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The Blue Horse by Bruce Borgos
adventurous
dark
emotional
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Blue Horse About?
For Porter Beck and the Lincoln Sheriff’s Department, change—and a pandemic—are in the air. But we’ll talk about that later. The main thing that they all have to focus on is a controversial wild horse roundup.
It’s a Federal mandate that it occurs, and there are plenty of good wildlife management and other environmental arguments in favor of it. There are also plenty of traditional, environmental, or animal rights arguments against it. Naturally, the event faces protests both large and small—even in the middle of a pandemic. So Beck and his team are providing some security.
Because of that security, Beck and Tuffy are around to witness a helicopter involved in the roundup crash. Thanks to them, it’s not written off as human error or some other accident—they know it was murder (a difficult one to perpetrate, mind you).
The easy answer seems to be that it’s someone associated with the protests, but Beck’s not satisfied with that. And despite what the FBI wants to focus on, he starts assembling evidence to buttress his hunch. Then another, grisly murder happens. And all signs point to something worse on the horizon. The Feds want a quick resolution, Beck wants the truth.
Brinley and Rafa
So, while all this is going on, Beck can’t rely on his sister to pitch in. As a follow-up to the volunteering she did in Shades of Mercy with the “at risk” youth of the area, she’s off with a handful of these teens on a wilderness retreat. Rafa, in particular, is one she can identify with and really wants to help. He, on the other hand, wants no one’s help. He’s learned that he can only rely on himself and what his own strength, temper, and brutality can provide for him.
So, while all this is going on, Beck can’t rely on his sister to pitch in. As a follow-up to the volunteering she did in Shades of Mercy with the “at risk” youth of the area, she’s off with a handful of these teens on a wilderness retreat. Rafa, in particular, is one she can identify with and really wants to help. He, on the other hand, wants no one’s help. He’s learned that he can only rely on himself and what his own strength, temper, and brutality can provide for him.
One night, after Brinley had already started to think he’d run off, he does just that. Annoyed at herself for letting her guard down enough to let that happen, and assured of her superior ability to track compared to the other adults in the group, she takes off on her own to track him down. As it’s Brinley that we’re talking about, she’d normally be right—but with COVID symptoms kicking in, are her stamina and clarity of mind up to the task? And what will she do if/when she finds him?
Sometimes, it can be a critique for a reader to note that a subplot like this one is frequently more interesting and engaging than the primary story. Early on, I was mildly irritated every time we cut from this back to the murder investigation. I really enjoy Brinley and Rafa is both a good character by himself, as a foil for Brinley? He’s perfect. Together, it’s a great combination.
I eventually came around on the murder investigation—it was more of a slow-burn for me, but by the end, I was equally invested in both storylines.
COVID-19
I thought it was gutsy for Borgos to tackle COVID and the reaction to both the virus and the social reactions to it. Especially in places like Beck’s part of Nevada, you’re not going to get a lot of people reacting to either of them the same way as you would in L.A. or NYC. (I think this is going to be the case for readers drawn to the series, too)
I thought it was gutsy for Borgos to tackle COVID and the reaction to both the virus and the social reactions to it. Especially in places like Beck’s part of Nevada, you’re not going to get a lot of people reacting to either of them the same way as you would in L.A. or NYC. (I think this is going to be the case for readers drawn to the series, too)
Borgos dealt with it as well as you could hope—Beck didn’t seem to take a firm stand on things like masking or hand-shaking himself—he basically matched the environment he was in (somewhat begrudglingly at times). And his deputies clearly saw it as overblown—particularly one deputy who showed clear signs of it. The clinic is full, and the disease shows up in several ways—some that hit too close to home for Beck, too.
At the same time—the impact of the virus itself was clearly shown. Whether it was a temporary, minor obstacle or a life-altering disease (or points in between) for the characters—COVID made its presence felt. Beck doesn’t have an overabundance of deputies for his large county on the best day. You force them to deal with murder cases like this—plus the security they need to provide for the roundup—with deputies out sick? That’s going to have a major impact on their ability to do any of their jobs effectively.
More than a gutsy move by Borgos for the social observation, it’s a smart move for narrative tension.
All the Personal Stuff
I was relieved to see Charlie Blue Horse back again—not only was she a good addition to the cast in Shades of Mercy, but I really didn’t like the idea of Beck having a new romantic interest/dalliance in every book. I’d have been perfectly content to have a few books without one, too—but a returning romantic interest is a good way to go, too.
I was relieved to see Charlie Blue Horse back again—not only was she a good addition to the cast in Shades of Mercy, but I really didn’t like the idea of Beck having a new romantic interest/dalliance in every book. I’d have been perfectly content to have a few books without one, too—but a returning romantic interest is a good way to go, too.
I did think that Beck was a bit too clueless in the beginning—you can tell how he got to his age still single—but that’s a tangent.
There’s a lot more going on for Beck outside the case—his father’s health continues to deteriorate, there are big changes looming for the Sheriff’s office as we learn early on. Basically, these murders come along at a juncture for our Sheriff and serve as a welcome distraction as much as they could interfere and possibly derail his plans.
Deputy Frank Columbo
Bo may have been a two-time washout from the K-9 academy, but he’s a good, loyal companion for Beck—and he shows signs of being a good seeing-eye dog in the future. Who doesn’t want a good dog along for a story like this?
Bo may have been a two-time washout from the K-9 academy, but he’s a good, loyal companion for Beck—and he shows signs of being a good seeing-eye dog in the future. Who doesn’t want a good dog along for a story like this?
But honestly, he just seemed to be a nice little flavoring—something to add to the Western/Sheriff setting. Like Spener’s Pearls, Joe Pickett’s dogs, Max Boucher’s Russ, Ballard’s Lola, and didn’t Quinn Colson have one? They’re there, they’re fun to see, but they’re not a major player in the story.
But by the end The Blue Horse, he’s that and more. He’s not quite as remarkable as Longmire’s Dog, or Sharp’s Winnie, (definitely not in Chet Little’s league). But he’s on the way—this will come as no shock to anyone who’s read me, I loved Bo’s moments of glory (even if they weren’t appreciated at the time). I don’t need this series to become the Beck and Bo show, but I hope he gets more chances to shine.
Then again, would the Beck and Bo show be a bad thing?
So, what did I think about The Blue Horse?
We’re only on book three of this series, but we’ve got a strong recurring cast already (with promises of more). There’s the FBI Agent that Beck didn’t really get along with last time (and he continues to not really get along with now), there’s our friendly hacker doing the things Beck and Charlie can’t—but legally (probably), all the great characters in the Lincoln County Sheriff’s office, and even X Files. Yes, he’s back again—and I loved the way he get’s involved with this one. There’s more to this guy than paranoia and delusion. The characters—suspects, witnesses, standers-by, and more—are up to the same standards, and you’ll end up hoping that those who live and aren’t serving time come back sometime soon.
We’re only on book three of this series, but we’ve got a strong recurring cast already (with promises of more). There’s the FBI Agent that Beck didn’t really get along with last time (and he continues to not really get along with now), there’s our friendly hacker doing the things Beck and Charlie can’t—but legally (probably), all the great characters in the Lincoln County Sheriff’s office, and even X Files. Yes, he’s back again—and I loved the way he get’s involved with this one. There’s more to this guy than paranoia and delusion. The characters—suspects, witnesses, standers-by, and more—are up to the same standards, and you’ll end up hoping that those who live and aren’t serving time come back sometime soon.
Three books in, one thing that Borgos has clearly shown us all is that he can people his novels with compelling characters. What about the story? I don’t know that anything will (or can) live up to The Bitter Past, but this is as good as you can ask for next to that. The storyline involving the murders is really well-paced and plotted—the herrings are the perfect shade of red—and Beck’s atypical approach to policing really helps here. Aside from my own impatience early on, there’s nothing to complain about here.
Mild-spoliery thoughts—feel free to skip this paragraph. I do wonder a little about Chapter Two—it takes away some of the mystery, you’ll know that the murders likely tie into it at some point, and you might not bite on some of the bait Borgos wants to tempt you with because of it (at least not as hard as you might otherwise). But it also makes a twist or two seem like they don’t come out of nowhere. I can argue both sides of it convincingly to myself. The more I think of it, I think Borgos made the smart move. But I instinctively disagree and think he should’ve skipped it. I’d love to hear what others think.
Maybe other readers feel this way when they read about the Mexicantown in August Snow’s Detroit, or about Ballard/Bosch’s LA, the racial tensions in the LAPD that Trevor Finnegan navigates, the gang-culture in Eve Ronin’s LACSD, or the changes in the Edinburgh police that Rebus has witnessed (and felt)—but the society/politics that Borgos shows hit close to home. The former are interesting to read about, but Borgos hits close to home (C.J. Box does, too). Lincoln County, NV could easily be 20-30 minutes south of my house, rather than the 8+ hours it really is. Borgos reflects the attitudes of the area so well—it feels easy at a distance to take issue with the gangs Ronin faces, but there’s a way for locals to understand both sides of something like the roundup that I just can’t with the others. I know and trust people on every side of that issue, and sympathize with them. For every hint that Borgos gives you about his (or Beck’s) opinion—he provides one that might disprove it. I fully expect readers from Scotland or New York to roll their eyes at one group or another that Borgos shows us. But I can’t—they’re my neighbors, are married to my coworkers, and share a pew with me on Sundays. I love how well Borgos does that. A good Crime Novel talks about society without getting on a soapbox, and Borgos excels at it.
