Tag Archives: thriller

Richly Drawn Novel

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15818278The 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

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17920175Wayward 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

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17671775Mother, 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.

Cocksure Attitude

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11367726Defending Jacob by William Landay
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

I hated Jacob and would have preferred to rub his cocksure attitude into the sand, knock him over the head with a shovel, and then bury him with said object about six feet under. He’s more emotionless void than passionate Picasso, and he feels absolutely no responsibility for his actions. That’s your typical teenager, at least on the latter, but not having a heart is not exactly what I strive toward every day of my life. And yet I ended up completely immersed in legalese and legal suspense.

William Landay has a knack for plotting novels, or at least based on the merits of DEFENDING JACOB. The spoon-fed trial details, the slipping between the present and the past almost effortlessly, the family history that comes out later like a pissed off reptile, and the emotional struggle to hold a family together even as it’s being torn apart all make for one glorious read. And yet he takes nearly 431 pages to answer one basic question: Is Jacob guilty or not? If you peel back all the emotional layers and struggles and doubts and accusations, that’s the bottom line. To put it mildly, he does it really, really well.

Andy Barber doesn’t want to answer this question. He doesn’t want to believe he could have made an error raising his son; instead, he chooses to focus on the goodness and righteousness that he sees every day in Jacob. He’ll do whatever it takes to defend his boy, even if it means lying or circumventing the truth or covering up details along the way. But then I’m the kind of person who thinks celebrities and other public figures should act in a professional, civic manner, and I hold myself to the same standards that I hold others to (often to be disappointed by said individuals somewhere along the way). None of that detracted from my overall reading experience, though. It just gave me a few additional thought molecules.

But I will say I didn’t like the ending. Even though it doesn’t change my rating, I would have been happier had the book ended about 30 pages sooner. Sure, it was an excellent twist, but it’s not one I was particularly happy about.

Meet Charlie Hardie

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11828769Fun & Games by Duane Swierczynski
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Meet Charlie Hardie, former cop, resident badass, coming to housesit in a neighborhood near you. He gets drunk and watches old movies as often as Congress runs a budget deficit, before he meets Lane Madden, a chick with more attitude and gumption and fighting ability than the top UFC contender, and gets tossed in the middle of the ring with a group of coldblooded killers. Lane’s tough, and she’s not about to take attitude from anyone, including a group of hit men and one woman who want nothing more than to see her dead.

If I had to pick a favorite character (and this is nothing short of a difficult task), I’d have to say Mann topped the charts. She focuses on the score, and she has a body and an attitude that just won’t quit. Despite being maimed and mauled (and her thing against guns), she’s going to see her assignment through all the way to end, as long as she still has a breath or two left in her. She focuses on her script, and she sets out to direct her masterpiece, even if she has to improvise her plan multiple times.

If FUN AND GAMES had been set anywhere other than LA, the high speed chases on narrow mountain passes, the tan, shaved woman sunbathing on her deck in the nude in broad daylight, the impalement of Charlie by a beautiful woman in a t-shirt and bikini underwear wielding a microphone stand like it’s a machete, and the house that goes up in flames faster than a hayfield after a lightning strike, the antics might have strained my believability factor, even though I have a high tolerance for suspending disbelief. But I figured this was LA and all bets are off, literally, and I thought absolutely nothing of the shenanigans, as I pushed the car close to ninety in the middle of the freeway, flipping page after high-octane page, and enjoying the ride with every smooth turn.

All The Way Cuckoo

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12837725Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
My Rating: 5/5 Stars

I think I might have met someone that is certifiably insane. Not just a little insane but all the way cuckoo. So crazy that I want to get out of her head right now, rinse myself off, and then down some sort of medication to ease the pain that is building up like a ball of wax.

And just when I thought I had everything figured out, I found myself traveling on a different elevator, headed to a different destination, and in the opposite direction. I realized I knew nothing. Possibly even less than nothing. It’s like a light switch was suddenly flipped on, and I discovered I was standing in a bedroom when I thought I was standing in the living room, and in my underwear, no less.

Without saying too much, I wouldn’t read this book if I planned on getting married. Ever. And since I’m already married, I might start sleeping with the nightlight on, even though I’ve never been a nightlight kind of guy. It’s that good. Literally.

