theirresponsiblereader's reviews
567 reviews

We Solve Murders by Richard Osman

adventurous emotional funny lighthearted mysterious reflective 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? Yes

4.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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“If someone does try to shoot me this week, do you have to dive in front of the bullet?”

“That’s the idea,” says Amy, without conviction. “Though that’s mainly in films.”

It’s hard to dive in front of a bullet, in Amy’s experience. They go very fast indeed.

 
Some Preliminary Thoughts
While I’m always (or almost always) happy for authors to branch out in new directions, to see if they can do something they haven’t before, I’m frequently trepidatious about actually following them. Particularly if all I know is series X and they’re trying something new.

There are authors I’ve come to later in their careers, where they’ve already tried a few things, or authors whose first handful of projects are so different from one another that you know that’s what you’re going to get—something new.

But when you (as a writer, anyway) are known for a series of cozy-adjacent mysteries featuring octogenarians set in one community, step away to try something featuring someone far younger, and with more action and a lot of globe-trotting, you can understand why some readers wouldn’t be sure about stepping out with you. I think it’s fair.

The prologue (which wasn’t called that, probably just so people wouldn’t skip it) was pretty good, and caught my attention. The first chapter was strong, and I enjoyed it. 1.5 pages into chapter two, and I was more than ready to sign on for the rest of the book and was officially okay with Osman taking a break from the Thursday Murder Club (I imagine he’s greatly relieved to hear that).

Steve Wheeler
Probably longer ago than I want to admit, Ken Levine had a great bit on his blog about Sorkin always having a Danny in his shows (I’m sure he wasn’t alone in this observation, but I only remember his). I wonder if Osman needs a Steve in the same way. It doesn’t matter at all. That’s just a thought that struck me partway through, and I can’t shake it off.

So, what’s the deal with this Steve? He’s a retired detective, and it seems like he was a pretty good one before he settled down in a small community with his wife to enjoy that retirement. His wife pushed him into starting a PI agency, “Steve Investigates.” He does small jobs—the occasional marital observance, finding lost pets, seeing who’s messing with trash bins—that sort of thing.

He kept up the agency after his wife’s death, and does a quick patrol of the town twice a day on his way to sit on her favorite bench to enjoy the view and talk to her. Then it’s off to the pub to talk to some friends before going home to watch TV and pet his cat.

He speaks to his son rarely since his wife’s death, but speaks to his daughter-in-law frequently, almost daily.

Amy Wheeler
Amy is that daughter-in-law. She works in close protection and security. She globe-trots to do so, but tries to call Steve daily (unless she’s prevented by work or immanent danger). She’s very much Charlie Fox, with a sense of humor—and a different kind of trauma growing up.

She’s good at what she does, she takes it very seriously. She’s traveling the world and enjoying it—and lives for the adrenaline.

Rosie D’Antonio
Rosie is…a lot. That’s her in a nutshell, really. She’s Amy’s current client, as the book opens. She’s a world-famous author, from a time when that would make someone very rich—and she’s enjoying a career resurgence. She’s the best-selling author in the world, actually—if you don’t count Lee Child.

She’s wealthy, she’s of an uncertain age (and likes it like that), with a lust for life (and men).

She recently erred when she based a character off a certain Russian oligarch and did a very poor job of disguising it—so he’s put a price on her head. Which is where she and Amy got together.

What’s We Solve Murders About Then?
Three clients of Amy’s agency have recently been murdered in similar, ghastly ways. These influencers have little in common (at least on the surface) other than that. One of those murders happens close enough to where Amy and Rosie are staying that Amy goes to investigate (and brings Rosie along to keep her safe until she can arrange for something else).

Things start getting dangerous then—shots are fired, more dead bodies appear, and it’s clear that Amy is the next target on the list. Rosie’s having a blast with this—as long as no one’s firing at her, anyway. But Amy is going to need help from someone she trusts who also has experience in solving murders. So she essentially forces Steve to come and help.

More shots are fired and other attempts are being made at killing Amy. Flights to all over the world are taken in quick succession. Secrets are uncovered. Rosie flirts with many men. And an appreciation of Van Halen comes in far handier than anyone would expect.*

* Words would fail me if I tried to express how much the Van Halen material made me smile.

The Tone/Approach
I hate to dwell on the comparisons between this and his other books, but it seems like something I should talk about. First, this is told in a series of close-third person narratives from multiple perspectives. There’s no first person anywhere, and everything is told in the same typeface. That’s notable (if you ask me, anyway.)

Second, this is more overtly comedic. Clearly, TMC is full of humor, but it’s more of the gentle character-based humor. This is full of funny moments, situations, and lines that are clearly meant to get a laugh or a grin. In my notes I called it jokey, but I’m not sure it goes that far (too often, anyway). I’d compare it to Evanovich/Goldberg’s Fox and O’Hare books, Goldberg’s Ian Ludlow books (but more restrained), or Duncan MacMaster’s mysteries. (all of which are compliments, I want to stress)

But Osman is still Osman and there are plenty of earnest, heart-string-tugging moments, too. Particularly with Steven—talking about his dead wife or even considering his lifestyle and what has led him to his very self-contained life. Amy isn’t that reflective of a character (if anything, she avoids it with action), so we don’t get much of that with her—although the way she avoids thinking gets us to a similar point with her.

So, what did I think about We Solve Murders?
Did my appreciation of the book vary much from the verdict I made in Chapter Two? Well, I ended up liking the novel more than I did back there. Does that count?
 
This was just so much fun—while I had my reservations and questions before starting, I also had high hopes. The end result was better than those.
 
Osman can do an action scene pretty well—and keep the comedy going. We don’t have anything particularly drawn out here, but there are bursts. And his ability to create a story with strong momentum and great twists is well-documented.
 
More importantly—Osman’s gift for characters really shines here. The supporting characters—criminals, witnesses, people the protagonists happen to encounter (whether for a handful of paragraphs or for several chapters), are just golden. To describe the best of them would be to deprive you of your chance to meet them. Once it was clear that Rosie wasn’t just going to be someone we met to establish Amy as a bodyguard, I wondered a little bit about her tagging along. But it didn’t take me too long to fully embrace the character, and now I’m looking forward to seeing her in the future.
 
I’m not sure that I should’ve made the comparison to Charlie Fox above—you really can think of this as a Charlie Fox book with laughs and be pretty dead on. Others might disagree, but I’ve had the comparison stuck in my head for a couple of hours now and can’t shake it.
 
