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theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)
adventurous
funny
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“We’re a funeral home for monsters,” Vivacia said
“Viv!” Dustin said, scandalized.
“Fine. The supernatural,” the woman corrected. To Molly, in a lower voice, she said: “Monster is a bit of no-no word. We prefer not to use it, and they certainly prefer us not to use it. But we need common ground here, and I hope it helps you to understand.”
“Monsters,” Molly said, repeating the no-no word.
“The supernatural,” Viv corrected again.
“The nonstandard citizens,” Dustin said sharply.
What’s Dust & Grim About?
After thirteen-year-old Molly’s father died, her uncle comes to her and tells her about her (late) mother and older brother—Molly’s parents split right after she was born and she’d never known anything about them. Her father had never been a good provider—or much of a parent in any other way. She needs money for costuming school (and room and board, too) and her long-lost family has an ongoing business of some sort.
So Molly introduces herself to her brother, Dustin, and makes an ultimatum: she wants half of everything or to take part in the business. Dustin and his mother’s friend, Vivian (who has taken on the role of mentor/guardian) aren’t keen on either option (or on Molly in general, if truth be told).
Through sheer pluck, determination, and a happy accident or two, Molly learns that the family business is as a funeral home/cemetery caretakers for supernatural creatures. Not only that, but a malevolent magic-user is running around the cemetery ruining the eternal rest of those interred there (which could have cataclysmic effects).
With the help of a band of non-standard citizens—as delightfully creepy and goofy as you could want—the siblings have to figure out how to get along and stop this threat.
The Non-Standard World
“Mollllllly,” the forest whispered in return.
She shuddered. “That’s weird. You should stop that!”
“Sorrrrry,” the forest answered.
Well, at least it’s a polite menacing voice.
It’s hard to describe briefly the non-standard world we’re introduced to—through the cemetery, the group helping Molly and Dustin, and others that they interact with. It’s sort of like Gaiman’s Neverwhere or Aaronovitch’s demi-monde. But the Pixar version.
Just a few examples: there’s a Foxperson shapeshifter, which is pretty much what it sounds like; the above talking forest (at least, that’s her theory at the time); a vampire that can compete with Fred, the Vampire Accountant for the Most Milquetoast Vampire in Literature; and a Florg, a childlike extra-dimensional being, who is probably the most dangerous being in the book, who is pacified with cheese crackers and by attempting to be funny (think Dave Bautista’s Drax, but not at all).
I hope there’s a sequel just to spend more time in this world.
So, what did I think about Dust & Grim?
“What kind of poison?” Dustin asked.
Marsha chimed in: “Mucus-thorn and mire-berry.”
“Is that, like, some kind of alt-folk band?” Molly asked.
“Not as bad as that,” Ember said, grinning like, well, a fox. “But as poisons go? Pretty flappin’ bad.”
Dust & Grim was just silly, creepy, wholesome fun. You’ve got some great creatures. You’ve got a nice sibling-dynamic. Some genuinely funny lines. Molly’s cosplaying is great, I love the choice to ground her character in that. And a creative story.
But most of all, you get to young characters who learn who they are, find ways of fulfilling their dreams that they didn’t expect to find, and a strong sense of family—and what that means. Not in some “we have to find a wholesome message for MG readers” kind of way, but in a way that would work for these characters no matter the intended audience.
I don’t want to spend too much time trying to talk about this, it’s just a fun read that should be enjoyed that way.
reflective
slow-paced
What’s Abandon All Hope About?
Set in the 1990s, this novel follows Evan—a cynical writer for an educational software company, Eldritch EduWare (a name that must’ve been the cause of problems for the marketing team—while being fairly apt). He actually commutes to the suburbs to work there, which is a nice twist. Evan doesn’t have a lot of drive or ambition, but he seems to like his life—maybe he could be happier, but he’s comfortable.
One day he encounters Eric, a college dropout. Convinced of his own insight, Eric eschews fiction, music, and the history of philosophy—he doesn’t want anyone else’s ideas. His are pure, new, and will enrich the lives of any who read his book—as soon as he finishes it. To pay the bills, Eric works a succession of temporary jobs, each disastrous in their own way.
Evan is intrigued by Eric, and makes an effort to check in on him from time to time (even trying to hire him for Eldritch at one point), but their storylines are fairly divergent. But common elements are there—we see them socialize (a little bit), muse on art and life, interact with family, colleagues, and supervisors, and so on.
He’s Making a List…
A technique that Spires falls back on often while describing things is the list. For example:
The basic building unit of the bad suburbs was the box. Boxes of various sizes and colors, of concrete, glass, steel and brick, big and small boxes arranged upright and sideways, black, white, gray, brown and transparent boxes, boxes stuck together like Legos or separated by swathes of asphalt, boxes with yards of grass or yards of concrete, could be seen everywhere as you looked out the train window.
