Predetermined Evil

Posted on January 14, 2014 by Robert Downs

In The Blood by Lisa Unger
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Is evil predetermined genetically, or is it based on environment and upbringing? IN THE BLOOD attempts to answer this question, and I can state rather emphatically that my mind might never be the same again. The mental mind trip left me in a cold sweat, and there’s a chance I may now be prone to night terrors. If I wake up screaming, though, I’ll only have myself to blame, as I attempt to pound through the pain.

The plot moved along at a slow simmer with some rather unexpected twists and turns, as I kept a death grip on my Kindle and flipped the pages with one eye closed. Terror of the psychological variety proves much more appealing to me than some dude in a hockey mask slashing oversexed campers with a machete. And there’s plenty of terror to be had here, most of which floats just beneath the surface, bubbling up when you least expect it, and grasping you around the ankle before pulling you beneath the water.

Lana Granger may have told more than a few lies in her day, each one building upon the one before it. Even though she might show aspects of being a pathological or compulsive liar, I’d still stand behind her. Despite Luke being only eleven-years-old, I wouldn’t stand behind him, even if I were holding a shovel in one hand and a grenade in the other. There’s a term that often applies in situations such as these: little bastard. And should you look it up in the dictionary, you’d probably see a picture of Luke’s sneering mug (among others).

I am proud to say I have more Lisa Unger novels at my disposal, so when the night terrors cease, I shall revisit her to kick start the screaming and cold sweats all over again.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Shot In The Foot

Posted on January 10, 2014 by Robert Downs

5376551 A Fistful Of Charms by Kim Harrison
My Rating: 1/5 Stars

The charm was lost on me. Maybe I need to remove the stake from the nape of my neck, devour a clove of garlic in less than 12 seconds, follow it up with some red Kool-Aid, douse myself in holy water, and then shoot a silver bullet up my bum. Or maybe I should tell all the werewolves, witches, pixies, and vampires to suck it, and that I’ll handle the trials and tribulations of dangling from a rope myself. Instead of plunging a few of my fantasies into ecstasy, I was left with a look of horror on my face, and a belief that I somehow showed up to the wrong party on the wrong day and with the wrong date. I’d equate it to watching a chicken with boxing gloves beat the crap out of a coyote.

The Hollows kept me firmly in the shadows. Flipping the pages was like dragging my knuckles through glass and battery acid, reading the dialogue caused multiple convulsions, and listening to Ivy whine in time would have instigated trips to multiple psychiatric specialists and probably more than one straightjacket stint. At the Turn I wanted to burn a stake through my heart, roughly somewhere in the middle of Inderland where black spells and hexes and disguise charms and demon curses forced me to question the limits of my own sanity. To use an expression presented in A FISTFUL OF CHARMS: shit on crap.

I suppose vampires might inhabit Cincinnati, but I can think of plenty of other places I’d rather reside were I to wake up one morning and enter the land of the undead. Even within Ohio, I’d rank other major C cities Cleveland and Columbus higher up the residential map. But, hey, that’s just me.

Sure, there was a plot, but I have no idea what the hell happened. If I were to get shot in the foot, whacked over the head (and knocked unconscious), strapped to the front of a wooden roller coaster at Cedar Point, and then shoved against a brick wall at over ninety miles an hour, I’d probably have an easier time describing what happened to the authorities (assuming I miraculously survived).

A Case Colder Than The Canadian Border

Posted on January 9, 2014 by Robert Downs

Concrete Desert by Jon Talton
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

I admit I like free shit. I also admit I’m not entirely rational in my thought process. For example, I happily hand over my Bouchercon and Left Coast Crime Conference fees and feel like I’ve won the lottery when I receive a bag filled with books. Seriously, this ends up being one of the major highlights of these conferences. So in my continued pursuit of this high, minus the conference fees, I have decided to scour Amazon for the best free short stories and books available. With that being said, let’s get to the review.

The Arizona sun never felt hotter. Blazing, beating, reverberating off my skin, blistering my face, and stripping layers off my forehead. I peeled my cheek from the scorching asphalt, the sweltering concrete bouncing off my feet. The metropolitan monstrosity otherwise known as Phoenix bounding up around me, the sounds of traffic bouncing around me. Adobe and enchiladas surrounded me, and I packed my boxes with a hardened heart.

