Tag: Reread Project Page 1 of 8

REREAD PROJECT: All Our Wrong Todays (Audiobook) by Elan Mastai: It’s Still The Best Time Travel Novel I’ve Encountered

All Our Wrong TodaysAll Our Wrong Todays

by Elan Mastai

DETAILS: 
Publisher: Penguin Audio
Publication Date: Feb 7, 2017
Format: Unabridged Audiobook
Length:10 hrs., 2 min.
Read Date: April 4-6, 2023


This is largely a reworking of my post about the ARC for this novel that I received from Dutton via NetGalley, but there’s some new material thrown in as well.

What’s All Our Wrong Todays About?

Avery Brooks famously asked, “Where are the flying cars? I was promised flying cars! I don’t see any flying cars! Why? Why? Why?” Elan Mastai’s book finally provides the answer. Simply put: we had it—flying cars, routine space flights, robots/other tech dressing us, feeding us, doing the everyday jobs that need to be done so that humans can focus on working in labs to make the world an even better place, to make the next technological leap forward. Essentially, everything that Science Fiction of the 1950’s told us to expect, we lived in George Jetson’s world.

Until July 11, 2016 when the first time machine was turned on and things went wrong, resulting in 40 years of history being rewritten and one man—Tom Barren—was the only one to know that we are now living in a dystopia. It’s a dystopia for everyone on Earth, but Tom, that is—his life in the 2016 that we know is much better than it was in the “original” 2016. So now Tom has to decide, does he try to restore the timeline (if he can even figure out how to do so), or does he keep things the way they are?

That’s less than you can see on Goodreads/Mastai’s site/Web retailers—and yet I think I gave away too much. But really, that’s barely scratching the surface.

The Science Part of Science Fiction

There’s a great mix of detail to the science (at least the ideas and theories behind it), yet keeping it at the level where we don’t get bogged down in technicalities (and kept Mastai from having to work them out)—he gets away with it by comparing it to the way that we don’t really understand how hydroelectric dams or incandescent light bulbs work.

This is the way to do Science Fiction for me—give me just a hint about the science, enough to make it plausible, but don’t get me details. My eyes gloss over and I frequently skim it, especially if it goes too long. I’m sure this disqualifies me from being a Hard SF fan. But I’m okay with that.

Chapter 56

Oooh, boy. Speaking of things to skim—many readers (particularly a handful of those who read this space) will want to skim Chapter 56—or skip it entirely if they listen to the audiobook.

I think it’s a mistake to do so, but I get the impulse.

It’s the literary equivalent to that scene from The Wire‘s 4th episode—it’s a mixture of genius and profanity and poetry. Mostly profanity.

It consists of two words, both of which are some of the “bigger” words on Carlin’s list of words that you can’t say on TV, or some of the middle words in McWhorter’s Nine Nasty Words.

In the audiobook version, it’s 2 minutes long. Mastai does a masterful job of varying the way he utters each blue syllable to convey meaning and make it more than just a monotonous stream of profanity.

While glancing at his Twitter feed, I saw Matsai commenting that “I find it endlessly amusing that every few months [an image] this page of my novel goes viral.” It’s really kind of sad that this chapter gets this much attention when the rest of the chapters (which are better in so many ways) barely get any attention at all—at least that I can see.

Putting aside the couthness of the vocabulary—in context it works so well, it encapsulates everything going through Tom’s mind in the moment as he realizes just how monumentally everything has gone wrong with his impetuous move.

How’s Mastai’s narration?

It’s almost as good as his writing—and I loved the writing. As always, I get nervous when I see that a writer does their own audiobook narration, but Penguin knew what they were doing when they put him behind the microphone. He’s a natural performer and gets the emotions of every scene perfectly, the nuances for the characters, when to ratchet up the tension and when to let things relax.

It’s obvious when you think about it—but not every author is capable of conveying what they know about a book through a performance. Matsai is one of the exceptions. I’d pay to hear him narrate other people’s work, too.

So, what did I think about All Our Wrong Todays?

In my original post, I’d said, “We’re going to be talking about Elan Mastai the way we recently talked about Ernest Cline or Andy Weir next year (assuming I can predict anything)—and he deserves it.” Sadly, it appears that I can’t predict anything. Because we’re not–and we should be. The voice grabs you right away from the humor, the honesty—the trouble with time travel grammar. I really wish that Jonathan Tropper’s endorsement of the book wasn’t right there on the front cover, because it feels like a cheat to compare Mastai to him now, but I want to. He’s got the same mix of humor, heart, drama, and inspiration as Tropper, he just blends science fiction themes in with those. The Tropper comparison is from the original post, too—now I’d add a comparison to Mike Chen–it’s the same kind of mix of heart, family, and SF (although Chen’s work was published later).

Tom Barren’s a great character (a questionable person, but a great character) that you’ll love spending time with. There are really a lot of great characters here, but he’s the only one I feel safe discussing. There are characters with warts, strengths, weaknesses, courage, bravery, and humanity in all shapes and sizes—some noble, some despicable, some pathetic. As is frequently the case, seeing multiple versions of the same characters in the various timelines tells you a lot about the people and/or worlds they live in.

Tom’s father, the one who developed the time machine—has some fantastic theories about time travel—it’s not just about time, it’s about space (between the earth’s rotation, movement through space, etc.), and for time travel to be really possible, both have to be addressed. Not only does it clear the TARDIS from every critique of time travelers/machines mentioned in the book, but it’s a really, really good point.

It’s one of those magic books that you don’t want to end, because you’ll have to leave the characters and world—but that you can’t get through fast enough because you just have to know how it turns out.

Is it flawless? No, I’m sure it’s not, but unlike almost every other book I’ve read this year (including the ones I’ve loved), I can’t think of a single problem. That says a lot to me. On a re-read, I’m not still not sure I can point to a problem. There are scenes I don’t like—but that’s because they’re effective in portraying darkness, and they were right to do so. But a deficiency? Nope, can’t think of one.

I’d originally said, “I have not been able to stop talking about this book for a week now—I think my wife and kids have started ignoring me when I bring it up. All Our Wrong Todays is a book that practically demands over-hyping—it’s only a huge amount of restraint that keeps me from spilling everything. I have a list of people I want to buy this for (started compiling it when I was about 10% finished), and the list is currently long enough now that I wouldn’t be able to buy any books for myself until June 2017 — so, sorry everyone, buy your own.” I still can’t stop talking about it, and bring it up anytime someone asks about Time Travel fiction, SF with heart, or just someone needing a book that’s not their normal genre.

