theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Shots Fired About? 

Oddly for a London-based series, we start with a murder in Glasgow. The gun used is quickly tied to a three-year-old murder case in London. This connection reinvigorates the investigation into the old case. 

A theory or two comes up about the gun—the leading theory involves the idea that the gun is rented out, and if they can follow the gun back to the source they can solve both crimes—and maybe more. 

Nash and Moretti look into shootings in Glasgow and Northern Ireland to look at the evidence around them to see if they led to the gun’s provenance and maybe shed some light on the London murder. 

A Cultural Divide 

I’m very, very carefully and intentionally not making an evaluation of any set of laws here, I’m simply describing the experience from the point of view of an American raised and living in one of the “reddest states” and a watcher/reader of a lot of US Crime Fiction. 

But wow…it is so weird for an American to read about the police so focused on one gun as it is used in multiple crimes over a long period of time in different countries. This is the kind of thing that would be tossed in a river or a dumpster and easily replaced in a US-based police procedural. And the travel involved in tracing the gun’s whereabouts is mind-boggling to me, if only because it suggests that the gun did that at least that much traveling, too. 

So, what did I think about Shots Fired? 

I’m still mystified by the way that Nash treats Moretti—hot and cold at the same time, and with little to provoke a change (from my perspective). Pretty much everything I said about Cover Blown applies here*—although there’s at least one moment where she seems to notice that she’s not treating him quite the way he deserves. So maybe she’ll come around. 

Compared to the previous volumes in this series, the procedural nature of this novel seemed a bit light—as did the realism. But maybe that’s just me. Either way, it’s a fun read with a solid cast of characters. I’m hoping a fourth Nash and Moretti is arriving soon, and I’ll be jumping on it as soon as I can. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s All Together Now About?
 
It bugs me when this happens, but every attempt I’ve made at this part ended up convoluted, inadvertently snarky, or like a watered-down version of the publisher’s description. (which, I should add, is why this is so belated) So, let me just borrow theirs:
 

 
I’d considered spending time talking about the four primary characters, their circumstances, the pluses and minuses of the characters and plot, and so on—the stuff I typically talk about. But that’s really best experienced for yourself, you need to let the novel introduce them, or it’d ruin the whole thing. With this book, it’s not about spoiling the plot, it’s about spoiling the characters, and I don’t want to do that.
 
So, what did I think about All Together Now?
There’s a lot of funny and/or thoughtful material about writing, maturing, parenting and whatnot. There’s some great stuff—pro and con*—about The Beatles. But the heart of this novel is friendship—especially the kind that starts pre-adulthood and follows you all your life in one form or another. And when the focus is on friendship—the ups and downs, the betrayals (intentional or inadvertent), the forgiveness, the loyalty, the love—it’s great.

* Yes, con. Some people just want to watch the world burn.
 
When the focus is on the other stuff? It’s pretty good.
 
Overall, this felt like a fun daydream of a novel—what if I had a mega-rich friend who wanted to help me fix my life (whether I wanted them to or not)? But I wanted something more out of Norman, I expected something meatier, something more substantial—neither of those adjectives are adequate, but it felt like something was missing.
 
I enjoyed it and appreciated it, but not as much as I felt like I should. And then I read the penultimate chapter. I distinctly remember sitting in my car before work, trying to finish the book and hitting that chapter—and being on the verge of tears for most of it (maybe teetering over the edge). Slyly, sneakily, Norman had wormed these characters into my heart—whatever I thought I was missing was there without me noticing.
 
And then I had to go into work, leaving the last chapter for 8 hours and a commute home later. Then again, when I read the final chapter (which is sort of an epilogue), there I was again—on the verge. Had my timing been better and I’d read the two chapters together, I’d have been a real mess.
 
A fun, breezy read with an emotional ending—Norman delivered just what the premise promised. You’ll wish you had these people as friends, and you’ll be glad for the time you had with them.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Word Is Murder About? 

The setup here is that a former police detective, Daniel Hawthorne, is doing some work as a consulting detective and as a consultant for TV. He’s one of the consultants on Anthony Horowitz’s show, in fact. And now he comes to Horowitz with a proposal, Horowitz should follow him around on some of his cases, watch him at work and write True Crime books about it, with the two splitting the profits. 

