Tag Archives: thriller

One Fine Piece Of Detective Fiction

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9547677A Drop of the Hard Stuff by Lawrence Block
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Hi, my name is Robert Downs, and I’m a member of Lawrence Block Anonymous (LBA for short). I can see why he was named a Grand Master by the Mystery Writers of America in 1994. He has the damaged, hard-boiled detective figured out as well as anyone else I’ve ever read, and his prose flows better than eggnog at Christmastime. And it’s easy to keep on guzzling the way his famous PI Matthew Scudder used to swig the hard stuff. A DROP OF THE HARD STUFF indeed. Well, more than, but it’s easy to get carried away when it’s just so darn good.

If it wasn’t for Amazon’s Kindle Daily Deals, I might have waited a bit longer before I delved into Matthew Scudder’s universe, and that would have been a serious travesty, especially considering my love of hard-boiled novels knows no bounds. I’d travel just about anywhere with a hard-boiled gumshoe at my side.

I’d have to agree with the critics that this is one fine piece of detective fiction, even though it would have been easy for Mr. Block to let his guard down and go for the low blow. Matthew Scudder felt as real to me as if he was standing right beside me, telling me his story over a cup of joe with a determined look and a never-back-down attitude.

The ending could have been a bit better, but it worked out just fine for the story, and it wasn’t out of character for Mr. Scudder. And this proves to be a bit of a minor detail in an otherwise gut wrenching story written with near pitch perfect lyrical prose.

I must say this is one fine hard-boiled read, and if you’re into the hard stuff, it’s certainly worthy of a bit more attention.

Bonafide Killing Machine

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18923500The Lincoln Myth by Steve Berry
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

If religion ain’t how you like to swing from the tree branches, then there’s much you won’t like about THE LINCOLN MYTH. If you’re a southern who still refers to the Civil War as The War of Northern Aggression, you may find yourself nodding along at times, and still wishing you had shown those northern bastards a thing or two. The idea of a continuing, perpetual union was fought on the battlefield leading to what has continued to this day. Unless, of course, you’re in Texas, which ends up being its own entity entirely. But that’s a story for another day.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints aka Mormons filled more than a few pages of this story, and I couldn’t help but have flashbacks (possibly visions or nightmares) to my Fifty Shades days. The body and soul may have departed, but the stench remains. I guess you could say Mormons aren’t exactly at the top of my Christmas list, so what follows might be slightly tainted by my own beliefs and opinions. Not visions. So if you’re still reading at this point, remember Jesus hasn’t told you to.

Cotton Malone may not sound like much of a man, but don’t let the name fool you, he’s a bonafide killing machine. He’ll rock your world six ways from Sunday, and he won’t even think twice about it, and that swift kick to the nuts you feel all the way in your toes, will drop you faster than a sack of potatoes. He can also be a bit slow to love, but that’s just because he’s seen a side of the world most of us only read about in newspapers and magazines.

I don’t know why, but the name Cassiopeia Vitt rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was just the name, but I wasn’t particularly endeared to her character either. She seemed a tad too manipulative for my tastes. She reminded me of a black widow ready to strike me dead. Had I been fortunate enough to live, I might have wished I hadn’t.

The story felt a bit long and drawn out, even if the plot did move at a somewhat expeditious pace. Even though I’d check off the religion category on the latest Excel spreadsheet iteration, the religious angle was a bit much for me at times. Other than Cotton Malone, the rest of the cast of characters lacked a bit of dimension to truly make them whole. While I prefer not to jump to conclusions without all the available facts, it did feel like Steve Berry had decided to coast a bit through this one, instead of shifting his car out of neutral.

If you’re new to the Steve Berry arena, you may be better served by starting a bit earlier in this series. But if you’re already a fan, and you don’t mind the appearance or reference of a few prophets, you may find yourself right at home between the pages.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Prose Popped My Nose

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12497No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

If I ever decide to sneeze sawdust and spit nails, I might just have to change my name to Anton Chigurh and move my wife to the Texas-Mexico border. Of course, that assumes I own a cattle gun, determine fate through the flip of a coin, and have approximately $2.4M stuffed in my jeans. During my subsequent relocation, I’ll acquire a pair of recently shined ostrich boots and a white cloth for my boots and nose, not to be used successively without prior washing.

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN caused me to jump at even the slightest noise, and I might have pried my eyes open with toothpicks to help me sleep at night. The journey nearly led to a forty mph drive by through a stop sign, and I might have run a red light during the completion of this novel. The prose popped my nose and jaw out of alignment, and I might have hugged the sidewalk for warmth and comfort and moral support. Had I owned a shotgun, I might have tossed it out of my bedroom window (unloaded of course) and buried the shells in my backyard.