My original conclusion was this: “I don’t know if I’ll be able to watch/read more time travel again—especially time travel involving love stories—but man, it’s absolutely worth it if this was my last.” I’ve read 3-4 time travel books (and a couple of Doctor Who-tie ins) since then, so it wasn’t my last–but the only one that’s come close to being as good was Chen’s Here and Now and Then. I enthusiastically recommended it then, I’m just as enthusiastic in my recommendation now—in either format. I’m annoyed that it took me so long to come back to this as a re-read, and I’m promising myself I won’t put it off that long again.


5 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

Reread Project: Faith & Life by B.B. Warfield: 41 Brief Bursts of Profundity

Faith & LifeFaith & Life

by B. B. Warfield

DETAILS:
Publisher: Banner of Truth
Publication Date: Dec 1, 1974
Format: Clothbound
Length: 458 pg.
Read Date: January 2-December 25, 2022
Support Independent Bookstores - Visit IndieBound.org


N.B.: I’ve revamped and slightly updated this from the last time I reread this.

What’s Faith & Life About?

Back when Princeton Seminary was the crown jewel of biblical Presbyterian training in the US, notable professors like Archibald Alexander, Samuel Miller, and Charles Hodge would have informal addresses for students on Sunday afternoons. B. B. Warfield, the lion of Princeton, continued this practice. These 41 chapters come from some of these addresses to the students.

They are roughly 10 (+/-2) pages long (the pages are on the small side, it should be noted), short, and to the point. They’re expositions of small pericopes of Scripture (primarily one or two verses, but he’ll often address the immediate context). Three chapters are from the Old Testament, with the rest from the New—the chapters are organized by canonical order, not by any particular themes or lines of thought.

So, what did I think about Faith & Life?

I went skimming over the Table of Contents to pick out a few highlights—and I’m having a real problem. Almost every one is a gem. “Prayer as a Means of Grace” and “Prayer as a Practice” were very helpful—the latter was slightly better. “New Testament Puritanism” was great. Despite the reputation men like Warfield have, the chapters involving the work of the Holy Spirit were all tremendous. “God’s Holiness and Ours” was fantastic. I could keep going here, but it wouldn’t be long before I copied the Table of Contents.

For being the exemplar of “old Princeton,” with all the rigor and scholarship that entails—these addresses help us remember that even stalwarts like Warfield, who are known for strong stances on doctrinal issues—were men with vibrant faith, even a sense of humor.

With a couple of breaks for illnesses, travel, etc. I read a chapter each Lord’s Day. It was like sitting down with a trusted friend to talk about the Bible for a couple of minutes. I’m going to miss doing that going into the next year. I last did this back in 2013, and won’t let myself wait as long for the next time through.

Faith & Life is everything Christian scholarship should be—warm, Christ-centered, practical, and doxological. It’s also everything that Christian devotional material should be—careful, sound, and deliberately orthodox. Highly recommended.


5 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

He Drank, and Saw the Spider (Audiobook) by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki: LaCrosse’s Break from His Vacation Changes History

Like with the previous Eddie LaCrosse audiobook, The Wake of the Bloody Angel, I can’t think of much more to say than I did in 2014 when I read the book. But, this is the last one in the series, and I can’t just let this pass unremarked. So I shuffled it a bit, cleaned a couple of things up, and added bit here and there. That’s not cheating too much, is it?


He Drank, and Saw the Spider

He Drank, and Saw the Spider

by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki (Narrator)
Series: Eddie LaCrosse, #5

Unabridged Audiobook, 9 hrs., 6 min.
Blackstone Audio, 2014

Read: February 16-19, 2021

Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

I felt that little knot in my belly that meant a mystery was taking its irrevocable hold. Usually this was a good thing, because usually I got paid for it. But here and now I was on vacation, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend it unraveling the truth of the strange prince, his rotund protector, and the girl I’d once saved from a bear. But damn it, I knew that’s exactly what I was going to do.

What’s He Drank, and Saw the Spider About?

After a couple of adventures that aren’t quite typical in their nature, Eddie La Crosse gets back to basics with a fairly straightforward case. Well, that’s not exactly true—it’s just that the last was more grand-adventure-y, less LaCrosse-as-sword-jokey, and the one before that took on this epic nature by the end. This is Eddie doing what he does best. But still, there’s magic and monsters, and all the other trappings that keep this from being something that Sue Grafton or Dennis Lehane would’ve written.

Sixteen years ago, Eddie promised a dying man on the run that he’d take care of the baby that the other man was running to protect. He found a seemingly-trustworthy family willing to take the infant in, and went on his merry way, and actually forgot all about the incidents surrounding that. Years later, Eddie and his girlfriend, Liz, are on vacation in that area and suddenly it all comes back to him and he decides to try and track down the (now) young woman and see how she’s doing.

Naturally, things start to go poorly about there. He does find her—pretty easily, too—it is a small community, with an economy largely-based on sheep-herding and farming, so it’s not really a bustling metropolis where no one knows anyone else. But there’s a whole lot of interesting things happening around the young woman—royalty in disguise, a meddling sorceress, an untrustworthy mercenary-type, an over-protective mother, a dose of sibling rivalry, and some sort of articulate and super-strong inhuman creature with a healthy interest in the girl.

Even though he was just supposed to check on her and not interfere with her life—he had no intention of even introducing himself to her. Eddie can’t help himself, and before you know it, he’s neck-deep in intrigue and danger.

Biggest Magic Yet

When you think about Fantasy novels (or maybe I should just say “I”, who knows what you think) you think about magic all over the place. But if it’s really that ubiquitous, that takes away some of the special-ness of magic. In LaCrosse’s world, almost no one believes in magic. Eddie sure wouldn’t if magic, deities, and supernatural creatures hadn’t rubbed their existence in his face on repeated occasions.

That’s certainly the case here—most of the people that Eddie is around in this novel (and by most, I mean an overwhelming majority) refuse to admit that what they are seeing—some of them on multiple occasions—has anything to do with magic. I think this is a great choice—it’s another hurdle for Eddie and Liz to get over, it adds some real tension when you’d be tempted to think we’re done with tension, and it keeps the magic mysterious.

