theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)

funny inspiring lighthearted medium-paced

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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The overriding view of everyone was that it was going to be a great adventure, successful and a hell of a lot of fun.

Except for me.

I was expecting a disaster.
 
What’s Dogtripping About?
After a decade and a half or so of running their dog rescue in southern California, David Rosenfelt and his wife decide to move out of California (a very close call with a wildfire is a primary impetus for this) to Maine. But they have a bigger logistical challenge than most of us do when we make a move—either cross-town or cross-country. Sure, it can be hard to figure out the best way to move a piano or a fragile heirloom—but ultimately, that’s something that people do all the time. But how do you get twenty-five dogs cross-country?

First of all, you need help—and we’re not talking the kind of help where you get a few friends together, promise a pizza and a six-pack to split, and get them to help you move a piano or a sofa. This is a bigger project. You also have to figure out what kind of vehicle—or vehicles—will be needed, where you all will sleep, how can you deal with the bathroom breaks, and so on.

Right there, that’s an interesting story, many people—especially dog lovers would read that. When the talented and amusing author of the Andy Carpenter novels tells the story, it becomes an entertaining read.

Interspersed between chapters discussing the preparation for the trip and the trip itself are chapters describing the background for The Tara Foundation (starting with the dog it’s named after), the development and growth of their rescue efforts, and profiles of some of the dogs.

Dog Profiles
My favorite parts of the book are the 2-3 page profiles of some of the dogs that have stayed with their pack—for anywhere from a week to several years. He starts by describing how the dog came to their attention, then he talks about the specific challenges for that dog, their personality, and how they integrated into the menagerie. Then he’ll describe how they took to the move—if they were part of that 25—found a family to adopt them, or how their life came to an end.

Obviously, I preferred reading the first two endings—but they’ve been at this for a long time, and most of their rescues are senior dogs, it’s a reality they have to deal with far too often. Not always, but I generally got a little misty for those other endings. Rosenfelt has a real knack for making you grin/chuckle, telling a heartwarming story, and then hitting you with the sadness that comes from the brevity of canine life.

Still, I’d read an entry on every dog they ever had in their shelter and come back for more.

Incidentally, he includes some really sound advice on deciding when to put an ailing dog to sleep.*

* Please, no one tell my almost 16-year old Pug/Beagle mix that I read anything about that. No need to stress her out.

Too Many Italics
I am not a fan of extended sections of italics—there are better ways to set aside chunks of text (going to a sans serif typeface, for example), but I’m mostly used to them. A character’s thoughts—usually a sentence or two–I can handle. I can even put up with a few paragraphs for a dream sequence or flashback or something. But whole chapters really bug me.

And that’s what we get here—and not just a few, but several. There’s no set pattern, but typically a couple of chapters in regular type (one of them being really brief) and then one in italics. It’s very aggrivating.

But here’s the worst part—it’s the chapters that are about the subject of the book that are italicized! The background chapters, the chapters that profile individual dogs, or are just full of Rosenfelt talking about some topic (for example: their efforts to keep the smell of all their dogs using the back yard as a bathroom from bothering the neighbors) are all in regular type. But the part of the book that the title and subtitle describe are italicized.

I don’t understand that choice. I certainly didn’t enjoy it.

So, what did I think about Dogtripping?
Twenty-five is pretty much the fewest dogs Debbie and I have had in the last ten years. We’ve had as many as forty-two, but we feel that more than forty is slightly eccentric.
 
This was a fast, fun read—with some really touching moments mixed in.
 
I’m going to borrow the conclusion to my post about Rosenfelt’s other book about their rescues, Lessons from Tara, because it works just as well here, and I’m tired:

Fans of the Andy Carpenter series will be happy to hear that Andy’s voice is Rosenfelt’s—the book at times feels like an Andy Carpenter book without all the muss and fuss of a plot, murder, or trial. I laughed, I chuckled, I learned a thing or two, and I even got misty more than I wanted to. All in all a really strong read. If you’re a dog lover, or just someone who likes to read good things, find some time for this one.
 
dark emotional tense medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: Complicated
Loveable characters: Complicated
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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“I imagine, being twins, the bond is even more unique. If you get along, that is.” She laughs.

Beverly doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer, and I am glad. If she had, I might have told her the truth. That people without sisters think it’s all sunshine and lollipops or all blood and guts. But actually it’s always both. Sunshine and guts. Lollipops and blood. Good and bad. The bad is as essential to the relationship as the good.

Maybe the bad is even more important, because that’s what ties you together.
 
A Tale of Two Sisters
This is about a pair of fraternal/dizygotic twins and their efforts to provide one of them with the baby she and her husband can’t have.

Sort of. Kind of. Mostly. There’s a lot more going on, but that’s the core.

We get told the story of these two from the perspectives of each twin. Let’s break it down that way.