Setting that aside, let’s focus on the experience of reading The Blue HorseYour heart will be in your throat in at least two occasions, you will be horrified at man’s inhumanity at least once (it’s comparable to the opening of The Bitter Past), you’ll feel sadness, relief, and even joy throughout. I wasn’t looking for another Western-set mystery series to become addicted to, but Bruce Borgos has made me a die-hard anyway. Jump on the bandwagon!! We’ll make room.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley—thanks to both for this.
Dogged Pursuit by David Rosenfelt
He has decided it’s past time for him to get a dog after years of wanting one—so he goes to a shelter, falls head over heels with one, and adopts her. The shelter tells him that his new dog (Carpenter fans know Tara very well at his point) has bonded with the dog she shared a run with. So he offers to adopt her, too. That can’t happen because her owner is in jail awaiting trial. They assure him that if he can get a release from the owner, he can take the dog.
Carpenter fans know at this point that this will be Andy’s first client. People new to the series will probably know this, too. Rosenfelt isn’t playing his cards close to his chest here.
And, hey, what do you know? That’s exactly what happens. The trick is that Andy’s new client is charged with multiple murders—that of his old friend and boss who fired him two weeks previously, and the two people he was giving a ride home to (so they wouldn’t drive after drinking at a corporate party).
The circumstantial case is pretty strong—almost too strong. No one that Andy talks to at his client’s old company could believe he’d be capable of such a thing. And he really seems to care about his dog.
Which is enough for Andy to dive in.
He just needs evidence on his side, an investigator to do some work for him, and a clue about how to defend this particular client. But that’ll come, right?
The Prequel-ness
That said…this is a really good novel, a solid prequel, and a treat for fans of the series. Let’s take a quick glance at some of the series regulars we meet here:
Marcus
That question gets set on the back burner for a while—phew—because in this prequel, Marcus is all mystique. Nothing but mystique and mystery.
So, what did I think about Dogged Pursuit?
There are plenty of twists and a revelation or two at the end that are just satisfying.
There’s not a huge conspiracy with international implications afoot. There’s some criminal activity around the murders that Andy runs across—but it’s not at the heart of the book.
There are some truly good lines (particularly involving Andy’s cowardice and lack of ability to defend himself—always a good place for Rosenfelt to return to). The momentum carries you right along, right up to the surprises at the end.
Throw in Andy and Tara’s relationship? You’ve got a solid book.
I strongly recommend this book to people who’ve read Andy Carpenter in the past (even if you’ve taken a break for whatever reason). If people have seen my glowing posts in the back and haven’t wanted to dive into a series of 30 mid-stream, this is a great place to jump on board. If people have never seen a thing I’ve written about this series before—this is a great place to jump on board, too. Really, there’s no one that I wouldn’t recommend this book to. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and I think you will, too.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley—thanks to both for this. I apologize for the tardiness.
funny
lighthearted
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Andy Carpenter has recently left the Prosecutor’s Office to become a defense lawyer. He’s rented an office, helped one client, and…well, that’s it. His wife is leaning on him to take a job as a corporate lawyer (and her father can get him such a position), but his heart isn’t in it.
He has decided it’s past time for him to get a dog after years of wanting one—so he goes to a shelter, falls head over heels with one, and adopts her. The shelter tells him that his new dog (Carpenter fans know Tara very well at his point) has bonded with the dog she shared a run with. So he offers to adopt her, too. That can’t happen because her owner is in jail awaiting trial. They assure him that if he can get a release from the owner, he can take the dog.
Carpenter fans know at this point that this will be Andy’s first client. People new to the series will probably know this, too. Rosenfelt isn’t playing his cards close to his chest here.
And, hey, what do you know? That’s exactly what happens. The trick is that Andy’s new client is charged with multiple murders—that of his old friend and boss who fired him two weeks previously, and the two people he was giving a ride home to (so they wouldn’t drive after drinking at a corporate party).
The circumstantial case is pretty strong—almost too strong. No one that Andy talks to at his client’s old company could believe he’d be capable of such a thing. And he really seems to care about his dog.
Which is enough for Andy to dive in.
He just needs evidence on his side, an investigator to do some work for him, and a clue about how to defend this particular client. But that’ll come, right?
The Prequel-ness
I was surprised when I saw this was a prequel. I don’t know that I ever stopped and wondered, “How did Andy get started in the business?” Particularly as early in his career that book one, Open and Shut, isn’t that far into his career and really serves just as well as an origin story.
That said…this is a really good novel, a solid prequel, and a treat for fans of the series. Let’s take a quick glance at some of the series regulars we meet here:
- Tara. You don't have an Andy Carpenter book without his best friend. Their meeting goes beyond a meet-cute, and watching their relationship blossom is great. Honestly, the rest of this list isn't necessary, as long as Rosenfelt nailed this one, and it's no surprise that he did.
- Sam. Sam gets a little more "screen time" here than he typically does. This is a-ok with me, Sam's great. We get some seeds planted for a lot of what we see from this accountant/hacker in the future. What we don't get—and this is the biggest problem with this book—is the song talking. I get that he and Andy have grown out of it by later books (as odd as it is to think of Andy maturing). I miss it, but I can cope (as well as grumble about it). But they're not there yet. Something that so characterizes their relationship in the first few books should be here now.
- Laurie. Andy meets and hires Laurie here, a wonderful decision on his part. It's totally platonic, Rosenfelt shows us that Andy is a stand-up guy on that front (as he continues to be). Given where their relationship ends up, I have to give Rosenfelt a lot of credit for keeping it professional. Laurie struggles some (as I think she continues to do for quite a bit) with working for the defense—not as much as say, Harry Bosch does (although she wasn't working for the PD as long as Bosch did). And that's good to see, but her adaptability and smarts are on full display.
- Pete. Pete and Andy aren't as friendly as they will one day be. It's actually nice to see them approach bonding, and the beginning of Andy picking up Pete's tab.
- Nelson Carpenter. We don't get to see a lot of Andy's father before his death, so it was really nice to see the healthy relationship here. It's hard not to like this guy, and you can see why he was such a legend in the legal community in the area.
- Edna. Andy hasn't hired—much less met—Edna at this point, but she's mentioned to him a few times as someone he should hire. Reading what Andy is told about her, and what we know about her, is one of the best chuckle-generators of this novel.
- Nicole. This has to be the trickiest one in the book—the relationship is doomed, we all know this. But neither Andy nor Nicole is ready for it to end. Rosenfelt has to show the crumbling, without showing the last straws—as those straws are still to come. And man...I liked Nicole. I enjoyed seeing her bond with Tara. I liked seeing her interact with Andy; she seems like a pretty good match for him.
Marcus
In a couple of the more recent books, I’ve wondered if Marcus is losing a bit of what made him such a fun character for the readers because we’ve learned more about him. Is the mystique gone? Is he on the verge of becoming just another member of Andy’s circle?
That question gets set on the back burner for a while—phew—because in this prequel, Marcus is all mystique. Nothing but mystique and mystery.
So, what did I think about Dogged Pursuit?
Okay, let’s set aside all the fun of the prequel stuff. How’s the mystery, the case, the resolution?
Those are just what you want. Andy’s not the cocky, flashy trial lawyer he will become. But you can see it on the horizon. He’s nervous—in and out of the courtroom. He’s not prepared to meet with some of the truly nasty characters he needs to—or the threat they can represent.
There are plenty of twists and a revelation or two at the end that are just satisfying.
There’s not a huge conspiracy with international implications afoot. There’s some criminal activity around the murders that Andy runs across—but it’s not at the heart of the book.
There are some truly good lines (particularly involving Andy’s cowardice and lack of ability to defend himself—always a good place for Rosenfelt to return to). The momentum carries you right along, right up to the surprises at the end.
Throw in Andy and Tara’s relationship? You’ve got a solid book.
I strongly recommend this book to people who’ve read Andy Carpenter in the past (even if you’ve taken a break for whatever reason). If people have seen my glowing posts in the back and haven’t wanted to dive into a series of 30 mid-stream, this is a great place to jump on board. If people have never seen a thing I’ve written about this series before—this is a great place to jump on board, too. Really, there’s no one that I wouldn’t recommend this book to. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and I think you will, too.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley—thanks to both for this. I apologize for the tardiness.
The Medusa Protocol by Rob Hart
Looking for Astrid
The group at the meeting splits into two groups—some head for safety, just in case someone’s coming for someone in addition to Astrid. Mark and Booker take the sign of the disgusting pizza as a signal to go looking for Astrid.
This is where you get your thirst for adventure slaked. They take a globe-trekking route while hunting for clues, pick up an ally or two along the way, go up against some pretty lethal guys—and really lethal snakes.
They do this with aplomb, nerve, and some really bad jokes.
Astrid’s Story
Meanwhile, Astrid faces two challenges—figuring out where she is, why she’s there, and how to make the best of the situation until she can find a weakness to exploit and get out of there. None of that will be easy.
But also, whatever this doctor is doing to her causes her to relive some of the bigger moments in her life—things she’s never really put behind her, but she has to look at them anew, and maybe a bit more intensely than she usually does.
The stakes are high (higher than she realizes), and without support, she has to rely on what she’s picked up from the meetings and her own grit to make it through each day.
Sobriety
While Assassins Anonymous showed the meetings, Mark hitting rock bottom, and choices to pursue this group’s particular expression of sobriety, The Medusa Protocol focuses on taking responsibility for your actions, making amends, and maintaining one’s sobriety. While none of the 12 Steps seem particularly easy, these things seem like harder work to me—and it’s good to see that reflected honestly.