Strip malls, mini-malls, and shopping centers alternated with identikit housing developments that bore fanciful names, like Avalon Estates, Balmoral-on-the-Lake, Provence-in-the-Woods, and Renaissance Acres: names that inadvertently highlighted their aesthetic failings.
That’s a lot of dense text that doesn’t say a whole lot—it’s frequently an effective technique. But I think Spires could’ve used a few less and been better for it—a list transitioning to a list transitioning to a list gets a bit mind-numbing. I largely enjoyed the writing, but this was a drawback.
A Scrambled Don Quixote
I typically make a point of not reading anything an author says in our Q&A before I write my post about their book. I’m not sure why I did this time, but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen his remark about this being a
Don Quixote in reverse – that is, with the somewhat cynical Sancho Panza character being the lead, and the idealistic Don Quixote figure being the secondary protagonist.
There’s part of me that kicked myself for not picking up on that—Spires wasn’t being subtle. At one point, Eric actually equates Evan to Quixote (I was too busy rolling my eyes at the conversation the two characters were having to pick up on it).
Now that I’ve chewed on it a bit now, I can see it to a degree. It’s not one of those insights that opens a fount of meaning to the text—nor is not having it a barrier to understanding the novel*. But it adds some dimension and depth to your understanding.
* He says with only a slightly defensive tone.
So, what did I think about Abandon All Hope?
In the mid-90s, there was a trend of indie movies in the Richard Linklater vein featuring characters who would unburden themselves to each other of their respective philosophical/aesthetic/political takes. This felt a whole lot like those to me. That’s not an evaluation, it’s just an observation.
This novel featured a large cast of unsympathetic and unlikeable characters acting in pretty unsympathetic and unlikeable ways, I’m not sure that there was any growth or development in the primary characters—their circumstances changed, but I think they remained the same (although there are signs that Eric and Evan might be on the verge of growth at the end). But that pretty much describes everyone I know. It might not be what we expect (want?) out of fictional characters, but it’s a pretty solid description of humanity.
This is one of those cases where I think the whole is less than the sum of its parts. A lot of the moments in this book were great–amusing, insightful, interesting—and the same goes for most of the characters. But Spires didn’t combine these moments and characters into a successful overall narrative.
I think overall he might have tried to accomplish too much. If say, Spires cut Evan out entirely (or significantly—just give us his interactions with Eric), in order to spend more time at Eric’s work (maybe requiring more characters there), and I can see my enjoyment of this increasing. Then write another novel about Evan trying to make his way in the world while writing his treatise, I should add. The strength of this book lies in the depictions of these two characters and their career/employment/lack thereof, as the US seems to be in a cultural shift regarding these things at the moment, it’s particularly thought-provoking and relevant on these matters.
Your results may vary, of course. I can think of a couple of people who’d likely disagree (possibly pretty strongly) with me if they picked up the book. I do recommend it for an intriguing experience, and hopefully, in your case something more.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this novel from the author in exchange for this post and my honest opinion. I thank him for it.
adventurous
funny
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“The people who live in these places think the gates protect them from all the crime and misery that’s out there, but it doesn’t. It just locks them in with it.”
“You think whatever happened came from within the gates?”
“I don’t know where it came from, that’s your job. But I’m sure there’s as much evil inside these gates as there is outside of them. Maybe more.”
What’s Gated Prey About?
LASD Detectives Eve Ronain and Duncan Pavone are in the midst of a sting operation when the novel opens—to trap a home invasion team, the pair are pretending to be a well-moneyed couple who’d make pretty easy marks to lure the team in. They go out daily to shop a little—making sure to flash a lot of cash—and then go back to their McMansion in a gated community to wait. Duncan’s loving the excuse to sit around all day and watch movies, while it’s driving Eve crazy to not be active.
The LASD has tried traditional investigational methods, but they just haven’t worked—no one can figure out how the team is getting past the security gates, much less who they are, and how they select their targets.
The trap works and the LASD chalks it up as a win. But Eve’s uncomfortable with the number of questions (and possible accomplices) that remain about it. Also, there are indications that Eve still has enemies within the department—and they might have prevented backup that Eve and Duncan needed from acting to keep them safe.
That’s not the only crime Eve and Duncan encounter behind the protective gates—while trying to close the home invasion case, the pair pick up another assignment. It’s not covered in the publisher’s description, and I’m not sure how to talk about it without giving away too much. So let’s just say that it will underscore that “Maybe more” from my opening quotation.
Eve Off-the-Clock
“You’re doing it again,” Duncan said.“Doing what?”
“Obsessing over your case to the point of exhaustion. You need a life and some sleep. You can’t physically, mentally, or emotionally sustain being relentless.”
