Tag: 4 1/2 Stars Page 1 of 28

Where the Bones Lie by Nick Kolakowski: Down These Mean Streets People Must Still Go

Cover of Where the Bones Lie by Nick KolakowskiWhere the Bones Lie

by Nick Kolakowski

DETAILS:
Publisher: Datura Books
Publication Date: March 11, 2025
Format: eARC
Length: 304 pg.
Read Date: February 26-Narch 1, 2025
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

What’s Where the Bones Lie About?

Dash Fuller used to work for a man he compared to Mr. Wolfe from Pulp Fiction, and in his employ would clean-up various messes by celebrities and other movers-and-shakers in L.A. Eventually the work got too much for him and he walked away. He tried to find a new career in Stand-Up comedy, but that’s not going so well. He’s doing better at drinking copious amounts of bourbon to numb himself, and then scurrying around picking up money from delivery driving and other gig jobs at the end of the month to pay his bills.

After one, shall we say, not-good night at a local comedy club two significant things happen for Dash. First, his old boss, Manny, shows up to badger him into doing one more job for him (he’d like more, but will settle for one, for now).

The other spins off of both—another audience member there picks up on some of what Dash does that night (but not all of it, he’s pretty good at what he does) and offers to hire him. After several years where the family had to assume he was dead, Madeline Ironwood’s father’s body has recently been discovered in a barrel found as a nearby lake has receded thanks to water shortages in the state. She’d like Dash to look into it and see if he can figure out what happened to him.

Ken Ironwood was a smuggler, and probably other things. He’s been missing since she was a young girl. He’s noteworthy enough that a true crime docuseries has started recently streaming about him, but not so noteworthy that Dash would’ve heard of him without the billboards all around town (that Madeline had to point out to him). The suspect list was so large that the LAPD and FBI gave up trying to pare down without more to go on than a missing man.

It’s not a lot for Dash to go on, but the money is okay, and it’s something that gets him out of town for a little bit.

The Traumatized Knight

I think it’s pretty obvious that Dash is supposed to be in the Hammett model more than the Chandler, but I’m more familiar with Chandler, so I’m going to lean on what I learned from L.A.’s hardboiled detective/detective-like characters from him.

Dash is a knight—a knight in tarnished, battered, and filthy armor. But a knight nonetheless—he knows how many of his choices didn’t match his ideals and ethics. His ex wondered if the good person inside him could be found—and Dash wonders the same.

This has taken a toll on him—one job in particular, but there’s also the cumulative effect from years of this—and has left him traumatized and self-medicating. This is also common to the hardboiled investigator, but given Dash’s cultural context it seems more apparent (and something he’s more willing to reflect on).

The job that Manny sends Dash on at the beginning brings all the trauma to the surface (it was close to it already, but this gave it the needed nudge). While the focus of the novel—and Dash’s attention—is Madeline’s case and her father’s fate, Dash’s struggles are a shadow over everything he does, over many of his choices (like the one to take the case), and will even interfere with his thinking on occasion.

Again, you see this all over Marlowe’s adventures—but it’s between the lines—I expect the same could be said about Hammett’s characters. But with Dash it’s clearer, it’s acknowledged, and understood—at least by some of the characters.

The Environment

California’s repeated droughts lay the foundation of the investigation into Madeline’s father’s death. The heat in L.A. as Dash and Madeline drive northward is oppressive. Wildfires threaten that city, close in on Dash and Madeline at important junctures in their search—and play a significant outcome in the endgame of that storyline.

This is possibly the most environmentally aware detective novel I’ve read. I’ve read “eco novels” that do a less effective job of addressing these issues. Part of what makes it so effective is that Kolakowski doesn’t get preachy with it, he doesn’t beat you over the head with it—it’s just seamlessly woven into the tapestry of this novel, no more noteworthy than Dash’s bad jokes, or the threat of bent cops. But it’s there. Everywhere.

I’m Glad Someone Asked

One question that had been running in my mind throughout was why Dash turned to Stand-Up, and his narration didn’t choose to reveal it, while it revealed so much about other things.

By the time that someone asked him, I was overjoyed that someone else (even if they’re fictional) had to know. The answer was satisfying enough, and in many ways didn’t tell us anything we couldn’t have/shouldn’t have figured out on our own (especially by that point in the novel), but hearing it from Dash was good.

So, what did I think about Where the Bones Lie?

This just might be the best thing Kolakowski has written so far. Which is likely a sentence I’ve written before—and I meant it then, but time has gone on and Kolakowski has gotten better.

I didn’t end up saying anything about the job that Manny hired Dash for that kick-started this whole novel, it doesn’t take long for Dash to take care of it, and we get an idea of some of the things he’s done in the past (more importantly, some of what he hasn’t done). Some of what he’s seen. This is developed through the course of the novel, too. But it gives us a taste of his old life and shows that he has the tools to build on.

