjoyed this and am curious about what else can be done with the character (and I can see that easily turning into me reading all of them). I do know one reader who will likely burn through the whole series as soon as I give her the first one—if you’re like her and a Regency-era police procedural with a minimal amount of violence piques your interest at all (even if it makes you mildly curious)—give this a try.
adventurous
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“The thing that we thought might end up with Adam dead looks like it will work out okay,” I told her dryly as her feet hit the ground again. “We have another situation to replace it that might end up with Adam dead. Or me dead. Or maybe the whole pack. But at least we solved one deadly situation before we picked up another one.”
“Business as usual,” said Tad.
What’s Soul Taken About?
Wulfe continues to act strangely—for him, that is—as he was last time. Then he goes missing. And Marsilia tasks Mercy with finding him, or she and the Pack will face the consequences (not life and death consequences, either—something worse).
But it’s not just Wulfe who’s missing—there are others, too. The paths seem to lead to a Fae artifact believed to have been destroyed and a local Urban Legend/subject of a new Horror movie.
Sure, this isn’t as strange as the miniature zombie goats, but it’s close. And slightly less cute.
Sherwood Post
“I’ll call Samuel and bug him.”
“Why not ask Sherwood?” Adam said.
“Did he sound like someone who was going to spill the beans to you?” I queried. “He talks more, but he doesn’t say more. He hasn’t changed that much.” I found that reassuring.
After a lot of speculation, we finally get to know Sherwood Post’s actual identity. And, um. Wow. As she clearly intended, the answer Briggs gave us only leads to more questions.
Several more questions.
For example: was this identity her plan when she first introduced the character? (likely, but I can see a scenario where it wasn’t) Given how this changes what we know about the world, when did she decide to shake things up to this extent? Lastly, when do we start seeing the ripple effects from this revelation? Okay, maybe one more: how many other things has she been lying to us about? (okay, that last one is a joke. Pretty much)
Unintended Consequences
Mercy (and therefore, we) are aware of a decent segment of the supernatural/paranatural population of the Tri-Cities area (although I think I remember her being surprised by some early on in the series)—she knows all the werewolves, many of the Fae, the goblins, vampires, etc.
But we learn along the way in this book that because of Mercy’s declaration a few books back that the area is under the Pack’s protection many “lower powered” supernatural beings have moved into the area for that protection. Mercy and the Pack were unaware of this until they met some in the midst of their investigation. Briggs didn’t spend much time on the idea, but it laid the groundwork for potentially several future storylines.
Even aside from that, I thought it was a great idea—and really seems likely to have happened given Mercy’s action.
So, what did I think about Soul Taken?
I’m never going to complain about getting to spend time with Mercy and the crowd. But I felt let down with this novel. The premise was promising, maybe even more than that; I thought the threats brought by Marsilia and how that played out were intriguing; I was glad to see who the Big Bad behind it all was; and the future ramifications for the seethe are promising. But the stuff in between the premise and the defeat of the Big Bad? Eh. Even the big fight scene wasn’t that good—nor am I that invested in the means by which they were defeated (dancing around a spoiler there).
Really the things that interested me the most about the book were the ongoing arcs and development—the stuff about Sherwood, the lesser powers, some internal Pack matters, and Zee (there was a lot of great material with Zee here). When the subplots and the things the novel isn’t about are what grab me, there’s a problem with the book. The solution was too rushed, it was all too easy, really. If Briggs had taken another hundred pages or so to really dig into the premise and the hunt for the Big Bad, maybe that would’ve worked (but that’d make the book super-sized by her standards).
I just wanted more, I guess. It was fun enough to justify the time and I’ll be back for more—but I expect more from Briggs. I do think long-time fans will enjoy Soul Taken—and despite what it might sound like, I did—but it will leave you wanting.
adventurous
lighthearted
medium-paced
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
What’s Spider-Man’s Social Dilemma About?
So this is a Peter Parker in High School story—he’s been Spider-Man for 6 months or so, he’s fought some bigger villains, but he’s still got a lot to learn. J. Jonah Jameson is campaigning against him. He’s learning how to balance school and web-slinging. It’s definitely set in 2022, and isn’t in a comic timeline or one from any of the movie universes. It feels a little like the early Ultimate Spider-Man, but MJ is closer to the MCU version.
Sandman and Beetle have attempted to steal a 100+-year-old device that is powered by something alien (or so rumor has it). But both of them are acting a little strangely lately—Peter can’t say what it is exactly, but they’re more violent, more determined. He’s still able to hold his own against them, but it’s a little work.
So, what did I think about Spider-Man’s Social Dilemma?
I really don’t have a lot to say about this—it’s a fun Spider-Man story. And who needs more than that? But let me try…
It’s fun and fast-paced, with good action. Chhibber combined tried-and-true Spider-Foes with a new threat, I appreciate mixing the two rather than just giving us one more ride with the Green Goblin—or someone we’re not at all familiar with. The action scenes are handled deftly and you can see them as clearly as if a Romita or a Bagley were bringing them to life.