Rudnicki’s Narration

I think this is probably Rudnicki’s best work in the series. he nails every character—particularly the character of Billy Cudgel (the aforementioned untrustworthy mercenary-type). He captures the humor, the drunkenness, the misery, the madness, and everything else. I thought the choices he makes in the narration (he and/or the director) and tone were spot-on. He’s definitely a narrator I’m going to seek out in the future.

So, what did I think about He Drank, and Saw the Spider?

On the whole, this is a fun, brisk novel—a lot of humor, some good action, nice banter, and interaction between the characters (especially Eddie and Liz). Yet, even as the answers to the questions surrounding the girl’s mysterious origins become obvious, and some of the characters get to the point where they seemed irredeemable, Bledsoe (as he can every so well) keeps you completely drawn in and even tugs the heartstrings a bit as the truth is revealed to the characters. Just really, really well done.

There’s a lot of nice little touches along the way. For example, towards the end of the book, Eddie and those he’s traveling with encounter a preteen who joins their little band for a while. She’s pretty new to swearing and tries to get in as much practice as she can while with them. At first, I thought she was an odd (but entertaining) and pointless distraction. It didn’t take too long to see she was a perfect tension-breaker, just what that part of the novel needed to keep from being too tense and so much more serious than what had come before.

Eddie’s narration has never been better—humor-tinged and hard-boiled, a medieval Philip Marlowe or Elvis Cole. I liked all of these characters, and really wanted to spend more time with each of them—I don’t know how Bledsoe could’ve pulled that off without getting the whole thing too slow and ponderous (which would’ve sucked the fun out of 60-70% of these characters). This is really such a well-done and fully realized series.

Either Bledsoe or his publishers decided that was enough, and it doesn’t look like we’re going to get any more adventures from our favorite sword-jockey, but man, I’m glad we got what we did.


4 Stars

2021 Audiobook Challenge

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Classic Spenser: Early Autumn by Robert B. Parker

Classic Spenser

Early Autumn

Early Autumn

by Robert B. Parker
Series: Spenser, #7

Mass Market Paperback, 221 pg.
Dell Publishing, 1981

Read: July 29, 2020

This is the least “Spenser”-ish of the Spenser novels, and it’s the most quintessentially “Spenser”-sh. If that’s possible. I’ve probably read it more than any other in the series and probably could’ve written 75% of what I’m going to end up saying here without cracking it open. But why deny myself?

I’m going to try to keep this from getting out of control, but no promises.

Please. I have no one else. Please.”

“There’s a qustion whether you need anyone else,” I said, “but I’ll take a whack at it on one condition.”

“What?”

“You tell me your name so I’ll know where the bill gets sent.”

She smiled. “Giacomin,” she said, “Patty Giacomin.”

“Like the old Ranger’s goalie,” I said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Gentleman of the same name used to be a hockey player.”

“Oh. I”m afraid I don’t follow sports much.”

“No shame to it,” I said. “Matter of not being raised properly. Not your fault at all.”

She smiled again, although this time it was a little unsure, as if now that she had me she wasn’t certain she wanted me. It’s a look I’ve seen a lot.

What’s Early Autumn About?

Patty Giacomin comes to Spenser (in a newly relocated office, this will be important a few books from now) for help, her ex-husband has taken their teenaged son in some sort of revenge move. She wants Spenser to get him back. He does so, in possibly the dullest scene in the series (only because it was so easy). This is not the kind of stuff we read P.I. novels for—Paul’s back home by page 30.

Three months later, a stranger attempts to kidnap Paul, but he escapes. Patty hires Spenser to stay with them and protect Paul—and her, after the would-be kidnapper and an accomplice try to break in and take Paul. Spenser interferes with that plan, but Paul’s safe, Patty’s eventually kidnapped by these men, and the exchange is set up, son for mom.

Spenser and Hawk interfere with that plan, and this time it gets a bit more violent. Clearly things are going to keep escalating, so they need another tack. It’s decided that Patty will lie low with a friend for a while, and Spenser and Paul will go out of town until the heat dies down. Spenser had promised to build a cabin for Susan on some property in Maine, so he and the boy head off to do that.

At this point, it’s not just about keeping Paul safe for Spenser. He’s trying to help the kid—trying to push him into being an autonomous person with skills and interests. Angela Duckworth would say that Spenser’s trying to foster grit in Paul, who certainly needs something.

Clearly, Mel Giacomin has some less-than-savory friends/business associates if he can get this kind of help. Spenser moves the bodyguarding to the side and beings investigating—why would Mel be able to find this kind of help? Would knowing this give Spenser the leverage to get Mel out of Paul’s life?

Paul

When we first meet Paul, he’s a sullen, almost affect-less fifteen year-old whose major form of communication is a shrug. He has no interests, few friends, really doesn’t seem to care which parent he’s with, and would rather just sit around watching syndicated reruns all day than worry about any of this. (one can only imagine how a Paul would be written today with hundreds of cable channels, Netflix (and the rest)—not to mention the Internet—rather than the few choices that 1981 TV provides.

When Spenser starts to teach him to exercise, to box, and to swing a hammer, Paul couldn’t care less about any of it. He goes along because he has nothing better to do (there’s no TV at the cabin) and because Spenser’s not really taking no for an answer. Soon Paul goes along with it because he’s seeing and feeling the results of an active lifestyle.

When Spenser gets ready to investigate his parents, Paul’s more than willing to tag along and help. He’s not a budding P.I., this isn’t Spenser adding a Robin to his Batman. It’s Paul exercising some self-determination. By the end of the novel, he knows who his parents are. He understands their motivations and what they’re like when they’re not being some of the lousiest parents you’ll encounter in print. More than that, he’ll know the kind of man he wants to be and he’ll know how he wants to become that kind of man.

Susan

Previously to now, we’ve seen Susan understand and support Spenser’s work. She may not enjoy it or agree with his methods, but she understands and supports him—even assists him as best as she can (when feasible). But that’s not the case in Early Autumn, she discourages Spenser from following his plan. She’s outright critical about parts of it, and spends most of the novel in one “funk” (Spenser’s word) or another. This case, and Spenser’s approach to it, puts a strain on their relationship, and it’s easy to understand why that is from her perspective (his, too, neither are wrong).