“I’m only doing it now because we’ve got a ticking clock on this one.”
“You’ve done it on every case we’ve had.”
“You make it seem like years. We’ve only been working together for a few months. It hasn’t been that long.”
But like Duncan, readers know if the two had been working together longer, she’d be doing the same thing. This is not a good way to live—it’s not healthy, and if Eve doesn’t learn how to take her foot off the gas, she’s going to burn out or make some big mistakes—likely both. But this is the kind of character I love reading about. Yes, I do hope that she learns how to balance things a bit—for the sake of character development, I think it’d be interesting. But until she does? I’m going to love watching her burn herself out.
Eve spends so much time working over the course of the novel that there’s almost no time for anything but her work. We do get to see most of Eve’s family, but very briefly—and the most we see is of her sister, thanks to Lisa’s work in the ER. I’d have liked a bit more time with her, she humanizes Eve, but that’s not always possible in every book.
Conversely, I thought it was good to have a scaled-down presence of Eve’s mom (especially with Eve’s agent being able to carry the water of “supporting character annoyingly-fixated on the superficial”). I find Jen an amusing and important part of the series, but man, a little of her goes a long way.
Duncan “Dunkin’ Donuts” Pavone
I’m not sure if I should use the nickname in that section header, I’m not sure if Goldberg used it this time. But, eh, I like it. I made so many notes while reading that were variations of “love this character.”
While he remains the wise and largely-comic-relief figure he’s been, there’s a darkness to Duncan we haven’t really seen before, expressed in a couple of different ways. There’s a certain invulnerability that his fast-approaching retirement date gives him that allows him to give this side a free rein—Duncan notes repeatedly that his career is over, he has nothing to lose. I really wouldn’t want him as an enemy (not that I want any, I have to say, but really not him).
We also get some insight into his reason for retirement—one of those things I hadn’t questioned. He was introduced to us in Lost Hills as being on the verge of retirement, and that’s just how I’ve thought about him. But now I want to know more about what got him to this point.
She’s Still Learning
Eve’s only been a homicide detective for a few months, and she still has a lot to learn. Not just the lessons that Duncan’s trying to teach her about overworking and getting along with colleagues.
But she’s still learning how to be a detective—she doesn’t know basic routines and procedures. She embarrasses herself in front of a morgue attendant and in an autopsy—nothing horrible, just the kind of stumbling people make when they’re new at something. Some of what she does within the Sheriff’s department is a little more than embarrassing—and will likely come back to haunt her, but again, that’s realistic growing pains.
It’s not often that we get to see this kind of thing in police procedurals—especially with the central/titular character. And this approach is a treat.
So, what did I think about Gated Prey?
“…I just got lucky.”
Duncan leaned against the wall and looked at her. “It isn’t luck, Eve. It’s instinct. You’re a natural at this. What you haven’t learned yet is how to do it without making enemies.”
I’ve gone on too long at this point—and there’s so much that I still wanted to talk about: the ongoing role of the media (both news and entertainment) in Eve’s life and career—not to mention at least one fellow detective; the politics within and outside the LASD and how that impacts their investigation; personnel changes within the Department; and racial and economic prejudices that the security gates seem to magnify.
Also, while Duncan (especially) and Eve have always seemed to have some fun meals—there are three references to food that almost induced a between-meal DoorDash order on my part. Don’t read this on an empty stomach, folks.
Great characters all around, a couple of gripping cases, and a breakneck pace—all par for the course for this series. If you haven’t jumped on the Eve Ronin train—now’s the time. I literally organized my reading schedule the last couple of weeks so that I could start this as soon as it was delivered to my Kindle, and it was worth it. You want to get your hands—and eyes*—on this, readers.
* Or ears, come to think of it, Nicol Zanzarella does a great job with the audiobook narrations for these books.
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funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
Always remember—even the smallest thing you do can have big consequences.
What’s Squirrel Do Bad About?
Wendy the Wanderer is a little girl who desperately wants to travel the world, but her over-protective father has other ideas. He’s so focused on safety and caution, he carries an umbrella at all times (for example). But when Dad has to leave town for a while on business, Wendy just might get to do a little exploring, if she can get around her babysitter.
This isn’t a challenge, as the sitter is too focused on her phone to notice pretty much anything. So, Wendy heads out to explore her hometown, Trubble Town. A fitting name, for her at least.
She tries to befriend a squirrel, Squirrely McSquirrel, but is out of nuts. So gives him a little bit of a Mooshy. A Mooshy is a dangerous concoction for a human, much less a squirrel, it’s a “steaming cup o’hot chocolate shoved chock-full with forty marshmallows.” The levels of hyperactivity that this induces in Squirrely can’t really be described, it can only be depicted in graphic terms, really. He also becomes pretty addicted to them—but the destruction wreaked was so great that no one is permitted to give him any.