(There’s some other things along these lines, but we can talk about that after you’ve read this book.)
The decision to stay sober—especially in the circumstances these characters find themselves, fighting for their lives against people who don’t have any problem taking a life, when a lifetime of reflexes tells them to do something else—takes a monumental effort. It takes monumental effort for more “traditional” 12-Step program attendees, too. But this makes for more exciting reading—it should, however, remind the reader what their friends/acquaintances go through on a daily basis.
I really admire Hart for this focus in these books, and hope these keep coming if only for it.
So, what did I think about The Medusa Protocol?
There’s part of me that wants to copy and paste most of what I said about Assassins Anonymous last year here. There’s also part of me that wishes I’d re-read or listened to it before this—not because I need the refresher, I just had fun with it. Yet…I think this is a better novel. It’s not quite as fun—Astrid’s POV is too prevalent for that and her sense of humor isn’t what Mark’s is (this is a good thing)—but the story is more emotionally developed, Astrid’s trauma is deeper-seated, and that comes through in the flashbacks (obviously).
Also, the Big Bad of the first book is a pretty standard kind of bad guy for the genre. The person responsible for Astrid’s plight, on the other hand, is just evil. Like a gut-twisting, I don’t want to think there are people like this in the world, kind of evil—sadly, it’s probably the most realistic part of this book.
I’m afraid I might give the impression that this book is so heavy on the trauma, the emotions, the recovery struggles, and so on that it’s not a Thriller. Sorry if I did. This is a rollicking, rocking Thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat with the kind of action you expect in a Thriller about a group of former (and current) assassins. If you liked the action, the humor, the pacing, and all the thriller aspects of the last book, don’t fear—it’s still there. It’s just the percentages of the book devoted to each are a little different. Mark is still a prominent character, and you can’t get away from his sarcasm, his humor, and his efficiency in a fight scene. That goes for the other people in the program, too. And when Astrid gets to do her thing, either in the present or in flashback—I’m telling you, it’s good stuff.
I had a blast with this, enjoying the opportunity to reconnect with characters like Mark, Astrid, Valencia, Booker, and so on. The one new face (at least) that will recur? Oh, I’m looking forward to getting to know them a lot more. The new characters we meet that we definitely won’t be seeing again? They’re as good as you want them to be.
Oh, and the titular Medusa Protocol itself? That was really cool.
There’s no reason not to pick this up if you’re in the mood for a thriller that embraces and yet puts a twist on the conventions. Would it help to have read Assassins Anonymous first? Yeah, but you’ll get in the groove pretty quickly if you haven’t.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Putnam Books via NetGalley—thanks to both for this. Sorry that it’s up late.
adventurous
challenging
emotional
mysterious
reflective
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
What’s The Medusa Protocol About?
I’d written about half of this section, and wasn’t quite satisfied with it, and took a quick glance at the Publisher’s Description and realized that 1. I was echoing it in an unnerving way, and 2. It was better than i could deliver. So, I’ll borrow it and save myself from plagiarism accusations:
When Astrid, known in her assassin days as Azrael, stopped showing up to Assassins Anonymous, the group assumed her past had caught up with her. Only her sponsor Mark, formerly the deadliest killer in the world, holds out hope that she’s okay. Then, during a meeting, the group gets a sign, or rather, a pizza delivery. Is there another psychopath out there who actually likes olives on their pizza, or is Astrid trying to send Mark a message?
Meanwhile, Astrid wakes up in the cell of a black site prison, on a remote island. A doctor subjects her to mysterious experiments, plumbing the depths of her memory and looking for a vital clue from her past. She’ll do anything to escape, except…killing anyone. Hmm. Turns out it’s not easy to blow this joint without blowing anything, or anyone up.
Looking for Astrid
The group at the meeting splits into two groups—some head for safety, just in case someone’s coming for someone in addition to Astrid. Mark and Booker take the sign of the disgusting pizza as a signal to go looking for Astrid.
This is where you get your thirst for adventure slaked. They take a globe-trekking route while hunting for clues, pick up an ally or two along the way, go up against some pretty lethal guys—and really lethal snakes.
They do this with aplomb, nerve, and some really bad jokes.
Astrid’s Story
Meanwhile, Astrid faces two challenges—figuring out where she is, why she’s there, and how to make the best of the situation until she can find a weakness to exploit and get out of there. None of that will be easy.
But also, whatever this doctor is doing to her causes her to relive some of the bigger moments in her life—things she’s never really put behind her, but she has to look at them anew, and maybe a bit more intensely than she usually does.
The stakes are high (higher than she realizes), and without support, she has to rely on what she’s picked up from the meetings and her own grit to make it through each day.
Sobriety
While Assassins Anonymous showed the meetings, Mark hitting rock bottom, and choices to pursue this group’s particular expression of sobriety, The Medusa Protocol focuses on taking responsibility for your actions, making amends, and maintaining one’s sobriety. While none of the 12 Steps seem particularly easy, these things seem like harder work to me—and it’s good to see that reflected honestly.
(There’s some other things along these lines, but we can talk about that after you’ve read this book.)
The decision to stay sober—especially in the circumstances these characters find themselves, fighting for their lives against people who don’t have any problem taking a life, when a lifetime of reflexes tells them to do something else—takes a monumental effort. It takes monumental effort for more “traditional” 12-Step program attendees, too. But this makes for more exciting reading—it should, however, remind the reader what their friends/acquaintances go through on a daily basis.
I really admire Hart for this focus in these books, and hope these keep coming if only for it.
So, what did I think about The Medusa Protocol?
There’s part of me that wants to copy and paste most of what I said about Assassins Anonymous last year here. There’s also part of me that wishes I’d re-read or listened to it before this—not because I need the refresher, I just had fun with it. Yet…I think this is a better novel. It’s not quite as fun—Astrid’s POV is too prevalent for that and her sense of humor isn’t what Mark’s is (this is a good thing)—but the story is more emotionally developed, Astrid’s trauma is deeper-seated, and that comes through in the flashbacks (obviously).
Also, the Big Bad of the first book is a pretty standard kind of bad guy for the genre. The person responsible for Astrid’s plight, on the other hand, is just evil. Like a gut-twisting, I don’t want to think there are people like this in the world, kind of evil—sadly, it’s probably the most realistic part of this book.
I’m afraid I might give the impression that this book is so heavy on the trauma, the emotions, the recovery struggles, and so on that it’s not a Thriller. Sorry if I did. This is a rollicking, rocking Thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat with the kind of action you expect in a Thriller about a group of former (and current) assassins. If you liked the action, the humor, the pacing, and all the thriller aspects of the last book, don’t fear—it’s still there. It’s just the percentages of the book devoted to each are a little different. Mark is still a prominent character, and you can’t get away from his sarcasm, his humor, and his efficiency in a fight scene. That goes for the other people in the program, too. And when Astrid gets to do her thing, either in the present or in flashback—I’m telling you, it’s good stuff.
I had a blast with this, enjoying the opportunity to reconnect with characters like Mark, Astrid, Valencia, Booker, and so on. The one new face (at least) that will recur? Oh, I’m looking forward to getting to know them a lot more. The new characters we meet that we definitely won’t be seeing again? They’re as good as you want them to be.
Oh, and the titular Medusa Protocol itself? That was really cool.
There’s no reason not to pick this up if you’re in the mood for a thriller that embraces and yet puts a twist on the conventions. Would it help to have read Assassins Anonymous first? Yeah, but you’ll get in the groove pretty quickly if you haven’t.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Putnam Books via NetGalley—thanks to both for this. Sorry that it’s up late.
I See You've Called in Dead by John Kenney
emotional
funny
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s I See You’ve Called in Dead About?
One night after a disastrous blind date (oh, and the word disastrous seems inadequate), obituary writer Bud Stanley gets drunk and accidentally publishes his own obituary. This earns him a suspension (once you get to the part where it’s revealed why he can’t be fired, you’ll roll).
During this suspension, he’s inspired to attend the funerals of strangers. He drags his close friend with him to these, and the two of them gain some new perspectives, new insights, etc.
I should add—before the drunken mistake, during the date itself, is when I decided I liked Bud and couldn’t wait to spend seven hours and change with him.
It’s, of course, after he published the greatly exaggerated reports of his own death that Bud finally has the opportunity to learn how to live. Will he take advantage of it?
Is He Maybe Too Perfect?
I’m not talking about Bud here. No one is going to spend more than a half a paragraph before they start finding flaws with him (love the guy…but man, is he a work in progress). But his landlord/friend, Tim, just might be too perfect.
He’s kind. He’s generous. He’s wise. He’s…well, really, you’re going to have to look long and hard for a problem with the character. And that, of course, is hard to swallow for a primary character in a work of fiction. As in life, so in fiction, pobody’s nerfect.
But…and here’s the thing that applies to a lot of Mary/Marty Sues (and I don’t think Tim is one, but he might be their first cousin)—he’s so fun that you get over it. He works as Bud’s Jiminy Cricket as well as the guy he can joke around with. It’s likely that Bud just doesn’t give us a lot of Tim’s flaws in his narration, because he doesn’t see them.
Friendship
Which leads us to one thing (there are others, but this dominates the novel) that Bud seems to be pretty good at, friendship. Sure, frequently being a selfish jackwagon, he’s not great at being a friend—but the bonds he’s made are strong enough that they can take it.