I’m not 100% sure the final solution was honest, it felt a little like he cheated to get [redacted] to figure out that the Big Bad was [redacted]. The Big Bad’s accomplice, however, was obvious for longer than it should’ve been to get the characters to suss them out. So, on average, he did okay there. The red herrings were great, and made up for whatever issues I might have had with the solution (but really, give us one more chapter where [redacted] goes over the clues again in their mind or something—actually, just a paragraph before they say “I know who Big Bad is.”)
 
This was just so good, really. At this point, it’s not quite as good as Osman’s other work—primarily because nothing had the emotional weight that the gang at Cooper’s Chase (which is close enough to Steve’s home to provide hope of the characters brushing up against each other) seems to find in their adventures. But the potential is there for this series to equal it. And, really, considering the tone of this one, that kind of punch might have felt out of place or contrived.
 
Either way, I strongly recommend this to Osman’s readers or people who’ve never heard of the man/his books. You will have fun, and you will want more. I guarantee that for 99% of you.
 

The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson

adventurous dark emotional mysterious reflective tense medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• 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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REASONS I HAVE DIED: 

The emperor of the wasteland wanted to make an example of my mother, and started with me. 

One of my mother’s boyfriends wanted to cover up what he did to me.

I was born addicted and my lungs didn’t develop.

I was born addicted and my brain didn’t develop. 

I was left alone, and a stranger came along. 

The runners came for a neighbor, and I was in the way. 

The runners came for my mother, and I was in the way. 

The runners came for my mother’s boyfriend, and I was in the way. 

The runners came for no one, serving nothing at all but chaos and fear, and I was what they found. 

Sometimes, I was just forgotten in the shed where she kept me while she worked or spun out, and in the length of her high and the heat of the sun I fell asleep alone and hungry and forever. 

REASONS I HAVE LIVED: 

I don’t know, but there are eight. 

(that’s how you end a first chapter!)

A Quick Word
I read this to take part in Shared Stories Bookstore’s Sci-Fi Book Club—I’ve never been to a Book Club before, I’m looking forward to doing so again. But that’s not what I’m going to talk about here—but I need to say that some of what I’m going to say about this book has either been shaped/informed by or directly stolen from someone at that meeting. I won’t share their names, because I didn’t get permission, but I wanted it out there that the smarter things I say here comes from them.

What’s The Space Between Worlds About?
This is tricky for a few reasons, some of which I really can’t get into. In a sense there are four stories* in this book and each resolves (pretty much) before the next launches. So obviously, I can’t get into the latter stories. But the first one or two I can sketch out a little bit…

* This is stolen from our discussion leader.

In a pretty distant future world—following some sort of environmental collapse (and maybe some military-induced collapse, but mostly environmental) the world is covered in city-states (that’s actually a guess, we know almost nothing about the rest of the world). There’s a city called Wiley City—which is pretty much everything you think of when you think of a futuristic city—shiny buildings, cool tech, and whatnot. Outside the City is another settlement, called Ashtown. Ashtown is where the poor, the unwanted, the criminal classes live. There are also people who live outside Ashtown and in (or at least spend time in), called Ruralites—who are a strictly religious group and it seems most of the people of Ashtown are (at least nominally) dependent upon their efforts.

Travel between parallel universes is now possible. Maybe for just the residents of one Earth, anyway. The catch is, you cannot travel to a universe in which you exist—and it doesn’t go well for the person entering a world they exist in. This makes the ideal candidate someone on the fringes of society—those who are most likely to live a dangerous life or a life with inadequate resources, so they might die early from natural causes. The more realities that you’re dead in, the more you can travel on behalf of the corporate entity that runs the multiverse technology.

Enter Cara, a resident of Ashtown, who is dead on 372 of the worlds that humans can travel to. She’s largely keeping her head down, just trying to make it through the next few years without losing her job—which will result in her being removed from Wiley City—if she can last long enough, she’ll become a citizen and she can then relax a little. She cuts loose a little in the worlds she visits, but lives a pretty careful life on “Earth Zero.”

She receives word that she’s been assigned to a new world—yet one more version of her has died. When she gets there, things start to go wrong and she really can’t complete her mission. She can, however, by her mere presence, act as a catalyst for some big changes in the leadership of that world’s Ashtown and Wiley City. This will end up having some ramifications on Earth Zero—and maybe elsewhere, too.

The Technology/Its Depiction
This is one of those books that’s filled with all sorts of cool sci-fi technology—especially the traveling between universes, but it’s not limited to that. And Johnson gives us no Asimov-esque explanations for it. Zip. Zilch. Nada. I’ve already given you almost all of the details you’re going to get about the science behind the travel between universes.

And yet, it works. I’d hoped for a little more detail, but I wasn’t bothered by its lack. In fact, I cared so much about Cara and what she was doing—and the people she was surrounded by in the various Earths she went to, I didn’t stop to think about the tech. And when I did…it didn’t matter, really.

It’s there, it does what it’s intended to do. That’s all you need to know.

Spirituality/Religion
We get more of this, really, than the science behind the traveling and other tools they have in Wiley City.

The Ruralites have a hybrid religion with features of Christianity (that’s obvious) and Buddhism (I needed someone to help me see that) and some other things accumulated over the centuries. It’s pretty strict and regimented—but there’s grace and mercy, too.

There’s a burial scene—including a good part of the rituals used. It’s very detailed and tells you as much about the religion as it does the people taking part in it. It is so well done, that you almost want to see more people killed so Johnson will describe it again.*

* Sure, you can just re-read that part. But if she writes it again, she might include new details.

There’s also a superstition—if it’s not a full-blown mini-religion—that has developed among those who travel between worlds. It’s not endorsed by, or encouraged by, the company—but it’s pervasive and has a hold on those travelers. They will tell you there’s a presence, a person of some sort, governing the travel. Someone they can feel and sense between the worlds.

Our culture currently likes to pit science vs. religion/spirituality/whatever. There is no such division for Cara and most (if not all) of the people she knows. They exist side-by-side, informing actions and morality each in their own way.

This is such a good idea for Johnson to introduce and her execution of it—and explanation of both sets of beliefs are just great. We don’t get a creed or even a full idea about the religious tenants of the Ruralites—but we see enough to believe that such a creed exists.