Horowitz is hesitant but is talked into the deal. And regrets it almost immediately—and would probably walk away from the deal if he wasn’t intrigued by Hawthorne (who he really didn’t know at all until this point) and the case. 

It’s hard to say if the murder case is the “A Story” or the “B Story” in this novel—I think it’s the A, with the storyline focusing on the writing of Horowitz’s first Hawthorne book as the B Story. But it’d be easy to argue the other way—which really doesn’t matter, I’m just bringing it up to describe how the novel works. 

I should probably talk about the murder case, though—it’s pretty clever. A wealthy woman (also the mother of a famous actor) goes to a funeral parlor and starts making arrangements for her funeral. A few hours later, she’s murdered. It’s not as if she predicted her death (maybe not, anyway, that’s to be determined), just the kind of freaky coincidence that gets the attention of journalists, consulting detectives, and spy novelists looking for a new project.
 

It’s not just a good hook—plenty of twists, turns, intrigue, and colorful suspects follow. 

Not the Most Flattering Depictions 

When you first meet him, you think that Hawthorne’s probably just a misunderstood guy because of a combination of his brusque manner and genius. You may even think that this work with Horowitz may lead to a redemptive arc, a rehabilitation arc, or something. But as the book goes on, the less convinced I was of any of that. I think he’s just a foul sort of person who’s really good at something. By most measures, he’s not a good sort of person—but those are frequently fun characters. 

Horowitz really doesn’t come across much better. I remember in junior high when I came across a handful of mysteries that Steve Allen (yeah, that one) wrote and I couldn’t help but wonder why someone would write himself so unflatteringly. I eventually sussed it out and by the time I got to Kinky Friedman’s mysteries, I expected it. See also, Brent Spiner’s new book. Horowitz fits into that scheme—he’s bright enough but doesn’t have the stomach, the instincts, or cynicism to handle a murder investigation on his own—which is fitting, he’s a writer, not a detective. He’s a good Watson figure to Hawthorne—even while it’s clear that he wants to do better. 

How was the Narration? 

I’ve listened to interviews with Horowitz before, but I halfway wonder if I listened to another one and it didn’t sound like Rory Kinnear if I’d believe it was him. Kinnear did a great job embodying the narration and characters–he’s definitely the kind of narrator I’d want to listen to again. 

So, what did I think about The Word Is Murder? 

This was a fun mystery—you put any PI/PI duo in the mystery part of the story and it would’ve worked well*, it’s just so well-conceived. Not surprisingly at all, Horowitz can construct a strong mystery/story and he does that here. I’m ready to read/listen to something like that any day. The victim, the suspects, the various motives, the red herrings, and the ultimate reveal provide everything you want. 

* In my mind, that’s a compliment to the design of the story. I’m not sure it reads that way when it’s read.
 

What makes this distinct is the characters of Hawthorne and Horowitz—how they interact with each other and the suspects. Their new business relationship and its ups and downs over the course of the novel make this more than just a good PI story and turn it into a series that you’re going to want to come back to. 

And you will want to. I’m glad there are at least two more and am looking forward to diving in. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Ninja Betrayed About? 

Hot on the heels of their trip to L.A., Lily’s grandfather summons her mother to Hong Kong for a board meeting where it looks like her mother’s future will be decided (and it doesn’t look like a bright future). Lily comes along with her mother for emotional support and to spend some time with her grandparents. The fact that her love interest, Daniel Kwok, is in the city on business doesn’t hurt either. 

As things start to look grim for her mother, Lily’s spider-sense goes off and she starts looking into things. She has to learn a little about international finance and corporate politics (dicey in the first place, but worse when family is added in) in order to make sense of things—and it gets more complicated when someone attacks her when she’s at the home of a family friend. 

Lily has to balance her under-the-radar investigation, dating, family obligations, and tourism (and a little extra-curricular fun, see below)—what could go wrong? 

Protests and Peril 

Pro-democracy protests are common at the time of the visit—and Lily notices how the police are treating the protesters—at times goading them into a riot, or reacting more violently than a situation calls for (or a combination of the two). Her grandparents, and others of similar age/social standing, have a very different take on the protests than those who are closer to Lily’s age. 

Because romance and financial intrigue aren’t enough to occupy her mind, Lily gets involved in a little more trouble. Her grandfather’s driver, Mr. Tam strikes up a friendship with Lily—she helps him extract his daughter from a couple of heavy situations related to the protests. 