It’s at this point that things get out of control. The chaos that ensues features a police officer driven by hatred of squirrels, a mayor who refuses to work, a strange town obsession with statues, a would-be nut-themed superhero, a vegetarian squid, civic-minded moles, a lot of dynamite, and too many other things to enumerate. It’s the kind of mad-cap pandemonium that appeals to the little kid in us all (especially the middle-grade target audience).
The big questions addressed are: will Squirrely stay out of trouble? Will Wendy be able to keep all this from her father? Will anyone learn anything?
Pearls Before Swine-Verse
On page 56, Larry the Crocodile appears as Squirrely’s lawyer. Planting this firmly in the same world as Pastis’s comic strip, Pearls Before Swine. But Larry’s the only character that I recognized, it’s not Pearls. The humor’s different than the comic—it’s suited for kids, with a different tone, and a different aim.
Art Style
If you’ve read Pearls, you’ll have noticed the slightly sloppier style, with bolder lines that Pastis uses when one of his characters is drawing—the art’s a lot like that (except for a panel or two at the end). But essentially, it looks a lot like Pearls without Pig and Rat, etc.
So, what did I think about Squirrel Do Bad?
Wendy learns a little about chaos theory and begins to see herself as the butterfly that starts the storm. Which is helpful and maybe a little unhealthy, too. Still, she learns the meaning of her father’s words before he left (see the opening quotation).
The storytelling reminds me of the kind of stories my kids would write/tell when they were little—something that starts off kind of fun and then gets stranger and stranger and stranger. This is both an observation and a warning for people who want structure and logic to their stories—that’s not going to be around.
It’s silly. There is some real sweetness to it. It’s weird. It’s a lot of fun. Pretty much what you’d expect. Give it a shot, or let your kid give it a shot.
adventurous
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“Everybody thinks the dead of the night is the scary time, but it’s not. The time of danger for the living is the time of change, from day into night or night into day, when the world isn’t sure what it is or what it wants to be.”
What’s Daughter of the Morning Star About?
Midway through the last novel, Next to Last Stand, Walt and Henry stop by a High School Girl’s Basketball game to watch Lolo Long’s niece, Jaya “Longshot” Long, do what she does best. But they don’t stop by to enjoy the game, really, they’re there because Lolo wants help. Jaya’s been receiving death threats and there’s only so much an aunt can do (even if that aunt is a Tribal Police Chief).
This is where we pick up now—the threats are real, repeated, and don’t seem to be a prank. Adding to the danger is the fact that Jaya’s older sister disappeared the prior year under suspicious circumstances. There’s no need to think the two are linked, but Walt has to consider the possibility.
If nothing else, Lolo hopes that bringing Walt into the investigation(s) will draw attention to him—he tends to get people watching and talking about his escapades, and hopefully, his involvement will get enough people interested in what’s going on to generate some leads.
There are plenty of suspects—on the reservation and off—for both the threats and the disappearance, so Walt and Henry have their hands full.
A Recurring Question
“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in the things you believe in, Henry.”He nodded. “I know that, but I respect your belief in humanity, if for only one reason.”“What’s that?”“It makes you very resolute.”“Is that a compliment?”“Sometimes.”
There is a strong possible supernatural thread running through this novel. I’m not going to do justice to explaining the particular spirits that are suspected to be at work in this book, but there’s a real sense of hazard around them. And a lot of what Walt encounters during these events cannot be easily explained by something other than a spiritual force.
Of course, this isn’t the first time that this concept has been explored in the Longmire books. I don’t have hard numbers on it (I expect someone on the Internet does), but I’d guess that it’s a little less than one-half of them that feature this in a significant way.
And for all his protesting (see above), I’m not so sure that Walt doesn’t believe most of what Henry does. If your actions are an expression of your beliefs, he sure seems to. Not simply his actions over the course of this novel, there’s just about every other novel in the series—look at everything involving Virgil White Buffalo, for example (but there are several other pieces of evidence). Given both his background, what his wife believed, and his lack of knowledge about the details of Cheyenne beliefs, I can believe that Walt’s hesitant to claim that belief, but he sure does walk the walk.
Of course, there’s this observation Walt makes:
Funny how your attitude about spirituality could change when the chips were down.
A Sobering Beginning And Unfortunate Coincidence
In the midst of all the media coverage surrounding the search for Gabby Petito this summer, one of the things I frequently saw was people listing the statistics surrounding the numbers of missing Native American women every year.
The Acknowledgements in the front of this book listed similar statistics regarding missing and murdered Native American women, which are partially where Johnson drew the idea for this novel from. These numbers are repeated in the text itself, too.
This isn’t the first time that Johnson has used Walt’s case to comment on something in the news (or something that should be), but an accident of timing made this novel particularly germane.