While Susan doesn’t seem to come across all that well for much of the book, she does come across as human. She’s not perfect, she’s a little jealous, she’s put out that Spenser will just drop strangers on her front door with no warning claiming to be in danger. But when the chips are down, she pitches in, and eventually embraces Spenser’s mission regarding Paul. In a few years, we won’t see that complex of a reaction from Susan. The character (and the series) will be less for that, so when possible, I’ve got to enjoy it.

Hawk

We get a scene in this book that in my mind we get a lot more than Parker actually wrote (although it does show up in Spener: For Hire a few times), someone has contacted Hawk about a hit on Spenser. Something Hawk would never do, but not too many people know that. It’s a great scene, and Hawk seems to enjoy it more than even I do.

He’s not around for much of this book, but when he is, it matters. I don’t think Hawk’s appearances before now have qualified, but I’d say he steals almost every scene he’s in. It’s one of those cases where a supporting character becomes as, if not more, beloved than the series protagonist/central character.

He’s ruthless, he’s dependable, and he does what he thinks is necessary—even when it conflicts with Spenser’s wishes—because he thinks Spener’s soft. Frequently, he lets Spenser’s “rules” get in the way of what he wants to do. But this time, he won’t–because he’s convinced it’ll get Spenser killed, and then Hawk would have to come along and get revenge later. He’d rather cut out the middle stuff and take care of it now. No matter what Hawk, Spenser, and others may say about the two of them being the same. They’re not. And it’s because of things like this.

The Criminal Investigation

As I said before, it’s obvious that Mel Giacomin is up to something. Upstanding citizens don’t enlist criminal help in a custody case (they wouldn’t know how). Spenser and Paul take very little time or effort (although there is some, helping Paul increase his grit) to uncover enough to send his father to jail—or to blackmail him into supporting Paul’s education while keeping him safe from further abductions.

It’s a step or two above perfunctory, and it really doesn’t matter. The core of this book is Paul. Paul and his relationship to his parents. Paul and Spenser. Paul starting to think and act on his own behalf, making choices, and being autonomous to whatever degree he can. Parker has to throw in the criminal activity because Spenser’s not Spenser without a villain to thwart. Also, how else would it stay in the genre?

So, what did I think about Early Autumn?

You’ve gotten yourself in a lot of trouble over this, Jack, and don’t you forget it,” he said.

I said, “Name’s Spenser with an S, like the poet. I’m in the Boston book.” I stepped through the door and closed it. Then I opened it again and stuck my head back into the hall. “Under Tough,” I said. And closed the door, and walked out.

I love it. We get the clearest, and most unabashed description of Spenser’s code of honor, code of life, and way of approaching things that we’ll ever get. He’s embarrassed to talk about it to Rachel Wallace, he’ll joke around the truth with others, and he and Susan will cover the same ground ad nauseam. But here he’s trying to pass it on to Paul, even if Paul doesn’t embrace it wholeheartedly, Spenser wants to inspire Paul to come up with his own code, his own guiding principles and the best way to do that is by being open an honest.

We learn so much about Spenser here that it’s essential reading for anyone wanting to understand the character.

I was younger than Paul the first few times I read this book, and I won’t say that it inspired me the same way it does Paul. I can’t say I developed the need for, or interest, in being an autonomous person, or in defining my own moral code. But the novel did inspire me, it made me think about life in a way that most people my age didn’t do (probably still don’t).

The dialogue was snappy, I learned early on that it a shrug shouldn’t be used as an all-purpose method of communication, the action was good (if almost an afterthought), and anything that contains a couple of strong Hawk scenes is worth the read.

This isn’t Spenser at his smartest, his toughest, or even his funniest. But it’s Spenser in the raw, the Platonic ideal of Spenser on display for readers and characters alike.

It’s a great read.

Classic Spenser: Looking for Rachel Wallace by Robert B. Parker

Classic Spenser

Looking for Rachel Wallace

Looking for Rachel Wallace

by Robert B. Parker
Series: Spenser, #6

Mass Market Paperback, 217 pg.
Dell, 1980

Read: June 26, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

“What is it you want to know?”

“Why you engage in things that are violent and dangerous.”

I sipped half a glass of beer. I took another bite of veal. “Well,” I said, “the violence is a kind of side-eiffect, I think. I have always wanted to live life on my own terms. And I have always tried to do what I can do. I am good at certain kinds of things; I have tried to go in that direction.”

“The answer doesn’t satisfy me,” Rachel said.

“It doesn’t have to. It satisfies me.”

“What he won’t say,” Susan said, “and what he may not even admit to himself is that he’d like to be Sir Gawain. He was born five hundred years too late. If you understand that, you understand most of what you are asking.”

“Six hundred years,” I said.

What’s Looking for Rachel Wallace About?

Spenser is hired to act as a bodyguard for Rachel Wallace. Wallace is a no-nonsense feminist activist and lesbian author. There have been threats made against her if her book exposing the discriminatory practices of several New England companies is published. The threats make little sense since the galleys have already been released (and therefore the material is out there), but they’re still there.

Despite clashing in their first meeting, Wallace agrees to her publisher’s choice in Spenser and he agrees to try not to annoy her. The two continue to squabble for the first eighty or so pages. Wallace keeps trying to provoke Spenser, questioning his professionalism, wanting to debate her brand of feminism with him. Spenser really doesn’t care about all that—and as much as he’s willing to discuss and think about those issues at other times (he’d read Wallace’s previous work before going to work for her)t—this is about work for him. He doesn’t care who she sleeps with, what she thinks, he’s about keeping her as safe as he can.

There is a moment where Wallace knows she’s going into somewhat hostile territory and tells Spenser to stand down beforehand. When security guards arrive to drag her off, and she goes limp to make it hard for them, Spenser intervenes. Which robs Wallace of the opportunity to make her statement, get the attention she wants, and hopefully a hearing with her target-audience. Wallace takes this as an insult, thinking Spenser’s machismo forced him to protect a (seemingly) helpless woman. And, yes, that’s true. But it’s also true, that if Wallace had been a male academic attracting this kind of response, he’d have done the same thing.

It was the wrong thing for Spenser to do regardless, which he admits later. Wallace fires him—and apparently doesn’t replace him. A couple of months later, she’s kidnapped. Belson* brings Spenser in for his perspective—and of course, that just spurs Spenser into his own investigation. He blames himself for not being a better employee, so he wasn’t around to protect her.

* It’s never explained why a homicide detective is brought in to discuss an abduction, but let that pass.