Both Mr. Tam’s relationship with Lily and her escapades near the protests are the most fun part of the novel—they’re the closest this book gets to being an action movie. But it’s more than that—there’s something about these scenes where Lily is more herself, she’s not trying to say and do the right things around her grandfather’s business (or for her mother), she’s not trying to figure out the right things to say and do with Daniel—it’s the closest to her being the L.A. version of Lily—no airs, just trying to keep a young woman out of trouble. 

This’ll Even Warm the Cockles of Your Heart 

 
The emotional stresses Lily and her mother are under—from family, her mother’s professional circumstances, and the physical peril that Lily is in and has survived since their arrival in Hong Kong (some of which her mother is aware of for a change) brings them to a breaking point—and brings them closer than we’ve ever seen them. By a long way. Possibly closer than they’ve been since the death of her sister. Knowing her mother, possibly ever.
 
I’m assuming that once everyone is back in L.A., things will return to how they were before Hong Kong—or at least close to it. But this warming of the relationship (however temporary it may be) was really great to see and adds depth and nuance to both characters. I’ve really been intrigued by the Wong family dynamic throughout this series and this just made the whole thing better.
 
Whisky Tango Foxtrot?
There was a moment near the end (that’s as specific as I’m going to get) where Eldrige literally caused me to yell, “WHAT?” at the book. I didn’t drop the book, but I may have bobbled it a bit. It was something I absolutely didn’t see coming, yet was completely believable.

And I’ve probably said too much about it. I could easily do at least another two paragraphs, though.

So, what did I think about The Ninja Betrayed?
This was almost a one-sitting read for me, and I was gripped throughout. Due to an appointment, I had to set it aside with only 30 pages left to go, and it took me about eight hours to get back to it—talk about torture.
 
This is Eldridge’s best so far—in terms of action, suspense, emotional weight, complexity—and sheer entertainment value. Lily’s brain is almost as important as her fighting skills this time—it was almost possible for Lily to save the day without having to exercise any of her martial arts. Almost—fans might want character growth and development, but we want to see Lily do her thing.
 
There’s a lot of strong character growth and development, some new layers to the relationships in Lily’s life—a worrying development with a character back in L.A.—and a heckuva secret is revealed. There’s almost nothing to complain about here and a lot to relish.
 
I can’t wait to see what happens next—the last chapter doesn’t really end on a cliff-hanger, but it sure propels the reader toward the opening pages of the next Lily Wong adventure.
 
Go read this.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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TL;DR Version... 

I’m going to try not to go on for a few thousand words here, but I can’t make any promises. Just in case, let me provide this version of the post first: 

Why waste time wondering about this book? Go read it now. 

 
What’s The Man Who Died Twice About?
Right on the heels of the events of The Thursday Murder Club, a figure out of Elizabeth’s past arrives at Cooper’s Chase in need of her help (which means they get the help of Ibrahim, Ron, and Joyce, too—they’re a package deal now). He’s been accused of stealing diamonds worth millions—this is bad enough in any circumstances, but when these diamonds belong to a New York mafia family, the accusation takes on a particular level of seriousness.

As the quartet starts to help him, one of their members is mugged and there’s not a lot the police can do about it, as much as they want to. You know that Elizabeth and the rest will not take that lying down for a moment, and you almost feel sorry for the mugger. It’d probably be better for him to turn himself into the police than face what Elizabeth will cook up.

At the same time, our police friends, DCI Chris Hudson and PC Donna De Freitas, are trying to take down the unlikeliest drug kingpin since Nancy Botwin. There are also some nice (and potentially strange) developments in their social lives.

I shouldn’t forget to add that Joyce takes up making friendship bracelets to sell for charity, gets an Instagram account, and decides to adopt a dog. You’ll be surprised which of those becomes important for the plot, but you’ll enjoy them all.

Crowdsourcing Vengence
The last book’s mysteries involved people near The Club, which got them involved—but it’s largely due to curiosity/boredom/proximity. In this book, the crimes are personal, members of The Thursday Murder Club are affected and involved—either directly or indirectly. They’re not acting for their amusement (well, maybe a little), they have a need to see justice done and someone punished.