Gillian Flynn has human psyche nailed to perfection: those dark places that no one ever wants to talk about or visit, those demons that are stuffed in a closet, duct taped from head to toe, and then tied to a chair. It freaked me out, because it felt so real, and was as real as any piece of fiction I’ve ever read.

If you like dark, psychological fiction, then you’ll want to snap this book up faster than a piece of Ghirardelli chocolate. Just make sure to leave the lights on while reading.

Unreliable Narrator

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10323019Before I Go To Sleep by S.J. Watson
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

Christine proves rather reliable in her unreliability as a narrator. But it’s not exactly breaking character since she can’t remember shit. I’ve had traumatic experiences in my life, and I can’t remember that particular time period. My mind is blank. It’s like that particular event didn’t happen, except I remember the before and the after and there’s a crumpled car to prove to me that I’m not just making shit up in my head. And if your entire world revolves around your husband Ben and you suddenly see three words in your diary—DON’T TRUST BEN—I can understand how that might be terrifying and traumatic for you. I’d equate it to building a million dollar mansion on quicksand.

The structure worked for me. It added suspense. Had BEFORE I GO TO SLEEP been structured any other way, it would have crumbled in on itself like an origami bird. But I didn’t like the ending. It felt a bit like cheating to me. *BEGIN SPOILER* Christine suddenly has her memory back or large chunks of it at least, because the supposed traumatic event is over, and Mike has been expunged from existence. It seemed a tad convenient for me. S.J. Watson may, or may not, have consumed an illegal substance during this period, and there’s a decent chance he may have inhaled. *END SPOILER*

But otherwise the story worked. It had a different feel to it, and I was turned on enough to want to know what happened, but I did have a sinking suspicion I had the ending figured out before it arrived.

For those of you who don’t like tangents, you’ll probably want to skip right on over this part. Let’s get one thing straight: There are no original plotlines. The well of lost plots has been used up, drying faster than the Nevada desert. Sure, it’s easy enough to make the argument that this story is similar to Memento, but so what? We might as well take every romance and mystery off the shelves…and sit around and wait for someone to come up with something “original.” I’ll save you the suspense: You probably have a better chance of meeting a little green alien, having him tickle your forehead, and then receiving a wet smack to the lips. Guess what? The Fast & The Furious is essentially the same as Point Break, only there’re cars and car racing instead of surfing. And the director of The Fast & The Furious is in preproduction on a remake of Point Break. You’re welcome.

But let’s get to the good news: Even without an endless number of plots, there are an endless number of ideas and experiences and opportunities and characters that writers can bring to the table, bringing an essential “uniqueness” to the creative drawing board. The Fast & The Furious feels different from Point Break because the characters are different. End tangent.

Straitjacketed Humor

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16071701Bad Monkey by Carl Hiaasen
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

If I ever visit Key West, I’ll smuggle aboard enough food rations to last me twice as long as my planned stay, refrain from eating at any restaurant within a sixty-mile radius, catch my own fish from my hotel balcony, and cook them from my own grill on said balcony, setting off all smoke detectors in a three-room radius. To that end, I’ll probably increase my life expectancy by six years, and I won’t go to sleep with cockroach-filled nightmares.

If writing zany characters were an occupation unto itself, Carl Hiaasen would have fit the requirements long ago and placed himself firmly within its trenches. This go round we are treated to a hairless capuchin monkey that was fired from Pirates Of The Caribbean and who developed an unhealthy attachment to Johnny Depp, hurls his own feces, and is addicted to Dunhill tobacco. He also subsists on conch fritters and other fried foods, most of which have his cholesterol levels shooting through the roof and have aided in his current hairless ailment; a daughter who sees dollar signs and would sell her soul to the devil himself for a million dollars instead of grieving over her deceased pa; a child sex offender named Plover Chase who exchanged grades in AP English for bedroom antics of a more than questionable nature; a Dragon Queen who likes to fornicate on a Rollie scooter; an assistant medical examiner who likes to have sex on her operating table amid sixty or so stiffs and in the middle of a hurricane; one sodomized surgeon; and a restaurant inspector who counts cockroaches with a homemade roach-vacuuming concoction.

There’s enough satire and madness and mayhem to satisfy the attention span of a gnat with a Medicare scam large enough to interest the FBI, one spec house up in flames faster than a blowtorch applied to rice paper, questionable corpses, scorned ex-lovers, dubious alliances, and the ever lingering environmental issues found in many of his tales…You know, your typical Carl Hiaasen novel.

