theirresponsiblereader's reviews
592 reviews

Aftermarket Afterlife by Seanan McGuire

adventurous emotional sad tense medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? A mix
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? It's complicated
• Diverse cast of characters? No
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 

What’s Aftermarket Afterlife About? 

Just before I started writing this (or started again…this is something like the 15th attempt since March of last year), I took a glance at what I wrote about Backpacking Through Bedlam. This was either a mistake because I said everything there that I was about to say to start this post and now I have to come up with something new. Or it was smart because now I can cut out a lot of things and point you to that instead. 

I’m lazy enough to lean toward “mistake.” But let’s see what I can do instead. 

Lest we think that the Covenant of St. George in general and Leonard Cunningham in particular have just been twiddling their thumbs while we’ve been focused on Annie’s adventures (although we see some of Leonard there) or the end of Alice’s quest, we learn very quickly that they’ve been active. They’ve been gathering intelligence and plotting. The result is a shock-and-awe campaign that takes the family and their cryptid (and human) friends and allies unaware—and results in several injuries, deaths, and loss of property. Probably more damage, too. 

But before we can get to that, Thomas and Alice (and Sally) arrive at the Portland-area compound for a reunion/(re)introduction. This goes so incredibly poorly that the reader will initially be relieved by the attacks because you foolishly think that means things are going to get more entertaining. 

All this results in Mary, of all people, coming up with a plan to take the action to the front door of the Covenant. 

Luck Runs Out 

I’m not sure that I noticed it during my initial reads of the series—but in the last couple of books, as I listen to them on audio, I keep hearing about the strange luck the family has. And honestly, even if I hadn’t used the word luck—it’s hard not to think that. Verity and her friends/family/loved ones (same for her brother and sister and their friends/loved ones) largely escape the novels unscathed. 

The thing about luck is…it runs out. This can be seen in the way that Sarah’s rescue of Artie at the end of Calculated Risks isn’t as successful as we might have thought at the time. And for another telling piece of evidence is pretty much this entire novel. 

Choice of Mary 

I was initially surprised to see Mary the family’s babysitting ghost as our POV character for this one. I expected another of the Price kids to get the slot (it’s been too long since we spent real time with Alex, for example). But I wasn’t going to complain—if only because it was nice to see her backstory. 

In retrospect, there was no other choice. The reader (and McGuire) needed someone who could rapidly move between the various parts of the country to see everything going on and to take part in the action in some (not all) of the places the Covenant was acting. Thanks to her being the major actor, we get a little more insight into what happened to the animus mundi following Annie’s defeat of the Crossroads. 

There are a couple of other things that only Mary could contribute to this story, but I can’t talk about those. So, as I expected but didn’t see going in, McGuire didn’t have a choice in POV character. It just had to be her. 

Hail The Aeslin Mice 

It’s really hard not to feel bad for these guys (when they’re not making you smile) throughout the series. This is probably the hardest novel to get through because of what happens to them. Their losses—different from the losses the family takes, and almost worse—are so hard to watch. Ditto for the family talking about them. 

What’s even worse is the note that the race as a whole likely doesn’t have many more generations left. I’m sorry…I’m just not okay with that. I hope/trust that we’re going to find out how wrong those predictions are. 

So, what did I think about Aftermarket Afterlife? 

When I put this down I said something—I don’t remember what—but my daughter seemed shocked at my reaction. I was stunned, I didn’t expect most of what I spent the last hour or so reading (or the hours previous to it) and I guess that came out forcefully. And I’m still in that frame of mind almost 11 months later. I’m stunned by what McGuire did here. 

The InCryptid books have always been (in my mind) the lighter of McGuire’s series—Toby’s for drama and excitement, the Wayward Children are to fill you with whimsy and heartbreak, and Verity/Alex/Annie et al are for some goofy action and strange critters. 

I should know McGuire better than that. She’s never going to just let something be light entertainment. Still, I wasn’t prepared for this escalation. I should’ve been. The signs have been there since the end of Chaos Choreography. I’m not going to get into all the ways she gut-punches the readers here. But there are several. Some small, some huge, some of indeterminate size as of this time. 

Still, McGuire deals with the various personalities, histories, abilities, interests, and everything else like a master. The writing is quirky as it needs to be without taking away from the drama or heartbreak. Mary is a great character and it’s good to see her come into her own, and we see a lot from other family members that we haven’t spent enough time with, too—ll while catching up with old friends. This is McGuire at peak performance. 

Installment Immortality is due soon, and I have no idea what to expect from it—nor from the series going forward. But it’s going to be a very different kind of entity than we’ve seen before. I can’t wait for it. 

The Pilgrim's Regress by C.S. Lewis

challenging reflective slow-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Plot
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? It's complicated
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 

A Bit of Personal History (feel free to skip) 

Back in ’91 or ’92, I saw a copy of The Pilgrim’s Regress on a bookstore shelf. I was in a “read everything by Lewis you can get your hands on phase,” so I instantly picked it up. But the back of the book talked about it as the modern equivalent of Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress in a way that I figured I should read Bunyan before it. 

It took me a little while to track down the Bunyan (the toilsome times before online bookshops), and by the time I worked my way through it, the bookstore didn’t have that copy any more and I was distracted by other things. 

I’ve often thought about trying this book since then—but it wasn’t until I started thinking about this project that I finally combined ambition with general curiosity. 

What’s The Pilgrim’s Regress About? 