Madeline’s case is the first job he’s ever had for a positive goal—to accomplish something. He’s not trying to prevent embarrassment or scandal—he’s not trying to save some studio a bunch of money, or rescue someone’s reputation, or prevent someone from facing legal charges. Sure, he has the skills—but he has to learn to use them in a different way. Which is a great place to put a character.

The supporting characters are great—particularly the “bigger bad”s (which is all I’m going to say about them). I would love to spend more time with the closest thing that Dash has to a friend, in particular.

With Chandler—like more modern writers like Ellroy or Connelly—you get a real sense of L.A. or California. And Kolakowski delivers the same here. He’s done some really specific geographic work in the past, but outside of geographic markers, I don’t know that I “felt” the area like I do here. (I want to stress that this isn’t intended as a criticism of his earlier work, it’s a compliment and observation about this one).

As far as the ending or resolutions to the various plotlines—some I saw coming, because Kolakowski prepared the reader for them. Some hit me like they came out of the blue (they didn’t, really, but they felt like it). All were satisfying in ways I didn’t expect really. There were lines that you could see Chandler writing—if not word for word, at least close paraphrases. The spirit of that age lives on in these pages.

His history suggests that the next work by Kolakowski will be something else entirely—probably not a cozy, but something he hasn’t delivered yet. But if he wants to do more like this, I’ll be first in line for it. Meanwhile, you should focus on getting this book in front of your eyeballs.

Disclaimer: I was provided with this ARC by the author in exchange for my honest opinion. The only impact this had on what I said about the book was that I could say it before I could buy a copy.


4 1/2 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.
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PUB DAY REPOST: Don’t Tell Me How to Die by Marshall Karp: The Last Days of Maggie Dunn

Cover of Don't Tell Me How to Die by Marshall KarpDon’t Tell Me How to Die

by Marshall Karp

DETAILS:
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Publication Date: March 4, 2025
Format: eARC
Length: 336
Read Date: January 29-31, 2025
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

A Note of Introduction

I typically stay away from spoilers, but this is one of those books where almost everything I want to say feels like it’s in that general neighborhood. So I use illustrations from other books that are pretty well-known by this point. I can’t think of another way to do it that’s fair to Karp and this text.

What’s Don’t Tell Me How to Die About?

This is one of those novels where it’d be easy to say too much, so let me rely on whoever wrote the jacket copy at Blackstone:

I have one thing to do before I die. And time is running out.

I had it all: a fantastic husband, two great kids, an exciting career. And then, at the age of forty-three, I found out I would be dead before my next birthday.

My mother also died young. I was seventeen, and she warned me that women would flock to my suddenly single father like stray cats to an overturned milk truck. They did. And one absolutely evil woman practically destroyed his life, mine, and my sister’s.

I am not letting that happen to my family.

I have three months, and I plan to spend every waking minute searching for the perfect woman to take my place as Alex’s wife, and mother to Kevin and Katie.

You’re probably thinking, She’ll never do it. Did I mention that in high school I was voted “Most Likely to Kill Someone to Get What She Wants”?

The book takes place in three parts: 1. When Maggie and her twin sister were seventeen and was dealing with their mother’s impending death and the events after it. 2. After Maggie’s diagnosis and her trying to implement the above plan. 3. Where the weaknesses in her plan threaten to overtake everything else.

Tone/Humor

For much of this book, it felt like Women’s Commercial Fiction more than anything. But two things kept me from concluding that—1. Marshall Karp is going to write something with a mystery/crime element, period. and 2. that cover image with the blood (or whatever) writing the word “Die.”

Even before I figured out what Karp was up to with this book, it became clear that this fit in more with some of the recent books by Lisa Lutz (particularly The Accomplice)—I’m also thinking of Sascha Rothchild’s Blood Sugar or a restrained Darynda Jones—than it did with a Jennifer Weiner or Abbi Waxman.

So as I was preparing to read this novel, I said that it “looks like a return to his roots” because of some of the blurbs talking about Karp’s humor and so on. When I think of Karp and humor, I think of his Lomax and Biggs series. So that’s what I expected.

I was very wrong. It took less than a couple of pages to realize that this was a different Marshall Karp than I’d ran into before. That’s not an evaluation, that’s a description. Here’s an evaluation: he pulls it off well. Again, see Rothchild or Lutz. The more I think about the Lutz comparison, the more I like it—if you think of the change between her Spellman Files and things like The Accomplice, Karp’s new tone is somewhat similar.

Either way, you’re getting a guy who knows how to write comedy, no matter the flavor. He also knows when to pull back and let the drama take center stage.