Fern Carter
Fern is a librarian—she’s not really comfortable with people. Or with anything other than her routine. She describes others toward the end as neurotypical, which was nice, but it’s not really necessary, she’s clearly on the Spectrum somewhere. She’s overly sensitive to stimulus, not fond of touch, and bad with interpersonal relations and communications.

She’s great with people in circumstances she’s comfortable in—for example, the library. Reading to kids in the children’s library, recommending books to patrons, and dealing with the homeless people seeking shelter and showers, for example.

She also knows how much she owes her sister. So when she discovers that despite her desire to become a mother, Rose can’t, Fern takes it upon herself to get pregnant for her.

And things become even more interesting for her from there.

Rose Castle
We get Rose’s perspective from a journal she’s keeping—she tells us right away that this is a therapy assignment and not something she’s doing on her own. This is to help her process her childhood and some things she’s going through right now—like marriage problems.

From their early childhood, she’s taken on the role of protector to her sister—that has never stopped. And her journal entries show all the ways she’s been doing that.

We get a lot more of Fern’s first-person narration than we do of Rose’s journals. But it’s Rose’s perception that sets the agenda for the novel.

A word of warning—Rose is molested by one of her mother’s boyfriends. It’s clear that’s what’s going on, but Hepworth doesn’t get too detailed about it. Very little space is given to it, but it’s there.

But…
This is a psychological/domestic thriller—that’s clear, it’s marketed as one. So, despite everything I just said, you know that not all is right with these two and their life. The trick is figuring out what’s wrong and why.

So, what did I think about The Good Sister?
I spent so much of this book wondering why my friend suggested this for me—why would anyone think I’d enjoy this? Yes, it was well-written; yes, it was suspenseful; yes, I was interested in the story; yes, I really wanted things to work out for Fern and to understand Rose; yes, the pages were flying by (I read this faster than anything I’ve read for a month or so); no, I was not enjoying the experience. It’s a good read, just not my thing. I wasn’t thinking of stopping, I just didn’t see why I should bother going on.
 
But for the last hundred pages or so, I started to wonder if I really was enjoying it. The last 40 +/- pages? I loved it. Seriously, I had a blast with it.
 
Hepworth did a really good job telling the story and keeping you guessing about what was going on, why X said something, or Y did something. You can get a pretty good idea about all that, and probably make some strong guesses. But you’re going to be a little bit off (at least). Until Hepworth gets you right where she wants you, and then she just tells you what you need to know. Then, it’s about taking all it in, while holding on for a very taut and tense conclusion.
 
This isn’t going to go down as one of my favorite books—but it’s going to be one I recommend to people (I have a list of them in mind already), and it’s one I’d recommend to any of you who dig psychological thrillers or just want something a little different. You’ll likely end up liking it far earlier than I did and wonder what’s wrong with me.
 
funny inspiring reflective slow-paced

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s A Bathroom Book… About? 
I don’t know how to describe this book, so I’m going to lift this from the publisher
Joe Pera goes to the bathroom a lot. And his friend, Joe Bennett, does too. They both have small bladders but more often it’s just to get a moment of quiet, a break from work, or because it’s the only way they know how to politely end conversations.

So they created a functional meditative guide to help people who suffer from social anxiety and deal with it in this very particular way. Although, it’s a comedic book, the goal is to help these readers:

1. Relax
2. Recharge
3. Rejoin the world outside of the bathroom

It’s also fun entertainment for people simply hiding in the bathroom to avoid doing work.

A Bathroom Book for People Not Pooping or Peeing But Using the Bathroom as an Escape will be waiting in the bathroom like a beacon for anxious readers looking to feel calm, confident, and less alone.
 
The Illustrations
I’m not sure how to describe it. A few adjectives jump to mind: quirky, offbeat, unusual. But they fit the tone of the book really well.

When the illustration is of an object (or a few of them), it’s very realistic—cartoonish, but realistic. There’s very little realism to the people depicted, however. They’re very cartoonish, with nods to realism. It’s an interesting way to go with that. I should stress that cartoonish isn’t a criticism, it’s just the best word I can come up with to describe these. Bennett has a style all his own—oddly compelling and fairly eccentric.

Along these lines, whoever did the page layout and typesetting deserves a slap on the back and maybe a raise.

So, what did I think about A Bathroom Book…?
Frankly, I had to buy this just because of the title. How do you walk away from it? I knew nothing about Joe Pera until this—now I’m curious about him.
 
Some years back, as I understand, there were a variety of books labeled “Bathroom Humor” or something like that—vaguely risqué (maybe some weren’t that vague), full of jokes and perhaps cartoons. I remember my grandfather had a book like that equipped with a chain so you could hang it on the towel rack or something like that. This is not that kind of book.
 
This is a gentler humor—the purpose of it is to help you relax and regroup, maybe to take a beat and prepare to leave the bathroom to face whatever social pressure (or similar hurdle) lies outside the bathroom.
 
We’ve all been there at least once—some of us are there on a regular basis—using the bathroom not just for a biological need, but to take a breather from life for just a couple of minutes. This is short enough that it can fit the bill (or, if you read slowly, it’s easy to dip in and out for a quick trip).
 