This modern-retelling of The Pilgrim’s Progressis an allegory about a man named John on his journey from childhood exposure to religion in Puritania to an Island of pleasure. Along the way, he has to deal with several physical, spiritiual and itellectual challenges to take him away from his journey (pretty much like Bunyan’s Christian). 

This was the first thing that Lewis wrote after his conversion, and it’s considered to be an intellectual biography of that journey. 

Basically, think Bunyan for the early 20th Century and you’ve got it. 

A Couple of Things That Helped Me 

Early on, John encounters a “brown girl” who distracts him from his interest in—or at least pursuing that interest. They begin a sexual relationship, which goes awry and causes some serious problems for John (actually, that entire relationship from her introduction on is a serious problem.) I was pretty sure that Lewis wasn’t making any kind of ethnic characterization or anything, but it’s hard to shake the feeling. Thankfully, reading this blog post by a Lewis expert made me feel so much better (and shows I was on the right path in general with it). I’d explain it, but Dr. Hurd does it better. 

The other thing that helped was the afterword that Lewis wrote for the Third Edition, ten years after the original publication. He points to some flaws, or at least things he could’ve done better. I agreed with most of his self-diagnosis, and at least one point, his explanation made me understand an aspect of the book (and, yes, he was right to critique himself). 

So, while I’m glad for the additional things that helped me appreciate the book, I trust that with very little effort, I could find more. I shouldn’t have to look to these kinds of things to appreciate a book. To gain a better understanding, sure. But to move me from “meh” to “okay, that wasn’t that bad/objectional” should come from the text itself—not from others. 

So, what did I think about The Pilgrim’s Regress? 

It’s been almost a century since this was first published, and I cannot decide if it’s a good thing or not that so many of the characters and ideas John encounters are still relevant and identifiable (although some details may have altered a bit). The reader can see that these intellectual movements are nothing new—sadly, many of them haven’t been forgotten. One of the best things about reading theological works written generations before me is wondering exactly what the author is targeting (or why they’re bothering)—but the ideas that Lewis wants to confront are still in his readers’ lives. Probably even more than they were for him. 

The beginning of the book seemed promising with an uncaring and cold clergy, parents who were off the mark, and so on—I thought John’s journey would lead us to a correction of or confrontation with these things. But no, we get the brown girl and then things go far from where I thought we were going. Naturally, I don’t mind that—but I would’ve appreciated something more definitive. That’s personal taste, though. 

Like many allegories, particularly Bunyan’s, there is nothing subtle about The Pilgrim’s Regress. That doesn’t mean it’s not good, or that it’s so clear always that there’s no thinking involved, but, wow—it does tend to feel like it’s hitting you with a brick when John encounters a new person/idea. 

Am I glad that I read this? Yes. So I can see Lewis’ development as a writer, to satisfy a certain curiosity in general, and to cross off a decades-old item from my “To Read List.” For people who don’t have at least two of those motivations to pick this up, I can’t really recommend it. I’m not sure I really can for those who do have those motivations—but it satisfies those particular itches. 

Is this bad? By no means. It’s not good either. I did particularly enjoy certain lines, scenes, or encounters. I thought some of the ways that Lewis framed the better alternatives to be refreshing and helpful. But overall this really did nothing for me. 

The Boys of Riverside: A Deaf Football Team and a Quest for Glory by Thomas Fuller

challenging emotional informative inspiring fast-paced

3.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 
 

How Does The Publisher Describe The Boys of Riverside? 

In November 2021, an obscure email from the California Department of Education landed in New York Times reporter, Thomas Fuller’s, inbox. The football team at the California School for the Deaf in Riverside, a state-run school with only 168 high school students, was having an undefeated season. After years of covering war, wildfires, pandemic, and mass shootings, Fuller was captivated by the story of this group of high school boys. It was uplifting. During the gloom of the pandemic, it was a happy story. It was a sports story but not an ordinary one, built on the chemistry between a group of underestimated boys and their superhero advocate coach, Keith Adams, a deaf former athlete himself. The team, and Adams, tackled the many stereotypes and seemed to be succeeding. Fuller packed his bags and drove seven hours to the Riverside campus.The Boys of Riverside looks back at the historic 2021 and 2022 seasons in which the California School for the Deaf chased history. It follows the personal journeys of their dynamic deaf head coach, and a student who spent the majority of the season sleeping in his father’s car in the Target parking lot. It tells the story of a fiercely committed player who literally played through a broken leg in order not to miss a crucial game, as well as myriad other heart-wrenching and uplifting narratives of players who found common purpose. Through their eyes, Fuller reveals a portrait of high school athletics, inspiring camaraderie, and deafness in America.

 
Yeah, But You Don’t Like Football…
True. And it’s okay to not be really into the sport and to listen to this. You dislike the sport, do not understand it, etc.—and still get a lot out of the book. Sure, it’ll help if you understand 8-man vs. 11-man football, what some of the positions do, and so on—but really, that’s just the dressing.

This book is primarily focused on human drama—if you can understand what it means to work hard for a goal—and to achieve or falter—you can understand this book’s story. With the challenges these young men face, it makes their work different, it makes the triumphs sweeter, and the slips more devastating.

Really, at the end of the day, your feelings about the game they play are pretty much negligible.

How was the Narration?
Frequently—probably most of the time—it sounded like Fuller was trying to narrate some sort of thriller like Jack Reacher, Jack Ryan, or Jason Bourne (basically anything Scott Brick would narrate). But once I got past that, it was fine. I’m not sure this story needed that feel—but it didn’t hurt anything.