In both cases, it feels like they’re practically crowdsourcing their revenge. They are able to quickly get anyone they ask to chip in. “Oh, this is for X?” or “This is because of Y?” “Sure, I’m in.” “Someone hurt So-and-so? What do you need.” It’s heartwarming to see the community come together like this, selflessly ready to help. It’s also a little disturbing how quickly willing everyone is to ignore the law (not just because two of the people who are involved are police officers).

A Shared Attitude
At (at least) one point both Ron and Elizabeth reflect on their life at the moment and say something about how lucky they are. It’s certainly possible that Joyce and Ibrahim said the same thing at one point in the book (if I had an e-copy, I’d have done a search or two so I’d know)—but even if they don’t, they come close enough. I wish I had their sense of perspective, hopefully I get as wise as they are one day.

At the same time, they all know that life is short. And what they enjoy right now can be taken from them without warning (there are examples aplenty in the two books of the series). Which probably helps them enjoy their luck as long as they have it.

Elizabeth, in particular, knows that her luck is about to run out. Her husband loses his battle with dementia a little every day, and it’ll soon be over. Each scene with the two of them together (or when Elizabeth thinks about him) is a fantastic combination of sweetness and heartbreak.

Come to think of it, that’s a pretty good description of the series.

A Joyce Sampler
I can’t find some way to shoe-horn in these quotations, but I feel compelled to share them. Joyce’s journal entries are gold. A couple of samples:
 

 

 
So, what did I think about The Man Who Died Twice?
 

 
That bit of narration speaks for everyone* who’s spent any time with The Thursday Murder Club and will likely continue to do so until Osman steps away from the series.
 
* I guess I should say “nearly everyone” I’m sure there are readers who weren’t taken in by Osman’s charm. I don’t understand those people, but I should acknowledge their existence.

I’m not sure what to possibly say at this point in the post—this is a fantastically entertaining read. Osman has a gift for making you laugh, appreciate the depth of grief, muse on aging, and ponder the random vicissitudes of life all within a page or two—all while telling a first-class amateur detective story.

As much as I loved The Thursday Murder Club, I think this was a more entertaining read. I was chuckling almost instantly, and audible laughter soon followed that. But by the last paragraph of Chapter 3, I was reminded that Osman is as skillful at playing your heartstrings as he is tickling your funny bone. This is a winner. Stop wasting time with this post and go read the book.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Finlay Donovan Is Killing It About? 

Finlay Donovan is a writer of romantic crime novels who is struggling to meet her deadline—that’s not true, she’s so late that her publisher is on the verge of demanding a return of her advance. 

What’s caused her to get behind is turmoil and upheaval in her life—she’s in the middle of a messy divorce, she has almost no money for rent (paid to her soon-to-be-ex to live in their house), food, or gas. Her husband’s lawyer is gearing up to wrest custody of their kids from her. This has shot her confidence, her trust in herself, and her ability to focus on anything. 

So, she’s in a Panara, meeting her long-suffering agent, trying to get a little more time for the overdue novel, and is overheard by someone at a nearby table. This woman is convinced that Finlay is describing a contract killing and offers her a good sum of money to kill her husband. 

Finlay doesn’t want to take the job—because she’s not a monster—but is curious about the husband, does a little research on him, and then arranges to meet him. Shortly thereafter, he’s killed. Finlay and her kids’ nanny, Vero, dispose of the body (to keep from having to answer uncomfortable questions). 

Finlay soon has a guilty conscience, a healthy dose of paranoia, a nice stack of money, a referral for another job, and (most importantly) a plot for her new novel. She and Vero form an alliance to deal with it all—and, well, things go nuts from there. 

How was the Narration? 

Angela Dawe’s narration was solid—she captured the comedic sense of the novel along with the tension and emotional moments. There were a few accents involved and she did a believable job with them, too. This book really was a balancing act between the various tones and characters, and Dawe dealt with it admirably. 

So, what did I think about Finlay Donovan Is Killing It? 

I really don’t have a lot to say about this one, as much as I’ve tried. It’s a clever idea and it was executed well. I think the pacing could’ve been a bit tighter—it seemed like there was a good amount of wheel spinning at the end of the second act/beginning of the third. Not enough to turn me off of the book, but enough to make me impatient. 

This is a good mix of suspense, quirky humor, and a dash of romance. I enjoyed the characters and situations. I’m pretty curious about where the second book is going to take the characters and hopefully answer a couple of lingering questions I have. For example: why was Vero so willing to throw her lot in with Finlay and jump into this life of crime (or a life adjacent to crime)? 