Missing Friends
The downside to a Longmire book that takes place outside of Absaroka County is that most of the Sheriff’s department and the residents of Durant aren’t in the book. We didn’t get Sancho, Ruby, or Lucian (for example). And Vic was largely absent as well—but was well used for little time she was around.
I get the need to have Walt do things outside of Durant/Absaroka County to prevent Durant from becoming Murder Central, U.S.A. (it’s likely the most murder-filled town/county in Wyoming), but I really wish it didn’t involve leaving so many of the characters out of the books.
Here’s hoping that #18 brings them all back.
So, what did I think about Daughter of the Morning Star?
I thought some of the basketball material in the book (particularly the further in the novel we got) was a little eye-roll-inducing. It was just too much for a cynical guy like me. But somehow Johnson made it work.
There’s a lot said about hope in Daughter of the Morning Star–mostly about its absence. But, as hope tends to do, it shows up in the unlikeliest of places and in the midst of the darkest times. When this book is finished, there’s no happily ever afters promised (as usual for this series), but there’ve been moments of triumph, and maybe a dawning of hope for some.
This is really the most entertaining Longmire book in quite a while. When Johnson is on his game, he’s great. And that’s what we got here. Readers new and old will find a lot to be satisfied with here.
adventurous
dark
emotional
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I have abandoned this post five times since early August because of this section—I’ve written three that were too detailed (and therefore too long to read) and two that were too vague (and therefore too, well, vague to be any good). So, fine. I give up. Here’s what’s on Eldridge’s website about it:
In THE NINJA’S BLADE, Lily Wong―a Chinese-Norwegian modern-day ninja―has more trouble than she was bargaining for when controlling grandparents arrive in Los Angeles from Hong Kong at the same time she goes undercover in the dangerous world of youth sex trafficking. As she hunts for a kidnapped prostitution victim, a missing high school girl, and a sociopathic trafficker, the surviving members of a murderous street gang hunt for her.
Life would be easier if Lily knew who to trust. But when victims are villains, villains are victims, and even family is plotting against her, easy is not an option. All Lily can do is follow the trail wherever it leads: through a high school campus polarized by racial tension or the secret back rooms of a barber/tattoo/brothel or the soul-crushing stretch of Long Beach Boulevard known as The Blade.
She relies on her ninja skills to deceive and infiltrate, rescue and kill―whatever is necessary to free the girls from their literal and figurative slavery. If only those same skills could keep Lily’s conniving grandparents from hijacking her future.
Words Matter
I could not stop thinking about Robert B. Parker’s Ceremony/Taming a Seahorse/ Hundred-Dollar Baby and any number of similar books by him (and others) featuring P.I.s looking for particular prostitutes. Many of these I’d considered treating the women in question with sensitivity and respect. But I’m starting to think they could’ve done better.
Of course, whatever social workers the P.I.s encountered weren’t the same people Lily encountered. Lily was told in no uncertain terms that it’s not child/teen prostitution, but commercial sexual exploitation, and if she wanted to get anywhere with that agency, she’d adjust her language. Not only is it a language thing—but it reframes the activity. And the criminal culpability of those involved.
You can see its effect on Lily from that point on in the novel, if anything it probably made her more determined.
Lily’s Personal Life
Ask Peter Parker, it’s hard being a vigilante without your family finding out. The Ninja Daughter showed Lily’s skill in keeping that from her family, but it wasn’t easy. Add in trying to date—something Lily hasn’t successfully done since the night her sister died—and you’ve yet another bit of trouble.
Lily finds herself liking Daniel, but can’t make herself make time for him. Until her grandparents intervene, and suddenly, there’s one more plate for Lily to keep spinning.
But the fact that her grandparents are involved in her life is the big thing—they’ve come to visit from Hong Kong to check up on their business. Lily’s mother runs the LA/American branch of the family’s corporation.
Their presence changes—at least temporarily—the dynamic between Lily and her mother. Instead of the fairly antagonistic relationship we saw last time, there’s an alliance of sorts. Lily becomes as much of the supportive, obedient daughter as she can. Her mother’s stress level is through the roof, feeling like every decision she makes and has made—personal and professional—is being weighed and found wanting. So Lily does what she can to take the pressure off—she spends time with them, allows them to meddle in her life (rather than her mom’s), and so on.
I really appreciated this—mutual affection, familial bonds, and so on were present in The Ninja Daughter, but we got to see them in action here. It keeps Ma from being merely an obstacle to Lily’s mission and turns her into a character (that is frequently an inadvertent obstacle to Lily’s mission, sure—but that’s different).