Spenser has very little to go off of here. He has one name, from a minor incident on his first day with Wallace to look into, and he essentially spends a lot of time trying to find evidence to tie this guy to the kidnapping. There’s also a KKK leader that Spenser arrested back when he was a law enforcement officer and hasn’t lost track of. Working off the assumption that a racist is going to operate in the same circles as a militant misogynist, Spenser harasses him for information. It works out (to a degree), but watching Spenser bully this guy on less than a hunch really bothered me.

Almost randomly, the one piece of evidence that Spenser (and Belson, to be fair) needs to tie everything together is essentially dropped into their lap. As a record blizzard descends on Boston, Spenser decides to walk (almost all roads are closed) fifteen miles to make the best of that piece of information. And well, you can guess the rest.

I Feel Compelled to Share this Quotation that has Nothing to do with the Plot

The Main Entrance to the Boston Public Library used to face Copley Square across Dartmouth Street. There was a broad exterior stairway and inside there was a beautiful marble staircase leading up to the main reading room with carved lions and high-domed ceilings. It was always a pleasure to go there. It felt like a library and looked like a library, and even when I was going in there to look up Duke Snider’s lifetime batting average, I used to feel like a scholar.

Then they grafted an addition on and shifted the main entrance to Boylston Street. Faithful to the spirit, the architect had probably said. But making a contemporary statement, I bet he said. The addition went with the original like Tab goes with pheasant. Now, even if I went into study the literary influence of Eleanor of Aquitaine, I felt like I’d come out with a pound of hamburger and a loaf of Wonder bread.

So, what did I think about Looking for Rachel Wallace?

I guess I’ve made it clear that this isn’t my favorite Spenser. But it’s not that I dislike it. I enjoy spending time with Spenser and Susan. I liked when Wallace and Spenser engaged with each other—seeing Spenser in these settings tells a lot about him, as does the way he reacts to Wallace. At the same time, it’s interesting seeing Spenser through her eyes (as mistaken as I think her estimation of him is, it’s not merit-less). The dialogue is great, Spenser verbally sparring with Wallace’s publisher and a prosecutor looking into her disappearance is just fun to read. I can’t forget there are some pretty good action scenes (even if Spenser does bring a handgun to a pie fight).

It’s just that this is the first one since The Godwulf Manuscript that I have to add provisos to my enjoyment. I have had the impression on many re-reads (including this time), that Parker was more interested in bringing up some of Wallace’s ideas, positions, and practices than he was in telling a good story. At the very least, he was frequently distracted during the telling.

Do I recommend it? Yeah, it’s a good read. It’s a great way to understand the character, and the story is okay. Am I in the same kind of fan-boy mode for it as I was for Mortal Stakes, The Judas Goat or Promised Land? Nope. Still, I’ll take this over almost Spenser novel from the 2000’s.

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Classic Spenser: The Judas Goat by Robert B. Parker

Classic Spenser

The Judas Goat

The Judas Goat

by Robert B. Parker
Series: Spenser, #5

Paperback, 203 pg.
Dell, 1978

Read: May 29, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

…I looked at my situation. If they were going to shoot me, there was little to prevent them. Maybe they weren’t going to shoot me, but I couldn’t plan much on that.

“You can’t plan on the enemy’s intentions,” I said. “You have to plan on what he can do, not what he might.”

A boy cleaning the tables looked at me oddly. “Beg pardon, sir?”

“Just remarking on military strategy. Ever do that? Sit around and talk to yourself about military strategy?”

“No, sir.”

“You’re probably wise not to.”

We start with Spenser calling on Hugh Dixon. The word “rich” seems inadequate to express the wealth that Dixon seems to possess. Nowadays, he could probably hire a private security firm to do what he needs—maybe he could’ve in 1978, too. But he’s done his research and has decided to hire Spenser instead because he knows Spenser’s integrity and priorities are what’s kept him “in the minor league.”

We’re given a great description of Dixon:

Full front, his face was accurate enough. It looked the way of face should, but it was like a skillful and uninspired sculpture. There was no motion in the face. No sense that blood flowed beneath it and thoughts evolved behind it. It was all surface, exact, detailed and dead.

Except the eyes. The eyes snarled with life and purpose, or something like that. I didn’t know exactly what then. Now I do.

The eyes snarled with a need for revenge. That’s pretty much all that’s keeping Dixon going. A year before, he, his wife and daughters were in a London restaurant that was bombed. Dixon lived, although he almost died and lost the use of his legs. The rest of his family did not. He wants Spenser to do what the London police have failed to do—find the terrorists responsible and bringing them to justice—either by apprehending them for the police or killing them. Dixon remained conscious during the attack and has detailed descriptions of the personnel involved. Spenser agrees, after insisting that he doesn’t do assassinations—unless forced out of self-defense, he won’t be killing anyone. It’s all okay with Dixon, but you get the clear impression that he’d prefer they died.

Spenser makes travel arrangements (including learning how to bring his gun into London), says goodbye to Susan, and leaves that night. Dixon’s London-based lawyer introduces him to a Scotland Yard inspector who worked the case. There’s a group called Liberty who claimed responsibility for the bombing. They’re small-time, right-wing, and draw their membership from around Europe—they’re likely based in Amsterdam, but that’s conjecture. Which really doesn’t give Spenser much to work on.

So he tries a little something to draw them out. It results in two of them dying and Spenser being shot in the, ahem, “upper thigh.” It also gives Spenser a lead to some others. While he calls Susan to tell her what happened, he also asks her to do him a favor—get word to Hawk that he could use some help (this both relieves and worries Susan, she wants him to have backup, but hates that he needs it).

From here, Spenser and Hawk follow leads for Liberty to Copenhagen and Amsterdam. They even have a brief confrontation with the leader of Liberty, a man named Paul. Paul’s not one of the men directly involved in the death of the Dixons, however. Spenser and Hawk determine that Liberty has something planned for the 1976 Olympics in Montreal, and decide that even though the job is done, they need to stop Paul.

On the one hand, it’s hard to believe that security at the Olympics is as lax as it appears, then again 1976 was a different time. Through a combination of luck and good guessing, there’s a final confrontation with Paul and one of his top associates that ends in a nine-page fistfight between Spenser, Hawk, and a giant of a man named Zachary. This fight blew my preteen/early teen-aged mind when I first read it, and became the standard by which I judged all similar scenes in fiction (there’s one in Lee Child’s Persuader that reminded me of this one—although, Reacher didn’t have anyone fighting on his side).