The sparse prose rocked me more than the San Andreas, and I might have considered a four-wheeler purchase to aid my night travels. I’d remove the toothpicks from my eyes for the completion of this journey. The dialogue confused me at times, since I’m a simple man who prefers quotation marks and contractions with the aid of an apostrophe. But that could just be me. Who needs grammar rules if you have a Pulitzer swinging from your gun belt? I ask you. Since I own neither a Pulitzer (unless you count the one I stole from that bastard from Kentucky) nor a gun belt, I guess I’ll have to continue to use punctuation correctly. But when I do acquire my Pulitzer through legal means, you bastards better watch out.

If you like your world filled with reprehensible characters and you want to watch as the world gets blown to smithereens, or maybe just the backseat of a Jeep, then this novel might just make you feel all warm and cuddly inside.

Heart-Pounding Thrill Ride

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19941395The Accident by Chris Pavone
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

If I didn’t already know the publishing industry was filled with a bunch of crazy bastards, THE ACCIDENT would have sealed the deal for me. So, of course, I was thrilled with my particular choice. But I digress. What thrilled me to no end were the constant references and insights and foresights into the world of agents and editors and writers that is publishing.

Filled with big dreams and even bigger unfulfilled promises, the odds are stacked against you before you even step up to bat. And since nobody in America reads, other than the select few on Goodreads, you can be the next big thing in a country that doesn’t read. And as this brilliant novel so aptly proves, you can even get shot or killed or stalked or sued for your trouble, so if you’re a writer or a publisher, you’ve got that to look forward to as well. Again, it’s not as wonderful as you might think, because you actually have to have a good bit of luck involved, along with talent and skill, unless you happen to have the next big celebrity reveal stashed in your hip pocket.

If you want to know how to maneuver from the A list down to C level, you might want to talk to Jeffrey Fielder, who for a middle-aged man happens to be more gun shy than he’s ever been in his life. Or maybe you want to converse with Isabel Reed, who can be seen running through the halls of the ATM agency on her way out of town. Or maybe you’d prefer to take a gander at Camilla Glyndon-Browning, who can rock your world courtesy of the closest bathroom sink. Or maybe you’d like to speak to Alexis, who might be looking for a career change or a step up in an industry filled with plenty of novels and not always the best commissions.

If you want to know how to spend your next twenty-fours, you first might want to consider how you shouldn’t spend it. What this novel does is give you a whole lot of arguments for shying away from the present predicaments contained within this 402 page heart-pounding thrill ride. It ramps up the tension around every street corner and every neighboring town, and it doesn’t really ease off the gas until you’re headed across the finish line. So, yeah, you could say I was entertained.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Slitting Your Throat

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19826961That Night by Chevy Stevens
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

I needed to write this review, and it wasn’t because Jesus told me to. I just wanted to clear the air on that particular point, because a few of my proclivities and tendencies will be made abundantly clear over the course of the next several hundred words, and if profanity ain’t your cup of java, you may want to leave the building before Elvis does.

Sonofabitch, she’s back. I don’t know where she went for novels two and three. I can speculate, but I prefer to stick to the facts, since I’m a simpleminded person at heart. What I do know is that I read Never Knowing and wasn’t particularly impressed, and I’ll probably read ALWAYS WATCHING at some point before I kick the bucket, but I’d say the chances are better than average that I’ll be underwhelmed. But in the meantime, let’s focus on the task at hand, and if I had to sum up THAT NIGHT in one sentence it would be thus: It was damn good.

This was one serious mindfuck from the first page to the last. Women can be some serious bitches and torment each other for years, decades even. Men, on the other hand, simply don’t function that way. We’re either not smart enough, or vindictive enough, or maybe it’s some combination of the two.

I mean growing up I thought my brother was a little shit, and to be perfectly honest, I was probably a little bastard, but I didn’t plan his imminent demise for sixteen years of my life. If you’re looking for that kind of deep-seated revenge, you might as well start planning out multiple graves, or maybe you’ll need a whole cemetery to bury the bodies. But it makes for good entertainment. Just ask the creators of Revenge.

Sorry, getting back on track here. More than once, my eyes were wide, and the little voice in my head said, “That couldn’t possibly happen.” And then the roller coaster of emotions started, and I found myself clinging to the edge of the cliff by my teeth. The pages flipped with effortless ease like I was giving the fuzz the bird from the front seat of my Corvette. I piled emotions on top of emotions until I was buried in a haze and cloud filled stupor, the bottle caressing my lips over and over again.

Shauna and Rachel, Kim and Cathy reminded me of a viper or a praying mantis. If I ever had any inclinations of returning to high school to relive my glory days, I’d bury them right now in my own backyard. If you want to see nasty, it doesn’t get much nastier than the four of them. Holding your hand one minute and slitting your throat the next is just how these girls roll, and if you don’t like it, you can back the fuck off. Dealing with the bodies might prove to be a bit of a challenge, but one that can be overcome with smiles and more hand holding and quite possibly a tire iron.