There’s Tim, Bud’s office-mate (a strange friendship, but one that’s deeper than one might think), the friendship between Bud and his editor/boss, and then a sweet friendship with a lonely and eccentric little boy* who lives nearby. Bud may not have figured out how to successfully adult, but he’s assembled a great group of friends to help him navigate through it.
I’ve read/listened to a lot of people (in fiction/non-fiction) talk about how close male friendship has really taken a hit in the current culture—it’s not emphasized, it’s not modeled, and almost never discussed after a certain age. Take or leave that argument, it’s rare enough to see a decent portrayal. Bud has four of them—of various strengths and circumstances. But all are wonderful to watch.
* That kid (his name escapes me, and that bothers me) deserves a book of his own. I need someone like Wesley King, Victoria Willimason, or R.J. Palacio to buy the rights.
What did I think about the narration?
Well, there were a couple of location names that I wondered if Hopkins was pronouncing correctly (he probably was). But beyond that, he nailed the work. He got the humor, he got the heart, he got the…strange mental place that Bud spent most of the book in.
I don’t believe I’ve heard him in action before, but I’d like to.
So, what did I think about I See You’ve Called in Dead?
I assumed this would be a fun read from the premise. I wasn’t prepared for something that would make me care so much.
I did think the humor around the millennial HR employee felt overplayed, and that Kenney should’ve dropped it (or skipped it entirely). There might have been one or two other jokes that he could’ve skipped—but on the whole? Some of the best comedy I’ve encountered this year—and some of the dumbest, too. Bud, Tim, and Tuan (his office-mate) don’t seem to think there’s a joke to dumb to make.
I don’t disagree, but I figure I should warn you. They also aren’t afraid of being awfully clever in their jokes as well.
I don’t disagree, but I figure I should warn you. They also aren’t afraid of being awfully clever in their jokes as well.
There’s an extended bit in a Greek funeral that Tim and Bud attend, for example, that will make you roll your eyes—and then you’ll end up really loving as it continues.
I haven’t talked about the strange friendship/romance at all between Bud and the woman who starts him attending the funerals of strangers. It’s the kind of quirky thing that filmmakers used to give Zach Braff, Michael Cera, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and the like. But it rarely feels forced, and she’s definitely not manic. I don’t think her storyline is nearly as well-done as the others, but it’s satisfying enough that I’m not going to complain.
And of course—we need to talk about death and life. Bud and his circle spend a lot of time witnessing death and grief—and how it looks for various people. And from that, they all take different lessons about death and what can—and should—come before. Sometimes it feels a little heavy-handed, or rather, it feels like it’s going to be—you can feel the “special episode” atmosphere building. But it typically is delivered subtly and almost seamlessly. Kenney does it the right way.
This is a funny, wise, and heartfelt book—affirming, challenging, and downright entertaining. What’s not to like?
Return to Sender by Craig Johnson
What’s Return to Sender About?
For the previous twenty books, we’ve learned a lot about Martha, Walt’s late wife. We learn a little more about her here—she had a cousin who is now the Postal Inspector for Wyoming. Sure, this doesn’t give us a lot of insight into her as a person—but it does allow this cousin, Mike Thurmin, to call upon Walt for a favor.
A few months ago, a postal worker who carries mail on the longest route in the U.S., 307 miles, disappeared from the face of the Earth. Law enforcement has written it off as an adult willingly leaving her home, her boyfriend has sold off pretty much everything she left behind, but her supervisor/friend isn’t satisfied. And that lack of satisfaction worked its way up to Thurman—who roped Walt into looking for her.
It’s possible, if not likely, that Blair McGowan’s boyfriend is behind her disappearance (he’s certainly unpleasant enough that you can see why many people would speculate about it); she’s an activist, and it’s possible she’s irked someone powerful; there’s a lot that can happen in 307 miles; or the aliens she claimed that abducted her a few years ago came back and picked her up again. Walt’s pretty sure it’s something else, but he has to look into things.
This book pretty much has three acts—let’s take a quick look at them.
The Search for Blair McGowan
In this part, we get the lay of the land and meet the essential characters. Walt tries to go undercover as a postal carrier brought in to cover for Blair temporarily (at least). While doing so, he makes some attempts to investigate—many of which lead people to believe he’s not a postal carrier.
Still, Walt and Dog have some interesting encounters with people in and around the Red Desert of Wyoming. There’s a little bit of consultation with Vic over the phone, and she (and a few others) repeatedly remind Walt to get to Cheyenne for a reception that is important to Cady.
The Women in Walt’s Life
Vic, Cady, Ruby, and Lola feature prominently in the second act (although we don’t get to really see Lola)—with a quick chat or two with Lucian and Henry. It’s all about the change in Wyoming government—a new governor and a prospective promotion for the greatest legal mind of our time.
That promotion to A.G. is complicated by her father’s position in the state—both as a sheriff of one county and his prominence in the law enforcement community.
It breaks up the search for McGowan, it moves some storylines forward, but it largely feels out of place in this book. Still, it was good to see these things move forward a little (and we can assume it will continue to do so).
The Next Search for Blair McGowan
That dealt with, the search for Blair picks back up in earnest. There’ve been a few developments while Walt was in Cheyenne, but Walt has reason to question them—and a greater determination to get to the bottom of things.
This Act takes up the majority of the book, and we learn a lot more about almost everyone we were introduced to in the first Act. There’s a lot of action, some fun new characters are introduced, and Walt is pushed to the limits physically and maybe mentally.
We really have to go back a few books for me to enjoy things as much as I enjoyed this portion of the book, really. I’m thinking Daughter of the Morning Star or Next to Last Stand. The first two parts felt more like Johnson was getting warmed up, and then things really kicked into gear when Walt came back.
Dog
Dog rarely gets to shine in this series—he’s largely just a presence to receive a pat or two, to scarf down some food, and maybe to intimidate someone. But when he does get the spotlight—as he does a few times in Return to Sender—it’s a lot of fun. He’s almost too good to be true, but honestly—who cares? Johnson keeps it pretty grounded (much more so than the ghost of Virgil that might pop up here and there).
For a lot of this book, it’s Walt and Dog against the world—and there are few dogs that can carry that weight.
Oh, yeah, that…
There’s some movement on the part from First Frost about the disappearance of Ruth One Heart. But that’s pretty much all I can cover.
So, what did I think about Return to Sender?
Walt’s retirement has been discussed a lot recently, and it seems like it’ll come up more (up until he actually puts in his papers).
Now, I was fully entertained—but also frustrated by Johnson—in the first two Acts. But I have few quibbles or frustrations with the rest. I do wonder about Walt’s ability to do everything physically that he did—but what’s the point of being able to suspend disbelief if you don’t do it occasionally? And there’s much to be said for the combination of adrenaline, necessity, and stubbornness.
Walt vs. nature; Walt vs. big odds; Walt’s determination to do the right thing even when he’s on his own. These are all hallmarks of the best of this series. We got them all, with some great character moments for friends old and new.
What’s not to like? This would work as a jumping-on point for the series (Johnson says every book should work like that, but I beg to differ). For fans? It’s a must read.
adventurous
funny
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
“You know this is how you’re going to get yourself killed, right? Something stupid like this?”
“I hope not.”
“I’m serious. It’s when you least suspect it, Walt.”
What’s Return to Sender About?
For the previous twenty books, we’ve learned a lot about Martha, Walt’s late wife. We learn a little more about her here—she had a cousin who is now the Postal Inspector for Wyoming. Sure, this doesn’t give us a lot of insight into her as a person—but it does allow this cousin, Mike Thurmin, to call upon Walt for a favor.
A few months ago, a postal worker who carries mail on the longest route in the U.S., 307 miles, disappeared from the face of the Earth. Law enforcement has written it off as an adult willingly leaving her home, her boyfriend has sold off pretty much everything she left behind, but her supervisor/friend isn’t satisfied. And that lack of satisfaction worked its way up to Thurman—who roped Walt into looking for her.
It’s possible, if not likely, that Blair McGowan’s boyfriend is behind her disappearance (he’s certainly unpleasant enough that you can see why many people would speculate about it); she’s an activist, and it’s possible she’s irked someone powerful; there’s a lot that can happen in 307 miles; or the aliens she claimed that abducted her a few years ago came back and picked her up again. Walt’s pretty sure it’s something else, but he has to look into things.
This book pretty much has three acts—let’s take a quick look at them.
The Search for Blair McGowan
In this part, we get the lay of the land and meet the essential characters. Walt tries to go undercover as a postal carrier brought in to cover for Blair temporarily (at least). While doing so, he makes some attempts to investigate—many of which lead people to believe he’s not a postal carrier.
Still, Walt and Dog have some interesting encounters with people in and around the Red Desert of Wyoming. There’s a little bit of consultation with Vic over the phone, and she (and a few others) repeatedly remind Walt to get to Cheyenne for a reception that is important to Cady.
The Women in Walt’s Life
Vic, Cady, Ruby, and Lola feature prominently in the second act (although we don’t get to really see Lola)—with a quick chat or two with Lucian and Henry. It’s all about the change in Wyoming government—a new governor and a prospective promotion for the greatest legal mind of our time.
That promotion to A.G. is complicated by her father’s position in the state—both as a sheriff of one county and his prominence in the law enforcement community.
It breaks up the search for McGowan, it moves some storylines forward, but it largely feels out of place in this book. Still, it was good to see these things move forward a little (and we can assume it will continue to do so).