While there is some deduction at work, this is largely Spenser as vigilante, not as a private investigator. On the one hand, I prefer the P.I. On the other hand, it’s a good story and it demonstrates another side of Spenser that we don’t get to see much of early on. And like the rest of these first twelve, it’s hard for me to engage my critical faculties.

In addition to the globe-trotting and the intense action scenes, we get Spenser’s typical narration when it comes to describing places (one of my favorite elements of each book) and people. Spenser’s wit and compassion both get to shine. It’s just a fun read. The scene that results in his upper thigh wound is one of my favorites in the series—combining humor, tension, and action.

But the thing that struck me the most this time through is that what seems to really interest Parker—more than Spenser, more than this revenge story, or anything else—is Hawk. We met him in the last book, but we didn’t get that much time with him, just a handful of scenes. But he’s all over this novel.

Spenser calling Hawk to come help represents a turning point in the series. It’s not an automatic thing yet, but from here on out, it’s more common for Spenser to call up on Hawk for help than not. The self-sufficient, independent operator develops a real dependence. It’s a real boon for the reader, for as fun as Spenser’s interior monologues are, having him banter with Hawk becomes a reliable highlight. There might be other, earlier, writers who’ve had a relationship like this, but I’m not aware of them (and would like to be). In Spenser and Hawk, we get the template that Elvis Cole and Joe Pike follow, or Patrick Kenzie/Angie Gennaro and Bubba Rugowski, or Walt Longmire and Henry Standing Bear, or Joe Pickett and Nate Romanowski, among others. The outsider, the friend/ally that the mostly lawful protagonist can rely on when there’s a need for something outside the law.

From Promised Land, we know that Hawk and Spenser fought on the same card in their youth; we know he’s stylish (I guess); that he’s respectful of Susan; he’s an enforcer, a leg-breaker, for whoever is paying for him at the moment; and he has some sort of code that reminds Spenser of his (with significant differences in Spenser’s mind, but not so much in Hawk’s).

Here we learn a bit more, he can disappear into a crowd, despite his flashy clothes and is almost infallible when tailing someone. Shortly after arriving in London, the two have some drinks while Spenser catches Hawk up on what’s going on and notes:

He showed no sign that he drunk anything. In fact in the time I’d known Hawk I’d never seen him show a sign of anything. He laughed easily and he was never off balance. But whatever went on inside stayed inside. Or maybe nothing went on inside. Hawk was as impassive and hard as an obsidian carving. Maybe that was what went on inside.

Later, when Spenser is in Boston to update Dixon, he leaves one member of Liberty with Hawk, as they use her as a source of information on the rest of the group. When Susan asks if that’s safe to do, Spenser replies:

“Hawk has no feelings,” I said. “But he has rules. If she fits one of his rules, he’ll treat her very well. If she doesn’t, he’ll treat her any way the mood strikes him.”

“Do you really think he has no feelings?”

“I have never seen any. He’s as good as anyone 1 ever saw at what he does. But he never seems happy or sad or frightened or elated. He never, in the twenty-some years I’ve known him, here and there, has shown any sign of love or compassion. He’s never been nervous. He’s never been mad.”

“Is he as good as you?” Susan was resting her chin on her folded hands and looking at me.

“He might be,” I said. “He might be better.”

“He didn’t kill you last year on Cape Cod when he was supposed to. He must have felt something then.”

“I think he likes me, the way he likes wine, the way he doesn’t like gin. He preferred me to the guy he was working for. He sees me as a version of himself. And, somewhere in there, killing me on the say-so of a guy like Powers was in violation of one of the rules. I don’t know. I wouldn’t have killed him either.”

“Are you a version of him?”

“I got feelings,” I said. “I love.”

“Yes, you do,” Susan said.

Part of this conversation will repeat throughout the series—is Hawk better than Spenser? Are the two versions of each other (this was touched upon already in Promised Land)? Does Hawk feel?

Hawk will contend that the two of them are more similar than Spenser will admit, but in The Judas Goat and in countless other books, he will note that Spenser’s abundance of rules helps him to deny that similarity, over-complicates Spenser’s life, and one day will get him killed. There are times when Spenser agrees to all of that (even the last), but those are the only terms upon which he can live his life, so that’s how it’s going to have to be.

Exciting, amusing, tense, and we get to delve for the first time into the character that’s arguably Parker’s greatest creation. The Judas Goat really has it all. If only so I had an excuse to read this one again, I’m so glad I started this little project this year. It will serve as a decent jumping-on point, for those who want one, and it’s a great spot to return to for long-term fans.


This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Burn Me Deadly (Audiobook) by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki: LaCrosse’s Good Deed Goes Very Punished

Burn Me Deadly

Burn Me Deadly

by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki (Narrator)
Series: Eddie LaCrosse, #2

Unabridged Audiobook, 8 hrs., 36 min.
Blackstone Audio, 2012

Read: June 1-2, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!


One night, riding outside of town on a routine job Eddie LaCrosse comes across a woman in pretty rough shape. She’s naked, bruised, cut and burned—many of the burns look skillfully inflicted, as are all the rest of her injuries. Whoever worked her over knew what he was doing. A damsel in a lot of distress and after a brief conversation, Eddie offers to help her get away from whoever did this and protect her.

Then he’s struck from behind and wakes up as someone’s captive—she’s there, too. Not long after that, he wakes up again, at the bottom of a cliff, barely alive. The damsel didn’t fare that well. Once he’s patched up well enough to move and think, Eddie sets out to find out who she was, who killed her—and nearly him—and get a little revenge.

His search puts him in the way of one of the strongest criminal figures in his neck of the woods (a man that Eddie would’ve been happy never to have crossed paths with) and a government official trying to stop his investigation. Then an old friend of Eddie’s is killed, and that may be related to his case. Which sends him off into several other directions—including a new dragon-worshiping cult that’s somehow tied to the crime boss.

Eddie scoffs at the idea behind this cult—who, in his enlightened age, still believes in dragons? Eddie’s skepticism (that word’s too mild, but I can’t come up with a better one) seems out of place for someone reader know has known both a deity and a man who has lived centuries. Whether or not he’s right to disbelieve, the worshipers seem more than a little out to lunch, and are clearly easily manipulated.