It’s a fun ride, you should give it a whirl. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Mermaid’s Pool About?
The predecessor to this novel, Black Moss, took place in two different timelines—the first was April of 1990. This book takes place two years earlier, and involves (to one degree or another) two of the characters from Black Moss, and shows them starting on the path that leads them to where they were in the second storyline of 2016.

Which is a long-winded way of saying it’s a prequel.

There are (essentially) two separate storylines.

Storyline A
The first involves a missing mother—Naomi’s daughter has been put in children’s care home after her boyfriend slapped her. Soon after this, Naomi’s hand is found by a man walking his dog. Smithdown focuses on the boyfriend as the culprit, but needs to know if Naomi’s still alive, too.

This case takes him to a nearby town where another grizzly discovery has been made—near a lake (subject of many urban legends), a mutilated body has been found.

Storyline B
Immigrants from Bangladesh and Pakistan are being attacked in the night, creating—practically overnight—a spike in racial tensions between the two communities.

As Smithdown and other detectives try to put a stop to these attacks, he starts to believe that there’s something going on that is trying to take advantage of—and is perhaps stoking—this tension as it mounts to near-riotous levels.

So, what did I think about The Mermaid’s Pool?
Of course, it’s not just the two storylines at work—they’re intermingled and there are a couple of more personal subplots involving Smithdown and his family. But let’s keep things simple and pretend that the storylines are hermetically sealed from one another.

In my imaginary world, if you could excise Storyline B; tweak A so it’s not dependent on B; or create an easier-to-believe B, and keep the personal subplots—you’d have yourself a winner. Most of B is great—but at a certain point, it just jumps too far and I can’t buy it. I’ve seen similar things tried by other authors—Robert B. Parker and Rob Parker jump to mind.*

 * I’m at a loss for other examples at the moment, but Nolan’s not the first non-Parker to try.

That said, while I had checked out on that story working for me as soon as I saw where Nolan was going—I was gripped by it. How was he going to pull off a satisfying resolution while balancing the smaller story of one presumed-dead woman in the middle of this? I was on the edge of my seat and rolling my eyes simultaneously.

And it’s a shame I felt this way because, underneath all of this, Nolan was painting a gripping picture about hate—hate in many varied forms—and how that hate can shape and harm a community, how it can corrupt noble institutions, and twist individuals of all backgrounds. And I was too distracted to be able to spend as much time musing on that as I think I should have.

Is there some light in all of the hate? Some hope? Yes, some. But as with Black Moss, Nolan makes you hunt for it. Maybe so you value it more.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Appeal About? 

The setup is basically this: a pair of law students have been given a stack of documents—emails, texts, voicemail transcripts, letters, and so on. They’re to read through this stack and be prepared to work out what crime(s) happened in what’s documented and who did what (and maybe why). 

The correspondence focuses on a period of March-July in the lives of people in The Fairway Players or their associates. The Fairway Players are a local amateur theater group from a small community. As the group starts to plan their next play, the director makes a horrible announcement: his granddaughter, Poppy, has just been diagnosed with a rare form of brain cancer. He’s going to have to step back for a while, and Poppy’s uncle will be stepping up to direct, etc. There’s an experimental drug from the U.S. that’s her best shot at a cure, but it’s expensive and the family’s trying to crowdfund the treatment. 

The Players are galvanized into action—individually and as a whole. People do charity runs, have a fundraising gala, a raffle, direct contributions, and so on—and, of course, all the proceeds from The Fairway Players’ next play will go to the Fund. 

The stack of documents chronicles the messages about this fundraising appeal, the emails of support, and a lot of the behind-the-scenes work at the appeal and the play, and assorted tangential matters. There’s a lot of gossip, backstabbing, emotional manipulation, and…well, you start to get the idea that not everything is on the up-and-up with the appeal, the treatment, and some of the people involved. The more you start to piece together the picture these emails, etc. are painting, the more you’re pretty sure you’re missing something big. Maybe a few somethings. A crime has been committed, one or two may be in progress, and there may be more on the way. 

The only way to find out is to see what the next email has to say. 

Isabel Beck 

When it comes to sheer word count, we hear more from Isabel Beck than any of the other characters. This doesn’t necessarily mean that we know more about her than some of the others—we just get more input from her about what’s going on. Or at least what she says is going on. 