The Next Search for Blair McGowan
That dealt with, the search for Blair picks back up in earnest. There’ve been a few developments while Walt was in Cheyenne, but Walt has reason to question them—and a greater determination to get to the bottom of things.
This Act takes up the majority of the book, and we learn a lot more about almost everyone we were introduced to in the first Act. There’s a lot of action, some fun new characters are introduced, and Walt is pushed to the limits physically and maybe mentally.
We really have to go back a few books for me to enjoy things as much as I enjoyed this portion of the book, really. I’m thinking Daughter of the Morning Star or Next to Last Stand. The first two parts felt more like Johnson was getting warmed up, and then things really kicked into gear when Walt came back.
Dog
Dog rarely gets to shine in this series—he’s largely just a presence to receive a pat or two, to scarf down some food, and maybe to intimidate someone. But when he does get the spotlight—as he does a few times in Return to Sender—it’s a lot of fun. He’s almost too good to be true, but honestly—who cares? Johnson keeps it pretty grounded (much more so than the ghost of Virgil that might pop up here and there).
For a lot of this book, it’s Walt and Dog against the world—and there are few dogs that can carry that weight.
Oh, yeah, that…
There’s some movement on the part from First Frost about the disappearance of Ruth One Heart. But that’s pretty much all I can cover.
So, what did I think about Return to Sender?
I watched my family members enjoying themselves and then asked. “Lucian, how did you know it was time to hang up your star?”
“You came along.”
“No, seriously.”
“l am being serious.” He stopped and turned to look at me. “When I saw the county would be in good hands, I stepped down and never bad a second thought.”
“I don’t think I have that luxury. Saizarbitoria isn’t ready, and the voters won’t elect Vic.”
He smiled. “Maybe if you gag her.”
Walt’s retirement has been discussed a lot recently, and it seems like it’ll come up more (up until he actually puts in his papers).
Now, I was fully entertained—but also frustrated by Johnson—in the first two Acts. But I have few quibbles or frustrations with the rest. I do wonder about Walt’s ability to do everything physically that he did—but what’s the point of being able to suspend disbelief if you don’t do it occasionally? And there’s much to be said for the combination of adrenaline, necessity, and stubbornness.
Walt vs. nature; Walt vs. big odds; Walt’s determination to do the right thing even when he’s on his own. These are all hallmarks of the best of this series. We got them all, with some great character moments for friends old and new.
What’s not to like? This would work as a jumping-on point for the series (Johnson says every book should work like that, but I beg to differ). For fans? It’s a must read.
A Graveyard for Heroes by Michael Michel
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Caveat Lector
I’ve yet to write a word of this post, but I’m going to tell you now that I’m going to end up spoiling some things from the first book—there’s just no way to talk about this book without it. I will try to keep them vague if I can’t avoid them, but they will be there.
But also, why are you reading this post if you haven’t read the first book? Read The Price of Power and I predict you’ll move on to the rest reflexively (as many of “the rest” are out when you finish, that is).
Still, be careful what you read from here.
What’s A Graveyard for Heroes About?
The first book was very focused—well, as much as you can be with 4 characters/storylines. You saw the impending (or not so impending) collapse of the nation/confederation in the background (to one degree or another) of three of the storylines, but the reader’s focus was rarely on that—it was these people getting to know them and their immediate circle. Through them you started to understand the world, its cultures, its history.
In the closing chapters of the book, the first visible domino of the collapse falls over.
In Graveyard, we keep our focus on these characters—but we also see the ongoing collapse, the ongoing treason (and the treason within that movement), and how it’s affecting not just the characters we got to know in The Price of Power, but also in others—faces and names new and old.
The story grows grander, our perspective enlarges—and assuming that the pre-Price status quo was as good as it could be, this civilization is in trouble from many sides.
*There are several reasons to believe the system could be better—as every system could be and every character we got to know recognized. But the stability, order, and painfully slow opportunities for reform were there.
The Missing Character?
Of the four characters/groups of characters that were the focus in the first book, one seemed to be almost missing. Not entirely, but so close that it’d be easy to miss.
Unless of course, their name/appearance has changed. I’ve spent a good amount of time thinking about this, and am pretty sure I’ve made up my mind about what I think. (at the same time, I’m ready for Michel to show me how I missed something).
Regardless, it’s fun to chew on.
Thephus
When we saw him last, his fate seemed uncertain. Frankly, I’m even less sure about what’s going on with him now. It’s as frustrating as it is satisfying to see Michel not giving us all the answers.
While I liked the guy—and felt bad for him—from the time we met him. My respect for him as a person has grown—he’s a well-conceived and complex character. Not just complex, he’s pretty confusing, too. Moreso to himself than anyone else. I wonder who will figure him out first—the reader or Thephus himself?
Just because his storyline bothers me and leaves me with more questions at the end of every one of his chapters doesn’t mean I think him any less. On the contrary, I think that sentence applies to every single chapter he’s been featured in since his introduction.
So much is going to make sense to us when we do get answers—and if all we’re doing now is piling up the questions, how much more satisfying will it be? Also, the part of this world that Thephus and those like him inhabit is more than intriguing.
So, what did I think about A Graveyard for Heroes?
This is me speculating here, as my precognition abilities are on the blink right now. But I’m guessing that you can make the case for Books 1 and 2 of Dreams of Dust and Steel serve as a massive prequel for an epic trilogy. To borrow a phrase from the back cover, “The pieces are set. The gameboard is chosen.” And now…things are going to really get going.
I can only imagine that as grim as things look here for our heroes…but also, our villains…by the end of book three, they’ll all wish that they were back in these events. But man…there’s not a lot of positive in this book—at least not plotwise.
There’s a whole lot of positive things to say about the writing, storytelling, and characters. So much so that I know I’ve left off things I’ve told myself “You gotta mention this.” For example, there’s a treat for people who miss Tyrion Lannister’s personality.
And just because I said prequel—I am not suggesting that these books are skippable. They’re not—you’d be robbing yourself of so much. There’s a character we meet in this book, for example, on the worst day of her life. She quickly became one of my favorites of the series. I reached out to Michel and was assured that we’d see her again—but based on what we saw here, there’s nothing inherent in her story that demands it. He could’ve closed the door on her and moved on—and it’d have been worth it just to see what we got here. (I’d go into this deeper in a spoiler-rich conversation if anyone is interested).
My point is, the book is full of things that like that—the overall plot and seeing what happens with the characters we already know are the big ticket items. But this world and how Michel is telling its story is so rich, so full of moments that will stay with you, that even if these first to novels are “merely” setting it up for the bigger stuff to come—you want to read them.
This is a fantasy novel, and like most of them, this features some very important fight scenes, as well as a few battle scenes. Frankly, I find the smaller combat scenes more satisfying—and I usually do, that’s probably more of a personal taste thing. The larger battle scenes were really well done, and were largely haunting. The one-on-one fights/small group vs. small group/one-on-small group fights were much more satisfying (and somewhat haunting, too). They had me in much more suspense than the others. I audibly reacted to the last one focusing on Ishoa—I think you could see that particular point in her arc coming (either in this book or not), but actually seeing it made me cheer and pump my fist.
I may have shouted at my ereader for what the last page held—especially once I realized it was the last page, and not simply the end of a chapter.
What I’m saying is that once Michel stopped setting up his dominoes and started the reactions, you’re going to care. You’re going to be reeling. You’re going to wonder—”just where is he taking this?” while not caring that much because the ride is so fun.
I don’t remember the last time I was this invested in a Fantasy series. I suggest you all hop on board.
Dark Neon & Dirt by Thomas Trang
Ingredients
Directions
Heat
If Trang isn’t one of Michael Mann’s biggest fans, he’s sure acting like it. Or at least the narrative voice of this book is. I was to wrapped up in things to count, but there were a number of direct references and allusions to Heat. Enough that there’s no way that the reader is not supposed to pay attention to as many as you can catch.
That said—despite what I expected after the first couple of references—beyond it being about a fairly successful thief being chased by a detective, and the cat-and-mouse between them and the biggest score in the thief’s career, there’s very little overlap.
I’m pretty sure if you enjoyed Heat that this is going to be right up your alley. But that’s true of people who enjoyed Winslow’s Crime 101, or any good cop-and-robbers story.
So, what did I think about Dark Neon & Dirt?
I want to say a lot about this book, but I’m afraid I’ll spill more than you want me to, prospective reader. Although…even saying that there’s something to spill is sort of accomplishing that anyway. I’m just not going to win here.
This grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. I rarely—if ever—knew just where he was taking the story or the characters. And even if I was right about something, it felt more like a lucky guess than me understanding what Trang’s plan was. That’s from the first scene to the last—and all stops in between.
It’s hard to elaborate on this, but let me make a couple of notes on character. Once you put down the novel for the last time, I expect you’ll take a couple of minutes and re-evaluate almost every choice made by the majority of the characters. You’ll also find yourself appreciating the way that every character felt like a new twist on a tried-and-true favorite type. You find yourself getting annoyed with, if not actively disliking, characters who would be the protagonists/heroes of pretty much every other crime novel you can think of. Most of the rest will generate a good deal of ambivalent feelings for you (eventually, in the moment, you’ll be pulling for their success).
Honestly, I’m still revising my thoughts on a couple of characters as I type this up.
One thing you won’t revise is how these people think and talk—especially talk. You all know how much I’m a sucker for good dialogue, and Trang did not disappoint. Especially Lt. Monroe, something about his lines endeared him to me.
I mentioned Winslow above, and this is just the kind of story he’d tell—Trang doesn’t have Winslow’s style (yet), but his voice and story-telling choices are similar. I can also see this as an outline that Elmore Leonard would work from. For a debut novel, it’s hard to ask for more than that.
Within a chaper or two, I pretty much felt like Trang came over and sat down too close to me on some bench, so I had to slide over a bit before introducing himself and telling me that I needed to make some room on my shelves between Tolkein and Tropper because he intended on filling it over the next few years.
Trang’s got the chops—I cannot wait to see what comes next. I strongly encourage crime readers (particularly those with an affinity for novels that live in the gray areas) to pick this up, while I go reorganize my shelves.
Disclaimer: I was provided a copy of this ARC by the author a day or two before I was going to order it, so it really didn’t affect my opinion of it–he just saved me a few bucks. (and I paid him back by not posting this on time, he really didn’t come out good in this deal).
adventurous
challenging
dark
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
4.5
What’s Dark Neon & Dirt About?
I’ve tried 6 different versions of this, and have ended up saying something I regret each time. Let’s see if I can nail it this time. I’m thinking of a recipe.
Ingredients
- 1 child who escaped Vietnam right after the fall of Saigon, who learned to defuse bombs to serve in Iraq, and is now one of LA’s most successful thieves
- 1 LAPD lieutenant whose driving interest (not quite an obsession, but you never know) is finding out this thief’s identity and apprehending him. I’m not sure if he cares about the order. His other interests? Best if you don’t know
- 1 member of the FBI’s Art Crime Team who decided that opening a gallery in France seemed like a more lucrative way to spend her time
- A generous amount of LA Noir to season
Directions
- Combine the robber, cop, and seasoning, mix well.
- Slowly pour in the gallerist.
- Bring to rolling boil over a sweaty LA heat.
- Serve hot.
Heat
If Trang isn’t one of Michael Mann’s biggest fans, he’s sure acting like it. Or at least the narrative voice of this book is. I was to wrapped up in things to count, but there were a number of direct references and allusions to Heat. Enough that there’s no way that the reader is not supposed to pay attention to as many as you can catch.
That said—despite what I expected after the first couple of references—beyond it being about a fairly successful thief being chased by a detective, and the cat-and-mouse between them and the biggest score in the thief’s career, there’s very little overlap.
I’m pretty sure if you enjoyed Heat that this is going to be right up your alley. But that’s true of people who enjoyed Winslow’s Crime 101, or any good cop-and-robbers story.
So, what did I think about Dark Neon & Dirt?
I want to say a lot about this book, but I’m afraid I’ll spill more than you want me to, prospective reader. Although…even saying that there’s something to spill is sort of accomplishing that anyway. I’m just not going to win here.
This grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. I rarely—if ever—knew just where he was taking the story or the characters. And even if I was right about something, it felt more like a lucky guess than me understanding what Trang’s plan was. That’s from the first scene to the last—and all stops in between.
It’s hard to elaborate on this, but let me make a couple of notes on character. Once you put down the novel for the last time, I expect you’ll take a couple of minutes and re-evaluate almost every choice made by the majority of the characters. You’ll also find yourself appreciating the way that every character felt like a new twist on a tried-and-true favorite type. You find yourself getting annoyed with, if not actively disliking, characters who would be the protagonists/heroes of pretty much every other crime novel you can think of. Most of the rest will generate a good deal of ambivalent feelings for you (eventually, in the moment, you’ll be pulling for their success).
Honestly, I’m still revising my thoughts on a couple of characters as I type this up.
One thing you won’t revise is how these people think and talk—especially talk. You all know how much I’m a sucker for good dialogue, and Trang did not disappoint. Especially Lt. Monroe, something about his lines endeared him to me.
I mentioned Winslow above, and this is just the kind of story he’d tell—Trang doesn’t have Winslow’s style (yet), but his voice and story-telling choices are similar. I can also see this as an outline that Elmore Leonard would work from. For a debut novel, it’s hard to ask for more than that.
Within a chaper or two, I pretty much felt like Trang came over and sat down too close to me on some bench, so I had to slide over a bit before introducing himself and telling me that I needed to make some room on my shelves between Tolkein and Tropper because he intended on filling it over the next few years.
Trang’s got the chops—I cannot wait to see what comes next. I strongly encourage crime readers (particularly those with an affinity for novels that live in the gray areas) to pick this up, while I go reorganize my shelves.
Disclaimer: I was provided a copy of this ARC by the author a day or two before I was going to order it, so it really didn’t affect my opinion of it–he just saved me a few bucks. (and I paid him back by not posting this on time, he really didn’t come out good in this deal).
Rex Stout: Killer Conversations by Rex Stout, John McAleer
(the only problem with this blurb is the bit about midnight chimes the hour…the only way most people would be reading this until midnight is if they started at 11:20p.m.)
Some of My Favorite Responses
This is a great collection of pithy takes on everything outlined above—and Stout was great at them. I have to share some to give you a little taste (and because I just had to share some). I won’t cite all the best ones here—but I’m tempted to.
So, what did I think about Killer Conversations?
Some of the answers Stout gives are deep. Several are flip. He doesn’t always use more than one word (really, would a little elaboration of killed him?) All are just fun to read.
This is a Lay’s Potato Chip kind of read—I bet you can’t read just on Question and Answer. You have to keep going—you might be able to make yourself stop because of something, but you won’t want to. It’s just too much fun to keep going.
Also? This is clearly going to be re-readable (I almost slipped into a re-read while putting this post together).
Ultimately, the question you want to ask yourself about this book is this: Do I want to learn more about Rex Stout? If the answer is yes, you’re going to have a blast with this. If you don’t—why have you read this far? You might appreciate someone talking about obscure authors and classics of the mystery genre. But you’re probably not going to be that engaged.
Me? I loved it. The two cover life, death, love, reputation, writing, Stout’s characters, his career, a little bit about people in his life, and more. If this book was three times as long—I’d say the same thing.
funny
inspiring
lighthearted
fast-paced
5.0
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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How Does the Publisher Describe Killer Conversations?
Rex Stout: Killer Conversations (formerly Royal Decree) is a must read for aficionados of detective fiction. Here Edgar winner John McAleer shares some of his most memorable conversations with Nero Wolfe creator Rex Stout. Featuring an updated Introduction by crime fiction icon William G. Tapply and an Afterword by Grand Master Edward D. Hoch, Killer Conversations is an essential collectors’ volume. These in-person discussions with Stout were compiled to inform and gratify, in Stout’s own words, the millions of Rex Stout fans who would be putting these questions to him as if he were alive answering his mail from Wolfe’s West 35th Street Brownstone. Hailed by CBS as the “American Conan Doyle,” in Killer Conversations Stout discusses, among other things, his writingcraft, the Wolfe mysteries, plotting methods, characterization, the modern detective story, his service aboard President Teddy Roosevelt’s yacht, and offers his appraisal of crime fiction icons such as—Agatha Christie, Georges Simenon, G. K. Chesterton, and more. Killer Conversations will keep mystery fans glued to their chair till midnight chimes the hour. And why not, isn’t that what a Stout mystery does?
(the only problem with this blurb is the bit about midnight chimes the hour…the only way most people would be reading this until midnight is if they started at 11:20p.m.)
Some of My Favorite Responses
This is a great collection of pithy takes on everything outlined above—and Stout was great at them. I have to share some to give you a little taste (and because I just had to share some). I won’t cite all the best ones here—but I’m tempted to.
McAleer: When you were writing for the pulps, between nineteen twelve and nineteen seventeen, did you see yourself as a hack writer or as an aspiring young writer on his way to the top?
Stout: I have never regarded myself as this or that. I have been too busy being myself to bother about regarding myself.
McAleer: I know a writer who, before beginning a book, separates a ream of paper into unequal piles of twenty-three, thirty-seven, forty, twenty-seven, and so forth, because he knows in advance how many pages will go into each chapter. How does that strike you?
Stout: He isn’t a writer, he’s a puzzle fiend. Revolting.
McAleer: You’ve said you’d rather have written Alice in Wonderland than any other book in English written in the last century. Why?
Stout: I could write pages about it and they would have to be well written. While giving glorious entertainment in the form of playful nonsense, it does the best job in the English language of exposing our greatest fallacy, that man is a rational animal. A couple of instances out of many: The Queen’s “Off with their heads” shows that the greatest danger of unlimited power is not that it can act by malice but that it can act on whim. The shifting of places at the Mad Hatter’s tea party shows that if all of the members of a group wish to make a change it is not true that they should change in unison in the same direction. To do this right would take hours.
McAleer: Yet you hold Hammett in high regard?
Stout: Certainly. He was better than Chandler, though to read the critics you wouldn’t think so. In fact, The Glass Key is better than anything Hemingway ever wrote. . .Hemingway never grew out of adolescence. His scope and depth stayed shallow because he had no idea what women are for.
McAleer: Inspector Cramer is called “Fergus” Cramer in Where There’s a Will. Later, in The Silent Speaker, his initials are given as “L. T. C.”. How do you explain this discrepancy?
Stout: No significance. Laziness. I didn’t bother to check whether he already had a first name. Of course all discrepancies in the Nero Wolfe stories are Archie Goodwin’s fault.
So, what did I think about Killer Conversations?
Some of the answers Stout gives are deep. Several are flip. He doesn’t always use more than one word (really, would a little elaboration of killed him?) All are just fun to read.