There are a few good fight scenes, some good character growth and development since the last book (noteworthy because Eddie seemed to be dead-set against growth and development at the beginning of that novel). Liz, the courier we met at the very end of the first novel, is still around and is a huge part of Eddie’s life. We get a taste of that, but not as much as I’d have liked (for good reasons, I should add, I’m not saying that Bledsoe wasted her).

I think this might be a better novel than The Sword-Edged Blonde—the story’s a bit tighter, Eddie doesn’t engage in any casual cruelty, the characters are better developed (just a bit). But I don’t like it as much (each of the three or so times I’ve worked through the). There’s a missing je ne sais quoi to this, however, that restrains my enthusiasm. Do I recommend it on its own merits? Yeah. Do I recommend it as a necessary installment in this series? Definitely—read them all.

I’ve only re-read the first two novels up to this point, when I move on to book three in a month or so, it’ll be the first time I revisit it, and I’m really looking forward to that. It’s possibly the best of the series—at the least, I remember it being a step above this.


3.5 Stars

Classic Spenser: Promised Land by Robert B. Parker

Classic Spenser

Promised Land

Promised Land

by Robert B. Parker
Series: Spenser, #4

Mass Market Paperback, 218 pg.
Dell Publishing, 1976

Read: April 30, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

“Whose picture is on a one-hundred dollar bill?” I said.

“Nelson Rockefeller.” [Susan said]

“Wrong.”

“David Rockefeller?”

“Never mind.”

“Laurence Rockefeller?”

“Where would you like to go to lunch?”

“You shouldn’t have shown me the money. I was going to settle for Ugi’s steak and onion subs. Now I’m thinking about Pier 4.”

“Pier 4 it is…Come on, we’ll go back to my place and suit up.”

“When you get a client,” Susan said, “you galvanize into action, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. I move immediately to the nearest restaurant.”

Harv Shepard’s wife walked out on him and he wants Spenser to find her and bring her home. Spenser agrees to the first part of that—he’ll find her, make sure she’s healthy and under no duress, but he won’t force her to come home. Shepard agrees to that, so Spenser starts digging. It takes him practically no time at all to discover that their relationship wasn’t as good as Shepard insists it was (Shepard doesn’t seem to find his wife leaving home to be a big clue)—and that Pam herself might not be as happy or well-adjusted as she let on.

It doesn’t take Spenser that long at all to find Pam and see that she’s okay. She’s not that interested in coming home, and Spenser’s prepared to let it lie like that. But she soon calls Spenser for help—and like the knight errant he is, Spenser obliges. She’s found herself neck-deep in serious legal problems and it’ll take an ingenious plan to get her out of it while not letting criminals get away with anything.

The trickier part of the equation comes from a man called Hawk.* When Spenser first arrives at Shepard’s house,

Shepard appeared from the door past the stairs. With him was a tall black man with a bald head and high cheekbones. He had on a powder blue leisure suite and a pink silk shirt with a big collar. The shirt was unbuttoned to the waist and the chest and stomach that showed were hard and unadorned as ebony. He took a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of the jacket and put them on, he stared at me over their rims until very slowly the lenses covered his eyes and he started at me through them.

* Yeah, I couldn’t resist.

As Spenser soon tells Shepard, Hawk’s presence means that he’s got bigger problems than a missing wife. Shepard denies it, but Spenser believes he’s into a loan shark and/or mobster for a pretty large sum and is behind on payments. It won’t be long until Hawk is hurting Shepard—if not more than that—in order to get this money.

Hawk and Spenser go far back—they used to fight on the same heavyweight card and come into frequent contact in their current occupations. Hawk’s a freelancer and is one of the best in Boston. He’s not a good guy, but he has a code. There’s a mutual respect between the two and Spenser is quick to defend Hawk against Shepard’s racial slurs. Hawk as a character deserves more space than I’m giving him at the moment—but that’s all I can do for now. I’ll probably find a way to give him a few paragraphs in the post about the next book.

So not only does Spenser need to get Pam out of her legal mess, he takes on getting Harv out of his illegal mess. He does so through a complicated set-up assisted by a couple of the funniest cops I remember reading about. It’s a shame that neither of these reappear the way that Healy, Belson and Quirk do (although, it’d be hard to take them seriously). It’s hard to explain, you’ll need to read them for yourselves.

Toward the end of the previous book, Mortal Stakes it looked like Spenser is getting more serious about Susan and less serious about his other dating relationship with Brenda Loring—there’s a reference to Brenda early on in this book*, but by the end, Susan and Spenser are as close to married as they’re ever going to get—essentially pledging monogamy without the legal/religious contract. This is huge for the genre at the time—and bigger for the character.

* Unless I’m mistaken, that’s the last reference to Brenda outside of a short story in the series. [Update: She’s mentioned in the next book, so I read the reference about 5 hours after I published this]

While Spenser tries to extricate the Shepards from the trouble they’ve found themselves in—and hopefully provide them with the opportunity to work on their marriage (at least enough to make a calm decision about its fate), Parker uses the Shepards as well as Susan and Spenser to discuss second-wave feminism in a somewhat abstract fashion, but also in concrete terms as it applies to each of these couples. Parker takes the opportunity to opine a bit on isms and how they tend to swallow the individual—where he prefers to consider such topics (this is assuming that Spenser and Parker align on these ideas, but there’s no reason to suspect they don’t). The reader may not agree with them any of the views they read in these pages, but they’re fairly well reasoned.

In Promised Land, we meet Hawk and Susan and Spenser become permanent (for lack of a better term). These two things are the final pieces to come into place as the foundation for the series—they’ll take a more final form in the next book, but we have them all now. Every other book in the series is built on what’s introduced up to this point and finalized in The Judas Goat. For a series that’s lasted 44 years after the publication of this one, that’s quite the accomplishment.

A significant portion of American Detective Fiction since then will be shaped by this, too—people will be reacting against this set-up or putting their series in a similar vein. Personally, I’ll get to the point (eventually) where Susan stops adding anything to the series. But I’ve yet to tire of Hawk. He may be the kind of guy who should spend the rest of his life behind bars, but he’s also the kind of character than you can’t help but love when he shows up on the page. We’ll revisit Hawk (and his contribution to the series) later, but for now, it’s just good to sit back and enjoy him.

