Political Scandals Pale In Comparison

Posted on November 16, 2013 by Robert Downs

16158196 Really Dead by J.E. Forman
My Rating: 2/5 Stars

The movie industry is filled with sons-a-bitches. Whenever you mix a sense of entitlement, trunks filled with money, nubile young women willing to show their breasts on a whim, kinky old men, and drugs, you’re bound to experience plenty of problems. Political scandals pale in comparison to the seedy atmosphere underlying the entertainment industry where the grime and slime covered me faster than a coal mine.

While Ria Butler did hold a certain appeal, most of it was lost on me. REALLY DEAD managed to cut scenes too soon, the jumps proved more jarring than a wave smacking me in the face, and the story lacked the flow that would have kept me really engaged. The voice hurt my ears worse than nails on a chalkboard. The dialogue proved a bit cheesy, and a few of the characters a bit too dimwitted for me to truly sing their praises. Others proved to be royal asshats.

The mystery lacked a certain sophistication and complication that I would have otherwise preferred, with the subplots receiving more screen time than the main show. The ending wrapped a bit too quickly, and the villain needed to insert hand in mouth and bite down, instead of utilizing a megaphone.

However, I did enjoy the behind-the-scenes look at reality TV show production. I just wish the price of admission wouldn’t have been so steep, as the story and writing weighed me down and kept me submerged beneath the surface of the water. My boycott of all reality television shall continue unabated, so the book did have that going for it, even if I had trouble finding much else to enjoy.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

Posted on November 13, 2013 by Robert Downs

The Cuckoo’s Calling by Robert Galbraith
My Rating: 2/5 Stars

This ain’t Harry Potter. For those of you who may have such expectations looming in the back of your mind, even as you recognize that J.K. Rowling wrote it under a pseudonym, and that it’s a mystery, and that it involves a war veteran PI, and that there are no wizards or classrooms or dragons or Quidditch matches or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…yeah, you have to set those expectations aside. Otherwise, your disappointment level will spike off the charts, and you’ll toss your Kindle or hardcover edition through an open window, never to be seen or heard from again.

Robert Galbraith certainly has chops in the mystery writing universe, even if his first effort falls a bit short. The stuttering formality turned me off from the beginning, and carried through all the way to the end, even if the stick might have been removed from the buttocks for brief periods of time, the majority of which revolved around enthusiastic sidekick Robin. Formal dialogue splattered with dashes filled the pages, and an overemphasis with the ellipsis further helped separate me from the tale, and was closely followed by characters who liked to overstate and expound upon points a little too forcefully, pounding the corpse repeatedly after the last breath had already expired from the body.

Other than Robin, formal, stilted characters seemed to plaster the pages, many of whom felt dry cleaned, instead of going through the normal rinse cycle. The plot plodded along at a slow, steady pace, and proved slow to develop despite the dashing dead body early on. The ending of THE CUCKOO’S CALLING would have been aided by the liberal use of the delete key, and like the rest of the tale, was a bit long on atmosphere and extraneous information. While the premise proved strong and inviting, the story didn’t quite live up to its enticing origins.

On a related note, it’s probably good my NetGalley request wasn’t approved for this novel, even though I could have blown the whistle on her pseudonym a full two months before the official slip. Mulholland Books is probably patting itself on the back, as they dodged that bullet and my less than favorable review, even if it was only a temporary respite.

Fondling The Merchandise

Posted on November 6, 2013 by Robert Downs

17165966 Palace Of Spies by Sarah Zettel
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

Margaret “Peggy” Fitzroy led a reasonably charmed life until she was kicked out on her keister and forced to delve in the palace of intrigue, suspicion, and ne’er-do-wells, many of whom have buckets of money, or like to pretend that the dowry extends forever in one direction, even if it dried up about fifty years ago. Sebastian Sandford, relegated to a minor role, showed his hands and his petulant attitude and his preponderance for fondling the merchandise before the appointed hour, with nary a care in the world. And Uncle Pierpont showed fangs and horns and bastard tendencies with relative ease, tossing out his niece faster than a banana peel and slamming the door hard enough to rock the foundation. But had he shown more normal tendencies and familial congeniality, PALACE OF SPIES never would have reached the atmosphere, so we can thank him for his complete and utter ridiculousness.