This is a Lay’s Potato Chip kind of read—I bet you can’t read just on Question and Answer. You have to keep going—you might be able to make yourself stop because of something, but you won’t want to. It’s just too much fun to keep going.
Also? This is clearly going to be re-readable (I almost slipped into a re-read while putting this post together).
Ultimately, the question you want to ask yourself about this book is this: Do I want to learn more about Rex Stout? If the answer is yes, you’re going to have a blast with this. If you don’t—why have you read this far? You might appreciate someone talking about obscure authors and classics of the mystery genre. But you’re probably not going to be that engaged.
Me? I loved it. The two cover life, death, love, reputation, writing, Stout’s characters, his career, a little bit about people in his life, and more. If this book was three times as long—I’d say the same thing.
Kaua'i Storm by Tori Eldridge
I am as haole as you can get—so much so that I can’t pronounce it correctly or even consistently, despite having heard it in various formats for years. So, a lot of this book took work for me to understand—work I enjoyed and was glad to do, mind you. But there was effort.
Eldridge littered this book with ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i words and phrases and Pidgin English like crazy. All—or close enough to round up—can be understood in context with a little effort. But for those who want to be sure of their understanding, there’s a great glossary in the back—including words and phrases—both Pidgin English and ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i—as well as phrases, geographical references, historical and mythological figures. I didn’t consult it (foolishly?) until I was done—that’s just how I roll. It confirmed a lot for me and fleshed some things out, too. I do recommend consulting it in the moment.
I knew about, and chose to ignore, the Glossary. Until I finished, I didn’t realize Eldridge also gave us a handy dramatis personae, which would’ve been a great aid in keeping track of the relationships between this large cast. Do you need to read/consult it? No. But I certainly wouldn’t discourage it.
But even beyond the supplemental material, this book is about as close as you can get to a documentary on contemporary Kaua‘i as you can get while keeping this a work of fiction. There’s a lot about homesteading—and the ethnic makeups required for it (past and present), those who live off the grid in public lands, and…I’m not going to be able to provide an exhaustive list, so I’m going to just stop.
So, what did I think about Kaua’i Storm?
It’s a very crowded book, I have to say, Eldridge puts a lot into these 445 pages. There’s a storyline involving an overly-zealous student of culture that generally felt out of place, and maybe was. It couldn’t be told at another time, as much as I wondered if it could’ve been used in a sequel instead of this book, because it seemed of tertiary importance and interest compared to everything else going on. It was also entertaining and satisfying—so I’m glad she included it.
Still, it reads like a thriller of 250-300 pages, which is a neat trick.
I didn’t enjoy this as much as a Lily Wong book (it shouldn’t feel like one, and doesn’t), and I enjoyed it in different ways than her previous work (as I should’ve). Having established this world and the characters—it’d be very easy for Eldridge to lighten up on the background material in the future, and keep the focus on the plot and characters while exploring the world (and keeping up the commentary)—making it a leaner and more focused thriller/mystery. I hope that’s where Eldridge takes it—but I won’t complain too much if she doesn’t.
How did I make it this far without talking about Makalani? This is her book more than anything. We’ve all read/watched versions of her story—the kid who couldn’t wait to leave home who comes back discovering how much she missed it, how much she’s changed—and how everyone she left behind remembers her. This version of this template is very successful. She reconnects with her past, her heritage, her family—and she sees how who she is today comes from all of that. Plus, she’s a pretty kick-ass ranger. It’s going to be fun to watch her at work. She’s tough, resourceful, and determined—but not in your typical action-hero way, more like the kind of person you could meet in real life. Likely in the line of duty as a ranger. Her connection with the land—in Hawai‘i or Oregon—and sense of duty is going to get a lot of readers to respond positively to her.
This is a solid thriller, but it’s so much more. And it’ll definitely leave you hungry for a sequel. I strongly recommend it.
adventurous
challenging
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Kaua’i Storm About?
Makalani Pahukula, who has been serving Crater Lake in Oregon as a Park Ranger for years, comes home to Kaua‘i for the first time in even longer for the celebration of her grandmother’s eightieth birthday—which is going to be a family reunion/community gathering on a pretty grand scale.
When Makalani touches down, it’s not quite the joyous occasion she’d anticipated. Yes, her parents and grandmother are delighted to see her—as is an old friend (I’m going to forget to mention this later, but we needed more of her). But two of Makalani’s cousins are missing—one is in high school and the other is a former college football star.
Their disappearances are being written off as some foolish lark—although it gets the family squabbling—each set of parents blaming the other and lashing out. Makalani doesn’t think either explanation fits the cousins she remembers (while making allowances for people changing) and she wonders why the police haven’t been involved.* After a dead body is found in the nearby forest, Makalani starts to meddle and takes it upon herself to find her cousins—over the objections of just about everyone.
* And once the police eventually do get involved, you start to understand the families’ decision not to involve them, and they certainly make things worse.
A Question of Genre
First—I’m not sure that’s the best heading for this section, but it’s close enough. Secondly—I really don’t care about this when it comes to what I think about the book, but this kept running through the back of my mind.
This is billed as a mystery, and it kind of is one—I think more of a thriller than a mystery, but we’re getting into the weeds there. And Eldridge has a reputation as a thriller writer (thrillers that I greatly appreciate, I should add).
But her thrillers also involve a good layer of something else—descriptions of a minority culture (in the U.S.), trauma, business/family culture (in other nations), and so on. She pulls that off here, too. In more than one way.
We also get a fair amount of multi-generational family drama, a little social commentary, some local history, and more.
So much so that the thriller/mystery aspect of the book takes a back-seat to everything else for significant lengths of time. It doesn’t hurt the novel as a whole—in fact, it makes it richer. There are family members and friends that I can hand this to that I can’t hand a lot of the mysteries/thrillers that I read (and I wonder if a couple of the thriller-junkies in my life would put up with this).
Culture and Language
Speaking of that kind of thing…
I am as haole as you can get—so much so that I can’t pronounce it correctly or even consistently, despite having heard it in various formats for years. So, a lot of this book took work for me to understand—work I enjoyed and was glad to do, mind you. But there was effort.
Eldridge littered this book with ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i words and phrases and Pidgin English like crazy. All—or close enough to round up—can be understood in context with a little effort. But for those who want to be sure of their understanding, there’s a great glossary in the back—including words and phrases—both Pidgin English and ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i—as well as phrases, geographical references, historical and mythological figures. I didn’t consult it (foolishly?) until I was done—that’s just how I roll. It confirmed a lot for me and fleshed some things out, too. I do recommend consulting it in the moment.
I knew about, and chose to ignore, the Glossary. Until I finished, I didn’t realize Eldridge also gave us a handy dramatis personae, which would’ve been a great aid in keeping track of the relationships between this large cast. Do you need to read/consult it? No. But I certainly wouldn’t discourage it.
But even beyond the supplemental material, this book is about as close as you can get to a documentary on contemporary Kaua‘i as you can get while keeping this a work of fiction. There’s a lot about homesteading—and the ethnic makeups required for it (past and present), those who live off the grid in public lands, and…I’m not going to be able to provide an exhaustive list, so I’m going to just stop.
I’ll summarize by saying that this is a rich and informative look at the non-touristy part of Hawai‘i (or at least one island’s version of it). Added to the tiered cake of characters and missing-person plot, this icing is just great.
So, what did I think about Kaua’i Storm?
This is going up late—I realize that, and apologize to Eldridge and Thomas & Mercer for that—but I had a hard time resisting talking about all that this novel attempts (mostly successfully) to accomplish.
It’s a very crowded book, I have to say, Eldridge puts a lot into these 445 pages. There’s a storyline involving an overly-zealous student of culture that generally felt out of place, and maybe was. It couldn’t be told at another time, as much as I wondered if it could’ve been used in a sequel instead of this book, because it seemed of tertiary importance and interest compared to everything else going on. It was also entertaining and satisfying—so I’m glad she included it.
Still, it reads like a thriller of 250-300 pages, which is a neat trick.
I didn’t enjoy this as much as a Lily Wong book (it shouldn’t feel like one, and doesn’t), and I enjoyed it in different ways than her previous work (as I should’ve). Having established this world and the characters—it’d be very easy for Eldridge to lighten up on the background material in the future, and keep the focus on the plot and characters while exploring the world (and keeping up the commentary)—making it a leaner and more focused thriller/mystery. I hope that’s where Eldridge takes it—but I won’t complain too much if she doesn’t.
How did I make it this far without talking about Makalani? This is her book more than anything. We’ve all read/watched versions of her story—the kid who couldn’t wait to leave home who comes back discovering how much she missed it, how much she’s changed—and how everyone she left behind remembers her. This version of this template is very successful. She reconnects with her past, her heritage, her family—and she sees how who she is today comes from all of that. Plus, she’s a pretty kick-ass ranger. It’s going to be fun to watch her at work. She’s tough, resourceful, and determined—but not in your typical action-hero way, more like the kind of person you could meet in real life. Likely in the line of duty as a ranger. Her connection with the land—in Hawai‘i or Oregon—and sense of duty is going to get a lot of readers to respond positively to her.
This is a solid thriller, but it’s so much more. And it’ll definitely leave you hungry for a sequel. I strongly recommend it.
Class Clown: The Memoirs of a Professional Wiseass—How I Went 77 Years Without Growing Up by Dave Barry, Dave Barry
His Origin Story
The first four chapters are the most autobiographical part of the book—a little less than 50% of it. Here we cover his parents, his childhood, schooling, and early career—from his first newspaper job, his detour through business education, and then finding his way back to journalism and becoming a humor columnist.