You take all the above, mix them together—and you’ve got a true classic. Parker looks at marriage and feminism—and, of course, honor—while his protagonist matches wits with a mobster. Told with Parker’s trademark style and wit. Few things are as good as that—fewer yet are better.


5 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Classic Spenser: Mortal Stakes by Robert B. Parker

Classic Spenser

Mortal Stakes

Mortal Stakes

by Robert B. Parker
Series: Spenser, #3

Mass Market Paperback, 328 pg.
Dell, 1975

Read: March 30, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!


After stumbling onto Spenser: For Hire—I think during season 2 summer re-runs, I headed to my local library and grabbed the earliest in the series they had—Mortal Stakes. This wasn’t the first “adult” novel or mystery that I’d tried, but it was the best. Between Parker’s voice, Spenser’s wit, and the kind of story it told, I was sold and spent the next few months getting my hands on every one of the series I could. Re-reading this one is always like coming home.

Spenser is hired by a Boston Red Sox executive to investigate their best pitcher, Marty Rabb. There’s a hint of a suggestion of a rumor that he’s shaving points on behalf of gamblers, and the executive wants to know if it’s true. If so, he wants to address it quitely, If Rabb’s clean, he wants to know that quietly.

It takes no time at all for Spenser to determine that he is—and why. The bulk of the novel is Spenser’s attempt to learn who is blackmailing Rabb to do this and then to extricate him from their grip before it ruins his career and/or marriage. This is a significant challenge.

Spenser sees a lot of himself in Rabb—they share the same values, sense of honor, sense of play. Spenser will later look into a similar case in Playmates, and he’ll meet a similar athlete—only his sport is College Basketball. Parker will often use clients to shine a light on an aspect of Spenser’s character, usually by way of contrast—but with athletes, it’s because of similarity.

On the expanding Spenser-verse front, we meet New York Madam, Patricia Utley. She’s no “hooker with a heart of gold,” by any means. She’s a businesswoman first and foremost. She does remember where she came from, and can occasionally be counted on to display a bit of sentimentality. She will reappear several times in this series (and will make appearances in related series)—a reliable source of information as well as a resource.

In The Godwulf Manuscript we saw Spenser physically rough up a couple of college kids and verbally push around an older man. Each incident is followed by Spenser berating himself. In a fit of pique following a botched stakeout for the ransom delivery in God Save the Child, Spenser breaks the handle of the rake he was using as a prop and feels so bad that he leaves money to pay for it. Parker goes out of his way to show Spenser’s conscience. Yet in this book, Spenser arranges to outright kill two people. Yes, he’s wracked with guilt—physically ill—but he’s able to justify it to himself. Which mostly works, but he has to go to Susan Silverman to talk things out and convince himself he did the right thing.

This book shows that Spenser is changing. He doesn’t like being alone—he needs to talk some of the difficult things through with Susan. He’s had a couple of dates with Brenda Loring earlier in the book—but he notes she’s good for having fun with, but for serious talk, it has to be Susan. I appreciate the slow growth in the character here.

This isn’t the best Spenser volume—but it’s a very good one. This is the first (of many) extended look at Spenser’s code. We see Spenser wade in deep ethical waters (and doesn’t necessarily come out clean). But most importantly, we see Spenser doing all he can—whether his employer wants him to or not—to dig a couple of people out form a tight spot. Mortal Stakes is Parker at his best and is just a pleasure to read.


5 Stars

The Sword-Edged Blonde (Audiobook) by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki: This Hard-Boiled Fantasy Mixes the Best of Both Genres

The Sword-Edged Blonde

The Sword-Edged Blonde

by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki (Narrator)
Series: Eddie LaCrosse, #1

Unabridged Audiobook, 8 hrs., 28 min.
Blackstone Audio, 2012

Read: April 22-24, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!


I’ve read this novel at least twice (13 and 11 years ago), and apparently have forgotten almost all of it. In fact, what I did remember as the climactic scene must belong to the second novel in the series, Burn Me Deadly. I can do better with the rest of the series (and not just because I actually wrote something about them—but I’m looking forward to taking another look at them in the coming months.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, I should introduce you to Eddie LaCrosse and his world. It’s your basic Fantasy world—swords, rumors of sorcery, small kingdoms, and so on. Eddie’s an ex-soldier, ex-mercenary, now “sword jockey” (basically a private cop). He’s got a little more on his résumé, but you’ll learn more about that as you dive in yourself. He’s been hired by an old friend, the King of a neighboring country to clear his wife of the horrific murder of her son. She doesn’t remember him, but when he meets her, Eddie realizes that he knew the Queen long before the King did.

Eddie’s investigation takes him through multiple kingdoms, into the remains of a cult, and into a criminal network that rivals anything that Varys put together for efficacy or ruthlessness. At the same time he does this, Eddie takes a trip through his personal history, reliving the time he knew the Queen (and events leading up to that). The two storylines are interwoven to help Eddie solve what seems like a perfect crime.

Both in the narration, LaCrosse’s character and the kinds of people we meet along the way, Bledsoe channels Chandler. LaCrosse is casually violent in a way that Marlowe indulged in a bit too often for me, and the (for lack of a better word) grotesque (in physical appearance and morality) criminals Eddie deals with in the latter parts of the book felt particularly Chandler-esque to me.

There’s some things that happen at the end that point to Eddie coming to terms with parts of his past that he’s been unable/unwilling to acknowledge existed. The character won’t change as a result of this (at least not much), but I think it opens the door for some of his rougher edges to be rounded out. How well that actually happens, I’ll have to see (I don’t trust my memory enough right now)—but at the very least, Bledsoe made it possible for the character to grow and evolve here.

Rudnicki’s narration didn’t really work for me initially—there was a quality to his voice that just didn’t click with me. But, I kept going because I liked the novel. Before the halfway mark, however, he’d won me over. I can’t put my finger on it (either good or bad), but he sold the emotional moments, the humor, and Eddie’s general attitude. Which is good enough for me.

It’s hard for me to rate this one on its own terms—I remember liking it. I remember what Bledsoe does with the characters. And those things color my rating, leading me to probably giving this another half-to-whole star more than I would otherwise. But also, for the world. The merging of Fantasy and Hard-boiled genres in a way that’s seamless and well-executed. I recommend this one and will be back for more soon.

Bookstooge posted about this book yesterday. It’s probably worth a read (I’ll read it later today, I didn’t want his voice in my head as I wrote this).


4 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Page 1 of 8

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén