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.

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.

Slipped Out Of Sequence

Posted on October 8, 2013 by Robert Downs

17906972 The Last Winter Of Dani Lancing: A Novel by P.D. Viner
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

I’d like for publishers to make a concerted effort to stop the lazy marketing. This novel has been compared to BEFORE I GO TO SLEEP, MEMENTO, and THE SILENT WIFE, and for good measure, we’ll even toss in Tana French, Gillian Flynn, and A.S.A. Harrison. While this type of marketing may work in some instances, it probably fails more often than it succeeds. Sure, the neon lights flash, people’s expectations reach infinite proportions, and it makes for a great sound bite, but then what happens? If you don’t like the aforementioned authors or books, you skip right on over to the next enticing cover, and if you love those authors or books, you’re bound to be met with some level of disappointment.

Despite the massive consumption of drugs in THE LAST WINTER OF DANI LANCING, this novel felt as realistic as turkey, yogurt, and apple pie. Demons filled each character until the lines between good and evil were about as nebulous as a politician hitting the campaign trail with both hands. No character could escape the evil staring back at him or her, and this included the long dead body of Dani. Nefarious individuals piled up faster than runners at the finish line with Tom Bevans, Marcus Keyson, Jim and Patty Lancing, Duncan and Audrey Cobhurn, and Seb Merchant leading the charge with bullhorns firmly planted at their sides.

Told from multiple points of view, the story slipped out of sequence with relative ease, dipping into the past the way a swimmer might dip his toes into the icy water. The gimmick worked, holding the fast and loose tale in place, otherwise this story probably would have failed when held up to the microscope and examined via a petri dish. But all the jumping around left me looking for solid ground, as I constantly bounced between the various time periods until I finally decided to just strap myself in and appreciate the ride.

Most of the way through this novel, I sympathized with Tom and his love for Dani. Like him, I’d experienced unrequited love—in my case it was on more than one occasion and with more than one individual—only to have the entire experience shatter around me, leaving me with a broken heart and a pile of broken glass. Sometimes nice guys really do finish last. But I digress. In the end, though, Tom wasn’t as nice as I thought he was. Instead, he was more of a pretender than a true contender.

Without giving away too much, I think it’s safe to say there are more stories to tell, more questions that need to be answered, and more problems that need to be solved. But I still haven’t decided whether or not I’ll continue the ride.

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.

Cotton Candy Stuffed With Razor Blades

Posted on September 24, 2013 by Robert Downs

Dare Me by Megan Abbott
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Let’s be clear from the get go. If you want a more traditional review with a book summary, plot synopsis, and a character family tree, and then possibly a discussion on what the author was trying to accomplish in DARE ME and whether or not she actually achieved her goals, then you’ll probably just want to slide it on back and move on to the next review. Because I’m about as non-traditional as they come. Instead, I like discussing how a book made me feel, or didn’t feel, discussing writing insights where appropriate, tossing around similes and metaphors like used car parts in a Dumpster, and talking about my overall experience with a book, while taking into account my own knowledge of writing and reading and plain old random shit. In other words, I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I have a damn good time being ignorant.

So I’ll start with this: Teenage girls are bitches and badasses. A female praying mantis treats her mate better than high school girls treat each other. And each manages to accomplish this task with a smile on her face and nothing but love in her heart, right before she brings out the icepick and wields it around the same way a construction worker might employ a two-by-four in the middle of a construction zone.

One might argue the mystery was a bit thin, but this book transcended the typical books in this genre, and proved there’s more to a mystery than just the identity of the killer and the resolution of the crime. Instead, this was more about cheerleaders and their penchant to attack one another with vengeance, high school drama that unfolded before me on the page in pinks and purples and shades of red, and the extremes captains and coaches go to all in the name of victory. Yes, cheerleading is a sport, and in some parts of the country it’s mentioned in the Sunday prayers along with football and your best friends Jim Bob and Clara Valentine.

The shower scene in the girl’s locker room at the beginning of this tale reminded me of all the times growing up that I would have practically handed over bodily organs to be given even a brief glimpse behind that steel curtain. But what made this story really click for me was the relationship between Addy Hanlon and Beth Cassidy, gal pals that dance a relationship tango better left choreographed to the professionals. And proves there’s much more to a relationship than what’s shown to the public.

This tale was about as easy to swallow as cotton candy stuffed with razor blades, and now that I know what’s behind the pom-poms I wish I could give it all back, since more knowledge isn’t always the key to happiness, as this story aptly proves.

Love Child

Posted on September 24, 2013 by Robert Downs

17557765 Insane City by Dave Barry
My Rating: 5/5 Stars

Dave Barry and Carl Hiaasen need to have a love child. I’ll let the medical professionals work out the logistics, and Congress appropriate the funds. But as a lover of satire and humor and all things bright, beautiful, and wonderful in the universe, this needs to happen. Now. INSANE CITY doesn’t even begin to describe the colossal aftermath of this potentially dystopian universe, but that’s the price you pay for greatness. Miami, we’re about to hit the mother lode. And the future never looked brighter, or bleaker, depending on whether or not you think the glass is half-full or half-empty.

Since I look at the glass as half-full, I can’t help smiling ear to ear, laughing manically, tapping my chin, and pounding my desk in triumph, right before I smack my head and knock myself unconscious for about three hours. I’ll come to in a puddle of drool, possibly sucking my thumb, and steadfast in the belief that my name is Sally or Sarah or Roberta or maybe it’s Steve. No matter what happens, though, I’ll have thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

If I were to sum up his first solo novel in more than 10 years, I’d say I’m thoroughly glad Dave Barry didn’t plan my bachelor party. This novel is batshit crazy, and only one step removed from certifiably insane. I laughed uproariously to the point that folks in Arizona probably wondered what the fuck was going on, and Texas citizens probably wanted to top the outstanding noise intrusion.

If you like characters that are better off locked up in jail, shoved in the direction of the guillotine, or slipped the needle with copious amounts of an unidentifiable clear liquid that turns stars into rainbows and dogs into cats, then this book is definitely for you. There’s a douche tweeter, an orangutan who wants to mate with any human female in sight, bedroom divas, pompous assholes, bridal princesses, plastic surgery poster children, a flatulent stripper, a record executive turned spiritual healer who uses religion as a way to get laid, a groom posse, a married man with no ethical code when it comes to humping with the opposite sex, and a Haitian refugee. There’s enough pot to fuel the state of California for an entire year, and more humping songs and picture perfect porn than a dark lit theatre in the middle of the night. In other words, comedy, this is your paradise, and I was thrilled to be along for this wild ride, even if I did end up with whiplash, a broken nose, and a lump on the back of my head the size of a silver dollar.

So if comedy is the elixir of the soul and the key to the fountain of youth, then this novel might add a few years to your life. Or then again, it might not, but either way it was an entertaining experience of which all humor lovers should partake.

By the way, you need to leave sanity at the door and enter at your own risk. And if you want to have the wildest ride imaginable, you should totally have Dave Barry plan your bachelor party. I’m sure he’s more than willing to entertain offers.

Richly Drawn Novel

Posted on September 17, 2013 by Robert Downs

15818278 The One I Left Behind by Jennifer McMahon
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Fate has a funny way of intervening in my life, and if it wasn’t for fate, I probably wouldn’t have ended up with an Advanced Reader’s Copy (ARC) of THE ONE I LEFT BEHIND. I attended Bouchercon at the beginning of this month (October 2012), and on Friday, several authors were signing advanced copies of their latest novels, or copies of their just released novels. Out of curiosity more than anything else, since I’d never heard of Jennifer McMahon, I made my way to the hospitality suite, stood in line, had a brief conversation with the author, and walked out of the suite with the ARC in tow. Because I discovered a new author more than worthy of my attention, I have the signed copy in my possession, sitting on my bookshelf.

As for the author, I’d have to agree with the Los Angeles Times, who called her “One of the brightest new stars of literary suspense.” And I’d say she does a wonderful job at proving the only rule of writing that matters: With great writing, there are no rules. I’ve never read an author before that bounces between the past and present in alternating chapters, and from what I understand, this isn’t the only novel that takes advantage of this technique. Also, in a few cases, she picks up the action immediately in the next chapter of this alternating sequence. Many writers probably couldn’t get away with this, yet Ms. McMahon makes it work, and upon finishing this novel, I don’t think she could have structured the story any other way.

THE ONE I LEFT BEHIND is a suspense novel, but much more than that, it is a novel about character, friendships, embracing the past, place, and relationships. In other words, it’s a richly drawn novel that will leave you well satiated by the time you reach the end. It’s a novel I feel rather lucky to have discovered, yet it’s not a novel I probably would have consciously sought out. So I feel rather fortunate fate intervened and shoved this book in my lap, and practically screamed at me to pay attention. If not for fate, I would have missed out on a bright star in literary suspense, along with one beautifully written novel. As for future reading material, I already downloaded a special Kindle edition of Don’t Breathe A Word, and I’ll keep my eye on her backlist.

I received this book for free at Bouchercon.

Catastrophe Meet Wayward

Posted on September 16, 2013 by Robert Downs

17920175 Wayward by Blake Crouch
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

A fate worse than death awaits the townsfolk of Wayward Pines. Prison could be considered a picnic. In prison, there are rules, laws, restrictions, and armed guards, who in theory at least, help keep the peace. Wayward Pines has no such laws and restrictions. Sure, there’s a guidebook handed to every new resident, all inhabitants have been implanted with microchips for security reasons, an electrified fence and razor wire help solidify the perimeter, and snipers keep occupants between the crosshairs…and hell is an inferno that is run by Lucifer for the greater good of the underworld.

If you want to totally and completely destroy a man’s soul without actually taking his life—consider this a more interesting social experiment than prison—just put him in the midst of a makeshift town, with other ne’er-do-wells just like him, put the meanest, nastiest, cruelest motherfucker you can find in charge, and then surround the boundary with a sea of mean and nasty motherfuckers, secure the perimeter with an electrified and razor wire fence, and then you’ll have hell on earth. Oh, and you may want to bring a mortician by periodically to collect the bodies. Otherwise, you can let it all play out on the TV monitors from the comfort of your own home. Now that, my friends, is reality television.

Plenty of normal characters, and even a psychopath or two, grazed these pages. A few of the more prominent ones were Kate Ballinger, Theresa Burke, Pam (no last name), David Pilcher, and of course, Ethan Burke, who has a bit of the tragic hero in his blood. But tragedy kept me flipping pages as trees and scrub brush and an abby or two went up in flames. I was a rubbernecker on this side of the road, thankful that I could keep right on driving, because there was no way in hell I planned to stop for this crazy train.

While there’s certainly a mystery here, with a dead body that appears fairly early on, the real pleasure here, sadistic as it may be, is the horror that surrounds this town, and the horrors contained within. Catastrophe meet WAYWARD, and neither, I’m sure, will benefit from the introduction. As my eyes opened wide, the continued hallucinations nearly took my breath away. And if I hadn’t already been to Boise and realized it’s actually a decent place, I’d have probably wiped Idaho from my Christmas list.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Make The Crazy Stop

Posted on September 14, 2013 by Robert Downs

17671775 Mother, Mother: A Novel by Koren Zailckas
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

I’d like to nominate Douglas and Josephine Hurst for parents of the year. He’s an absentee father who’s doing a real fine job of drinking himself to death, while she’s a narcissistic mother who’d like to split ends with her family and the entire populace at large. If ever there was a case for the Emancipation Proclamation, the Hurst parents are the spitting image of what honest Abe had in mind, because I’d like to emancipate myself from this particular situation, and I only had to deal with them for a few hours. If I had to deal with them for much longer, I’d lock myself in a loony bin, devour all the red, yellow, green, blue, pink, and white pills I could find and then secure myself to a bed covered in leather straps, as I wait for the needle injection.

Then there were Violet and William Hurst and Sara-pist, who may, or may not, have been a reject therapist. Violet proved the more likeable of the two, a strong enough character to actually take on Josie the Soci, even if she did have to see more than a therapist to get her house in order and control the crazy. William, on the other hand, might as well have been a mini-Josephine, who had more than a few social issues, and what he may have often lacked in empathy, he made up for in the desolation of anyone who went against his mother.

If I could have figured out a way to make the crazy stop, I would have, because it was all fucking nuts with a side of scary, creepy, and fubar mixed into this spider’s web. The Addams Family appeared normal enough next to this freak show that probably needed its own Big top, cotton candy dispenser, and caramel apple maker. But there were no sweets to be had here, only lint and pocket knives.

The plot twists could have been a bit more twisted, as I had more than a strong suspicion on the final outcome of this tale about halfway through, but like a five-car pileup on the interstate in the middle of rush hour, I couldn’t look away, nor did I really want to. So if you’re looking for a character study in evil, along with a side dose in depth, despair, and human wreckage, you just might find yourself enjoying this tale. Although sleeping with a nightlight for your first night or two might not be such a bad idea either, if you have a weak stomach.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.