Peggy had a slight aftertaste, not growing on me until a bit later in the tale, but when she did, I appreciated her and her firecracker ways. She had spunk and charm and held on to certain folks a bit too long and offered up some youthful naiveté in this historical tale. While some mysterious elements lingered, and a dead body or two appeared on scene, I’d say this was more historical with a bit of romance and some rather cryptic moments. The plot had a few dangling points and outliers that wrapped up a bit too nicely and maybe a bit too forcefully, and while research was conducted and historical accuracies appeared to be inflicted upon the story, this wasn’t a heavy read by any means. And it was easily consumable, like popcorn or Pez or candy corn.

What really popped my balloon faster than a safety pin, though, was the murderer spouting off for no other reason than pure ego. Really? While it was a bit briefer this go round than the previous iteration, it still left me with a dry mouth and a slight headache. Can we move past the egomaniacs and psychotic miscreants and move toward more common ground? I promise we’ll all be happier, and we don’t even have to hold hands.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Needed A Better Offense

Posted on November 5, 2013 by Robert Downs

Best Defense by Randy Rawls
My Rating: 2/5 Stars

The voice appealed to me about as much as liverwurst and onions. The style wasn’t much better on the overall appellate scale. That’s not to say the writing was bad, though, because it wasn’t. The prose was adequate; the story proved somewhat interesting and did its best to hold my attention; the dialogue was handled without the aid of a particularly heavy hand; and the story demonstrated logic from beginning to end.

But I had a hard time supporting characters that proved about as likeable as tarantulas or pythons, especially when I could have been the mouse tossed in the cage. The list of odious characters stood higher and weighed more than the ones that practiced a bit of congeniality and common sense. Beth Bowman dangled at the top of my least favorite people list, with Maddy Hammonds and Dick Bannon and Major Sargent and Chief Elston not far behind. John Hammonds and his daughter Ashley, in a cameo role, demonstrated high likeability as the dynamic father and daughter duo. The homeless posse provided a bit of comedic relief, but it wasn’t enough to save this tale for me.

BEST DEFENSE probably needed a better offense and an expert placekicker. The goalposts loomed large at the opposite end of the field, and the crowd stood with mouths open and faces leaned precariously forward as two bodies were taken off the field. Even after play resumed, the shock remained, and the coach didn’t offer up the most appropriate pep talk.

What really knocked this novel down another notch for me, though, was the climactic killer confrontation. What I certainly don’t need, and feel like I see a bit too frequently in mysteries, is the murderer spouting off at the chest why he or she committed the crime. Please, for the love of Krispy Kreme, just shut up. I don’t care if you plan to kill our beloved, or not so beloved, hero or heroine three pages later; I don’t care if you want to therapeutically justify why you did what you did (therapists and pills can solve this particular problem); and it doesn’t matter to me if your ego can’t handle potential misconceptions. Just shove a doughnut in your mouth and shut up. You’ll thank me later.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

A Dude With Breasts

Posted on October 28, 2013 by Robert Downs

9732753 First Grave On The Right by Darynda Jones
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Charlotte “Charley” Jean Davidson reminded me of a dude with breasts, a Meatloaf if you will, but with a rockin’ bod. Sorry Meatloaf. She has more attitude than a trust fund baby tooling around Albuquerque in a Lamborghini, stolen police siren, and Jimmy Choos. She even manages to name her womanly parts, and as far as I know, most women don’t bother. When you’re a guy, though, you can just name your penis Spike and be done with it. But coming up with four names certainly proves more of a challenge. If you’re curious, her breasts are Danger and Will Robinson, and her ovaries are Beam Me Up and Scotty. And if you don’t find that funny, or even slightly amusing, you probably won’t enjoy this novel.