Issy is clearly a lonely person. Until she recruits a couple of new colleagues, she’s the newest member of The Fairway Players and isn’t really liked by most (and, in fact, the people she brings in are quickly more welcome than she is). She’s described as “mousy,” “drippy,” who “latches on to” people—and some things not as complimentary. Between her emails and what others say about her, you really start to pity Issy. 

And that feeling just grows—like just about every person in the book, she does some truly lousy things. But unlike just about every person in the book, I only felt bad for her. I really hoped for a heaping dose of comeuppance to be given to everyone else but kept hoping something good would happen for Issy. 

If I liked nothing else about The Appeal, Isabel Beck would be enough for me to tell you to go read this book. I’m so glad I met this character, one of the best of 2021. 

The Stroke of Genius 

The law students, Femi and Charlotte, communicate with each other via WhatsApp about these documents as they read—as you read, too. They get exactly the same information as the reader does when the reader does. As they write back and forth, it’s like you’re a part of the conversation with them. Instead of texting/messaging your friend(s) as you read the same novel, in this case, you’re reading along with a couple of the characters. 

In mysteries, as the reader, you’re always looking back at things, seeing what happened. Even if the narration is in the present tense, it’s going through things that have already happened. Which is the case here, too. But you’re with Femi and Charlotte in the trenches—it feels very “now”—while you and those two are looking towards the future, what documents are going to be coming? As they start to put things together, you do, too (sometimes faster than them, sometimes a beat or two behind them). It’s a fun—and brilliant—layer on top of what’s already a great book that kicks it up a notch or two of cleverness. 

Lingering Questions 

One of the downsides/advantages (depending on your point of view) of this type of storytelling is that you don’t have an omniscient narrator—or even a first person—to tie up all the loose ends. 

I have several lingering questions about some of the events of the book, many of which can’t even make a decent guess about the answer for. If Connelly, Rankin, Holten, Goldberg, or anyone else had left this much hanging—you can believe I’d be jumping up and down shouting my objections to the heavens. But I’m oddly at peace with this. I have been and am going to be spending some time chewing on my questions, make no mistake, but I’m fine with Hallett not tieing everything up in a nice bow. 

I should stress that all the important questions, the ones that keep the reader turning pages for, are answered in definitive ways. 

So, what did I think about The Appeal? 

I ordered this book as soon as I read Noelle Holten’s post about it in July. Then listening to Hallet on The Blood Brothers Podcast just made me anticipate it more. So when I saw this on NetGalley, I had to jump—who wants to wait until January for the US release? 

I am so glad that I didn’t wait. 

As I read this, I kept saying to myself things like, “oh, this is clever;” “this is great;” “oohh, impressive;” and so on. And then 30-60 minutes later, I’d say the same thing again, but mean it more. And then again 30-minutes later. Right up to the final paragraphs, this kept getting better and better—and it started off great. 

Now that I’ve said such grandiose things that no book can possibly live up to them, I’m not sure there’s a whole lot left to say. 

The Appeal is a funny, thought-provoking, and suspenseful novel full of great, believable characters—not a whole lot of likable characters, but believable and interesting, sure—with a multi-layered plot that will keep you guessing and thinking as it pushes you to keep going; all presented in a format that you’ve seen rarely (if ever) in a mystery novel. If the execution isn’t flawless, it’s close enough that you won’t notice. 

One of the best of the year. Period. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Pug Actually About? 

Julie is in a bad relationship, for the last few years she’s been seeing a married man. You know the type—after a few months, he reveals that fact and keeps promising to leave his wife, but… Oh, he’s also her boss. Even if he wasn’t married, he doesn’t treat her well (and is definitely not a dog person). There’s just nothing good to say about Luke. 

But Julie really doesn’t see that. Her dad. Jim, and her best friend, Pryia, do—but they can only say so much. But her other best friend, Doug, decides he’s going to do something about it. He starts looking for suitable matches—he doesn’t understand human attractiveness, so he knows he’s at a disadvantage. Early on, he tries to arrange a “meet cute” by knocking over someone’s coffee in the park, but has to abandon that method. 

Then Julie is introduced to a recent divorce, Tom. Doug likes him right away (as does Julie’s dad)—even if he is a (gasp) veterinarian. Doug fakes a limp to get taken to Tom’s office, puts up with dog exercise classes in the part, and generally does everything he can to keep the two meeting up. He also steps up his antagonism toward Luke, to try to make it clear to Julie who he prefers. 

Doug is a pug who was rescued by Julie and her dad after the death of Julie’s mom. He decides that rescuing can work both ways—and determines that he’s going to find Julie a better guy than Luke. 

Without realizing that’s what they’re doing, Jim and Priya help out—discouraging time with Luke and playing up Tom (or anyone else), Jim even is partially responsible for introducing Tom to her. 

Slowly something maybe starts between Julie and Tom, and things definitely (and largely independently from the Tom story) get worse between Julie and Luke. And Doug’s along all the while doing his best to help. 

The Very Sweet Subplot 

When Jim and Doug take their walks, Jim has a habit of stopping by a coffee shop run by a woman named Dot. Dot’s interest in Jim is about as obvious as Doug being a dog. But Jim’s not ready to see anyone after his wife, so is either oblivious or chooses to be. Tom is actually Dot’s son. 

About the time that Tom meets Julie, Jim finally opens himself up to the idea of seeing someone. Watching Dot and Jim’s relationship start is possibly the best part of the book (it certainly comes with less drama and more fun). 

Doug as Narrator 

Going back to Debora and James Howe’s Harold and up through Spencer Quinn’s Chet, I’ve been a sucker for dog narrators. It’s a weakness, and not one I’m in any rush to lose. Doug is one more in a line of dog narrators that has charmed his way into my heart. 

Doug’s rather erudite and educated for a canine writer. Sure, there are human things he doesn’t understand, and a few things that a small pug can’t see. But he’s not as easily distracted as Chet, for example. He’s capable of rattling off a Chinese proverb in Chinese—perhaps because he is a pug, because he doesn’t show an affinity for other languages. 

He’s also like every dog I’ve ever met, but especially like the pug sitting next to me, and is always hungry—and a little pudgy (hence the need for the exercise class). And while everyone will talk about his need to lose weight, he’s really good at getting them to give him a treat (or finding some on his own). 

I really enjoy everyone spelling V-E-T every time they mention Tom’s profession, although as Doug notes, he can spell. The reliable “Big Stretch!” said by everyone who isn’t Luke when Doug stretches brought a grin to my face (and has made me a bit self-conscious when I do the same to my canine companions). 

So, what did I think about Pug Actually? 

This is a sweet, cute book. Pug Actually is a pretty standard rom-com, you can see most of the story beats coming, but Dunn writes them in an effective way, so who cares? Adding Doug to the mix adds a layer of charm and humor that help make this more than standard. 

There’s a moment near the end that really doesn’t seem necessary to add one last hurdle to the Tom and Julie romance. It soured my wife a bit on the book, but me less so. I see where it was necessary—or at least helpful—to give Doug a couple of more shining moments. But the ending was nice enough to make up for whatever stumble that plot point made. 

When he was on the Author Stories podcast, Dunn suggested that there might be a sequel in the works. If one appears, I’ll jump on it. 

If you’re in the mood for a pleasant, light read, I recommend this. Even better if you’re in the mood for a rom-com. If you’re a dog lover, it’ll help, but even cat people should find plenty to love here. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Conjuring of Zoth-Avarex About?
Harris Reed is fresh out of magical training school and arrives at the Site to begin his career as a conjurer—he couldn’t be more excited about it. He’d grown up on fantasy literature and movies, and in college finds out that so much of what he’d dreamed about is actually true. Not only that, he can be part of the incredibly secret world.

What he discovers is a corporate culture that basically mimics that which is in the mundane world (Harris would use the adjective “Muggle,” he’s that kind of nerd). Petty rivalries, careerists focused on climbing the ladder, budget issues, inter-department squabbles, and a devotion to bureaucracy over the well-being of the employees—or common sense.

Harris and his fellow graduates have been brought to the Site to add some last-minute power to a long-term project set to launch on their second day of work, which sounds exciting to them all.

What they don’t know is that the project is summoning a dragon into this world from another universe. To you and I, this might sound as dumb as John Hammond’s plan for a park full of dinosaurs, but the managers of the Site (and the U. S. Military, which expects to be the eventual recipient of said dragon) don’t see it that way. It turns out that, in comparison, Hammond looks like a safety-conscious genius—it takes less than one sentence for the dragon to show that the humans have no control over him. He kills one staff member, snatches a woman that Harris knew from school, and flies off.

Zoth-Avarex takes Silvia to the top of the Space Needle and makes it his base. He brought Silvia along because he needs a princess in addition to his treasure. There’s no threat implied to her (as long as she doesn’t try to escape)—he basically wants to keep her safe and pamper her. It doesn’t keep this from being a horrible experience for her, but it sure could be much worse.

On their first day, Harris has befriended (or tried to) Siliva, her fiancé, and her sister. The three of them quickly realize that Management and the military are going to be of little use in getting Silvia back, and decide to take matters into their own hands in the tradition of fantasy protagonists everywhere. They get support and a little guidance from Silvia and Harris’s direct supervisor, as well as a long-term employee who’s got his heart set on retirement.

Eddie
One of the first people that Harris meets on campus is a conjurer just days away from retirement. He’s named Eddie, but might as well be named Dr. Perry Cox. Eddie’s a legend on the Site for some heroics back in the ’70s but is now an iconoclastic grump. The kind of guy every office has one or two of—they’ve been around forever and understand the way things work in ways that management doesn’t. They also don’t care about anything anymore and aren’t afraid to show it. He gives the new hires a hard time but actually gives good advice and assistance.

I personally love to get to know those figures and try to learn as much as I can from them (and have likely taken on that role a time or two), maybe that’s why Eddie resonated with me so much. He was hands-down my favorite character—he’s one of those supporting characters that could overshadow the protagonists if used too much, but Lockhaven doesn’t let that happen. Which is probably good, too much of him could’ve hurt the novel.

Footnotes
I am a sucker for a good (generally comedic) use of footnotes in novels—it’s not something I see often, but when I do, there’s a high correlation between their presence and a novel I enjoy.* Lockhaven nails the practice—they give him an added vehicle for jokes and help add to the reader’s understanding of the world and some characters. He also includes one note that’s so long could be a Steinbeck-ian intercalary chapter. It takes a certain audacity to try that, and it paid off.

* See Lisa Lutz, Thomas Lennon, Josh Bazell.

Satire
The book is primarily a fantasy adventure, but throughout—sometimes more pronounced than others—it’s also a workplace satire. As such it’s a winner—even if the fantasy storylines and broader comic bits didn’t work, I’d be pretty positive about this book for the workplace satire alone.

Like Harris, Lockhaven is pretty clearly someone who has drunk deeply from Fantasy fiction. At once he celebrates tropes, themes, and ideas from all sorts of Fantasy—and pokes fun at them. If he just ridiculed them (as several tropes and themes deserve), it’d likely come across as mean-spirited and wouldn’t be that entertaining. If all he did was unleash his favorite tropes to use in telling his story, it’s be unoriginal and clichéd. Mixing avoids the pitfalls and makes for an entertaining read.

So, what did I think about The Conjuring of Zoth-Avarex?
 

 
It’s de rigueur when talking about a humorous work of Fantasy or SF to invoke Pratchett, Adams, and Asprin, and it’s de rigueur when I talk about that kind of fiction that I go out of my way to not do that. It’s easy this time because I find them completely inapplicable. On the other hand, TCoZA:TSPGDitM brought to mind: John Scalzi (I’m thinking Agent to the Stars and The Android’s Dream), Scott Meyer (Magic 2.0 series), Joe Zieja (Epic Failure Trilogy), and Eoin Colfer (Highfire). You put those works in a blender and pulse for 30 seconds and you’re going to get something akin to this book.

* Actually, does anyone Asprin anymore? I probably need to update my references.
 
This would be an easy book for me to go on too long about—I’d love to spend a few paragraphs on Zoth-Avarex alone. But it’s best experienced rather than being told about.
 
Most of the Independently published Humorous/Light Fantasy that I’ve come across hasn’t worked for me—at least not as much as I wanted it to. Either on the humor front or the story front. But Lockhaven nailed it, I’m happy to say. I laughed—audibly and hard—a couple of times, I chuckled and grinned a lot. I thought the relationships between the characters worked well, and I enjoyed the characters you’re supposed to enjoy and was annoyed by the ones that are supposed to bother you. This is largely one of those novels whose journey is more important than the destination—but I enjoyed the way Lockhaven wrapped things up, too.
 
In short, I had a lot of fun with this and expect that you will, too. Give this one a try.