So, what did I think about The Boys of Riverside?
 
So you don’t come away from this book with just a good sports story. Fuller discusses various aspects of Deaf Culture, schools for the deaf (particularly in California), the connections between football and Deaf teams that have spread throughout all levels of the game, and more.
 
Then there’s the players and coaches—also weaved into the narrative are some good profiles of different individuals associated with the team. Like any good sports story—from fiction to the Olympics—its the individuals that draw in a reader/viewer. And Fuller tells that part of the story well.
 
Of course, the main focus is the team and their pursuit of a championship. And Fuller paces that story really well—so much so that even if you know how it ends before you start the book, you’ll be hooked and invested.
 
This is an engaging and entertaining read—one that’s occasionally educational, too. What’s not to like?
 

Robert B. Parker's Buried Secrets by Christopher Farnsworth, Christopher Farnsworth

adventurous challenging mysterious tense medium-paced

4.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 

What’s Buried Secrets About? 

Jesse is called to make a welfare check on an elderly Paradise resident (no one he knows) and finds the worst outcome—they are weeks too late for this check. Also, the man was a hoarder, and it’s near impossible to navigate through his home to his body without disturbing some of his stacks of…whatever it was that he’d accumulated. 

When one box of photos is dislodged, Jesse finds several photos of murder victims. Crime Scene techs soon find $2 million in cash stashed in the house. Either one of these finds would send Jesse’s “coply intuition” to sound alarm bills—the two together? He knows that they stumbled onto something bad—and worse is on the way to Paradise if they can’t wrap up this case soon. 

The A Story and Jesse 

(not that most of the cast of characters aren’t involved in this storyline)

 Something about this case sets Jesse off. Something is eating him in ways that he’s unprepared for, and he gets a little on edge and grumpy (at least to those on the outside). The bottle is calling to him in a way it hasn’t for a while. The voice is loud and tempting. There’s at least once that he goes looking for a bottle that thankfully isn’t there anymore. 

The way this—and the related issues it brings up—work themselves out through this novel shows just how far Jesse has come since he first came to Paradise—or even since he stopped drinking in earnest. But that battle isn’t over. 

The rest of the PPD is involved in this storyline, but this is Jesse’s focus throughout the novel—it’s also where everything that Jesse goes through emotionally/psychologically is rooted. As such, I’ve found that I can’t keep talking about this without telling you too much. So let’s move on to: 

The B Story and Everyone Else 

The day that this body is found is also the first day for a new officer for the PPD. He’d spent some time on patrol in a major city, and then a smaller city before this relocating. He tells Jesse that he wanted to be in a town like Paradise, where he could do some good. 

There’s an incident or two—you could see them as first-day on-the-job eagerness, a training issue, or something worse. Before you know it, people in Paradise (and in the PPD) are divided over this one officer. Jesse is too caught up in this case, the city politics, and other things to really dig into things. Some others in the department aren’t so sure about him. Others are willing to give him a chance or three. Essentially, Jesse is willing to let things shake out on their own—at least until he’s able to close the murder. 

He might not get that chance. Making this call is arguably Jesse’s biggest mistake in the novel. 

In addition to the story of this officer, Farnsworth is able to bring in some discussion of what it means to be a police officer in the 21st Century USA. What does it look like, what kind of people should wear the badge? What kind of equipment should police departments have? How can people who have a problem with the police in their area safely do? There’s a related scene that touches on public protest and social media/legacy media fanning the flames. 

In many—most—ways, this story is not the main focus of the book—but it’s so close that it might as well be. And as much as I enjoyed The A Story, this is the one that hooked me the deepest. Farnsworth did the franchise proud with it, too. 

Farnsworth at the Helm 

Poor Jesse Stone, this is his fourth author since Parker’s death. Just for that reason alone, I hope Farnsworth sticks around for a while. He and his readers need some continuity. Once you figure in what a bang-up job that Farnsworth did, I can underscore that hope a couple of times. 

Unlike just about every other (I think every other, but let’s throw some wiggle room into this), Farnsworth didn’t give us a lot of trivia from Parker’s books to establish his bona fides. There were some references, but they were the same kind that Parker himself made. Farnsworth showed us his credentials in the way he wrote these characters, this community, and the story. 

I was a little apprehensive about him—I read at least the first two of his Nathaniel Cade books—maybe all three, but nothing since. There was something about whichever Cade book was my last that didn’t leave me eager to try him again. Don’t ask me what it was—it’s been over a decade. I’m glad my loyalty to the series won out over my vague sense of apprehension (it wasn’t a close competition). He nailed it. 

The one item that I’m most happy about is that with one line of dialogue, Farnsworth expanded on—added depth to—Dix. Did we need this for Dix? But I love that we got it. Also…it was a great way to give that gift to us. 

BTS Question 

I know there have been conversations between some of the Parker-verse authors about moves they were going to make with certain characters and whatnot—I can’t remember the details, but I heard in one or two interviews that  Atkins or Coleman had to make an adjustment to one book because of something the other did (I’m being very vague because I don’t remember too much and I’m too lazy to do the homework). So I’m sure that Farnsworth and Lupica had a conversation about this book and the events of Hot Property. 

What I want to know is how did Hot Property impact this novel? Did Farnsworth have Rita’s scenes in this book completed and added a couple of lines to reflect it? Did he have something else in mind for those scenes and revised them to take advantage of Lupica’s latest? Just what kind of collaboration happened? 

Does this impact my appreciation for either book? Nah. But I’m certainly curious. 

So, what did I think about Buried Secrets? 

At each step along the way, I kept thinking of other things I wanted to say about this one—and at book 22 of a series (no matter how many authors have contributed), that’s saying something. I’ve done my best to limit myself to the bigger matters, but I think I could add at least another 5 paragraphs without breaking a sweat (and they’d likely lead to others). 

When Coleman got Jesse into AA, I saw one fan complain about him turning Jesse into “another whining Twelve Step wuss” (that’s very close to it). This seemed like an odd take, as most of Parker’s work (since 1974’s God Save the Child) has celebrated people getting help via therapy or some other means to improve—even save—their lives. I’m afraid that some of what this book does is going to elicit similar reactions from that fan and many others. I hope that the publisher, the Parker Estate, and Farnsworth ignore all that. I don’t see anything here that doesn’t fit in Parker’s worldview (or at least the worldview of all of his fiction). 

The Paradise Police Department—particularly the officers we’ve spent time with since Night Passage—got to shine as they ought to. Sure, it’s Jesse’s series, but Molly, Suit, Peter, Gabe, and the others are more than just cardboard cutouts in the background (obviously we don’t know as much about Peter and Gabe as we do some others). The more the various personnel get to contribute, the more the books feel like it’s about a Police Chief—not some rogue lawman. I’m glad Farnsworth did that. 

Buried Secrets was satisfying on every level that I can think of. It’s the best Jesse Stone novel in years (with all due respect to Mr. Lupica), specifically since The Hangman’s Sonnet or Colorblind (now that I’ve mentioned those two books in particular, I could probably have written a post just about the ways that Buried Secrets parallels major elements of those, something I hadn’t thought of until now). It contains a good mystery, some strong social commentary, some great character moments, a bunch of characters on the other side of the law that you just have to meet, some solid action, and most of all, time with characters that fans have been spending time with for decades. 

I strongly recommend this. 

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from PENGUIN GROUP Putnam via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this. 

Broken Bonds: A Novel of the Reformation by Amy Mantravadi

adventurous hopeful informative reflective medium-paced

3.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 

What’s Broken Bonds About? 

This is a work of historical fiction focusing on April 1524-January 1525, at what will prove to be a significant period in the German Reformation. The narrative focuses on three men: Desiderius Erasmus, probably the greatest scholar of the era, and a would-be reformer of the Church; Martin Luther, the Reformer (who went further than Erasmus would’ve), and Philipp Melanchthon, a promising young scholar with ties to them both. 

The book follows their connections and interactions with each other—as theoretical as some of them might be—as leaders put pressure on all three to sway them one way or the other, to pick up their pen (or lay it down) for an end, to cease their efforts to reform the Church, to increase their efforts to reform the Church (in ways they cannot agree with), and so on. 

Martin Luther 

Luther is the most well-known of the trio today, for good reason. In this novel we see Luther trying to reason with his former friend Karlstadt as the latter continues to cause trouble for Luther and everyone in their area. Luther is also trying to get more compensation for and more opportunities to teach and write for Melanchthon—for the sake of the young man’s family and the University of Wittenberg, who could use him. 

He’s also dealing with some personal issues—how far does he go himself? Does he give up the monastic robe for that of an academic? It’s so much of his identity, he still holds the vows he swore before him, it cost Luther so much personally to follow this path—and despite the upheaval in his life, is he prepared to lay it all aside? This was so excellently done. 

We get some glimpses of some of Luther’s multiple medical issues, a little bit of his humor, and a delightful relationship with and interaction with his goddaughter, too. Mantravadi is careful to present us with a human Luther, not some superhero. 

Looming over all that Luther does here is an impending intellectual showdown with the one man he’s not sure he wants to debate with, but is steeling himself to lock horns with: 

Desiderius Erasmus 

Before Luther burst on the stage, it was easy to think of Erasmus as the greatest Christian thinker, writer, and scholar of his time. Erasmus did try to push for some institutional reforms and had many of the same aims as Luther, but he went about things in a less inflammatory way. 

He’s been dodging requests and pleas to interact with Luther for quite some time now—but the pressure is mounting and he’s not certain he can do so much longer. Reluctantly, he picks up his pen to compose On Free Will to directly counter some of Luther’s teachings. 

We get a very sympathetic view of Erasmus and his interactions with friends and Protestants he interacts with daily. His health struggles are different than Luther’s but painted just as vividly here. One bout of kidney stones, in particular, almost triggered flashbacks to my last one. I found myself really liking Erasmus and pulling for him. 

One of Erasmus’ greatest goals—to chill the Lutheran movement, to further promote diverse ideas in the Academy/Church, and to hand off his work to a brilliant scholar—is to get Melanchthon to come to work with him, and essentially assume his mantle when he’s gone. 

Philipp Melanchthon 

Melanchthon is a struggling academic, just trying to make enough money to provide for his wife and daughter. He loves to be in the classroom (and it shows), but he’s equally open to teaching in other places, too. He sides with Luther, just not as vociferously as some may want—but Luther appears to trust him. 

Melanchthon is tempted to take Erasmus’ offer—it’s a dream situation for him, it’s exactly what he wants. But he’s afraid that he’d have to water down or abandon his Protestant convictions and he’s not ready to do that. 

His depiction is easily the most relatable, the most appealing—between the way other characters (particularly Erasmus and Luther) talk about him and the way that Mantravadi shows him, you could make the argument that the others are supporting characters in a novel where the young man is the protagonist. 

He does frequently seem too much like a 21st-century man rather than one from the 16th. Particularly when it comes to talking about his wife and daughter. But maybe that’s just me. I really liked it, so I don’t care. Hopefully, it’s close to the truth. 

The last thing I want to say about Melanchthon is that there’s a scene with a bunch of students for a sort of study club (best way I can summarize it). It is one of my favorite fictional depictions of a teacher and a group of students since John Keating and that ill-fated group at Welton Academy. I don’t want to give you details, but more than I want his family life to be the way that Mantravadi depicts it, I want this to be true. 

The S-Word 

So, a lot of the subjects of this book—particularly when it comes to health, but even beyond it—are what some would call “earthy.” It wasn’t a pleasant time to live in many ways, particularly digestive. Anyone who’s read much of Luther’s daily life, humor, or personal history well knows that he can be somewhat scatological. The working of his bowels is a frequent topic for him. 

Erasmus isn’t much different. Melanchthon, thankfully, is—but not the people he spends time with. 

It’s likely not enough to put anyone off—if anything, it might recruit some younger readers 🙂 But Mantravadi has her characters use vocabulary that Christians in the 16th Century would for these processes and products, even if most 20th/21st Christians would hesitate to use it. Just a word of warning for those who might be put off. 

So, what did I think about Broken Bonds? 

I went into this with some hesitation—the last two fictional works I read about this time period put me off in a serious way. (one was pre-blog, so I can’t point you at anything I wrote, and I don’t feel like picking on the other again). But I know that Mantravadi has a good reputation among some Church Historians—and even heard her interviewed by one a few years ago, so I felt safe. 

I’m so glad that I did—these characters came alive to me in a way that two of them haven’t before (even if I think she handled Luther with kid gloves). She used their positions, arguments—sometimes even words—well in the progress of the novel. There are plenty of footnotes for those who want to dive more into their works. Which is always a bonus in this kind of work (also, footnotes—not endnotes). 

The historical detail is there, but not so much of it that you get bogged down in it—the pacing keeps moving at a good clip throughout. Are some of these events overly-dramatized? Quite possibly. Are some of these under-dramatized? Equally possible. It is, in the end, a work of fiction and that needs to be remembered. 

It’s a fast-paced read for something in this genre, it’s sympathetic to all its protagonists (even when they’re at odds), there’s good tension—even when it comes to talking about academic pursuits (not the easiest thing to dramatize), and there’s a heart and warmth to it all. 

I think this would work for middle school-aged readers, and for most adults, too. You might even learn a little about history and theology while you’re at it. It’s definitely worth the investment of time. I’m more than ready for the second in this duology. 

Pigeon-Blood Red by Ed Duncan

adventurous emotional tense fast-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Plot
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? It's complicated
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.5

 ★ ★ ★ 1/2 (rounded up)
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader along with a Q&A with the author.
---
What’s Pigeon-Blood Red About? 

Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but a grizzled enforcer and his partner make a mistake that leads to a panicky guy stealing from their boss. This guy, Robert, is already in some serious debt to their boss, Litvak, and this just makes it worse—especially when Robert leaves town suddenly and tries to use the theft to leverage Litvak into writing off the debt. Litvak doesn’t like this idea, and sends the enforcer, Rico, to track down Robert, deal out some punishment, and come back with at least the stolen item—and maybe more. 

Yeah, this feels incredibly familiar—which is not a deal-breaker at all, it just makes it easy for the reader/listener to get into the story. As always, it’s what the author does with a familiar set-up that makes it worth the ride. And Duncan doesn’t disappoint there. 

That largely has to do with other people that Rico and Robert encounter along the way—some of whom get swept up in Rober’s foolhardy and desperate moves and find themselves in Rico’s cross-hairs when they’re just trying to live their lives. But you should learn about them for yourselves. 

Some of These People are the Worst 

Seriously, you can hear Jean-Ralphio singing it as you think of some of these people. I’m not even talking about the hitman here—but some of his targets. Okay, his boss isn’t that great, either. But he’s supposed to be a morally bankrupt scoundrel. The more we get to know—and the more we see from—Robert and some others and you can’t help but wonder if the world will be a better place without them. 

I will say that it took me a little longer to warm up to Rico than is usual in this type of book. Our introduction to the character—the first real thing we see from him—really made it hard for me to want anything more than to see Litvak put him in a hole somewhere, but that changed. 

How Was the Narration? 

My initial reaction to the thought was “absolutely fine,” and I was prepared to move on. However brief that answer was. 

But Keyser deserves a little more than that, I think. He really was a great match for this material—I wish I could find other audiobook credits for him to see how he does with other genres (and am a little discouraged to see that he’s not attached to the rest of this trilogy). He could handle the lighter moments–the sweet moments–as well as the not-even-close-to-sweet moments when bullets are flying equally well (and we’ve all heard narrators that can’t quite pull that off in the same book). 

I really enjoyed his work and think he made a series of really smart choices and executed them well. 

So, what did I think about Pigeon-Blood Red? 

After various and sundry delays, it was hard for me to remember some details that I wanted to, so I listened to a few bits again—and I really had a hard time forcing myself not to just listen to the whole book again (if I had one more day on a Libby book, I probably would’ve indulged myself). I think that says plenty about this book. 

Duncan assembled this particular book very well, there were a lot of moving pieces—and plenty of backstories to bring in—and he managed to keep the reader engaged with all the characters while maintaining the pace and building the tension. I really admired that–in a longer book that might have been easier, actually, but this is a quick listen and to cram as much in as he does is no mean feat (and it never feels crowded, crammed, or rushed). 

There’s a scene that I’ve spent some time thinking about again and again since I listened to this–it’s a pivotal scene toward the end. It could be a scene from a farce—it’s full of mistaken identities, close calls, crazy chains of events, and so on. You add a jaunty, bouncy soundtrack and an exaggerated facial expression or two, and it could be seen as comical. If you ignore the blood, terror, and death, that is. I could see it all very clearly in my mind, and I think Duncan faked me out a little bit (see: mistaken identities). Duncan and Keyser both were spot-on during this scene/sequence and earned a lot of trust from me there. 

I found something to like in all the primary characters, (other than Robert and unnamed persons from the above section), and got invested in the outcomes surrounding them. By the end of the book, I wasn’t actually sure what character(s) the trilogy would follow and could see myself signing on to whatever ones Duncan stuck with. I was pretty sure it’d be Rico—and the title of the third book, Rico Stays gives it away. But that I’d have been open to some others, I think tells you a lot. 

Was this a book that ever really blew me away? I don’t think so—but I was engaged and entertained through it all. It was entirely satisfying (if you ignore the bump with Rico in the beginning, but I got over it). And now that I’ve finished this post, I can get to listen to the rest of the trilogy in short order. Be prepared to sign on to a trilogy if you start this (a quick-moving trilogy, I should stress). 

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this audiobook from the author and Kelsey Butts at Book Publicity Services. Other than giving me something to opine about, this did not influence my opinion which is honestly reflected above. 

The Good Samaritan Strikes Again by Patrick F. McManus

lighthearted slow-paced

3.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 
 

Over half a century of poking around the woods and mountains, I have rescued several dozen wild creatures from life-threatening situations. Almost none ever expressed an iota of gratitude. Instead, they have attempted to bite me, peck me, claw me, scratch me, gore me, even as | rendered them the service. The only one to repay the favor of my rescuing it was a skunk, when I was eight years old, and it spent all of its resources to purchase my freedom from school for a whole week. In my experience, however, that skunk was unique among wild creatures for its kindness and generosity.

 
What’s The Good Samaritan Strikes Again About?
This is a collection of 24 of McManus’s essays, pulled from a variety of sources talking about…well, mostly the things he always talks about—his life, hunting, fishing, and things he finds interesting.

There’s not a recurring theme or anything, I’m guessing this is just a collection of pieces written in the early 1990s (the previous collection was published in ’91, the following in ’94).

McManus’s Humor
I think the best way to describe this humor is gentle. He’s not one for clever wordplay (although he will occasionally indulge), this isn’t biting satire, he’s not as outlandish and goofy as Barry. It felt like Lewis Grizzard at half-volume—I think it’s similar to Garrison Keillor (although I really can’t say) or Tom Bodett.

I can’t imagine you’ll guffaw—or laugh out loud. But you’ll be amused. You’ll smile—maybe even chuckle.

So, what did I think about The Good Samaritan Strikes Again?
I haven’t read McManus since the mid-80s—there were a couple of years where some of his early collections were in heavy rotation amongst my extended family and I sampled a few. Mostly I didn’t get his humor at the time—even then I didn’t relate too much to the hunting and fishing jokes. I understood more of them now, at least—but I don’t know that I found them more amusing now.

I feel like I need to turn in my Idaho Citizen card for saying that kind of thing—McManus and I were born in the same city, we were inculcated with many of the same values, and had the same kind of environment growing up. But our senses of humor didn’t develop along the same lines.

The pieces that had the least to do with outdoors-y topics worked best for me. He touches on aging and worry, there’s a little bit of satire relating to PR, there’s some stuff on coping with stress, recounting his first kiss…the title essay involves trying to help a motorist following an accident. Then there are a lot of things involving camping, hiking, fishing, hunting and the like…most of those had something I found amusing—a paragraph, a clever sentence—many of them were largely entertaining. But that’s for me—and humor is more subjective than most things I talk about here (although everything is pretty subjective here)—so who knows how you’ll react.

When Ford Prefect’s editors were done with his revisions to the entry for Earth in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the entry summing up our planet read “Mostly harmless.” Similarly, I think The Good Samaritan Strikes Again could be summed up as: Mildly amusing.
 
Your results may vary, obviously, but it’s a pleasant way to spend some time—not much more. But honestly, who wouldn’t mind a pleasant couple of hours?
 

Chasing Empty Caskets: A Raunchy Small Town Mystery by E.N. Crane, E.N. Crane

adventurous funny lighthearted mysterious medium-paced

3.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 

What’s Chasing Empty Caskets About? 

So, sure, Cyn (and Winnie) has opened a P.I. business, but is there that much for a Private Eye to do in Sweat Pea, OH? As the book opens (and for some time before that) Cyn is taking on cases involving missing pets, potentially haunted homes, and the like. 

But then a makeup artist at a local mortuary approaches her with a case. The paperwork at her mortuary indicates that there are more bodies there than she can find. This has been going on for a while and she wants Cyn to look into what’s happening to the missing bodies. Rhetta doesn’t want to bring it up to her boss herself and risk losing her job, but something isn’t right. 

Some of this investigation will end up right where the reader assumes—but there’s also plenty going on that you don’t expect until it’s in your face like a proverbial thrown cream pie. 

Meanwhile, Cyn tries to have a love life. She goes on one of the worst dates you’ve read about and stumbles across another crime or two that she needs to look into. But there are some better developments in that area afterward (after you read about the date, you’ll realize what a low bar that is) 

We meet a potential new recurring-character and spend time with plenty of those we met before. 

Take This With Whatever-Sized Portion of Salt You Wish To 

Even if the rest of the book was a dud*, the first chapter was so funny that I’d have been more than happy that I paid for the book. Particularly the first 8 pages, the 243 that follow were just gravy. 

* It was not 

Obviously tastes, especially when it comes to humor, differ, so I can’t promise that everyone will have this reaction. And there might be a bit of hyperbole expressed above. But, I started this book the evening after that surgery I had a couple of months ago, and laughing at those pages hurt me. They also made me chuckle as I re-read them before I wrote this section. 

So, what did I think about Chasing Empty Caskets? 

The important thing to remember is that this is a comedy with a mystery thrown in. Suburban Dicks and the Fox and O’Hare books, for example, are Comedic Mysteries/Thrillers. This is a Crimey-Comedy (there’s probably a better name for that somewhere). 

So, yeah, the mystery parts may not be the clearest at times. Cyn may overlook some pretty obvious clues, and an action scene or two may come across as convoluted. But that’s because they’re there to serve the comedy. This isn’t to say that this isn’t effective as a mystery novel, the “may”s in the opening sentence should be emphasized, but it does come into play. 

The running jokes in this novel are—mercifully—different than the ones in the first Cyn/Winnie novel. Crane isn’t setting us up for a running gag like Stephanie Plum’s car problems (seriously, at this point why does anyone let her drive anything other than that ’53 Buick? Why does she try to?). I enjoyed the cast-gag in Barking for Business more, but these were good enough, and I applaud Crane for going somewhere new. 

There are many other things I’d like to compliment, but I don’t know how to do that without ruining plot points or jokes, so I’m not going to try. Basically, if you want silly, madcap, fun with plenty of canine-involved slapstick, look no further than Chasing Empty Caskets and the Sharp Investigations series. 

First Frost by Craig Johnson

adventurous mysterious tense slow-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

3.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
What’s First Frost About? 

This is a dual-timeline novel—which isn’t altogether new for the Longmire books. In the present time, the shootings that ended The Longmire Defense* are being looked at, and Walt’s possibly facing criminal charges. 

* I don’t think it’s much of a spoiler to say that. Most Longmire books end with one. 

In the other timeline—which gets most of the ink—we watch Walt and Henry try to drive cross-country after graduating college in California so they can report for Basic Training on the East Coast. A road mishap and a bit of bad navigation on Walt’s part result in them getting stuck in a small Arizona town for a few days, where they find some trouble. 

Now 

On the one hand, I get the antagonism that Walt and Vic show toward the proceedings because it’s instinctual to get defensive when someone’s questioning your actions (and, well, Vic’s antagonistic about a lot). But it seems excessive—Walt’s enough of a believer in doing things The Right Way (in contrast to his grandfather or Lucian, for example), that he should be in favor of this exercise. 

That said…it’s clearly motivated by politics and big-money-fueled corruption. So maybe it’s justifiable for them to push back against this. I’m not entirely convinced that the way this stage of the investigation ends is really less corrupt than the way it starts. 

Then 

It’s 1964 and the first thing we see is Walt and Henry surfing one last time before taking off on their drive to Oklahoma for Henry to see some family and then to their respective bases. Everything that happens in California is vintage Johnson and if he’d maintained that quality, I’d have been very happy. 

But once Walt breaks something in their truck when he breaks to avoid a dog in the road (coyote, Henry insists), I think the whole thing goes to pot. Walt thinks something’s hinky in the tiny and sparsely populated town they find themselves in. Rather than just waiting for the truck to get fixed so they can hit the road, he starts asking questions and annoying all the wrong people. 

Meanwhile, Henry plays tourist, checking out the abandoned Japanese Internment Camp nearby (which, of course, ends up playing a role in what Walt’s stirring up) and flirting with a local young woman. 

It’s not long before people are starting to end up dead and Walt’s life becomes endangered. 

So, what did I think about First Frost? 

If I think about this as Johnson’s tribute to Route 66 (and, boy howdy, was it one) and a way for him to talk about Japanese Internment Camps, I like this more. If I think about this as a Longmire novel, my regard diminishes. I do frequently enjoy Johnson multitasking—talking about Van Gogh’s murder, the Sturgis rally, Native American Women going missing, and so on, while telling a Longmire story—so that’s not it. I just don’t think the stories were executed as well as Johnson usually does. 

Both stories wrapped up too easily—a little too _____ ex machina (I can’t tell you what non-deus entities were involved). At the same time, the 1964 story took a little too long to come to its resolution. I’m not sure how that’s not contradictory, but it’s not (at least in my mind). 

I believe the major function of the present storyline was to set-up a future novel or two (see also: the first time Walt and Henry watched Lolo Long’s niece, Jayla, play basketball)—so I could come around to appreciate what Johnson was doing here. But what we saw in First Frost left me wanting. 

The 1964 story ultimately suffered from what a lot of prequels do—it’s hard to believe that the Walt and Henry who just finished college act so much like Walt and Henry with their respective military trainings and decades of experience do. I had no problem when we looked at Walt as an MP (in whatever book that was), I think Johnson got it right there, ditto for rookie Walt in The Western Star. 

