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A review by em_harring
The Laughing Corpse by Laurell K. Hamilton
2.0
[2.5 stars]
I imagine if Anita Blake participated in speed dating, it would look a little like this: "Hi, I'm Anita Blake. I raise the dead for the living, and constantly question the state of my humanity--yippee. I say yippee a lot. And naw. It's kind of irritating. As are the fragmented sentences I rely on for communication. I wear Nikes and have to mention the type of weapons I use each and every single time I go to use them--just in case I forget what they are. I talk about how I'm so short all the time, because clearly I have to point out my one tragic flaw that prevents me from being as good at fighting as The Boys. I wear black and hate the color pink, because I have an ingrained misogynistic attitude towards women--women who don't try to act and play like men are just plain stupid. And friendship with women is weird: it's all marriage and wearing pink and getting drunk. I'd rather drink my coffee and stew in a corner alone, thank you very much. I'm also the new human servant of the Master of the City--Jean Claude. He's a monster, but he's also dreamy. Sue me. Have I told you about my Browning yet? Naw."
Annoyed yet? Hamilton certainly knows how to throw together the right amount of terrible traits to make one hell of an annoying character. How did I like her so much when I was a teenager? And Hamilton is still a terrible writer.
The one saving grace that this book had that GP didn't have was the gore. The horror scenes in this about the zombie attacks were gruesome and well done.
I imagine if Anita Blake participated in speed dating, it would look a little like this: "Hi, I'm Anita Blake. I raise the dead for the living, and constantly question the state of my humanity--yippee. I say yippee a lot. And naw. It's kind of irritating. As are the fragmented sentences I rely on for communication. I wear Nikes and have to mention the type of weapons I use each and every single time I go to use them--just in case I forget what they are. I talk about how I'm so short all the time, because clearly I have to point out my one tragic flaw that prevents me from being as good at fighting as The Boys. I wear black and hate the color pink, because I have an ingrained misogynistic attitude towards women--women who don't try to act and play like men are just plain stupid. And friendship with women is weird: it's all marriage and wearing pink and getting drunk. I'd rather drink my coffee and stew in a corner alone, thank you very much. I'm also the new human servant of the Master of the City--Jean Claude. He's a monster, but he's also dreamy. Sue me. Have I told you about my Browning yet? Naw."
Annoyed yet? Hamilton certainly knows how to throw together the right amount of terrible traits to make one hell of an annoying character. How did I like her so much when I was a teenager? And Hamilton is still a terrible writer.
The one saving grace that this book had that GP didn't have was the gore. The horror scenes in this about the zombie attacks were gruesome and well done.