Atmosphere popped out at me, pounding away at my chest, and it was hard not to be intrigued by a city I had never ventured to. David Mapstone may have reached the front of the unemployment line with his history degree hanging at his side, and a sea filled with regret hanging around his neck, and a case colder than the Canadian border bounding from the confines of his mind.

The cast of characters might have lacked a few mental faculties, and there was so much blow I thought it might snow in the Phoenix sun. There’s a more than good chance I might get shot in a mall, or at the side of the road, and the bad guys might wield flak vests and submachine guns like popcorn and Junior Mints, and the plot might move a bit slowly at times while speeding nearly out-of-control at others. But that’s just a part of the experience in CONCRETE DESERT. It’ll shave more than a few years off your life, and it’ll have you staring up at a starry sky while your eyes roll back in your head from the concussion you just suffered.

The Stuff

Posted on January 6, 2014 by Robert Downs

6495189 Faces Of The Gone by Brad Parks
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

Reading over half of a novel while hyped up on cough drops and missing a night’s sleep because you’ve been traveling for approximately 20 hours, as you fly into and out of Chicago (in the middle of a winter storm) and out of Boston (before the big one hits) and you end up being stuck on parked planes for a total of three hours (added up from two occasions) and add a Las Vegas redeye to your traveling regime may not have been the best course of action for my retention ability, but FACES OF THE GONE managed to help me keep my sanity, prevented me from screaming at gate agents and flight attendants and fellow travelers and relentless chatterboxes and unhappy babies and also kept me from hurling myself out of a plate glass window and onto the tarmac in front of a 737. So it has that going for it.

Carter Ross may suck at relationships and cry in front of female companions with virtually no provocation, but he still manages to have a certain charm and debonair nature, even if he has trouble getting laid from a woman who wears a biological clock around her left wrist. And he may not always know where the story is going, but he can expertly run in place or skip a meal or two if it gets him a little closer to the prized front page. He may not always have the best way of communicating either, along with a few of his companions and colleagues, but at the end of the day he’s still the best man for the job.

Even if he manages to get himself in the middle of some serious shit, he’s not about to back up or back down. He injects a bit of wit in Newark, instead of the current drug of choice, and he finds himself amidst a cast of characters that need little introduction. If I ever find myself on the streets of Newark, I’ll barrel through stoplights and intersections in an armored vehicle with bulletproof glass and an MK47 riding shotgun.

The story didn’t click for me right away, but once I shoved my hand in The Stuff, I managed to find my high just fine and even found myself enjoying the ride, despite the traveling situation that had developed between Massachusetts and New Mexico. Stuffing your carryon full of books helps ease this pain tremendously.

Nicotine-Induced Haze

Posted on January 6, 2014 by Robert Downs

Lightning Field by Dana Spiotta
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

If a shotgun wielding redhead jammed a double barrel between my lips, told me to reach my hands toward the stars, spit a glob of chewing tobacco six inches from my left foot, and then asked me this dreaded question: What is the theme of LIGHTNING FIELD? I’d tell her I have no idea, shut my eyes tight, and hope her nicotine-induced haze didn’t include a trigger pull, as she offered up a bit of mercy on my soul.

What I can tell you, though, is infidelity and the fragility of the human spirit run rampant through this tale, faster than a mouse running through a maze with a shotgun three inches from his bum. And there’s a certain lack of cohesiveness many folks might find intriguing. I found it interesting but not overly so.

But emotional damage thundered through me of the constant variety with the blackened hearts of the blackened souls of these blackened and damaged characters, many of whom paid witness to the bleakness of human suffering. And I found myself rushing toward the end, in the hope that some of my sanity might return in full force, or I’d even settle for half-mast, as the fragility of the human spirit rested rather resolutely on the pending outcome.

When You Have To Write

Posted on January 5, 2014 by Robert Downs

Confidence is an elusive concept, isn’t it? We find it; the bar moves; and then we struggle to keep up in the ensuing aftermath and mayhem. With writing, this bar proves even more transitory, shifting about as often as a New Mexican wind, and leaving a sea of sand in its wake. There’s no shortage of readers willing to dissect your writing and tell you what you aimed to do with your particular piece, while you’re left with a finger up in the air and no one looking in your direction. But rather than achieve a level of anger or aggression and setting out on some level of terroristic destruction, you’re much better served with a few deep breaths, a piece of chocolate, and a reevaluation of why you’re even writing in the first place.