Her voice sucked me in faster than you can say hoo-hah, as I rumbled along for one epic ride. I love great beginnings, and this novel certainly meets the criteria. FIRST GRAVE ON THE RIGHT opens with these two lines: “I’d been having the same dream for the past month—the one where a dark stranger materialized out of smoke and shadows to play doctor with me. I was starting to wonder if repetitive exposure to nightly hallucinations resulting in earth-shattering climaxes could have any long-term side effects.”

Maybe being pulled out of a dream like the one above helps explain why she doesn’t like mornings, and I couldn’t do a better job of describing her complete and utter dislike of daybreak than Charley: “While I normally weighed around 125…ish, for some unexplainable reason, between the hours of partially awake and fully awake, I weighed a solid 470.”

Other than the voice, though, this novel managed to keep me entertained with antidotes accompanying the beginning of each chapter grabbing my attention. Whether a personal quote, bumper sticker, or t-shirt, with references to the dead and ADD and bright, shiny objects, it certainly added a little extra to the amusing tone confined within the constraints of this novel. Oh, and I can’t forget about the names and character nicknames that pop up over the course of this comical tale there’s Strawberry Shortcake and Bobby Socks and Patty Cakes Strip Clubs and Cookie Kowalski and Ubie and a car named Misery.

The mystery may not have overwhelmed me with its complexity, but with Charley by my side, I thoroughly enjoyed the ride. While I had never contemplated having sex with a spirit before, were such a thing possible, I might have to reevaluate my Fantasy Sex Wish List. All in all, though, this particular concept sounds more intriguing to me than getting it on with vampires or werewolves.

Charley’s voice carried me above the usual fray and made my mystery/fantasy jaunt worth the journey.

Screwed Up Universe

Posted on October 27, 2013 by Robert Downs

16130228 Light Of The World by James Lee Burke
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Sometimes it’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys. As far as I know, no one does this better than James Lee Burke. The good guys are bad, and the bad guys are really bad. It’s like reading about pure unadulterated evil crafted around poetic prose, and it’s pretty wonderful, even if he does create one fucked up universe.

LIGHT OF THE WORLD feels like it’s covered in pure darkness. It’s filled with sexual assault and rape and Russian roulette and dead bodies and exploding planes and serial killers resurrected from the dead and a rodeo cowboy with a dark, checkered past. It felt as gruesome as any Stephen King novel, only my first thought was this could really happen, and then my second thought was I don’t ever want to go to Montana. In fact, maybe we should remove the state from future maps of the US. And as far as actual vacations go, I wouldn’t wish this vacation on my worst enemy.

And you want to hear something even more screwed up than all of that? This novel was therapeutic, almost cathartic even, and it was exactly the right story for me to read at this particular juncture, after coming off an unhealthy stream of mediocre affairs. I had my love of reading jarred back into me like a masked man with a blackjack, brass knuckles, nunchaku, and a nine millimeter strapped to his waist. And I surrendered with a smile on my face.

Gretchen Horowitz sounds like the ideal male fantasy, all chestnut hair and tits and legs, until it was revealed that she could pull the ass out of a rhinoceros and she’d killed men without blinking an eyelash. Taking two in the face and one in the jugular while I slept suddenly sounded a whole lot less appealing.

Dave Robicheaux, though, makes these stories sing baritone from the first row of the choir. He has as many demons as he has friends, but that makes him all the more appealing. As for Clete Purcel, he likes to drink and he likes his women and he has no problem mixing the two, and married women aren’t any less appealing than the ones that aren’t. But that doesn’t make him a bad man, just a highly tormented one, in a novel chock full of demented individuals, many of which, sheriffs and detectives included, ought to be locked in the slammer with the guard swallowing the key like he was a street performer in the middle of Las Vegas.