Despite my better judgment, I liked Toni. While some reviewers might shout at the heavens and curse her very name, I found myself rooting for her. She wasn’t just dealt a bad hand; she had an entire deck of fraudulent cards. If you don’t like her pity party, that’s fine, but she truly wants to turn her life around and move on, and if that means she stumbles once in a while, she just needs to pick herself back up.

If you believe I have a soft spot for the underdog, you’re absolutely right. That’s just how I roll. Nicole, though, was the good one, the pretty one, and she used all of her assets to her advantage, her mother doting on her like she was a doll. So, yeah, she didn’t get any sympathy points from me, but then I like to see the little gal win.

It’s easy to say that these teenagers are mere caricatures, but when have young adults not been a bunch of bastards and bitches. I was young once, I know how it all goes down on the playground. And if you’re in the popular crowd, it’s like being in a mosh pit at the latest hard rock concert. I stood back and watched all the madness unfold, and that’s exactly what I did here. If you’re smart, you’ll do the same, and might even glad you partook in the festivities.

You might, however, be a bit disappointed in the ending, and I can’t say that I’d blame you in that regard.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Defies Conventions

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15819559The Cloud by Matt Richtel
My Rating: 5/5 Stars

If you stop to really think about it, it’s amazing how books find readers, since the ocean is filled with more than 200,000 books produced each year, and this ocean is constantly expanding, a black hole of pages and kilobytes produced for what the author hopes is mass consumption. While it’s not a grand tale, I discovered THE CLOUD through an online ad that I caught out of the corner of my eye, the cover being my first introduction to this fine tale, sampled the first several paragraphs, and then noticed a smattering of reviews. All of this piqued my curiosity, led to an impulse purchase on my Kindle, and now this review.

Why do I tell you this? Because it happens on occasion to me (I’ve never met a book that I wasn’t willing to give a chance, and I have no problem stepping out from the pack), but it’s rare when that connection works just perfectly, like the universe dropped a book into the market just for me. This was one of those books, and yet as certain as I am of this, it’s hard for me to pinpoint exactly why.

I can be a bit of a sucker for first person novels. I love the immediacy and stepping right into the shoes of the main character and walking around for miles and miles until we reach some sort of destination. This novel afforded me this wonderful opportunity, and I have to admit I became rather fond of Nat Idle, even if he suffered post-traumatic stress disorder and stumbled around like a drunken sailor for much of this tale, forcing me to sometimes question my own equilibrium and state of sobriety, despite tea being my strongest drink as of late.

This novel bends genres, defies conventions, marches to the beat of its own drummer, or feel free to insert your favorite descriptive phrase. It could easily be classified as a mystery, although the mysterious deaths aren’t really the primary focus for Nat, or it could just as easily be classified as a thriller, although it’s not written from multiple points of view, and there’s no real ticking clock. But THE CLOUD is a novel I didn’t want to end, it’s a novel I couldn’t put down, and it’s a novel where the voice carried me home, cheering me on every step of the way.

Character growth isn’t normally a focus of thrillers, and yet I felt Nat grow as a character, as a person, and as a man, and his relationship with Faith added heart to a novel that might have otherwise been a bit lacking, since this tale ends up being driven by technology and the chase to discover the truth. It’s a chase that kept me flipping pages, as fast as my brain could carry me, as I savored every moment of this thrilling read.

Matt Richtel isn’t a new author, but he’s new to me, and I look forward to checking out more of his tales. If you’re smart, you might want to do the same as well.

Open Orifices

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18002456The Troop by Nick Cutter
My Rating: 2/5 Stars

Reading a book about a guy drinking his own piss would have been easier to swallow than this particular novel. To be clear, this isn’t a bad book. It’s not even a poorly written book. The structure, with letters and interviews and the plot moving forward, kept me on edge, while the slaughtering and stomach-churning antics kept my nausea on red alert. If I could have punctured a hole through my brain without doing any permanent damage, I might have briefly considered the notion, before I permanently discarded in the ocean. If I could have jammed about five thousand volts of electricity through my body without the need for a diaper, it might have been a viable alternative. But in the end, selective amnesia works just fine, and I plan on using it to its fullest.

What disturbed me more than tapeworms exiting through open orifices was there wasn’t a single character that I could stand behind without worrying about taking an elbow to the chin. THE TROOP made me want to march in the opposite direction in a most expeditious manner, and I kept reading through sheer determination and a need to push myself to the limit rather than some impending notion that there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I probably looked away from the page as much as I looked at it.