If you’re writing to make loads of money, or for the chicks or hunks, or to prove to the world what a witty son-of-a-bitch you really are, then you may need to reevaluate your purpose, and possibly put your finger back down. But if you’re writing because you absolutely have to write, that you feel incomplete and unfulfilled if you don’t put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, then does it really matter if the world doesn’t see you as some witty genius? Maybe you’re an unrecognized talent that just hasn’t found the right train (there really is an element of luck to publishing success), or maybe you’re only a genius in your own mind.

Isn’t that why all of us write? To gain some sense of self-satisfaction, or self-expression, or giving ourselves a voice where it wouldn’t otherwise be heard, or maybe our brains are hardwired to do our thinking with our hands instead of our mouths. So we put ourselves out there on display, naked as the day we were born. And we don’t have to worry about whether or not people are actually paying attention. Sometimes they will be, sometimes they won’t be, but either way we’re writing because we have to do it, not because we want to do it.

Clanged Together Effortlessly

Posted on January 4, 2014 by Robert Downs

The Kill Order by Robin Burcell
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

You might say destiny brought this book and me together. I certainly didn’t discover it in the usual manner. Instead of purchasing it online, discovering it in a conference gift bag, requesting it on NetGalley, or snapping it up for free online via some form or fashion, it stared up at me from a pile of books next to the sink in the men’s bathroom in Albany, NY. Crazy, right? Well, I didn’t have to think too long and hard about it, since free books and I go about as well together as sugar and cocoa beans.

This book proved to be more thriller than suspense, and it certainly managed to hold my attention with a heroine that has a bit of a backbone and a quirky nature. Sydney Fitzpatrick may fail at relationships, but she’s not going to fail when it comes to protecting colleagues and individuals, and that’s why it was rather easy to rally behind her, even if she did make a mistake or two along the way. The world may have Armageddon on its doorstep, but she’s not about to back off. And I wasn’t about to back down from THE KILL ORDER.

It captured my attention right away, and I managed to hold on to the side of the cliff with what was left of my fingernails. Dangling on the side of a precipice, I could have used a string of random numbers and possibly a rope and a woman with more than a bit of gumption on the other end who has enough wherewithal to accept the challenge of pulling me back to safety.

Piper Lawrence proved to be an intriguing character. Saddled with eidetic memory, this allows her to remember strings of random numbers as soon as she reads them, more than a dozen license plates with effortless ease, or recite entire pages from Shakespeare after one perusal, which makes her an absolute hit at drinking parties. Even if she has few friends and even fewer people who understand her true talents, it’s hard not to soften your heart when she enters the picture and rally behind her with both hands placed firmly in front of you.

The dialogue punched and sang and clanged together effortlessly and easily; the story railed away at my senses; the characters fit together rather seamlessly. But I did find myself questioning the likelihood of the storyline, and I would have preferred more jagged edges, instead of the pieces fitting together a bit too easily.

I received this ARC for free at Bouchercon (via the men’s bathroom).

A Firm Salute

Posted on January 3, 2014 by Robert Downs

The Drop by Michael Connelly
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

Few things bring me greater pleasure than stumbling across free books. One might even say I have a sickness or disease for which there is no cure in this life or the next. But I’ve learned to live with my disease and so has my wife. So when I happened upon THE DROP on the other side of the TSA line as it sat on a metal table and as I picked through my luggage before I headed toward the pearly gate and a destination that was not New Mexico, one might say I was giddy. I took a quick look around and then stuffed this gem of a novel in my backpack before I received a TSA pre-approved pat down and body cavity search.

Did it turn out to be a great novel? Not exactly. Would I have done it again if I could go back in time? Absolutely. Do I like TSA? We have a love-hate relationship, although recent traveling events have leaned me a little more in the love direction.

Hieronymus “Harry” Bosch has had a long and distinguished career within the confines of the LAPD, and I’ve entered the confines of his world from time to time to say hello and offer up a firm salute. Michael Connelly knows his crime fiction, and he knows how to offer up more than a few thrills for even the hard-to-thrill individuals. The cast of characters spans an entire precinct, and the two crimes placed firmly on Harry’s lap span decades forcing him in the middle of a political and criminal quagmire where the scales start to pile up against our aging hero.