Chhibber clearly knows this universe well and has a strong affection for the series—and that shines through. I may not have been able to keep up with the comics over the last decade or so, but Spider-Man has long* been my favorite, and to see him handled like this does my heart good.
* In this case, long = since 1980.
Yeah, this is targeted for an MG audience—but it didn’t feel that way. It felt more All-Ages to me. A classic Spider-Man story—with requisite numbers of laughs, action, and optimism. If Marvel Press has Chhibber return (and the stage is set here for a sequel), I’ll be first in line for this. It was a blast.
emotional
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
This is one of those books that grabbed my interest and then I immediately forgot about it for months. Thankfully, the library system here had it in their audiobook catalog where I stumbled on it. Knowing what I know about it now, I’m pretty annoyed that I took this long to get to it.
---
This is one of those books that grabbed my interest and then I immediately forgot about it for months. Thankfully, the library system here had it in their audiobook catalog where I stumbled on it. Knowing what I know about it now, I’m pretty annoyed that I took this long to get to it.
The Hook
The book opens with the protagonist/narrator in a police interrogation room. Ruby Simon is being questioned about her husband’s death. She’s innocent–100% guiltless–it’s clear from the get-go, that she did not murder her husband.
But…there are three other people that Ruby has killed over the last couple of decades. She’s never even been looked at as a suspect in these deaths–they’d previously been judged to be accidental, in fact.
But after death #4, it’s hard to believe that with all this smoke, there might not be a fire.
What Comes After the Hook
The first part of the book focuses on the events in the interrogation room–the detective presses for details on these four deaths, and as Ruby dances around her answers, we get to see her life story in flashbacks. Her childhood (punctuated by a murder), her party days as a teen (punctuated by a murder), her college years and training as a psychologist (punctuated by a murder), and then her falling in love with her husband and beginning their life together (punctuated by his death by natural causes).
The rest of the book focuses on the legal battle that ensues–the investigation that follows, her eventual arrest, the decimation of her career and reputation that results, and the eventual resolution of it all.
Conflicting Impulses
Ruby is a completely horrible person, she’s a murderer–and in two of the three cases, it’s entirely unjustified. The motives behind those two are so…pointless is the best I can come up with. The third murder probably wasn’t necessary, Ruby could’ve found a non-lethal solution to the situation–but you can understand and appreciate why she did it. She deserves to be behind bars (at least), she needs to be tried, convicted, and punished. It’s the right thing.
And yet she’s innocent here. She loved her husband, would never have killed him, and shouldn’t be dragged through the mud over this. The reader/listener constantly finds themselves rooting for this character that in normal circumstances you want to be pursued by a dogged investigator.
It’s similar to Dexter or Hannibal–with them, we embrace their homicidal acts and desires while rooting for them. There’s part of you that wants Dexter to get away with it so he can take down another serial killer. A similar part of you wants Hannibal to slip away from custody because he’s disturbingly charming. But it’s different in Blood Sugar–we have an actual injustice, and we instinctually recoil from that and want her exonerated.
But…you can’t get away from the injustice of her getting away with the other murders.
At the same time, you resent Detective Jackson for doing his job. He’s absolutely wrong about Jason’s death and shouldn’t be in Ruby’s life. But in any other book/series, we’d be rooting for him. He might as well be Harry Bosch or a similar character–he’s got all these pieces before him and is assembling a case that’s 75% correct. He’s doing everything right, and has an actual killer in his sights–and you want him to fail. Not only that, you probably are angry with him and have some active distaste for him.
But if this book was told from his perspective? You’d love him and admire his ingenuity and intuitive leaps.
For a long-time reader of detective fiction, this is a great twist on the conventions.
Ruby’s Antagonist
Someone has to be behind all her problems right? Det. Jackson isn’t going to look into Jason’s death without someone or something prompting him. Once you figure that out–which will probably happen before the actual reveal–it’s delicious. This might be my favorite thing that Rothchild does in this book.
For a book that’s full of confusing impulses for the reader, it’s nice to have an adverse reaction to someone that’s straightforward and uncomplicated.
A Brief Thought about the Narration
Ryan did a great job of this–she made Ruby Simon a human being. Her portrayal helps you identify and embrace Ruby as the innocent–with a shady past. You want to believe her when she says that she’s not a sociopath.
There were a couple of scenes (with one of Ruby’s patients in particular, and some involving Ruby’s dog) where I was moved because of the narration. I don’t know if they’d have been as effective (or affective) if I’d read the book, but with Ryan’s work, I was absolutely gripped.
So, what did I think about Blood Sugar?
I thought this was a great listen–a great experience.
I relished this approach to the story and characters, and the way you were forced time and time again to re-evaluate the characters, their actions, and your reactions to them.
Do I want a steady diet of this? No. Do I hope that a future Rothchild novel is either more conventional–or tweaks conventions in a different way? Absolutely. I can see Rothchild being a Lisa Lutz-type of writer. With stand-alones where you never know what you’re going to get–other than some wry humor, deep characters, and an approach to Crime Fiction that you hadn’t considered before.