This tale made me realize that coming up with the absolute worst case scenario and working backwards isn’t necessarily a good thing, especially when the boat was stuck at full speed ahead, and I couldn’t find a way to turn off the engine or drop anchor. I plan on employing a taste tester to consume my food before I do, and if I see any suspicious or slightly pale or slow-talking individuals, I plan on running first and asking questions later.

And if you want to read a review by a reviewer or four who actually knows what the hell he or she’s talking about, you might want to take a gander at what Dan or Trudi or Kelly or Karen has to say on the subject. Since after wiping my brain, I will now consume applesauce, Jell-O, smoothies, and liquid vegetables for the rest of my days.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

A Weakness For Cops

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18891519 by
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

Maxine “Max” Revere might have what one could call a strong personality. She knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to go after it, diving right into the swimming pool. Whether it’s men, or a friend, or a story, or a dead body, she’s not afraid to mess up her manicure. Her strong will could bowl over even the hardest of hearts, and she has one devilish smile to even out the fair trade. And she knows how to dress for all occasions, even if it means she might get a little blood on her clothes.

She may have a weakness for cops, or one might call it an obsession, and she’s rather adept with a pair of handcuffs. While I appreciated her sticky situation, I had trouble with my focus at various points along the way. Max, while intriguing, managed to keep me at a distance throughout much of the story, even while her NOTORIOUS circumstances managed to hold me in suspense and despair.

The cold case concept intrigued me, and her beguiling smile deceived me, and her off-putting attitude caused her a whirlwind of trouble wherever she went, even if she kept her head in the game, and her eyes on the horizon. Making friends might not have been at the top of her list, but she commanded attention and a second glance wherever she managed to turn up next.

Other than Nick Santini, many of the males felt like caricatures, instead of full-bodied versions ready to spring off the page and into my living room. Had the men measured up to the women, it might have provided a bit more balance to the equation, and made it a bit easier to swallow for this particular reader. Not bad writing, or a bad story, mind you, but not a tale that showcases Allison Brennan at her story writing best.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

More Populated State

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18134782 by
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

I must be one sentimental bastard. While I’d like to say, “I ain’t missing you at all.” I’d be hard-pressed to do it with a straight face. Eighteen years? No problem. But, on the other hand, life’s too short to let that much time pass. Seize the moment. That’s what I always say. Or maybe it was Sigmund or Freud or Siskel or Ebert.

MISSING YOU did have its sentimental moments. But it also contained a rather prominent criminal element, since this novel falls smack dab in the suspense/thriller category. With detectives and captains and bad dudes galore, and at least one bloodbath soaked its way through the printed pages, you’d be hard-pressed to find a better roller-coaster ride. I even managed to get a little soppy on at least one occasion, but shhhh (holds a finger up to my lips), you can’t tell anyone. And when blood made its metallic appearance, I had one of my woo-hoo moments. Probably one of just many reasons why I’d say I’m not necessarily a normal member of society.

That’s also why I probably need to find a slightly more populated state for my twilight years. I’d have to say I’m a bit creeped out to live in isolation, so I’m scratching Wyoming and the Dakotas and Montana off my wish list for the sake of my own sanity. The quiet and the possibility of being a mile or so from my nearest neighbor just doesn’t necessarily give me the same warm feeling that an axe to the jugular does. No, wait, a hug around the neck would probably be more appropriate here.

The plot kept me on the edge of my seat, as the pages flipped with effortless ease, and I ground my teeth to relieve just a bit of the tension. Kat and Dana and Brandon proved a dynamic trio that I could get behind, or in front of, as we headed off into battle, even if I ended up in a rather precarious position. The ending came a bit too soon (although not at the wrong time), but I wanted to continue to dangle on the edge of the plateau staring down at the river below.

Was I satisfied? Yes, Stagger, I believe I’d say I was.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Damn Near Deadly

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10739830 by
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

She’s a tool. A weapon. Like Jason Bourne or James Bond. Able to blend into her surroundings. She speaks 22 languages, and she’s damn near deadly with a knife. And she’s androgynous. She’s Vanessa Michael Munroe. Or Michael for short.

Revenge might as well be her middle name, though. She reminded me of Lisbeth Salander with the way rage completely consumed her. And yet she still managed to show some heart, or at least her slightly abbreviated version of it. Emotions seemed to fill her, consume her, even as she struck out at the imperfections of this world.

Her ability to seek out, consume, and process information rapidly helped explain the title. Even when she was just traversing through a particular area, it felt as though her brain worked at a higher level than everyone else around her. Almost like a game of dominoes where she already had the perfect plan mapped out in her head.

The Equatorial Guinea setting proved as real and as feral to me as she was, and it was the perfect setting for such an untamed creature. Had THE INFORMATIONIST been set anywhere else, it probably wouldn’t have worked as well as it did.

Kudos to you, Ms. Stevens. Michael is one interesting, intriguing character, and this proved to be one interesting and intriguing read.