I’m actually not entirely wild about the portrayal of the Cheyenne Nation in the 1964 Story, actually. Almost all of it seemed off—but I think it’s a good thing, it shows that life, experience, and maturation changed Henry. 

Obviously, time and re-reads/listens might change what I think about it, but on the whole, this one gets a “not bad” from me. I am curious about the stories I think were set up and think we could be in for some fun there (and a potentially good way to get Walt out of Absaroka County to keep the body count from rising). 

Long-time fans will find enough to satisfy them, people curious about the series should start elsewhere. 

Robert B. Parker's Hot Property by Mike Lupica

adventurous emotional mysterious tense 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? No

4.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 

She closed her eyes again and was still, and I was afraid she’d gone back to sleep. Three tough guys in here with her, as tough as she had ever known, but she had always considered herself to be as tough as we were, even making her way in a mostly man’s world. But now she had found out what all of us found out eventually, that tough was always the one with the gun.

 
What’s Hot Property About?
Rita Fiore is shot while walking to the gym. It’s serious—no one knows if she’ll make it. Spenser, Hawk, Frank Belson, and Martin Quirk assemble at the hospital to wait for word and begin plotting how they’ll find those responsible.

Quirk and Belson will oversee the official investigation, and Spenser will take on the one that they all anticipate will get results. Hawk will be waiting in the wings for when he’s needed.

There are plenty of people who’d be interested in hurting Rita, sadly—a few dissatisfied clients, and many people that she faced off against in court and who came away hurting. Spenser starts there and then starts looking into her personal life, too.

Both of these angles end up revealing more than Spenser expected. Then someone dies—and Rita’s health remains uncertain. While she and the doctors do what they can to keep her going, Spenser, Hawk, and others will have to make sure she’ll be safe outside the hospital.

Honest Question
Do we know that Quirk and Belson are friends with Rita? I don’t remember them interacting in the books before—but we’re on 52 now, it’d be easy to forget. When she was a Norfolk County D.A., she probably didn’t interact with them much (if at all). And I don’t see how a litigator—particularly a defense lawyer—for the kind of firm she works for has a tendency to befriend Homicide detectives (or vice versa).

Lupica clearly knows his Parker lore, so I should assume that he’s right to portray things this way. But I just don’t remember it, and I can’t see why they would befriend her.

I do like the way this all played out, so I’m not complaining, either. It’s just pointing to a lacuna in my memory and it bugs me.

Susan

Susan always said that the problem with a good idea was that once it got inside your head, it was almost impossible to get it out.

I thought I might have one now.

One in a row.

 
I thought this was a decent usage of Susan throughout this book—she does a little more than just serve as an excuse for a plot recap and some banter (which even Atkins slipped into, although never as much as Parker did toward the end).
 
I was disappointed in her early reaction to Rita’s situation—but I should’ve trusted that Lupica wouldn’t leave her as petty (but not insensitive).
 
Lupica’s Style

“You’re a pretty funny guy,’ he said.

“Yeah,” I said, “but I’m trying to quit.”

 
Some of the humor lines felt a bit forced, but they still worked. It frequently felt like Spenser was trying to hone his crowd-work before his next stand-up gig, rather than just an inveterate smart-ass.
 
But that does bring up Lupica’s style as a whole. I’ve seen some people online (and in the comment section here) talk about how he doesn’t match Parker’s (or Atkins’) style. I think this is a good thing—I think he seemed to shoot for Parker’s voice with his Sunny and Stone novels, but here he’s not trying (or he’s doing a really bad job of it, probably the former). I don’t remember the voice in his Spenser debut, Broken Trust.

Instead of trying to mimic, he’s taking the path that Reed Farrel Coleman chose for his Jesse Stone books—he used his own while staying true (more or less) to the characters. Spenser and Hawk banter, Susan and Rita exchange suggestive dialogue with Spenser, Tony Marcus is obnoxious and code switches his diction on a whim, and so on.

Obviously, some people are going to prefer one take over another—I can actually argue both ways (and I think if you look back at what I’ve said about all the post-Parker writers you’ll see me doing that). But for now, I like what Lupica’s doing.

This is where I invite Robert Germaux to demur in the comment section (or in a Guest Post if he has a lot to get off of his chest). 🙂

So, what did I think about Hot Property?

“The dogs bark,” I said, “and the caravan moves on.”

Walsh raised an eyebrow. When I tried to do that, Susan said it looked as if ‘d developed a twitch.

“First Tennyson with you, and now Arab proverbs,” he said. “Are you absolutely certain you’re a private detective?”

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked myself that exact same question lately,” I said.

 
While I’m not completely sold on all aspects of this book, I do think it was an improvement over Lupica’s first Spenser novel (and I considered that his strongest Parker-verse work!).

It was an interesting choice to go diving into Rita’s personal life—as well as seeing some of her legal work that didn’t require a certain P.I. to help. It was a look into Rita that we’d never really got before. I don’t know that her creator would’ve made all the same choices with her but the current torch-carrier did right by the character (and Christopher Farnsworth followed up on this well, but that’s for another day).

Lupica had all the requisite twists and turns to keep the reader guessing, the pacing just right, and there were some real sweet moments (and some not so sweet) between characters in ways we don’t typically get to see.

It’s gotta be hard to find new ways to satisfy readers in the 52nd book in a series, without just pumping out replicas of earlier books—but Lupica has done that here, and I’m looking forward to seeing what he brings us later this year.

For readers used to this series or those who are looking for a new one to try, this Hot Property is worth your time and attention—you’ll be glad you gave it a shot.