The plot proved more challenging than a Montana mountain range. With twists and turns and double backs and winding roads and steep cliffs with jagged edges and serpentine monsters waiting at the top of the next pass. In other words, it was a beautiful, complicated monstrosity filled with piss and spit and spite and it roared with its jaws open wide and it slashed its claws six inches in front of my face.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Stage Five Clinger

Posted on October 18, 2013 by Robert Downs

8942185 The Vengeful Virgin by Gil Brewer
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

If this novel teaches us anything, it’s this: Virgins are Dangerous. Very Dangerous. Sure, the prospect of bedding a virgin sounds glamorous, but let’s face it: It’s not really the stupendously fantastic experience that it might appear to be on first glance. Unless you’re a suicide bomber with a severe mental illness and the prospect of a twenty year lifespan to be followed by a severe and violent death appeals to you and you’re under the rather misguided notion that the pearly white gates hold forty virgins in white wedding dresses waiting to fulfill every one of your wildest fantasies, the thought quickly loses luster.

And as THE VENGEFUL VIRGIN aptly proves, these beautiful rosebuds can turn into what we in the medical community like to refer to as a “Stage Five Clinger.” When that happens, run, do not walk to the nearest exit, even if you’re missing a few clothes and possibly even your car keys. You can send the police back for the rest of your stash later, after the threat of imminent demise has worn off. If you’re lucky enough to have your car keys handy, and even luckier to have a buddy present, have him discreetly move toward the nearest exit right before you both run like hell.

The pages and my Kindle burst with dames and broads and TVs rammed into the ceiling and dialogue punctuated with colorful language. The pages overflowed with poignant prose and distressed damsels. But I like my hard-boiled novels filled with PIs and detectives, and these folks were relegated to secondary status. While I continuously flipped the pages and devoured this little gem rather quickly, I did feel a bit unfulfilled in the end, even with more than one dead body gracing the pages.

Shirley Angela and Grace (no last name) proved as intriguing as Jack Ruxton, and filled with more curves than a string of back country roads. The detours proved small and short lived with the story reaching its dramatic conclusion in rather explosive fashion. And while liking this story was rather easy, really liking this story might prove to be dangerous. So, in the end, I was rather glad I found this story, and also happy that I reached the end in just a few sittings.

Crusty Old Curmudgeon

Posted on October 16, 2013 by Robert Downs

Spirit of Steamboat: A Walt Longmire Story by Craig Johnson
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

“Dude, this is my second free Craig Johnson book.”

“What the fuck, man?”

“I know, right. I must be one Lucky Bastard.”

“Now you’re referencing a review of one author within the review of another author. Just how big of a pimp, are you?”

“I have a fedora, white bowling shoes with black tips, a cane with a gold handle, a purple vest, and a neon green trench coat.”

“Are you showing up at the Playboy mansion later with an armful of strippers?”

“No way, my wife would bury my body in the backyard next to the scorpions and the lizards with the turquoise tails. And she might even toss a black widow spider into the plastic bag along with me to keep me company.”

“That’s the thing. I thought your wife was going with you–”

“She’s not big on pimped out parties caked with artificial breasts, string bikinis, and copious amounts of alcohol.”

“You lost me at string bikinis. What were we talking about again?”

“Get your head out of the gutter. This is a Christmas novel for crying out loud.”

“It’s not actually a novel. It’s a novella.”

“Oh, are you some kind of expert now?”

“I live inside your head. I must have some vague notion of what’s going on in the publishing industry, otherwise you and I should have parted ways more than 10 years ago.” Brief pause. “But back to the task at hand…what did you actually think of SPIRIT OF STEAMBOAT?”

“It was entertaining…”

“There’s a but coming on, isn’t there? And we’re not talking about the ones at the Playboy mansion.”

“I saw the road signs, and followed the detour, but it didn’t take me to the Promised Land. Wyoming has become a bit of a second home for me, with the lush scenery and painted landscapes, but I spent most of this tale in an airplane that has seen better days. And while I appreciated the additional details about Lucian, he’s one crusty old curmudgeon, even in his younger days.” I tilt my head and stare at ceiling tiles. “And I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed a good Walt Longmire mystery.”