While I can only speculate on his writing methods, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn he sits at his desk chair in a straitjacket pecking at his keyboard with the tip of his nose or dictating his stories into a voice recorder to be later typed by his secretary. And he does it all with a large grin and swag smile, inching up the chaos with each turn of the page. Because that’s exactly what happens here.

While BAD MONKEY certainly held my attention and had more than its share of laugh out loud moments, I couldn’t help but compare this novel to his earlier work, and I felt like he came up a little short. But on the bright side, there’s more than enough fuckwads and shitweasels to occupy an entire wing at an insane asylum. And in the end, that was enough for me to like this tale.

Mexican Hairless Beaver

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17911278Beat The Reaper by Josh Bazell
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Hey fuckhead,

Yep, you, the one with the track marks running down both arms trying to slide off into oblivion, with the tilted head and the faraway expression, staring at the sun like it’s some four-headed monster ready to steal your dreams, twitching for your next fix like some random dog left out in the rain too long, with a stutter-stepping walk and attitude, veering off from the rest of the universe like a bad dream; you might want to sit this one out, otherwise you might have more than just a fogged-up brain on your hands. You may want to study a medical chart and have your CT scanned and actually study ligaments and tendons and muscles and bones and maybe even pass an anatomy class, although that might be too much to ask, because you’re about to get your ass kicked, and you’ll need to be able to piece yourself back together later, with the doctor’s help of course. And frankly that’s what you’re going to need: loads and loads of help.

The medical industry is encased in a shitstorm the likes of which your coke-snorting ass has never seen, and it’s about to get worse for you and your fellow fuckhead Americans. And if you can stop being a worthless piece of horseshit for more than one fucking minute, you might actually have a prayer at making it in this world, instead of ending up in some premature, unmarked grave all by your lonesome staring at the bottom of a coffin at the age of twenty-two with your eyes wide open.

The good news is you’ll die of lethal injection, probably at the hands of some no-name doctor, when all you did was go and see the man about a head cold. So at least you’ll have that going for you. Because if I really wanted to kill you, I could shove a cork down your throat or jack you full of potassium until your eyes bleed, or I could have one of the Latvian nurses on my floor, who is really nothing more than a worthless piece of shit, who smokes more weed than she does rounds and surfs the Internet like she has a gun held to her head, ignore your ass for the rest of your miserable life, peppering your chart with the standard healthy readings when really you’re secretly dying of stomach cancer.

And don’t forget that I’ve worked for the mob, hell they brought me into their family, not the one where I had to prove that I’m worthy by killing some innocent individual while he was sleeping, or watching TV in the middle of the afternoon, but the one where I was sitting around the dining room table on a Sunday afternoon shooting the shit. I spent my formative years in dojos studying everything from tae kwon do to kempo, so I know over 100 ways to make your ears bleed, so if you don’t get yourself straight and step the fuck off, I’ll plant your ass at the bottom of a cesspool, and I’ll work the next 120 hours without even batting an eyelash.

Yep, I might just be the craziest son of a bitch you ever met. I pop Moxfane tablets like they’re caffeine pills; I take powernaps in a coat closet; and I’ll smear a pint of blood all over myself for the right cause. I have what you might call a rapid-onset addiction to bloodshed, and I killed four men while I was still taped to a chair along with countless other fuckers that I’d rather not mention since I’m in WITSEC, so I really have no qualms about killing an innocent, or in your case, not-so-innocent individual.

And while you may not think you’re a dumbfuck, and that you’re actually being clever by trying to jump my ass while I’m wearing scrubs, there are at least forty different kinds of stupidity, and over the course of our less than five-minute interlude, you exhibited every single one of them, and probably about a dozen others that haven’t even been medically diagnosed yet. So, yep, you’re fucked, and that’s even without your latest fix.

Oh, and whatever you do, don’t go to Sicily. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.

Sincerely,

Dr. Pietro Brnwa (Bearclaw), intern

P.S. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get some Mexican hairless beaver before you die.

P.P.S. Don’t be such a fuckhead, fuckhead.

DISCLAIMER – I really liked this book and this voice, so much in fact that I couldn’t write this review any other way.