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kcfromaustcrime's review against another edition
3.0
Okay, so Ed Loy is a bit of a lone wolf character. He's also obviously been endowed with some sort of minor super-powers. You know the sort. No matter how much of a kicking he takes, no matter how much battering, beating, brawling and bashing goes on, Ed keeps on keeping on. He might limp a bit occasionally. He might grimace when a recent scar stings, but there's a job to be done and Ed's going to do that job. Of course this sort of character can get right up the reader's nose unless they have something else - that personality or style - that means you can forgive the minor super-human powers and just read the book. Ed's definitely one of those blokes for this reader at least.
It doesn't hurt that this is a complex tale. After 20 years Ed comes back to a Dublin that might have changed a lot, to people that haven't. Meeting up with old friends and acquaintances at his mother's funeral, the fabulous opening paragraph of this book happens - "The night of my mother's funeral, Linda Dawson cried on my shoulder, put her tongue in my mouth and asked me to find her husband". That has got to be one of the all time great openings, and luckily the tone and style that it sets remains through the book.
Ed finds Linda's husband, and along the way he finds out a lot about his father, his mother and the ties that bind them all back through the family lines. Typically Irish in that the family loyalties and enmities that go back generations, are faithfully carried forward to the current day; typically hard-boiled thriller in that it portrays a stark brutality, beautifully balanced by a central character that's as tough as nails and fragile as glass all at the same time.
THE WRONG KIND OF BLOOD is the first Ed Loy book, the second book is THE COLOUR OF BLOOD which I was lucky enough to read first. WRONG KIND OF BLOOD fills in where Ed has come from a lot, but both books stand alone and work as a series if you're lucky enough to get the order right.
It doesn't hurt that this is a complex tale. After 20 years Ed comes back to a Dublin that might have changed a lot, to people that haven't. Meeting up with old friends and acquaintances at his mother's funeral, the fabulous opening paragraph of this book happens - "The night of my mother's funeral, Linda Dawson cried on my shoulder, put her tongue in my mouth and asked me to find her husband". That has got to be one of the all time great openings, and luckily the tone and style that it sets remains through the book.
Ed finds Linda's husband, and along the way he finds out a lot about his father, his mother and the ties that bind them all back through the family lines. Typically Irish in that the family loyalties and enmities that go back generations, are faithfully carried forward to the current day; typically hard-boiled thriller in that it portrays a stark brutality, beautifully balanced by a central character that's as tough as nails and fragile as glass all at the same time.
THE WRONG KIND OF BLOOD is the first Ed Loy book, the second book is THE COLOUR OF BLOOD which I was lucky enough to read first. WRONG KIND OF BLOOD fills in where Ed has come from a lot, but both books stand alone and work as a series if you're lucky enough to get the order right.
liberrydude's review against another edition
4.0
Ted Loy returns to Dublin after twenty years in Los Angeles for his mom's funeral. It's a rather maudlin homecoming which soon turns deadly as he hooks up with guys his age who are on both sides of the law. Dark family secrets impel Loy into looking where he shouldn't and Hughes has plenty of surprises in store for the reader, just one startling revelation after another. Lots of betrayal here but it's well written and Loy is the nice guy, pragmatic problem solver who every now and then needs to go on a bender. Definitely reading more from Declan Hughes.
lazygal's review against another edition
3.0
Dublin. A place Ed Loy though he'd escaped. But now, thanks to his mother's death, he's back to do the burial and estate stuff. And, of course, get drawn into the mystery of his old crush's missing husband. Followed by other former mates and acquaintances and family friends coming around, asking for help or offering advice or needing to be asked about the disappearance and other events.
Ed's profession as a private detective in LA stands him in good stead, even though the Guards are a bit skeptical (turns out, there isn't even a process for getting a license to privately detect in Ireland). The world the author builds can keep a series going without stretching things too much and the writing is decent. Of course, being the first, there's a lot of infodumping but with luck that will end in the next book.
Ed's profession as a private detective in LA stands him in good stead, even though the Guards are a bit skeptical (turns out, there isn't even a process for getting a license to privately detect in Ireland). The world the author builds can keep a series going without stretching things too much and the writing is decent. Of course, being the first, there's a lot of infodumping but with luck that will end in the next book.
caitlinxmartin's review against another edition
2.0
I really enjoyed The City of Lost Girls which is the 5th in this series so I thought I'd go back and read the others.
So far this has been a disappointing experiment. Maybe this book suffers in comparison to the later one and it probably isn't helping things that I read it after finishing The Whisperers by John Connolly which I absolutely adored, but the fact is that finishing this was a struggle.
Mr. Hughes writes and plots well, but overall the book is sort of gray and cold and more drab than grim (if it had been more grim it might've been more compelling). It reminds me of the feeling I used to get when I lived in Seattle when February rolled around and days were short, gray, cold, and indescribably dreary and had been that way for the past 350 years or so.
Not a terrible book, but not a great one, either.
So far this has been a disappointing experiment. Maybe this book suffers in comparison to the later one and it probably isn't helping things that I read it after finishing The Whisperers by John Connolly which I absolutely adored, but the fact is that finishing this was a struggle.
Mr. Hughes writes and plots well, but overall the book is sort of gray and cold and more drab than grim (if it had been more grim it might've been more compelling). It reminds me of the feeling I used to get when I lived in Seattle when February rolled around and days were short, gray, cold, and indescribably dreary and had been that way for the past 350 years or so.
Not a terrible book, but not a great one, either.
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