“You sure weren’t missing those mysteries too much when you downed all those erotica novels.”

My back stiffens. “True, but Craig Johnson and mysteries go together about as well as PB&J. While Julie Luehrman more than held her own in this tale, what I really wanted was some Vic Moretti with a mouth that matches her cup size and the sage advice of Henry Standing Bear.”

“Aside from the breast reference, you really are a sentimental bastard.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Cute And Somewhat Lighthearted

Posted on October 6, 2013 by Robert Downs

18564178 Now You See It by Jane Tesh
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

This novel certainly checks all the mystery boxes: a likeable, stubborn, and persistent main character; interesting and somewhat intriguing secondary characters, many of whom are either magicians or somehow involved in the magical universe; a dead body in a box; a steadfast main plot and side-stepping subplots; and adequate dialogue, although there were a few too many exclamation points for my taste; and a logical, albeit a tad too convenient and probably slightly overcooked, climax followed by an equally convenient eureka moment to wrap up a dangling subplot before we moved on to the final curtain. To be immediately followed by crowd cheering, adoration, and kisses tossed in the magician’s direction.

NOW YOU SEE IT was cute and somewhat lighthearted, if you can forgive the corpse, and it checks boxes left and right and sideways and upside down. There’s no doubt in my mind Jane Tesh can capture an audience before her next disappearing act, but this novel filled me up about as well as Styrofoam peanuts. Instead of running a race fast and furious from the pistol start to the photo finish, edging out her competition by a nose hair and a sneeze, and pummeling the pages until pockmarks plastered the white space, it’s almost like Ms. Tesh shrugged her shoulders and said, “Well, that’s good enough.”

Just good enough works well for many a novel and many audience members, but I always go into every novel hoping to be razzled and dazzled and wowed in some form or fashion—an amazing character, an amazing plot, or a double-dip twist with a perfect backflip—and unfortunately, that just wasn’t the case here. Does that make this a bad novel? Absolutely not. Does that mean this is a good novel? I can’t really say. Instead, like the author, I’ll just shrug my shoulders, and move on to the next read, hoping at some point to be so hyped up on endorphins and amphetamines that I forget who I am for about five or six hours.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Structured Soundly And Paced Accurately

Posted on October 1, 2013 by Robert Downs

The Stranger You Seek by Amanda Kyle Williams
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

I love discovering new authors. It’s like finding a new best friend that you plan to visit with over and over again. The best ones are both invigorating and frustrating, because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t stay away. Amanda Kyle Williams has quite a bit of potential, and I’m rather curious to see how her next novel turns out. As for her debut, THE STRANGER YOU SEEK was a well-written, intriguing, and quick-paced read. The characters had baggage, were tormented, and ended up being rather believable. Keye Street probably has the most demons living inside of her, and she dances perilously close to the edge on multiple occasions. To the author’s credit, her damaged persona made her even more appealing. She was relatable, enjoyable, and downright frustrating at times.

The novel oozes southern charm out of its Atlanta locale, and the reader is taken on a whirlwind ride from the first page to the last. To set the novel anywhere else would have taken away from the overall reading experience with Atlanta’s sprawling metropolis, focused around motorized vehicles, and sweet tea, bless her heart. The pages ripped like whiskey bottles on a shelf being herded toward the masses with dark pages and dark characters lurking around every corner.

The novel was set up well, structured soundly, and paced accurately for maximum pleasure and entertainment despite its shadowy edges. From the first page to the last, the author held nothing back, and the story was better because of it. The story had what might be called a double twist ending, and it went down about as smoothly as a shot of Grey Goose vodka. If you like quick-paced, well-written novels with dark characters, you’d be hard pressed to find a better read. I, for one, will earmark STRANGER IN THE ROOM, the next novel in the Keye Street series, placing it in the must-read category.

I received this book for free at Bouchercon.