I strongly recommend you pick this up in audio or print.
adventurous
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
What’s Travel by Bullet About?
A recent pandemic* has resulted in all Dispatchers being strongarmed into working long and hard shifts in hospitals. Their work isn’t that effective in light of the disease, but that doesn’t change the requirement. In the middle of a shift, Tony Valdez is called to the ER.
* It was never named, but you’re probably not wrong to assume it’s one you recognize.
A friend (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) and colleague, who spends a lot more time on the morally ambiguous side of the vocation, is in the ER after throwing himself out of a moving vehicle and getting hit by a car. Clearly, things aren’t going well for him. He looks to Tony for help, and well…things go bad from there.
The duo finds themselves mixed up with a handful of the city’s richest and most powerful, who are busy trying to get the best of each other while staying off the radars of both the Chicago Police and the FBI.
As much as Tony might try to fool the reader/the police/himself, he’s no stranger to the morally ambiguous—sure, he tries not to stray as far as his friend does, but still. Making this book, like the others in the series, another bit of Urban Fantasy Noir.
The Urban Fantasy-ness
I’ve always thought there was a vaguely SF feel to this series like it’s set a couple of decades in the future or something. In retrospect, I don’t know why. It was just an impression I picked up. This one struck me as incredibly contemporary and made me feel pretty silly for thinking that about the others.
When I wasn’t kicking myself for getting the chronology wrong, I spent a little time admiring the simplicity of Scalzi’s approach to Urban Fantasy and how it makes The Dispatcher stories really stand out. In most UF, you get something like magic, or a lycanthrope, or a vampire—and then before you know it, you’ve got all of those. But here, this world is just one tweak away from our world—no wizards, no Fae, no were-anythings—just that murder almost always doesn’t work (see earlier posts about this series for details if you want them, I don’t want to reinvent the wheel here).
The number of changes that this one butterfly wing flap makes in this world—health care, law enforcement, and crime (and who knows what else…)—is pretty monumental. You don’t need the Fae or a Council of Mages or anything to radically reshape the world. Yet it still is very recognizably our world.
Zachary Quinto
Quinto really needs to do more audiobook narration—I’m not sure how he got attached to this series, but it’s such a good thing that he did. He’s really able to embody Valdez and bring the stories to life. I really enjoyed this performance, and look forward to more.
So, what did I think about Travel by Bullet?
This was a blast—this world has always felt realized, but I felt more “at home” in it this time than I remember. I enjoyed this ride more than I remember enjoying the last one (not that I had any real problems with it). I don’t know if those two sentences are all that related, and if so, which came first—I also don’t think it matters.
This is a tight thriller—no wasted moments, but nothing’s rushed, either. Just settle in and enjoy the ride.
I feel like I should have more to say, but I don’t. All I can think to add at this point is that I want more of these, and hope that Audible and Scalzi provide them. Providing more soon would be a great bonus.
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
The “Back” of the Book
Here’s what the Publisher said about the book, anything I say will ruin the book (and not because it put me in a foul mood):
An original novella set in season three of The Orville—straight from the pen of Seth MacFarlane, creator of the beloved sci-fi TV show!
When Captain Ed Mercer and the crew of the U.S.S. Orville come face-to-face with one of humanity’s most vile ideologies, they must solve the moral conundrum of who to hold accountable for evil deeds real… and imagined. Occurring just after episode 308, this is the Orville like you’ve never seen it before.
The Orville
I watched all three seasons of the show this year, after putting it off since I started to hear positive things about Season 1. I really appreciated most of this not-Star Trek, although like the show it totally isn’t ripping off,* it’s not perfect.
* Wink.
One thing that The Orville surpasses its inspiration in is its sanctimoniousness. When this show gets preachy, there’s nothing that compete with it. For the most part, I could endure those episodes, but a couple of them got pretty difficult. The last half of this book was pretty much one of those episodes. It’s a lot harder to tolerate without F/X to look at.
So, what did I think about Sympathy for the Devil?
There was almost nothing about this that made it an Orville story. Maybe others can describe this without giving everything away, but I can’t. Sure, every primary cast member from season 3 is in the novella—and some characters from other seasons are mentioned—so it’s technically an Orville story, but just technically. A good tie-in story should feel like a long or an in-depth version of the source IP. This couldn’t feel less like an episode.
And the writing? It was clearly written by someone who doesn’t do prose that often—scripts, sure. It was lazy writing, the descriptions of characters were clunky, the dialogue was iffy, and the pacing was poor. We don’t see a single character from the show until the 50% point.
Would I read another novella set in this universe? Oh, absolutely. Even another one by MacFarlane. I like the universe enough to give it another try. I just hope it’s a fun, SF adventure next time (maybe even with a touch of the condescension, it’s what the viewers expect). The only thing that was clearly delivered was the message.