This is all the nitty-gritty stuff—what were his parents like? (nothing like you’d guess) What did his childhood entail? (bad jokes and throwing things) What did he write before making money with booger jokes? And so on.
This was the more educational—in a good way, I stress—part. He wrote about is parents, in particular, with warmth and humanity. He was open about some of their struggles, but with sensitivity. I really appreciated the way he talked about his marriages—past and present—very briefly, yet definitively. There is some humor, but it’s largely self-directed, or at the culture he and his parents were in.
This is really the kind of thing you come to a memoir for, and Barry did it well. He quotes some of his more serious (and some of his less-serious) columns here to show what he’s said about these things in the past.
Topical Memories
A little over half the book is devoted to what I’m describing as “Topical Memories”—he has a chapter on things like “My Readers,” “Politics,” and “Books, Music, and Movies.” In these, he relates a collection of stories and anecdotes from all over his career along these lines.
So we get stories about the great things his readers have sent him—and some of the less positive things they’ve said. Scandals he created—inadvertently or not. How he was involved in Obama’s first inaugural parade, or had Bruce Springsteen sing backup for him, how he accidentally offended an audience of Russians by screening one of his films. I particularly enjoyed him talking about his feud with his Neil Diamond-loving readers (I’m a pretty big Diamond fan, but thought Barry’s jokes were good and deserved, for what it’s worth)
There are several extended quotations from his columns here—and we get a lot of the stories behind the columns, too. Not the nuts-and-bolts of how he wrote them, but what led to them.
If the Origin Story chapters were educational—this was recess. Just a lot of fun and goofing off, telling wild stories and recounting past glories (and blunders). It was exactly the kind of thing that Barry readers pick up his books for.
The Appendix
I don’t frequently talk about appendices; they’re supplemental material, and I prefer to focus on the main portion of the book, but every now and then, one comes along that demands attention.
For example (as you might have guessed), this appendix. It was a hoot—its title is “A Good Name for a Rock Band.” Barry (like many of us) will frequently pick up on a phrase from something he quoted and say it would be a good name for a rock band (also known by the super-easy and memorable acronym WBAGNFARB). After discussing this practice a bit, Barry gives a non-exhaustive, but extensive list of some of those bands.
I think reading them in context is best—but you definitely can appreciate them in a different way with no context whatsoever. They are definitely more ridiculous that way.
It’s worth picking the book up from the shelf at your local bookstore/library just to read those few pages. (Of course, you’d be better served by reading the whole thing). Even people who don’t have a background with Barry will find some laughs there.
So, what did I think about Class Clown?
I’m fairly certain at this point in my life that I’m hardwired to enjoy Davy Barry’s writing, and that I don’t have the neuroplasticity to change that. No matter what apps for seniors I try. So maybe take this with a softball-sized grain of salt.
I really enjoyed this book. A lot—and on several levels.
Part of me would’ve liked a little more depth, a little more digging into details of his life, maybe his approach to writing. But it’d just feel strange knowing that much about Barry—and we all know what happens to a joke when you dissect it, knowing too much about how his sausage is made might not be that entertaining. Really, for Dave Barry—this is about as deep as we want. Every time I started to say “I wish he’d given us more about X,” I stopped myself and realized that no, this was just the right amount.
So no, it’s not as self-revealing as say, Patrick Stewart’s or Matthew Perry’s books—and that’s good.
This is a great way to get to know Barry a little better—given the nature of his work, a lot of us have had a para-social relationship with him before that was a phrase people used. It’s nice for us to deepen that relationship to a degree—before we get back to jokes about exploding cows, questionable song lyrics, or whatever.
I heartily encourage readers of Dave Barry to pick this up—even casual readers will have fun with this, you don’t have to be a die-hard like me. He’s one of a kind, and it’s great to bask in that for a little while.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Simon & Schuster via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
emotional
funny
informative
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
4.5
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Class Clown About?
It’s really all there in the subtitle: it’s Dave Barry’s memoirs about his career as a professional wiseass—primarily through his humor column, but he’s found other outlets for it, too.
Here’s some of the jacket copy to help beef that up:
America’s most beloved wiseass finally tells his life story with all the humor you’d expect from a man who made a career out of making fun of pretty much everything.
How does the son of a Presbyterian minister wind up winning a Pulitzer Prize for writing a wildly inaccurate newspaper column read by millions of people?
In Class Clown, Dave Barry takes us on a hilarious ride, starting with a childhood largely spent throwing rocks for entertainment—there was no internet—and preparing for nuclear war by hiding under a classroom desk. After literally getting elected class clown in high school, he went to college, where, as an English major, he read snippets of great literature when he was not busy playing in a rock band (it was the sixties).
He began his journalism career at a small-town Pennsylvania newspaper where he learned the most important rule of local journalism: never confuse a goose with a duck. His journey then took a detour into the business world, where as a writing consultant he spent years trying, with limited success, to get corporate folks to, for God’s sake, get the point. Somehow from there he wound up as a humor columnist for The Miami Herald, where his boss was a wild man who encouraged him to write about anything that struck him as amusing and to never worry about alienating anyone…
Class Clown isn’t just a memoir; it’s a vibrant celebration of a life rich with humor, absurdity, joy, and sadness. Dave says the most important wisdom imparted by his Midwestern parents was never to take anything too seriously. This laughter-filled book is proof that he learned that lesson well.
His Origin Story
The first four chapters are the most autobiographical part of the book—a little less than 50% of it. Here we cover his parents, his childhood, schooling, and early career—from his first newspaper job, his detour through business education, and then finding his way back to journalism and becoming a humor columnist.
This is all the nitty-gritty stuff—what were his parents like? (nothing like you’d guess) What did his childhood entail? (bad jokes and throwing things) What did he write before making money with booger jokes? And so on.
This was the more educational—in a good way, I stress—part. He wrote about is parents, in particular, with warmth and humanity. He was open about some of their struggles, but with sensitivity. I really appreciated the way he talked about his marriages—past and present—very briefly, yet definitively. There is some humor, but it’s largely self-directed, or at the culture he and his parents were in.
This is really the kind of thing you come to a memoir for, and Barry did it well. He quotes some of his more serious (and some of his less-serious) columns here to show what he’s said about these things in the past.
Topical Memories
A little over half the book is devoted to what I’m describing as “Topical Memories”—he has a chapter on things like “My Readers,” “Politics,” and “Books, Music, and Movies.” In these, he relates a collection of stories and anecdotes from all over his career along these lines.
So we get stories about the great things his readers have sent him—and some of the less positive things they’ve said. Scandals he created—inadvertently or not. How he was involved in Obama’s first inaugural parade, or had Bruce Springsteen sing backup for him, how he accidentally offended an audience of Russians by screening one of his films. I particularly enjoyed him talking about his feud with his Neil Diamond-loving readers (I’m a pretty big Diamond fan, but thought Barry’s jokes were good and deserved, for what it’s worth)
There are several extended quotations from his columns here—and we get a lot of the stories behind the columns, too. Not the nuts-and-bolts of how he wrote them, but what led to them.
If the Origin Story chapters were educational—this was recess. Just a lot of fun and goofing off, telling wild stories and recounting past glories (and blunders). It was exactly the kind of thing that Barry readers pick up his books for.
The Appendix
I don’t frequently talk about appendices; they’re supplemental material, and I prefer to focus on the main portion of the book, but every now and then, one comes along that demands attention.
For example (as you might have guessed), this appendix. It was a hoot—its title is “A Good Name for a Rock Band.” Barry (like many of us) will frequently pick up on a phrase from something he quoted and say it would be a good name for a rock band (also known by the super-easy and memorable acronym WBAGNFARB). After discussing this practice a bit, Barry gives a non-exhaustive, but extensive list of some of those bands.
I think reading them in context is best—but you definitely can appreciate them in a different way with no context whatsoever. They are definitely more ridiculous that way.
It’s worth picking the book up from the shelf at your local bookstore/library just to read those few pages. (Of course, you’d be better served by reading the whole thing). Even people who don’t have a background with Barry will find some laughs there.
So, what did I think about Class Clown?
I’m fairly certain at this point in my life that I’m hardwired to enjoy Davy Barry’s writing, and that I don’t have the neuroplasticity to change that. No matter what apps for seniors I try. So maybe take this with a softball-sized grain of salt.
I really enjoyed this book. A lot—and on several levels.
Part of me would’ve liked a little more depth, a little more digging into details of his life, maybe his approach to writing. But it’d just feel strange knowing that much about Barry—and we all know what happens to a joke when you dissect it, knowing too much about how his sausage is made might not be that entertaining. Really, for Dave Barry—this is about as deep as we want. Every time I started to say “I wish he’d given us more about X,” I stopped myself and realized that no, this was just the right amount.
So no, it’s not as self-revealing as say, Patrick Stewart’s or Matthew Perry’s books—and that’s good.
This is a great way to get to know Barry a little better—given the nature of his work, a lot of us have had a para-social relationship with him before that was a phrase people used. It’s nice for us to deepen that relationship to a degree—before we get back to jokes about exploding cows, questionable song lyrics, or whatever.
I heartily encourage readers of Dave Barry to pick this up—even casual readers will have fun with this, you don’t have to be a die-hard like me. He’s one of a kind, and it’s great to bask in that for a little while.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Simon & Schuster via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.