The story holds firm even if it feels a bit forced at times, and it’s nice to visit in on an old friend, even if the surroundings feel just a bit too easy and familiar. There’s retribution and hate and animosity and enough of a story to keep the kiddos entertained, but I would have preferred a better meshing of the two crimes and more hard-hitting elements contained within this gritty tale.

Mouth Full Of Sweet Teeth

Posted on December 23, 2013 by Robert Downs

All Fudged Up by Nancy CoCo
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

If you have a mouth full of sweet teeth, then ALL FUDGED UP might just be a novel you should bump into at some point in your life. With no less than ten fudge recipes, this book could kick start any hypoglycemic heart in 30 seconds flat. Sure, you could overdose and still end up comatose in the backseat of your mom’s station wagon and find yourself with a one-way ticket to the big house, but that’s a chance any sugar lovin’ fiend should take. If you’re going to end up dead someday anyway, you might as well do it in style and enjoy the ride out of town.

Even the dog Marshmallow aka Mal enjoys her prance around the fudge station and will just as surely lick your face as she’ll smile at you or bark her head off. She’s tiny, but she’s ferocious tiny with a big heart and a penchant for fire hydrants and spinning in circles. Despite her youth, she’s trainable as well, if given the proper time and devotion.

While I’ve never been to Mackinac Island, I feel as though I have this small town figured out where roots run as deep as radishes and if you’re not a third-generation native, you might as well have grown up in Seattle, WA or Austin, TX. The kooky-eyed locals added a level of interest to this particular tale that might not have otherwise been there.

The voice proved entertaining and quirky and even a bit starry-eyed at times, but I still found myself turning my head to the side at some of the dialogue and a few of the phrases. While I realize cozies aren’t exactly known for their detective endeavors and crimes-solving expertise, I would have preferred a few more criminal elements, as the climax and ending felt a tad rushed. Instead of meandering along and enjoying the ride to the top, the train sped up and jerked me to the side as we reached the top of the hill.

With a sequel TO FUDGE OR NOT TO FUDGE already planned and slated for 2014, Allie McMurphy has more tales to tell, and if my teeth can face the onslaught, I may just come back to find out what happens next.

I received this ARC for free at Bouchercon.

Dysfunctional Family On Steroids

Posted on December 22, 2013 by Robert Downs

The Unthinkable Thoughts Of Jacob Green by Joshua Braff
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

I think it’s safe to say teenage boys think about sex. A LOT. In fact, teenage boys think about sex so much and with such enthusiasm that teenage girls are often overridden around every bend. With teenage boys in mind, I have compiled a list of penis slang. This is by no means all-inclusive, but it should suffice for the task at hand. There’s Johnson and skin-flute and boner and anaconda and anal impaler. Bald-headed yogurt slinger and baloney pony and bratwurst and chubbie and cock and ding-a-ling and ding dong and dingis. John Thomas and joystick and knob and love stick and member and middle leg and Mr. Happy. Schlong and Schwartz and shaft and tallywacker and trouser snake and wang and weenie.

If you add up all the slang terms (there’re 27) and then multiply this number by 15, you probably end up somewhere in the vicinity of how often teenage boys think about getting laid. That’s nearly 17 times an hour. Am I exaggerating? I wish I were. And it doesn’t really matter if your father is half-crazy and your mother decides to start boning her psychology professor, a teenage boy can still dream of a better life. Even if your nanny doesn’t feel the same way about you, you can still enjoy the view and keep the more X-rated thoughts to yourself and have wet dreams in the privacy of your bedroom.

THE UNTHINKABLE THOUGHTS OF JACOB GREEN reminded me of a dysfunctional family on steroids. When I reached the end, I had developed an even greater appreciation for my own upbringing, and it was hard not for me to consider myself lucky. Sure, I could bemoan my own familial problems, or my own teenage drama (rather mild in comparison), or the skirmishes my brother and I experienced on multiple occasions, but none of those thoughts crossed my mind. Instead, amusement crossed my lips, as character after character acted out in the craziest manner, and I found myself hanging on for the ride.