You’re not going to laugh out loud (probably—except maybe for the Jane Goodall jokes). But you just might smile—even a half-smile—because it reminds you of human oddities. And maybe because it’ll remind you that you’re not alone in needing this oasis from reality.
 
I enjoyed this, I think it’ll hold up to repeated readings. It’s an odd source of affirmation and encouragement—but I like it, and will take the affirmation and encouragement where I can find it.
 
emotional mysterious 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

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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But now, change is coming, and change is inevitable.

Except from vending machines.
 
What’s A Private Investigation About?
I haven’t really talked much about the Andretti case and the book that Jo Emerson is working on about the investigation—with Smith as a significant source. I haven’t talked much about Jo Emerson at all, either. Mostly because I wasn’t really sure where Grainger was going with this storyline. It’s the biggest case of Smith’s career, and in many ways defined it. It’s also the case that led to Chris Murray’s father leaving the police. There was a serial killer preying on young women. Smith and Murray stopped the killer, put him away years ago–—but questions have lingered.

But now, a young woman has gone missing in King’s Lake—so here in the last three weeks of Smith’s career, he’s pulled off the bench to take point on it—he’s headed a search for missing girls—no one else around has. At a certain point, Smith starts to see similarities between this missing girl and some of those related to the Andretti case. Then there’s an individual who popped up during both investigations. Suddenly the one man the police need to run things, the man who knows more about the Andretti case than anyone else alive is prevented from taking part in this new case. A logic that I don’t quite follow, but am sure it makes sense to someone.

Smith, however, keeps working the case—as off the radar as he can. What’s going to happen to him if he ignores an order or two at this point?

A Matter of Budget
It’s realistic, I’m sure, but there’s a lot of discussion about the budget for this investigation and what King’s Lake Central can spend on the search for this teen. While it’s come up before in this series—in almost every book—it’s very prominent here.

It’s also despair-inducing, while I understand that governments have to take this kind of thing into account—when a missing teen’s life could possibly be endangered, to think that the efforts to find her are governed by a financial report as much as—even more than—clues the investigation has picked up is hard to come to terms with.

Except for the cost of forensic tests, I don’t remember too many American procedurals hitting this point as hard as Grainger and other UK authors do (am thinking Rankin and Aaronovich in particular—even Paul Cornell’s Shadow Police series). I wonder if that’s more to do with the state of procedural fiction or if it’s the way different governments think about such things.

Smith’s Train of Thought
One of my favorite parts of these books is when we follow along with Smith’s Stream of Consciousness as he works through a part of a puzzle—or when he guides DC Chris Murray through something similar to help him build the same patterns. There’s something idiosyncratic about Smith’s thinking (although it never seems that way while listening, it seems like the only possible way to work through it) that is addicting.

We’re treated to multiple sessions of that this time out, and I thoroughly enjoyed them all. Even when I didn’t like the actions that Smith was taking after those trains of thought.

A Neat Cliffhanger that Time Ruined
This is slightly spoilery, unless you can do the very basic math. Still, feel free to skip to the next heading.

We all clear now? Last chance to skip ahead…

DC’s fate is very uncertain at the end of this book—it could very easily go either way, and with this very clearly the end of the series, it felt like Grainger was hinting in one direction.

However, this was published in late 2018, in 2021—book nine of the series came out (and there are some indications that Smith was a presence in at least the first of the Kings Lake Investigations series that came out after this book–I’ll be listening to that soon). This kind of kills the suspense for me—which is a shame, because that ending really could’ve gone either way and I’d have been going crazy if I listened to it new.

So, what did I think about A Private Investigation?
I’m so, so, so glad that we’ll get to hear what happens next with the group from King’s Lake Central in a new series. I don’t want to leave this world and these characters behind. I got too busy last year to stay on my schedule of listening to them, but I’m pretty sure that’s over.

This book was bittersweet, while the last book felt like the last gasp of DC Smith’s career, this definitely is. The case was compelling, the search for the girl was tense, and the emotions of Smith’s team—and Smith himself—were so well-depicted to make this a knockout of a book. But man…I just didn’t want to deal with Smith being done. Police procedurals don’t normally get that emotional for me—but several of these books have got me wrapped up in the characters’ lives–and this more than the rest.

This is absolutely, positively, not the book to start with for this series—almost any of the others would be, but the first would be best. But you absolutely, positively start this series if you haven’t yet. Jackson’s narration is outstanding, making the audiobooks my strongest recommendation, but I bet the charm of the characters would be evident in the print version as well.
 
emotional tense fast-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.
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What’s The Accomplice About? 
Luna and Owen meet in a Business Ethics class in college and form an almost immediate bond, becoming the best of friends—you know the kind that 1977’s Harry Burns says is impossible, but that 1987’s Harry finds himself wanting. Without the romance of 1988/89. They’re inseparable, a package deal—not just in college but after that. 

Twelve years after their first meeting, Luna finds the murdered body of Owen’s wife while out running. Obviously, the police focus on Owen initially, but Luna knows it wasn’t him (not because of evidence, but because Owen wouldn’t). 

Still, it’s hard not to think about a sort-of similar thing that happened back in college. And some of the things from Luna’s past and…well, now things are a real mess. While worrying about Owen, dealing with some personal turmoil that arises at the same time, and answering questions from the police—Luna starts to re-examine that time in college and asks some questions she maybe should’ve asked a decade ago. 

As the Publisher puts it: 
The Accomplice brilliantly examines the bonds of shared history, what it costs to break them, and what happens when you start wondering how well you know the one person who truly knows you.
 
The novel is told in alternating timelines, an approach that really works in this case. The primary timeline is 2019 with the murder and its investigation and aftermath. The other starts with Luna and Owen’s first meeting and then progresses through their college years, tracking the course of their friendship—focusing on that “sort-of similar thing.”
 
Owen and Luna/Luna and Owen
My opinion of the two of them vacillated a lot over the course of the novel—particularly Owen (which had nothing to do with him as a suspect, just him).

But the two of them together? There’s something special about their friendship…I can’t put it into words, but when they’re interacting, it’s just a pleasure to read. The same applies to them when they’re not interacting, but are looking out for each other. These two are great friends—easily forgiving each other, putting up with shortcomings (but being very aware of them), understanding each other better than their spouses, etc.

When either of them are being questioned by the police, for example, they’re much more concerned about explaining the actions and clarifying problems for the other than they are with staying out of trouble with the police themselves. Even if, and this is the part that counts, they aren’t feeling particularly fond of the other at the time.

Actual, living, breathing friendship. It’s a great thing to see, and it’s why I cared at all about this novel—sure, the puzzles were interesting, the dialogue was crisp, and so on. But you get drawn in, and kept in, by their friendship. Would I have read a slice-of-life novel about these two? Yes, and at times the book feels like it. Would I have read about these two taking a joint-family vacation where hilarity ensues instead of this crime? Absolutely. But this is better.

Some mutual friends
There’s another couple that Owen and Luna knew from college (names withheld because they’re not a couple when first mentioned). There is something about them that stood out from the rest of the characters in the book.

He’s just a hoot in college—and she’s the best friend that Luna has other than Owen (arguably better than Owen, but that’s not something Luna would consider).

But their after-college activities are fantastic—it’s not in Lutz’s wheelhouse to do something like this, but man, I’d love a novel about their life. Their dynamic—as well as their business/products—steals every scene they’re in for the 2019 timeline. I want more of them. I know I’m not going to get that, but it’s on my wishlist, just a few notches down from flying cars and a way to make this blog my full-time job.

So, what did I think about The Accomplice?
I keep seeing Lutz’s The Passenger referenced in relation to this book—while that’s not a bad book to compare this to, I think How to Start a Fire fits better in terms of tone and storytelling. If you go into this expecting something like the former, it’s going to take you a minute to re-calibrate expectations.

There are good portions of this book that aren’t all about “what’s X’s secret?”, “who’s the killer?”, “what horrible—or at unscrupulous—activity has Y been up to?”, etc. And those are just fun—it’s light, clever, winning—you want to get to know these people, be their friends—shake your head at their eccentricities. Then every few pages, you get a reminder that–where’s there’s light, there’s likely a shadow, and it might be best not to look into them.

Bouncing back and forth between the two timelines (and, eventually, a third that proves really illuminating toward both character and plot), Lutz reveals more of the characters, peels back the secrets, and advances the plot so easily, so naturally, that it must have been excruciating work. The easier it is on the reader, the harder it likely was on the author—and hopefully, Lutz took a nice break after finishing this. This is the kind of weaving that Lutz excels at—as seen in The Swallows, How to Start a Fire, and (yes) The Passenger—and she’s getting better at it, I tell you, you won’t see any of this coming.
 
It’s not too surprising to see me recommending a Lutz novel (the surprise would be me not), but there’s something different about this one. Set aside a couple of days and get to know Owen and Luna.
 
emotional 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.
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And everyone knew that things from the other side of the door could absolutely leak through into this reality. Her hair had been brown, not aquamarine, before she found her fins. Christopher would die without his flute—literally die. Seraphina was the kind of beautiful that stopped hearts, and everyone who’d seen pictures of her from before her travels said that she hadn’t always been like that. She’d been attractive, not impossible. The doors made changes. The doors stayed with you.
 
What’s Where the Drowned Girls Go About?
Things have gone poorly for Cora since her return from the Moors, and things are getting worse for her. She’s now afraid of getting a door—because it might not lead to the world she wants. So now that “other school” starts to sound appealing to her. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to feel at home in this world—it’s certainly better than one of the alternatives. There’s no way that she’ll get those tools at this school (as much as she likes/loves her friends).

So she talks West into transferring her—and regrets the decision before the ink is dried. Still, she sets out to make the best of a bad situation—it’s still going to get her the results she’s been desiring, just not in a pleasant way.

Cora tackles the situation in a “no pain, no gain” manner. West’s school wasn’t helping (at least not the way she wanted), the Whitethorn Institute isn’t going to save her, it’s up to Cora to save herself.

Whitethorn Institute
“You’ve always said that there was a second school.”Eleanor pulled her hands away. “The Whitethorn Institute. Cora, you can’t intend—”“You said they steal your students sometimes. That when you’re not fast enough, or when the children are having a harder time adapting to life in this reality, that sometimes Whitethorn gets there first.” She sat up straight, giving Eleanor a challenging look. “You said it was where students go when they want to believe that everything that happened on the other side of the door was just a dream, or a delusion, and not a real thing at all.”
 
We’ve known about “the other school” for children who come back through their doors into our world—one for those who didn’t want to see their doors again, one for those who want to feel at home in this world. But this is the first time we’ve seen it.
 
It is not a nice place to be.
 
That’s about all I feel comfortable about saying—you’ll need to read the book to see how it’s not a nice place to be. I get that (especially as the series takes a pro-Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children stance) it’s not going to seem as nice, welcoming, and affirming as the school we’re used to. I expected that this school would come across as wanting, not just in contrast, but objectively,
 
But I think McGuire approached that idea in a lazy manner. It’s too obviously a bad environment. She had the chance to go subtle, and she didn’t take it. I kept thinking, “Oh, she’s making a commentary about X or Y” in the real world—but she was doing so with too broad a brush, and it’d end up applying to things she didn’t mean to attack.
 
Still, if you’re looking to make an establishment a villain, she did an effective job. I think it’d have been more interesting—and more fitting with the series—if there’d been more nuance to it. Give the readers a second school that has differing goals from the Home for Wayward Children, but let us respect them while disagreeing—then you’ve got something. Instead, we get an institution that might as well be twirling its mustache.
 
Regan
It’s not just Cora that we see here, Regan’s also came to this school after returning from the Hooflands. I appreciated that. I didn’t think we had enough of Regan—but it didn’t feel like the character would be showing up at West’s.

So, what did I think about Where the Drowned Girls Go?
McGuire is simply one of the best around—and this world she’s created in this series is just wonderful and I really enjoy all the time I spend in it. But this book seemed to be missing something. The previous books in the series all left the possibility open to revisiting the world on the other side of the door, the POV character, and so on—while telling a complete story.
 
This novel is also a complete story—but it feels (at least to me) too much like a Part One of at least a two-parter (if not three). And I think the book suffered from it. When we get to that second part, I might change my mind about this book, but now it just feels incomplete. Add in my problems with the presentation of Whitethorn and it makes for a less-satisfying read than I’m used to for this series.
 
I still recommend it as a read—you’re instantly sucked into this world, it’s fantastic to get a look at Whitethorn (if nothing else); the story of Cora, Regan, and the others is well-worth telling and reading; and McGuire’s language and imagination in this series are always fascinating. I just wanted more of this good thing.
 
adventurous mysterious tense medium-paced

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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“Aren’t you supposed to be governed by logic and all that?”

“Even your most famous literary detective said, ‘once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth,’” she said.

“Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t have believed in vampires, either,” I countered.

“Well, we do live in interesting times, Holliday,” Deacon quipped.
 
What’s Bloodlines About?
Er, actually…this is the wrong place to start. Let’s try this instead:

Describe this World
This takes place in a futuristic world where human population/civilizations have been destroyed through a combination of “terrorist cyber-attacks, a bunch of nuclear catastrophes, and the pandemics that followed.” Nations have been replaced by a number of enclaves throughout the world, like Empire City (that grew from the ruins of New York), the Confederate States of Birmingham (a theocratic state), and the People’s Republic of Boulder.

Long story short: one of the side effects of the nuclear catastrophes was a new form of energy in the world that acted close enough to magic that people called it that. Also, it made it possible for beings from another dimension to travel to Earth. They’re called Vellans, and I’m going to leave it to Hartog to describe them to you when you read the book (a thing I think you should do).

So, as our setting we’ve got that rebuilt NYC, patching a society and culture together, in a world that looks not dissimilar from Scott’s Blade Runner, powered by magic, and that has pan-dimensional aliens walking around. Clear enough?

Now, with that out of the way, we can ask:

What’s Bloodlines About?
“They aren’t equipped to deal with the things that I want Special Crimes to handle.”

“Such as what, exactly?” I asked.

“Things that require more than a badge, a pair of handcuffs and a warrant,” Mahoney replied, fierce heat coating his words. “Things that laugh at the law, thinking they are above, or beyond it. Things that don’t give a damn about you or me.”
 
Our protagonist/narrator is Detective Tom “Doc” Holliday, his career has taken a hit and while he still gets to investigate the occasional homicide, he’s primarily the guy who does paperwork for everyone else. He’s recruited to be part of the Special Crimes Unit, working on “the unsolvable and inexplicable” (think Dresden Files‘ Special Investigations or Rivers of London The Folly). At this point, the unit consists of a retired legend of ECPD leading a former Protector (a law enforcement officer from Birmingham) and another consultant. But once they make their mark on the city, there’s a suggestion that they’ll get more legitimacy and funding. Holliday doesn’t much care, it’s a chance to do more than paperwork.

Their first case involves a murder that a tabloid is claiming a vampire committed (farfetched, sure, but it’s a solid explanation for the eyewitness testimony and the physical evidence—at first glance, anyway). Still, a vampire is far-fetched even for this new magical reality. Holliday doesn’t buy it, he’s looking for a more rational explanation. But this is the kind of thing that SCU is for so Holliday and the tiny team dive in.

Doc Holliday
I live and work in the real world. I go after criminals, arrest them, then do it again, and hope I don’t get killed in the process. I do it because it’s my job, I’ve got the training and it’s the right f****** thing to do.”
 
If you can enjoy—to some extent—Holliday, you’re going to enjoy the novel. I can see where some won’t get along with him, and they’ll have a miserable time with this book. Me? I’m not going to declare us BFFs after just one book, but I’d be more than happy to have a few cups of coffee with the man.
 
In addition to being the driven detective (at one time, he was considered one of the top three homicide detectives in the enclave), he has a Ph.D. in Literature and a Master’s in gourmet cooking. That’s a tried and true combination of interests, sure to resonate with fans of Detective Fiction. His troubled past, self-destructive tendencies, and wiseguy mouth/attitude add to that appeal.
 
Along those lines, I appreciate the way Holliday leans on his literary background to get him through tough moments, quoting Shakespeare or other notables to talk steel himself—or calm himself—in a tight situation is nice to see.
 
As for his clairvoyance? It’s interesting to see in action, and hopefully, as he learns to master and develop the ability, I’ll enjoy it more. It’s a good start at a character with magic, but he needs a little work.
 
A Question of Genre
As I’ve established before, once I decide to read a book, I pretty much forget everything I learned about it. I remembered that this was an Urban Fantasy—which made me a little leary, and also insanely curious. It’s been a while since I read a new-to-me Urban Fantasy, because most of the new ones I dabbled in didn’t work for me. At the same time, I really want a new-to-me Urban Fantasy series…

I wasn’t prepared for this “blend of science fiction, urban fantasy and crime thriller” (as the author describes it at the end of the book). I’d read one book like that years ago—and it was…okay? In many ways, this is that book, but better. Significantly better.

This reads more like a Futuristic Police Detective novel with Urban Fantasy flourishes. Most of the time. The rest of the time, it’s an Urban Fantasy with neat technology.

The magic system is pretty vague at this point in the series—one of the advantages of “magic” being a new thing to this world, so no one understands it that well, and an author can make it do whatever he wants. Each instance of magic at work is just cool. It reminded me of why I got into Urban Fantasy in the first place, actually, any kind of Fantasy with magic users.

So, what did I think about Bloodlines?
This really impressed me—I was distracted with a non-reading project most of the time that I was reading this book, so I couldn’t devote the time I wanted to devote to it, only reading thirty minutes or so a day. It’s the kind of thing I could’ve been very happy to read in a session or to (and I might have enjoyed it more if I could’ve taken the plunge).
 
I’m a little tired of authors mining a vague, pop-understanding of Roman Catholicism for their Magical/Fantasy purposes. But I guess it’s easier to do that than to try to find aspects of Protestantism to serve that purpose (the presence of someone with roots in a vaguely Southern Evangelical culture suggests that Hartog intends to try). I’m not going to hold it against this book, I’m just taking the opportunity to belly-ache. Because, if you’re doing to co-opt bits of Roman Catholic practice, this is a pretty tame way to go about it.
 
I’m definitely coming back for more—I want to explore this world some more, I want more time with the members of the Special Crimes Unit, and I’m curious about the overarching story introduced in the latter parts of this book. I’m not there yet, but I can see me becoming a pretty big fan-boy for this series.
 
I think anyone who thinks an Urban Fantasy/Science Fiction/Detective mashup novel might be interesting will find themselves entertained with this one-stop source to get your genre-itch scratched. Give it a try, let me know what you think.
 
dark mysterious 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 And Your Enemies Closer About? 
I keep accidentally spoiling something when writing this section, so I’m just going to borrow Audible’s summary: 
In the North West criminal underworld, a deal goes tragically wrong, resulting in war between the two main organised crime factions in the region. Shockwaves rock the 30-mile gap between Liverpool and Manchester – with retired detective Brendan Foley right in the middle of it all.

For Brendan, six months after his resignation, life is all different. His marriage is a mess, he’s working as a nightclub bouncer, his brother is still missing and he just can’t stop searching for the crime family that destroyed his life. And at last, he’s found them – and he’s got them bang to rights.

Iona Madison, his one-time partner and now successor as a DI in Warrington Police, is tasked with a body pulled from the River Mersey – a teen-age boy that went missing the previous year, which might bring her own conduct into question. Not only that, Brendan is feeding her information whether she likes it or not – and his unsanctioned activities are causing her headaches.

And now, there’s a price on his head. A million pounds, dead or alive.And Your Enemies Closer is a serpentine race against time as Brendan and Iona must stay one step ahead of criminals at every corner, while trying to bring justice – in whatever form it takes, and whatever loyalties it might burn.
 
Things Change
When I posted about Far from the Tree, I’d said:
 
Foley comes across as the kind of cop you want to read about, the kind that you like to think you can find in police forces all over the world—sure, he needs some marriage counseling and needs to do some serious work when it comes to his kids. But who doesn’t have problems?
 
In the six months since he retired, all that has changed. Very understandably, Foley isn’t that guy anymore. He’s the kind of guy you fear you can find in police officers all over the world. Sure, that makes you wonder if he ever really was that guy—but I think he was, through sheer act of will maybe, but he was that guy. But that’s over—his marriage is on the ropes (to speak optimistically), he’s not the father he used to be. All he has room for is a mission—take down that crime family that had taken so much from him.
 
D.I. Madison’s changed, too. She’s still trying to prove to her superiors that she deserved the promotion. I really thought I got to know her as a character in the previous book, and I didn’t feel that way this time. Yes, she’s in it just as much—but it’s almost all work, no reflection. The time-frame for this book is much shorter than the last one, so we don’t have time to see her off-the-clock or in a quiet moment to think.
 
Another reason I think I might have had that reaction is the number of Point of View Characters is larger than the last time out, and those who aren’t Foley and Madison get more time. I could be very wrong about that—I’ve listened to a lot of books in the 16+ months between these two—but that’s the impression that I had. It makes for a richer and more developed story, but it came at the cost of at least Madison’s character.
 
Warren Brown
I don’t know much about Brown’s acting—he hasn’t done much widely available in the U.S. (at least legally), but I’ve really liked him when I have seen him. But, his work on this series is enough to make me start petitions for streaming services to start showing his stuff.

He brings these situations and people to life in a way that you can practically see them, it’s like you’re in the room with them. Getting the right narrator is always important when it comes to audiobooks—doubly so with things like Audible Originals that have no text version. Whoever got Brown to do this series did us all a favor.

So, what did I think about And Your Enemies Closer?
I didn’t enjoy this quite as much as the predecessor—but I’m pretty sure that has everything to do with this being the second installment in a trilogy. It’s just the way I am with trilogies.* I do wonder if some of it is also the way D.I. Madison was used here. On both counts, I fully expect that the close of this trilogy is going to leave me impressed and maybe even liking this a bit more than I do right now.

* With the possible exception of The Empire Strikes Back

Parker’s a great storyteller, and that’s on full display here. One example of that, I’ll try to keep it vague. Still, spoilerphobes might want to skip to the next paragraph. There’s someone early one that you realize is going to die before this book ends. Really, they might as well have been named Corpsey McCadaver. In just about every scene with them, I liked them more and more and grew more and more certain they’d die soon. But when it happened—I was totally caught off-guard, bolted upright in my char, and apparently made a sound audible in the next room. That’s storytelling.

I thought that the image of the mass grave from the beginning of Far from the Tree was the apex for disturbing images for the series. A big shock to get the ball rolling, and it’d be all down here from there. I don’t remember being that naïve and foolish, but man…Parker outdoes himself in creating one location in the book. I’m just glad the Smell-O-Vision technology hasn’t made its way to smartphones. Also, there’s a method of murder used here that I’ve never run across before, I’m dying to know if it’s real, but I don’t even know how to search for it online without going on the FBI’s radar. Seriously, the book is worth your time just to hear about it. I’m not sure the book is also worth the poor sleep you’ll get if you think too much about the method, however.
 
As I said before, there are many point-of-view characters running around in this novel, and I wouldn’t have complained about having more time with any of them. Other than Madison, we got enough time with them all, but I enjoyed each perspective enough that I could have taken at least one more scene with them all. I typically think less is more on the multiple-perspective novels, but this isn’t one of them. Both Parker and Brown handle all the voices really well.
 
Outside of Corpsey McCadaver, I couldn’t predict anything about this story. Parker keeps you on your toes and on the edge of your seat—he zigs when you expect him to zag. Or, he zags when you expect, but in a way that turns your expectations upside down.
 
Once again, Parker and Brown have delivered something brutal, unrelentingly gripping, and full of the unexpected. I can’t wait to see what they’ve got in store for #3.
 
funny informative inspiring slow-paced

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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So what about the middle-aged making pop music? Sure, it’s allowed. But let’s be honest about what pop, or popular, music is. It’s music for the mating age. It’s a soundtrack for that yearning, that youthful anger, those ideals and inside jokes of the teenagers and young adults as they experience the rough ride together. It fills an an important need. It help us get through to adulthood. Pop music can be a life jacket, a sexy security blanket, a hipster Hallmark card. And it communicates very real things. It also requires serious craft and is a competitive business, worthy of great respect. Pop music saved my ass as a kid, paid the bills in my earlier career. And I love to make fun of it.
 
What’s A Dream About Lightning Bugs About?
Well, it’s a memoir by Ben Folds, covering childhood through the present (give or take a few years). He talks about the teachers that helped him along the way, his struggles in various schools, his early music career (including being a one-man polka band), how horrible he is at marriage, the formation of Ben Folds Five, the dissolution of it, his solo career, parenting and how (and why) his career is shifting, his thoughts on writing, music, comedy and all sorts of other things.

Basically, a little about everything.

Highlights
I don’t have time—and you don’t have the attention span—to write about all the things that are worth saying about this book. So, here’s a quick list of some of the highlights of the book:
  •  He has a section about humor records that he listened to as a kid, and muses on comedy in general. It was the first time in the book that things really clicked for me.
  •  There’s a section about life in the suburbs, the angry music associated with it in the 90s (and beyond) and I thought was really insightful.
  •  The story about the release day for his album Rockin’ the Suburbs and being live on the radio to promote it when the attacks for 9/11 happened. That chapter was just great.
  •  It’s hard to beat a section on writer’s block by someone who’s worked through it.
  •  I’m a big fan of the (little known) band Fleming and John—him talking about them for a paragraph or two made me really happy. Also, the part of the book about William Shatner? There’s nothing like a good Shatner story.
  •  Folds has done some truly horrible things on tour—throwing piano stools on a regular basis with the band (and breaking other things with those stools), lying like crazy about his personal life on tour with John Mayer and the fallout from it. It ain’t pretty, but it’s good to see him talking about it.
 
The Spotify Playlist
Random House has a Spotify playlist for the book, which is just a great idea. It’s a great soundtrack for the book or just fun to listen to on its own. There are many songs by Folds that he talks about or makes a passing reference to in the book. There are also many songs that he didn’t write/record but that he talks about. If you like Folds/the music that inspired him—you’re going to dig this.

So, what did I think about A Dream About Lightning Bugs?
I enjoyed getting to know Folds a bit better—warts and all. It took a long time for me to really get into it, though. Yes, the parts about his early life were interesting—and I enjoyed it, but it was really easy to put the book down.

But once we got to Ben Folds Five? I was hooked and I flew through the rest of the book. Maybe it’s because I was getting background information on the band and music I knew so well. But I think it’s because Folds shows a different kind of passion for things once his career started to take off and that passion translated into being more interesting reading. It’s likely a little of both and a few other things, too.
 
Some of the book that’s less about him and his career and more about his thoughts about creating, performing, music, etc.—that’s inspirational, motivational—and the kind of thing I’ll come back to re-read from time to time.
 
This probably isn’t a book for people who aren’t at least a casual fan of Folds as a solo artist or his band. But for those who are? It’s a lot of fun, and worth the time.
 
adventurous medium-paced

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Bodacious Creed and the Jade Lake About? 
Years ago, Bodacious Creed, was one of the most feared/respected/famous lawmen in nineteenth-century California—then he was killed, and somehow brought back to something like life due to some amazing technology, to become a super-powered force for good. 

After his “resurrection” (for lack of a better term), he’s started repairing his relationship with his daughter and has taken on a new level of folk-hero status as he seeks to take down the criminal empire that controls too much of California—and was responsible for his near-death. 

One night he rushes to the rescue of an escaped Chinese slave—but is too late, and as she dies in his arms, she gives him enough information to track down where she escaped from so he can find some justice for her. Implanted in her are mechanical parts not too dissimilar from those he’s been augmented with. The idea that women are having this done to them unwillingly (and for an unknown reason), is too much—so Creed sets his sights on bringing this done. 

Creed sets out for San Francisco, finds new allies for his quest (think Team Arrow/Team Flash)—they’re a strange batch of scientists, thinkers, and community activists looking for ways to make a difference. THey’re also begging to have a series made centering on them. Between their resources and Creed’s dogged determinism, they’re sure to get to the bottom of things. 

San Francisco of the time isn’t the nicest place—which is pretty much how it’s always fictionally depicted, I guess. It’s not quite Mos Eisley, but the odds of finding even a mostly honest lawman aren’t that great—so, Creed and his friends are largely on their own. 

So, what did I think about Bodacious Creed and the Jade Lake? 
Like its predecessor, Jade Lake, is simply an entertaining read—just look at all the elements: Western, Steampunk, and Zombies*. Take three beloved and entertaining genres and put them together—sure, so many things could go wrong—but it’s hard to imagine how that’s not a crowd-pleaser. 

* Okay, I know I’m not a huge Zombie fan—but almost everyone else is. 

And it is, Fesmire tells a good adventure story. I don’t know what else to say about this, and I’ve tried. The Bodacious Creed series delivers what it promises: steam-powered action and adventure. With an enhanced coyote sidekick! How do you pass that up?