The Fallout From The Ninja Daughter
Lily’s character is defined by her reaction to the trauma and guilt over her sister’s murder. But in The Ninja’s Blade, she has a fresh batch of trauma to deal with. The events of The Ninja Daughter have done some significant damage to her psyche (to paint with a broad brush, Eldridge does a better, and more subtle job of depicting it—don’t let my need for pithiness fool you).
She doubts herself, second-guesses her choices, makes costly errors, and this causes problems for her in the midst of battle (literal or figurative)—and for what Lily’s trying to do, this could be fatal. It’s also making things difficult for her outside of her work.
It’s not like she can seek out a counselor or anything—it’s not like she can tell a lot of people what caused the trauma. So it’s up to Lily—with some help from Stan and Aleisha at the shelter—to work through this.
So, what did I think about The Ninja’s Blade?
Eldridge here takes what was a strong adventure series with heart and a social conscience and improves it here—adding psychological depth, more layers to the protagonist, developing the characters of those around her, and showing that there are real risks and consequences for the protagonist. This isn’t a Reacher-like series, things that happen to Lily matter and will have a lasting impact on the character.
I really enjoyed this book—there’s enough humor and action to make sure this stays entertaining, and the darkness and complexity of the world add weightiness to the novel so that it doesn’t become a disposable thriller.
I strongly recommend this one to you and think it would serve alright as a jumping-on point, but I think you’d be better off jumping back to the prior novel. But starting with this one and then backtracking would work, too. Just do yourself a favor and pick these up.
challenging
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
What’s Dead Mercy About?
The closing chapter of Dead Secret set this up (as Holten is so good about doing): a business has gone up in fire and a body has been found inside—possibly the body of someone Maggie’s worked with in Probation. From the start, this case has its hooks in Maggie.
It’s soon decided that the body was the source of the fire—and before the victim had been set ablaze, he’d been restrained and had teeth pulled. The killer had wanted to punish him, not just kill him.
Soon another victim is discovered—and the team has to race to find a connection so they can prevent anyone else from suffering this fate.
When the link is finally discovered, it suggests potential new victims as well as several suspects. It also shines a bright light on a striking failure of the criminal justice system.
Bethany and Kat
Back when I talked about Book 3, Dead Perfect, I wrote that they were overworking PC Bethany Lambert, “Miscellaneous errands, thankless tasks, things requiring technological expertise, and more fall to her. I lost track of how many things Maggie threw her way to do—on top of her own assignments. I have multiple notes about how they’re working this woman to death.” They’ve yet to let up on her—however, it’s talked about both as the way she likes to work and as something other people are concerned about. This is efficiently done—the characters around her get to be observant and sympathetic, and they can continue to throw too much work at her so Holten doesn’t have to create 2-3 more characters to keep the stories moving at that pace.
Dead Perfect was also where DC Kat Everett was added to the team—she’s better integrated into the action over the last couple of books now and I really enjoy her. I’m ready to read a spin-off series focusing on her now, either in her same assignment or transferred somewhere. Her brashness would make for a fun protagonist (not that Maggie isn’t brash, but hers is a side-effect of her impetuousness).
A Refreshing Approach
With most police procedurals you get the maverick, lone-wolf detective—maybe with a couple of people they trust. Or (particularly with UK-based procedurals), you get a focus on a detective squad. With the Maggie Jamieson books, we get a good look at her squad, probation services, and other social services.
Not just as a drop-in for a convenient bit of information, either. But characters that matter, there’s interconnectedness between the groups and it’s good to see the flow of information (formally, informally, unauthorized) informing the investigations. I like seeing that approach, and I like to think it reflects reality far more than any lone-wolf thumbing their nose at regulations.
Although, the pathologist still seeming to hold a grudge over one of her staff being (justifiably) questioned a while back seems to be petty. Which, so it’s not all super-professional and mutually helpful.
Let’s Hope This Is Fiction
Not every author spends too much time on the motivation behind the killings, but an author that gives a believable motivation separates their work from the pack. This is another of those areas that Holten excels in.
Yes, this is a work of fiction. Yes, things are heightened. But when you read this, there’s going to be a voice in the back of your head saying, “I could see that happening.”
Not only that, there’s a pretty good chance that you’re going to be a little conflicted about the crimes. Odds are, you’re not going to be hoping that Maggie and her team fail, or that the killer (killers?) gets away with it.
Buuuut…once you understand the motive pushing the killer(s), you may not feel that bad about what happens to the victims.
Buuuut…once you understand the motive pushing the killer(s), you may not feel that bad about what happens to the victims.
So, what did I think about Dead Mercy?
Holten’s got this down now—the characters and world are well established, as are the relationships in them. Despite the relatively brief chronology between books 1-5, there’s been some decent character growth on several points, too. So a new Maggie Jamieson thriller is a chance to spend some time catching up with new acquaintances while getting to go for a pretty intense ride as those acquaintances try to stop a brutal killer.