So, what did I think about The Space Between Worlds?
In short, this is really just a stunning book. The back of the book promises “surprise twists” and yeah, there are some, but the book is about more than a twist or five, as skillfully as Johnson executes them. As someone at the book club said, you think the main story is about to wrap up but there’s a whole bunch of more pages to left. None of the storylines feel rushed nor do they feel stretched out. There’s one mini-arc you might want more time in, but that’s just because it’s so pleasant (and given the rest of the book, pleasant is nice).

Cara is a wonderfully complex character. When we meet her, she seems fully realized—like one of those characters that’s going to remain largely the same person at the end of the novel as she was at the beginning. But that’s not it at all—she goes through a great period of personal growth, of changing the way she sees the world and people in it. Her motivations behind her choices on Earth Zero get pushed to the limit, and she is going to be faced with some major changes in that reality (as well as others).

I don’t want to overlook the other characters…at least some versions of them. There are some truly despicable characters (one’s despicable on every world we see him on, one is despicable—vile actually—on most worlds—which makes it hard on the other to accept him (for Cara and the reader)). There’s an evil mastermind who is pretty chilling. There’s some criminal types who show more honor than anyone else in the book. There are some characters that are likable, admirable, and even loveable (depending on the world). It’s a rich, rich world full of wonderful people (that you meet several versions of).

I need to talk about the prose, and yet I don’t know how to adequately express how much I was blown away by it. You could almost open up to any random page and find something worthy of quoting, of meditating on, or marinating in. Johnson has this ability to take a benign, everyday, or plain sentence and turn on a dime and make it bleak, gutting, or even hopeful (that’s the less-popular option.) Cara does have some grit to her, she is a wiseacre. The book isn’t a doom and gloom, I frequently smiled. But her world is a harsh one, particularly outside the walls of Wiley City, and Johnson’s language reflects that.

Apparently, there’s a sequel. It didn’t feel like the first in a series—and can absolutely be read as a stand-alone. This is one of the best written books I’ve read this year—and the story is really compelling. With twists you won’t be able to guess most things that happen over the course of the novel. It’s a very SF novel, but it’s also the kind of SF that people who aren’t super-into SF can get into (like one person at the book club). I’m at the point where I’m just running in circles—so I’ll shut up, you go get the book. Deal?
 

Nobody's Hero by M.W. Craven

adventurous dark funny mysterious 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

4.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Nobody’s Hero About? 

A decade ago, Ben Koenig helped a woman disappear—and to do so in a way that even he (who knew more than anyone else in the world about it) wouldn’t be able to track her. But now, she’s surfaced—as someone responsible for a couple of brazen murders on the streets of London. He and his watcher/minder/handler Jen Draper are tasked with finding her and finding out what made her come into the open. 

It takes all of their creative approaches to investigating—and Draper’s security firm’s extensive resources—plus a little luck to get on the path. But will they survive it? 

Standing in their was is a team of assassins, criminal police officers, smugglers of various stripes, petty criminals—and bigger ones—and schemes that are truly chilling. Their strengths? The aforementioned creativity and extensive resources, some assistance from a certain Agency, their shared drive, Koenig’s lack of fear, his strange humor and odd trivia. 

Obviously, the bad guys are in for trouble. 

A Daring Move 

Far too often when someone/some group in a novel has a completely innovative, genius, unbelievably original idea, it really isn’t. At best they’re usually clever, but nowhere near as mind-blowing as characters act. Too often, I think authors would be better off alluding to a plan without giving us all the details, and readers have to suspend disbelief to keep going. 

For a while, I was worried that Craven had bitten off more than he could chew in revealing all that he did—when it was all shadows, I was really invested. But as the book progressed and we got more and more details about the scheme afoot, the more I realized that this was one of those exceptions that proved the rule. There’s some really ingenious stuff going on here. 

I should’ve trusted the mind that brought us The Botanist (as only one example). 

Can I promise that every reader is going to have their mind boggled by this? No. But even the cynics or the people who suss it out before the reveal are going to admit that this is atypically clever, and you can absolutely understand why Koenig and Draper have such difficulty with this—and are willing to risk so much to stop it. 

The Title 

I’m not going to get into it now, but I can imagine that more than one book club is going to spend some fun time speculating about/arguing over who the title is referring to. 

I mean, I’ve spent some time speculating about it and arguing with myself over the identity. I figure Craven has multiple characters in mind, actually, rather than just one. But I’m prepared to be wrong about that. 

Caveat Lector, or, the Fight Scenes 

If you’re like me, and decided at one point or another to not have a meal while watching Bones, at least until the (first) body is taken back to the Lab (the CSIs may have driven viewers to a similar choice), you’re going to want to take a similar approach to the fight scenes in this book. That’s actually an excess of caution, you’re really only going to need it for some. But better be safe than sorry—really. 

Now, once you put the meatball sub aside, these fight scenes are really well-written. I think they’re better than those in Fearless. Craven brings the goods in the technical sense/ability to depict things clearly, the impact on the plot, and the overall entertainment value. 

So, what did I think about Nobody’s Hero? 

This is really one of those books best discussed among people who’ve read it—most of the glowing things I want to say would reveal too much—and you don’t have to read too much of Craven’s work to know it’d be a bad idea to cross him. So what can I say? 

Let’s start with this—between Fearless and Nobody’s Hero I read a couple of thrillers with a one-man Army in the Reacher/Koenig/Ash/Ryan/Orphan X etc. mold that soured me on the whole thing, so I started this with a little trepidation. Also, I didn’t know how he’d follow up Fearless and feared a little sophomore slump. It took me very little time to cast all that aside and just have a blast with this—I’m back to my appreciation of the genre, and I don’t know if Craven has the word “slump” in his vocabulary. 

Ben Koenig is one of those characters that I hope to spend a lot of time with, there’s just something about him that I really like. It was good to see Jen Draper in action and to see the shift in the relationship between these two from where it was in Fearless and the beginning of this book to the end. They’re a good team. 

I don’t know where to put this, but I need to say that between what we see in Nobody’s Hero and some of the Poe series, I really have to wonder what kind of drinking establishments Craven frequents (or I hope, for his sake, used to frequent). 

One of the assassins has a…let’s put it generously and vaguely…a quirk. It feels like the kind of thing that Craven stumbled upon at some point in the last 15 years and said, “I need to put this in a book some day.” I’m very glad it did—I’m not convinced that a hitman could become a success with that quirk, really. But Craven uses it so well, that I’m not going to complain. I really enjoyed the way it paid off. 

We didn’t get a monologue at the end by an evil mastermind, which still happens even after being made a cliché decades ago—it wasn’t necessary, and what we got instead was so entertaining. It was truly a great change from what was expected. 

I don’t know that we need that last reveal—nor does the series—but, I look forward to Craven coming back to it in the future (however far away that future may or may not be). 

Action, snark, and some really great twists. There’s a momentum to this that builds and builds and builds as the tension ratchets up in a way that shows you’re in the hands of a Thriller Master. Sure, every decent thriller has that characteristic. But anyone who’s read a couple of thrillers knows the difference between standard-issue momentum and tension and something special. This is the latter, and it ain’t even close. 

Do you need to read Fearless before this? No. Will it help a little? Not much, but yes. The important thing is that you read both of them. You won’t want to put it down once you pick it up. 

Long live Ben Koenig.
 

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Flatiron Books via NetGalley in exchange for this post—thanks to both for this. 

King Arthur & the Ladies of the Lake by Vincent Pompetti

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

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s King Arthur & The Ladies of The Lake About? 

This is a telling of the Arthur legend with a focus on the women in his life—his mother, sisters, Guinevere, the Lady of the Lake, and so on. 

It’s also a telling of the clash between (a) Celtic religion and Christianity, with Arthur trying to maintain an atmosphere that allows both to coexist. I think the version of Celtic theology reeks of anachronistic thinking, and the “new” religion also feels a little off. But it works for this telling. It’s not just about religion—but about the way it works out in the lives and attitudes of Arthur’s people. 

It’s really hard to say more than that—it’s Arthur from infancy through the end of his life, the growth of his reputation and kingdom, the controversies and losses. 

A Word About the Art 

So I really dig the watercolor art—it works well with the subject and the feel that Pompetti’s going for with the storytelling. There’s a dreamy quality to it that matches the storytelling, the magic and the visions that drive Arthur. I don’t know if that’s just how Pompetti works, or if he chose that deliberately for this story. Either way, it’s a win. 

Yeah, there’s part of me that would appreciate a good inker and some more standard art and coloring. I think that’s primarily because that’s what I was raised with and am used to. But it just wouldn’t work as well for this work. 
 

So, what did I think about King Arthur & The Ladies of The Lake? 

I tipped my hand earlier when I talked about the clash of cultures driven by religion. Whoops (in my defense, I was trying to stretch that section beyond a couple of lines). While I didn’t appreciate the historical depictions, I did think it worked for a Fantasy tale. 

In Pompetti’s telling there’s a feeling of groundedness to some of the standard elements of Arthurian legend—Excalibur, Guinevere’s affair, and so on. Yet, he didn’t remove magic and supernatural elements (I did wonder if that was the direction he was going for a moment)—it’s just not entirely the way we’re used to it with this story. 

Like most people, I’m game for a good Arthurian retelling—and this is a pretty good one. I think the medium hurt it a little. 113 pages works for graphic novels, but it’s hard to squeeze in a lot of depth into those pages—particularly when the art looks like his does—the pictures are larger than they’d be with other artists, so the story details have to be lighter. It’s a tradeoff that’s worth it, I wouldn’t want Pompetti’s art to be smaller. 

I enjoyed this on an initial read, and the bits I reread while preparing this post held up pretty well. I think it’s one of those books that I’ll appreciate more on successive re-reads, too. I’d absolutely read more by Pompetti and would encourage you to do the same. 

The Debt Collector by Steven Max Russo

adventurous tense fast-paced

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

4.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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But she was also a little off. You could see it in her eyes. She was crazy. Had an edge to her, hard and sharp. There was an alpha dog, a predator, hiding behind that sweet, pretty smile.

 
What’s The Debt Collector About?
What do a couple of neighborhood drug dealers, some gang members, a bookie, a finance-bro who refuses to pay said bookie, a slightly bent cop, a low-level mobster, and miscellaneous henchman have in common?

Abigail Barnes. A debt collector who just wants a job.

Now Abby isn’t the kind of debt collector who calls you at inconvenient times of day and harasses you about outstanding medical debt, or whatever. She collects for people who can’t go through services like that. People like the aforementioned bookie. Or other drug dealers. Loan sharks. And other people who could collectively be called “criminals.”
 
She doesn’t look like your typical tough guy, however. The man who introduces her (in one way or another) to the above, Hector, describes her thusly the first time he sees her (while sober, but that’s another story):
 

He opened the door and saw a very attractive young blond woman standing there. She was a white girl, with very white skin; piercing, electric blue eyes, and a sort of round face framed by shoulder-length hair that added to her youthful appearance. She was average height for a girl with a well-rounded, curvy body that looked more solid than it did plump. She had on a white blouse that matched her very white teeth and blue jeans with black cowboy boots. She was carrying a six-pack of beer in one hand. In the other was his Maverick 88 pump action shotgun, angled upward and pointed directly at him at just about crotch height.

 
But as Hector will learn shortly after this—and just about everyone else she comes into contact with does, too—appearances are deceiving when it comes to Abby.
 
She’s got some training. She’s smart, too—she knows her limitations, and what people expect from someone who looks like her—and she combines those three attributes in ways that pretty much mean that she always comes out on top. At least regularly enough that she can earn money and stay off the radar of the authorities. But sometimes, things do get hot enough that she has to relocate and start over.
 
This is what she’s trying to do when she encounters Hector for the first time (and he’s nowhere near sober)—in one of those scenes that you can’t help but see play out like a movie as you read. It’s a great opening to the book, and then once Hector starts introducing Abby, we’re off to the races.
 
I Don’t Think I Want a Steady Diet of This, but…
Near the halfway point, there’s a pretty good fight scene between Abby and some people who have come to collect her—some of the henchmen I mentioned earlier. And, well, it doesn’t go well for them. This is a common theme in this book. And frankly, given the kind of novel this is—it’s not altogether unexpected.

But Russo does something cool here—he rewinds things a bit after the fight, and then we get to see the fight from the other point of view. It still doesn’t go well for the henchmen—but the change of perspective helps you see everything that happened in a fuller way, and better appreciate Abby.

I wrote in my notes, “that’s pretty cool, but I wouldn’t want to see that all the time.” If every time Peter Ash, Charlie Fox, or Ben Koenig got into a fight with someone we saw it from two angles, it’d get tiring (and would slow down their novels). But as a sometimes-treat? I’d love to see this kind of thing more often.

Particularly if the author did it as well as Russo did.

So, what did I think about The Debt Collector?
I had a blast with this novel—it’s one of those that in a world where I didn’t have work the next day, a family that I should pay attention to, or a blog to maintain, I’d have tackled in a single reading. I distinctly remember sitting down to dip my toe in the water one night, and maybe read 10 percent or so of the book. I got to 28% without noticing—and had to force myself to put the book down.
 
It just moved so smoothly—the first scene gets you hooked, and by the end of the first chapter, you’re invested in Hector and Abby (more the latter than the former, but he has his charm). And it keeps getting better and better from there.
 
I used the word “smoothly” above—and that’s the only word that comes to mind as I try to describe this experience. It feels effortless the way that the novel keeps you turning page after page after page—a sure sign that it took plenty of effort. There’s a little humor, Abby’s got a fresh-feeling perspective that you want to see more of. And the action? Really, really well delivered by Russo. You may think you have a general idea of how things are going to go early on (and you are likely right), but the way he reveals the plot and takes you through the fight scenes and the movement of the plot will have you not caring about your own theories when you can just keep turning the pages.
 
I thought the second half of the last chapter, in particular, was a tasty little cherry on top of the sundae. We really didn’t need it—but I tell you, I’m glad we got it. (The Epilogue is another thing we didn’t need—and the novel would’ve been completely fine without it—but it made me smile).
 
This was just a pleasure—and makes me really hope we don’t have to wait another five years for Russo’s next novel.
 

Hermit of Paradise by Kim Sanders

adventurous tense slow-paced

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

1.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Hermit of Paradise About? 

This starts with an old friend, Sunny, asking Aubey to find her some justice for an old crime. 

Then we flashback a little bit to watch Aubey’s last days on the Dallas Police as a detective before his retirement. 

Then we flashback to Aubey’s childhood days, living in his family’s home on a lake where he spends summers reading, fishing, and getting into antics with some older men and some children the same age. Free-range parenting at its best, and despite hanging out with criminals, Aubey seems like a well-adjusted kid in love with nature. The fateful summer in consideration, however, brings him into contact with a couple of peers who will change his life—including the aforementioned Sunny. 

Something traumatic happens at the end of a beautiful summer—something that will haunt Aubey and his friends for the rest of their lives. 

We then flash-forward to his retirement, Sunny asking for justice (with more context), and Aubey’s efforts to get that for her. 

That’s the barebones of the plot, anyway. I gave a richer (and provided by the author/publisher) description on my Spotlight yesterday. 

I’m Going to be Frank with You 

(I’m always honest when it comes to my opinion on books, as far as I know, but occasionally I’ll pull a punch) 

Under any other circumstances, this would’ve been a DNF for me. The pacing was off; the book spent far, far, far too long in the childhood section compared to the retired adult section; given what Aubey knew about the crime, too much of what we know about the people/area/history comes from inelegant info-dumping; what he did in the retirement section to investigate it made no sense—other than to make more opportunities for info-dumping….and I don’t want to beat up on things. 

I could go on for paragraphs on how bad the dialogue was—I really want to rant about it (actually, ask anyone who lives in my house and they’ll tell you what I think of it). But let me just tell you this much: there are several conversations between two people where each part of the exchange contains the other persons name in the first sentence. 

Allow me to illustrate from a well-known scene (with apologies to Mr. Tarantino): 

Vincent asks, “And, Jules, you know what they call a… a… a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?”
 “Vincent, they don’t call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?” Jules asks, surprised.
 “No man, they got the metric system. Jules, they wouldn’t know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.” Vincent laughs and shakes his head.
 “Then, Vincent, what do they call it?” Jules raises his voice.
 “Jules, they call it a Royale with cheese.” Vincent replies, stretching out “Royale.”
 “A Royale with cheese. Vincent, what do they call a Big Mac?” Jules wonders, chuckling.
 Vincent shrugs a little, “Well, Jules, a Big Mac’s a Big Mac, but they call it le Big-Mac.”
 “Le Big-Mac, Vincent.” He practices “Ha ha ha ha. Vincent, what do they call a Whopper?”
 “I dunno, Jules, I didn’t go into Burger King.”

 
Except every sentence should be longer—if not a small paragraph—overflowing with exposition and nowhere near as interesting. If I had a hard copy, I’d have thrown it across the room the second time I encountered this (I could let it go once). But I wasn’t about to throw my phone or e-Reader, as nice as it would’ve felt.
 
So, what did I think about Hermit of Paradise?
The childhood flashbacks made me think of someone trying to go for a Scout, Jem, and Dill feel. Or something out of a William Kent Krueger novel. It even kind of reminded me of A Snake in the Raspberry Patch by Joanne Jackson or something of a Tiffany McDaniel-talks-about-young-people feel. But Sanders isn’t in their league (yet?).
 
Sanders swung for the fences in every chapter—more than once in every chapter. I think there’s a decent (not necessarily good, but at least decent) novel hidden here. But Sanders needs a few more drafts and a skilled editor to bring that out.
 
If I was talking about intentions, desires, and aims here—I’d have a lot of good to say. But I’m not—I’m talking about the characters, writing, and novel—so I can’t say a lot of good.
 
I do think the characters (most of them, anyway) were promising—too many of the minor characters were interchangeable enough that we didn’t need them all. Again, a little more refining and editing would’ve helped a lot there.
 

The World According to Cunk by Philomena Cunk

funny lighthearted medium-paced

4.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 

This Was Harder to Write than I Expected 

There was a part of me that wanted to just do a light edit of my post about Cunk on Everything: The Encyclopedia Philomena and call it good. But that seemed like cheating. But there are giant parts of it that would work. 

Still, I’m borrowing a little here and there from it, just so I don’t have to re-invent the wheel. I apologize in advance if you don’t appreciate that. Also, let this section serve as an all-purpose footnote so no one accuses me of plagiarism. 

What’s The World According to Cunk About? 

It’s a history of the world, as much of one as Cunk can fit into 50,000 words with minimal research, anyway. The point is to get it out in time for the holiday season—targeted toward the UK and the US, so it’ll predominantly be about the history of that/those cultures, while remaining the sort of history book that recognizes that things happen in parts of the world that aren’t dominated by Western Culture. 

Also, we’re told, that she’s taking the innovative approach to history and will be writing chronologically, not alphabetically or by some other standard. Whodathunk it? History in order. I tell you, what this Philomena Cunk is a gutsy maverick. 

If you’ve watched YouTube videos, Instagram reels, or any of the other quick ways we share videos online (with or without copyright infringement), or if you’ve seen any of the various series/specials on Netflix or British TV networks that I can’t remember the names of, you know what you’re getting into with Philomena Cunk. If you haven’t, well, that’s trickier. It means you’re a reader or something rare like that—Cunk is a fictional documentarian (or at least the presenter of them). her approach to the documentary specials or the history in this book are a combination of naïveté, misunderstandings (especially in mispronunciation/misspellings), and cynicism. 

Miscellaneous Observations 

Doing a deep dive on this would be difficult for two reasons—I read an ARC, so I don’t want to quote anything (also, it would be very hard to know when to stop. Ask my wife, after you read the end). The second, and primary reason, is that if I talk too much about things, it’ll ruin the jokes for you when you read this (and you really should) 

In lieu of that, here are some miscellaneous observations:

•  Every time Cunk looks at non-English speaking cultures was a win.
•  You’d think that there are only so many jokes you can make about “the Dark Ages” involving the absence of luminescence—and that few of them would be funny. And you’d be wrong on both counts.
•  Best WWI humor since Black Adder Goes Forth. I don’t know that there’s a lot of competition there, but Cunk nailed that material.
•  The technology jokes landed every time.
•  I’m still chuckling at the phrasing for Caesar’s cause of death
•  You are going to hear Diane Morgan’s deadpan delivery in your head whether you read this or get the audiobook. Just know that going in. (you likely assumed it that already, so know that you’re right). 

It Did Falter a Bit 

The last chapter, “The Global Globe” started off strong, but as the history got more and more current, the humor changed. Maybe it’s that Cunk’s particular brand of absurdity requires some distance to really work. However you explain it, this just didn’t work for me. 

Now, was it funny political humor? Satisfying satire? Yes—I truly appreciated almost all of it. It just didn’t feel very Cunk-like. I couldn’t “hear” Diane Morgan’s voice. If it’d been in another book, I’d have really liked the end of this last chapter. But here? It just felt out of place. 

So, what did I think about The World According to Cunk? 

I didn’t see (but maybe overlooked) the writers behind this book listed anywhere—but whoever they were, they deserve a round of applause. Or two. 

I chuckled and laughed out loud a lot while reading this. There’s really not much more to say—that’s what they were going for. 

My wife doesn’t get the appeal of Philomena, I don’t know why, I think it’s undeniable and obvious. So I really annoyed her by reading lines or paragraphs to my daughter while the three of us were in the same room. Sometimes, I had a stockpile of parts my daughter would like from reading when we weren’t in the same room. My kid and I had a lot of fun laughing together at this while my wife just looked at us strangely. I don’t share this to give you more insight into our fun little family dynamic—but to say that at least once (maybe three times, but Mrs. Reader denies this) even she laughed. 

Seriously, up to the end of the last chapter, this was about as fun as you could want. Since I discovered Dave Barry Slept Here decades ago, I’ve been a sucker for history comedy—and The World According to Cunk by Philomena Cunk is a great entry in that category. (you might want to skip most of what happens after 1980).

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Grand Central Publishing via NetGalley in exchange for this post—thanks to both for this. 

A New Lease on Death by Olivia Blacke

adventurous emotional lighthearted 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? Yes

4.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Ruby 

Ruby is a young twentysomething-ish woman*, new to Boston, having moved there following a bad breakup. She’s left the comforts of home and family to start again and prove to herself (and probably her ex) that she can do it on her own. She’s generally optimistic, talks to herself, is a bit overwhelmed with everything but she still has a cheerful personality—which is reflected in everything from the way she dresses to the way she looks at life. Despite Winter in Boston, which really isn’t treating her well, that is. 

* Just before scheduling this post, I remembered that Ruby can’t spend time in bars. So, she’s a really young twentysomething-ish. I could probably look it up, but that’s good enough. 

She’s jobless, but looking, and is getting close to the desperation point. But she’s not going to quit until she has to. 

She shares her apartment with a woman who is very different than her, and their communication…well, it’s lousy. And not just because Ruby’s killed all but one of her houseplants. 

Cordelia 

Cordelia is noticeably older. Not truly grumpy, but optimistic and bubbly are definitely not things she’s been called (or would want to be called). She’s maybe not a huge success, but she does well enough that she’s not worried about money or comfort (there’s more to it than that, but I’ll let you read it for yourself). She likes to stay home in the evenings and read. 

And drink. And drink some more. I don’t know if she’s technically an alcoholic (a functional one, for what it’s worth) or if she’s just a heavy drinker. It’s probably an academic question, really. 

Cordelia doesn’t have much of a social life, she gets along with her coworkers—none of whom know that up until recently she’d been having an extended affair with their very married boss. 

She doesn’t understand Ruby’s optimism, her approach to life/job hunting, resents what she’s doing to her houseplants, and just doesn’t know how to get through to her at all. 

A large part of that stems from the fact that Cordelia was found dead a few months ago, and is now a ghost who likes staying in her former apartment while she gets a handle on the whole afterlife thing. Ruby, is (I should’ve said earlier, but I just assume it) very much alive and was more than happy to move into an already furnished apartment. 

What’s A New Lease on Death About? 

The book opens with Cordelia trying to talk the brand-new ghost of their neighbor through the opening minutes of his afterlife. He’d been murdered just outside their building and he is not taking the whole experience very well. 

In one of the early attempts at actual communication between the roomies, Ruby gets the idea that Cordelia is trying to tell her they should investigate the murder like someone on one of the True Crime podcasts she’s a huge fan of. Cordelia was actually trying to keep Ruby as far as she could from all that, and seemed more than ready to accept the police’s rushed theories. 

Before you know it, these two had become much more than people…entities?…sharing an apartment, they were a semi-functional team on the hunt for a killer. 

The Ghostly Brass Tacks 

This isn’t a book steeped in magic, supernatural creatures, and other things common in Urban Fantasy or even other supernatural mysteries I’ve talked about here. The Supernatural (at least in this book) is limited to ghosts who linger around—and not many do. We’re not really told why, but Cordelia has a theory. 

It’s not easy to help someone when you’re incorporeal, invisible, and unable to make yourself heard. It’s also hard to “lean on” or assist someone if you’re not all that sure is actually around, or off doing their own thing. 

And honestly, that’s just the beginning of their problems. 

Blacke paints a picture of Claudia’s reality, her state, her learning curve, and her abilities to interact with the physical world and people in a way that absolutely makes sense, is consistent, well thought-out, and believable. It’s truly impressive—and darn entertaining—to watch Claudia try to be Ruby’s partner through all this. 

It’s strong to say there’s a relationship between these two, but there is. 

So, what did I think about A New Lease on Death? 

In brief—this is everything I hoped it would be (well, I wanted a few more jokes, but I got over that). I bought in right away to everything—Blacke made that really easy—and both the plot and characters kept me fully engaged. I was faster than the pair on a thing or two (nothing applicable to this case, but what appears to be the next one), but didn’t get to the solution to the mystery until about the same time as Ruby and Cordelia. 

It’s both a fun and well-executed novel and a solid introduction to a world and series (it’s at least a duology, I just don’t know how many books Blacke/Minotaur Books have in mind). There’s not a huge cast of characters that we can expect to see again—but there are some. We’ll see some of Ruby’s coworkers, I’m sure (eep—minor spoiler, she finds some kind of job); there are some figures we’ll see from the apartment building; and there’s one ghost I expect Cordelia to learn a bit more from. But it’s essentially a cast of two—and that’s more than enough to fuel this book and series. 

In a step in a new direction for Blacke, this isn’t a cozy mystery—or so Blacke’s website says. And it’s true, I suppose—largely depending on how strictly you define “cozy.” But almost every cozy reader will embrace the storytelling. Blacke’s fans, in particular, will be fine with this after a little adjustment, and will likely embrace it without much trouble. 

It’s not as lighthearted, warm, fuzzy, and pun-filled as The Record Shop Mysteries were. There’s little in here that’s outright funny—although you’ll smile most of the time, and the book is rarely dark. Tonally, it’s close to Darynda Jones’ mysteries, Janet Evanovich, and Lee Goldberg’s Eve Ronin (although all of those contain more jokes). 

What Blacke carries over from the Record Shop Mysteries is her charm. You will like these two women right away. You’ll look for signs of friendship, camaraderie, and understanding between the two—and be pleased when you find them (and when you don’t have to look anymore). 

This is the fourth book by Blacke that I’ve read, and it’s the fourth book of hers that I enjoyed. But she’s displaying a greater skill when it comes to writing, plotting, and character here than she has before. I think that’s a function of subject/subgenre rather than skill or anything. I’ve liked her books before, but this impressed me in a way the others haven’t. I don’t think it’s me comparing the two series—because I honestly want her to circle back soon to the environs of Sip & Spin Records (as little as I expect it). It’s just this is a better canvas for her to display more of her talent. 

If you’ve tried her earlier material, you’ll see what I mean. If you haven’t, just realize I was dancing around a point—and maybe landed near it. 

Regardless—this is a fun odd couple/buddy cop outing featuring amateur sleuths (so, yeah “buddy cop” isn’t technically right, but you know what I’m saying) with a side order of supernatural woowoo. The solution to the mystery is satisfying and fitting—and the conclusion of the novel launches into the next novel/series. What’s not to like? Very little. I’m already eagerly awaiting the next volume. I feel like there’s something I’m not saying, but I can’t figure out what it is. So I’ll just leave it at this point. 

I’m looking forward to the next book, I expect almost everyone who reads A New Lease on Death will find themselves in the same boat. And I really hope many people come aboard—like you. Yes, you. Pick this one up. 

Candle & Crow by Kevin Hearne

adventurous emotional funny lighthearted 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

5.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
--- 
 

What’s Candle & Crow About? 

What isn’t this about? Al has to address a potential treaty violation of a group against some British citizens, which leads to some treaty re-negotiations; Gladys wraps up business she started in the last book, prepares to leave her job, and sees some shite; the Morrigan tries to settle among humans in her new body; Al, Buck, and Nadia are targeted by the police; Al has to help out his American counterpart with a tricky problem; Al gets a line on who cursed him; and…a few other things that I can’t figure out how to describe in a phrase or two. 

Seriously, this book is busy. But somehow, it doesn’t feel crammed or over-stuffed; everything gets as much time as it needs to be addressed; everything makes sense; you don’t lose track of any plotlines; characters get to grow and develop (and be introduced!). And the last couple of chapters are so satisfying that I don’t care that I can’t finish this sentence properly. 

A Trio of Druids 

Fittingly for what Hearne has stated will be the last book in the universe of the Iron Druid Chronicles (I’m waiting for him to change his mind. Maybe a foolish hope, but it’s one nonetheless), we get to see all three of the Druids from that series for a little while—and none of them togther. 

Working with his students has been good for Owen, Atticus—I mean, Connor—is in a good place (in several senses of that word), and Granuaile is…well, still Granuaile. I think I’ve mentioned she was getting on my nerves toward the end of IDC, and she’s still there. But she’s still essentially the same character—so if you weren’t annoyed by her, you’ll enjoy her appearance (I did, even with my attitude). 

We got just enough time with them all to get a sense of where they are, what the future holds for them, and to see that they’re doing well—the events of Scourged are far enough past that they’ve settled into the next stage of their lives. It’s a good way to say goodbye to this world. 

Deities 

Since at least book 3 of the IDC we’ve had a good understanding of how gods, goddesses, and lesser deities function, live, and have power both now and throughout the ages. Hearne’s had Atticus and Al explain it a time or two since then, so faitful readers will get it. 

But in these pages, we are given two examples (or three, depending on how you want to count something) of how this functions toward entities that aren’t part of the major pantheons (or minor ones, either—how would you describe Perun’s?). They are two divergent types of entities and the application of what we know about deities in this world is quite different (while linked). 

I think it’s clear that I’m struggling to describe this without giving something away (if you haven’t noticed, let me assure you that I am). However, for fans of this world and fans of just good worldbuilding—Hearne does a great job with this stuff, if I didn’t know better*, I’d say that he started building toward this novel in Hammered. 

* Okay, I don’t know better, he might have had this as part of his Master Plan all along. But I’m willing to bet he didn’t. 

Al and the English 

Al has to deal with a representative of the British government a few times over the course of this book as a part of his sigil agent duties. I honestly don’t know if I’ve been so purely entertained by Hearne (outside of an Oberon-heavy moment) as I was in reading Al’s narration during these parts. 

He really doesn’t like this guy—and it’s tough to say that Al gives him a real chance before deciding to write him off—but the reader can understand why. I think that Al gets close to mean in his attitude and actions toward this man, but I don’t think he crosses the line. Then again, I was chuckling and highlighting so much in these interactions, I might have missed it. 

So, what did I think about Candle & Crow? 

I have said many good and complimentary things about the books in this series—and I stand by them—but this is what all of the Ink & Sigil books should’ve been like, at least at their core. We’ve seen a little of the Sigil Agent life, but there’s been a lot of other things going on, and not that much of it has to do with the administration and enforcement of contracts. It was just so cool to focus on that as much as we got to here. Yes, the big action stuff, taking on whacky monsters and nasty people experimenting on supernatural creatures and whatnot is pretty cool, too. But we get that kind of thing in all sorts of UF—we don’t get to see a lot of supernatural people wrangling with human governments over the wording of a hundred year old document* and the deadly ramifications of that wrangling not going well. It’s a shame that Hearne embraced this aspect of Al’s life so completely here at the end. 

* Well, we get glimpses of that in The Rivers of London series, don’t we? But it feels very different. 

I enjoyed every bit of this book—and am not sure how to talk about it without just blathering on and on about how good everything was. The action—and despite what I may have suggested earlier, there was plenty of it—was gripping and moved well. The emotional arcs of the characters were done with Hearne’s typical deftness (and maybe more than typical deftness). The humor was Hearne at his best. The magic at work was perfect, and…yeah. I just have nothing but compliments upon compliments here. 

If you have any kind of emotional investment in Buck, Nadia, or Al going into this book, you will love the ending. It was a real treat, the last chapters just made me feel all warm inside. 

I was so enthusiastic about this book that I think I might have convinced a friend to pick up the first IDC book just so he can catch up and appreciate all of this book—and another friend who’d read Hounded through Scourged to pick up this trilogy. And I’m more than ready to do that to anyone else reading this post. 

I don’t know what Hearne’s next project will be, but I’m ready for it. In the meantime, I’m just going to bask in how wonderfully satisfying that Candle & Crow was. 

Big Trouble in Little Italy by Nicole Sharp

adventurous emotional funny hopeful lighthearted tense fast-paced

4.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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The Back of the Book 

There’s no way I could put all this as concisely as (I’m guessing) Sharp did for the back of the book. Also, I think I’d trip over myself not saying some of this, but I clearly think some things are more spoiler-ish than others do. So I’m just going to steal this: 

Life is looking pretty good for thirty-two-year-old Jessica Dodd. She just bought her wedding dress and closed on a house with her trial lawyer fiancé, Thomas. But first, she needs to take care of one tiny issue: her husband – a youthful indiscretion from a drunken weekend in Vegas years ago. She never saw the guy again, so it didn’t really count. Still, she needs to get divorced.

CIA agent Parker Salvatore has thought of his “Vegas wife” over the years, though it was never time to start dating her. However, when he returns from a two-year assignment to find that she is literally in bed with the enemy, he realizes it’s time to make his move. First, he needs to catch the bad guy, then he can woo the girl.

Things begin to unravel when Jessica finds out Thomas has been lying to her. Determined to confront him she follows him to Italy. Fueled by a surplus of caffeine and a colossal lack of sleep her plan becomes a hell of a lot more complicated when she walks straight into the middle of the CIA’s criminal investigation of her fiancé.

Set against the backdrop of the Tuscan countryside, Parker and Jessica find themselves treading the perilous waters of infiltrating a well-known crime family, filing for divorce and attempting to keep their rekindled attraction at bay.

 
Slightly Ajar Door Romance
I’m not an expert on this kind of thing, but I can read definitions online, so I feel safe saying that this isn’t a closed-door romance. But it’s really not that far off–I’ve read books (Romance and otherwise) that put more on the page. Sharp does fade to black pretty quickly, thankfully*, but she could fade a bit quicker–and take a little more time before fading back into light.

* That’s a reflection of my prudish-inclinations.

I just figure that I should mention it since I’ve talked about things like this in the past–and I know some of my readers care. Basically, I’ve learned from the Sunshine Vicram books–these are not ones I will give my mother. Although I have to say, I kind of think I’d be more comfortable knowing that my mother read this over Sunshine (and much more comfortable with my mother knowing I read these, too). That might be a silly basis for rating, but that’s where I am.

So, what did I think about Big Trouble in Little Italy?
I only took one note while reading this book–after the first chapter, I wrote simply “Zany.” And I really never came up with anything to say beyond that. There is a lot more to the book than that–but that word is pretty much always applicable.
 
Sharp’s voice is infectious–I thoroughly enjoyed the writing here, more than the rest of it (which is saying something). The characters lept off the page and right into your heart (except for the small handful you just wanted to spit out as quickly as possible, and then spit on). There’s an Italian agent working with Parker who is one of those characters that comes close to stealing the show–I’d love to read more about him. That’s true for most of the more significant supporting characters, too. Yes, the focus of the book is (rightly) on Jessica, Parker, and Thomas–but Sharp has this book bursting with characters you want more of.
 
This is very much a Romance novel–yes, a Romantic Comedy, yes, a Romantic Comedy with a Thriller flavor. But the key word there is Romance/Romantic. As such, I’m not really the intended audience for this, but after talking with Sharp at an event this Spring, I really wanted to read something she wrote–and thankfully, the Comedy and Thriller parts of the book were strong enough that I could handle the Romance.
 
I’m not sure what people who read more Romance fiction than I do would think of this. I think die-hard Thriller readers would think it stretches things a bit (but not as much as a couple of Lee Child books have, for just one example). The Comedy never misses, though. Not once.
 
I can see myself coming back for more in this series, actually. I can also see me dropping it pretty quickly if the laughs die down. I say that without rancor–but because I recognize that I’m just dabbling in this world.
 
I’d definitely like to hear what people better versed in Romantic fiction have to say about Sharp’s work. But for my money, this is worth your time and money. The plot zips along well, the CIA-Crime story zigs and zags the way it should, and the comedy is pretty consistently goofy and yet heartfelt–actually, all of it is heartfelt. Zany and Heartfelt. A heckuva combination.
 
Oh, be sure to have your local Italian restaurant’s online delivery menu pulled up, you’re going to want to use it. Or have it, and your payment methods, locked away if you don’t need to treat yourself in that way.