Okay, maybe that’s not the ideal way to catch up and check in on anyone, but it’s a pretty exciting read.
Crime Reads had that piece a couple of weeks ago discussing “all crime is cyber crime,” which was ringing in my ears as I read this. This very visceral series of murders is evidence to support that thesis—cyber-policing wasn’t enough to stop the series, either, but it played its part. Holten’s always been good at balancing the computer-work and the boots-on-the-ground policing but might have outdone herself here.
The accent does fall on the physical world, of course, given the nature of the crimes. If your stomach doesn’t church a little at the description of the murders (likely both as they’re happening and as the pathologist breaks them down), you’re made of pretty stern stuff. Thankfully, Holten’s narration doesn’t ever seem to relish in the disturbing details as too many do.
Basically, this is a top-notch thriller with a lot for the reader to chew on as they’re burning through the pages.
It does appear that this is going to be the last Maggie Jamieson book–at least for a while. I’m hoping it’s just a break, and we get back to Maggie and the rest of the Major and Organised Crime Department soon. If not? These five books are a great set and I (again) strongly recommend them to you.
adventurous
tense
fast-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
Outside, the air was thick and threatening rain. Spring in Tennessee. Peter strode across the wide concrete apron toward the road.
Go to Memphis, June had said. Eat some barbecue, listen to music, have some fun.
So far there had been no barbecue and no music.Was it wrong that he might be having fun?
What’s Tear It Down About?
Peter’s been recuperating and rehabbing from his injuries from Light It Up at June’s—he’s about as recovered as he can be and is spending his time doing some upkeep and repairs on some of the buildings. But being in one place for so long is getting to him. He doesn’t see it, but June does.
June has a friend, Nadine, in Memphis. She’s a photographer who’s done a few tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, embedded with various groups. She’s back home in Memphis and has recently purchased a house at auction. Since then, she’s been harassed and could use some help. So June sends Peter off to lend a hand.
The morning before he arrives at Nadine’s, someone had driven a dump truck through the front of her house and then ran off. The truck is still there, which is what’s keeping some of the walls from falling. Clearly, he’s got his work cut out for him.
The work gets complicated the next day when Peter’s carjacked. No, really. A teenager with a pistol sticks Peter up, stealing his truck (with all his tools, food, and weapons) in the back. Peter likely could’ve stopped him, but chooses to let the kid get away with it for some pretty good reasons.
So now, he has to try to stop further attacks on Nadine, help her rebuild the house that she’s determined not to leave, and get his truck back. Oh, and immediately following the carjacking, Peter offended the drug lord who runs most of the crime in that part of Memphis—but you’ll want to read all that for yourself.
A Man Called Lewis
Lewis decides that Peter needs help (with a little input from June) and shows up just when things are getting hairy.
If I’ve noticed it before, I don’t remember—but Lewis here is essentially Robert B. Parker’s Hawk. There’s one conversation between Lewis and Peter that could’ve been lifted straight from a Hawk and Spenser conversation by Parker/Atkins, too.
It works, too, don’t get me wrong. I am kicking myself a little for not having seen it before, but I don’t think it was as strong—maybe that’s because of the themes/circumstances in this book that it stands out so much.
So, what did I think about Tear It Down?
There’s a significant racial component to the events and circumstances of this book. This added a little depth to the novel, it’s about more than people trying to get money and power, as is usual for these books. Sure, there’s money and power at the root of a lot of what’s going on here—but there’s a degree of hate that wasn’t around either.
There are also two characters who are just trying to survive in a world that seems hostile—and increasingly so—to them. They just need a break, a chance to do something, but it’s taken from them at every turn. The question for them is what they do in these circumstances—and what the results of their choices will be for those around them.
There is a significant toll on those who just happen to be near Peter and Lewis when things get ugly between them and those who are harassing Nadine. Peter notices this and it bothers him—it’s one thing in war for there to be collateral damage, but there was no reason for anyone injured (or worse) here to be in danger. It will be interesting to see if this experience has an impact on how he deals with things in the future.
This one had it all—great action, a compelling story, some good social commentary, and some time with characters I’m really growing attached to. Nick Petrie and Peter Ash continue to be a winning combination.
funny
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
What’s It’s a Wonderful Woof About?
Someone comes to the Little Detective Agency to hire them, but it’s just not the kind of case that calls for Bernie’s strengths, but he knows just the right guy for the job, Victor Klovsky. The two had recently run into each other on different cases, and Bernie’s been reminded that Victor isn’t cut out for the more, shall we say, physically demanding cases—but he’s great at the stuff you can do behind a desk, which is what this case calls for.
Also, I think Bernie feels sorry for the guy and thinks he can do him a favor by sending work his way to make up for the way things went during that recent encounter.
You know what they say about roads and best intentions, though. It’s not long before Victor has gone missing—a very concerned mother (who has less confidence in his abilities than Bernie does) hires Chet and Bernie to find him. It turns out that not only Victor is missing, but his client is, too.
There’s nothing about this case that suggests a cushy desk job anymore—a strong sense of violence surrounds the disappearances—and other elements of the case as it develops. Can Chet and Bernie sniff out what happened to them, and what the relationship is between these disappearances, Mary and Joseph fleeing to Egypt, Caravaggio, and an old Spanish mission?
Relationship Issues
This is news to no one that has read one book in this series, but Bernie’s not good at relationships. Expressing himself to a woman he cares about is not a skill he possesses (I’m sure Chet would differ with me here, but I stand by it).
His current relationship is still pretty new—and seems to be going pretty well. But that’s all stuff that happened since Tender is the Bite. It doesn’t take him too long to mess things up with Weatherly. Both his reaction to this throughout the novel and the way it started felt different than the way he’d put his foot into it with Suzi (but not completely). The relationships between Bernie and the two women are notably different—which is a relief, too often in situations like this it feels like a duplicate of a previous romance.
A Very Bernie Christmas?
It would be very easy to forget that this is a Christmas/Holiday Themed novel—I did more than once, and I was expressly looking to see how Quinn dealt with it.
However, when the holidays do come up? It’s great. There’s a Hannukah scene that I just loved, and…well there are a couple of great other scenes about the holidays, but my no-spoiler policy stops me from getting into those.
Language Choice
This isn’t a big deal—I don’t want to make a proverbial mountain out of anything. But it struck me that Bernie’s language is a bit stronger than usual. I don’t want to take the time and do word counts or anything—I’m lazy and I’m not going to buy e-copies just to document this point. This book is still PG-13, but it jumped out at me and struck me as different—and I’m curious about it.
So, what did I think about It’s a Wonderful Woof?
I had a blast with this—there was a time 5 or 6 books ago, that my interest in the series waned a bit—I still enjoyed the books, but they didn’t grab me the way the initial novels did. That’s gone, and I have to wonder what was wrong with me—Quinn and Chet are as fresh and entertaining now as they were in Dog Gone It.
There’s heart, there’s excitement, there’s humor, there’s the devotion that only a dog can have for their human, and you even can even learn a little bit about art history. Throw in a little holiday magic and you’ve got yourself another winner in this series.
Go read this—which readers of this series probably don’t need me to say. But if you haven’t read any before, this functions well enough as a jumping-on point, just be prepared to make some time for the previous 11 novels. You’re going to want to read them all.
funny
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
What’s Best in Snow About?
After a snowstorm dumps a healthy amount of snow on the ground, Andy takes his dogs for a walk. Tara, his beloved golden retriever goes digging in that snow and uncovers a body. Not just any body, it turns out, but the mayor.
The evidence points to a reporter that used to work for Andy’s friend, Vince, at his paper. Despite this scandal that he kicked off last year centering on the mayor, Vince believes him and supports him the best he can. One way Vince supports the reporter is that he gets Andy to defend him.
Also, instead of Andy taking in the suspect’s dog for the duration of the trial, Vince does it this time. Vince is not a dog person—he’s not much of a people person, either, so readers can imagine how his housing the dog will go.
Comfort Food
I’m pretty sure I’ve said this (or something like it) before—it’s hard to track in a 24 book series just what I’ve said. But these Andy Carpenter books literary comfort food. You know what you’re going to get, you know you like it, and it just makes you feel good.
For example, you know when it gets to the part about jury deliberation, Andy’s going to say and do a few things. And it’s just as enjoyable to see him say that in this book as it was 20+ books ago.
That said? Rosenfelt managed to surprise me a couple of times and did some stuff in the courtroom that I haven’t seen from him before.
Holiday Content
In the last few years that Rosenfelt has been doing these Christmas-y themed books, I’ve always been mildly surprised at how low little “Holiday Content” there is in the book. This one seemed to be the lightest on Christmas/New Year’s material.
Yeah, the weather and dates help ground the action and show how fast things are moving in terms of the trial. But there’s not much more to it than that. Basically, this is just an excuse to get another Andy Carpenter book this year. And I’m fine with that.
So, what did I think about Best in Snow?
I really enjoyed this—the case was a good puzzle. The courtroom antics and strategies were up to Rosenfelt’s usual standards (maybe a little better than some). The little bit of action that crept in (mostly involving Marcus) was great, too.
The members of Andy’s team were as entertaining as usual and, of course, so were the dogs (including Vince’s new charge).
If you’re a long-time reader of the series, you know what you’re going to get here—with a couple of surprises. If you haven’t tried this series yet, you really should—this is as good a place as any. But once you start, you’ll have a hard time stopping. That’s not a warning, that’s an assurance.