Twists/Structure

I know that when it comes to psychological or domestic thrillers the twists are what generate headlines. While I appreciate a good twist as much as the next reader, what’s more important to me is the reveal of the twist. Plots go in strange directions sometimes—it’s how the author prepares the reader for the twist and how the author lets us in on the strange direction.

As an illustration: Benjamin Stevenson’s Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone has a moment when he says that so-and-so enjoyed her final cigarette, or maybe she lit it, or something like that. The phrase “final cigarette” is the important part. Now, the reader has two guesses as to why that phrase is used here—1. She quits smoking after this or 2. She dies. As this is in the middle of a stressful weekend with her ex-husband’s family, with her on the verge of financial problem, her ex is definitely not coming back and is with his new partner, they’re all snowed in, there’s a killer on the loose, and the book isn’t close to ending…you pretty much know how that’s going to go for her. Does that matter? Not really, it’s how Stevenson sets us up for this and then how he shows us how she dies that’s important.

Now I’m not going to spill any of the twists or reveals in this book, but Karp does a few things like Stevenson did—they’re even more blatant, you could say. But he will distract you, make you wait a lot longer for the reveal, and will throw a bunch of red herrings at you (I won’t tell you how often I made a note like, “Oh, is this how he pays off X?” because I’d also have to tell you that I was wrong equally often). I didn’t guess anything right.

He also pulls a few things from seemingly nowhere—but explains them in such a way that you retrospectively say, “of course” or “y’know, that makes sense.”

Maggie

This is one of those books that you’re only going to keep reading (initially, anyway) if you get invested in Maggie, our protagonist/narrator quickly. Other elements might keep you going eventually, but Maggie’s diagnosis, Maggie’s plight (and kooky plan), and character/voice are what’s going to get you to commit.

If you ask me, you’re going to want to commit. You can tell from the beginning that she’s smart. She’s driven. She’s brave (at least in the face of some things…like dying). She loves her family. She’s gone through a lot. She’s pretty funny. (probably pretty, too, but that’s not that important, especially when you see the world through her eyes). You later learn what a good friend she can be and why she was elected.

Now, like a parfait, or an onion, or an ogre—Maggie has layers. I’m not going to talk about those layers because you need to discover them for yourself. But she has them—and you keep learning about those layers as the book continues. Each layer—for me, anyway, and I predict for most readers—got me to like her more as a person (pretty frequently) and as a character (always). Is there a difference? Sure—one extreme example (that doesn’t apply here, but gets my point across) would be Dr. Lecter. Fantastic character, but not someone you’d want to hang out with.

So, what did I think about Don’t Tell Me How to Die?

Is this as good as the first two or three Lomax and Biggs books? Probably not—although it’s been a long time since I last re-read them, also this is a different sub-genre, so I could be wrong. Also, that’s really high bar. Is this better than anything else that Karp has done since then? Yes.

The way that Karp unspooled this was so well done. I sat back and enjoyed the ride more often than I “ought” to have, and didn’t take as many notes and whatnot as usual—I was just into the ride that much that continuing was more important than jotting things down. At least in the moment…I’d be sure to write that idea down, right after this part. Well, maybe the next bit.

I should note that I dipped back in a couple of times while writing this post to fact-check myself and even now I ended up reading a few pages or a chapter when I only needed a clause or a name. Karp just doesn’t want to let me go.

Anyone picking this book up—unless you do it blindly (and even then it’s told to you within a chapter)—knows that Maggie’s mom died almost two decades before these events. And yet—in her final moments, her last personal triumph—I was moved. I shouldn’t care this much about the impending death of a character I knew was long dead. But I did. And again, even though it’s right there in the description, “And one absolutely evil woman practically destroyed [“my suddenly single father”‘s] life, mine, and my sister’s,” watching it feels like a traffic accident—you know it’s coming, but you can’t stop watching.

Maggie’s plot, when introduced, feels like a silly rom-com plot that’s going to blow up in her face. And for most of the book, her sister treats it that way. You kind of do while you’re reading, too. It feels like one, you react like one. Then…well, you start to take her seriously. As does her sister, Lizzie (eventually).

Speaking of Lizzie. I really would’ve enjoyed more time with her, she seemed like a hoot and a half. Her kids Katie and Kevin were also the kind of characters you want more of. And if we were looking at any other part of Maggie’s life, we would’ve had more time with all three and we would’ve been perfectly content watching them go through their life. But this book just introduces them, lets us spend some time enjoying them (in pretty un-enjoyable circumstances) and then we just have to imagine the rest of their lives. Which is enjoyable enough.

I feel like I’ve talked around the book a lot, hopefully, I’ve talked about it enough. But I’m not sure what else to say. On March 4, go pick yourself up a copy (or go put it on reserve at your library now, and read it ASAP). Then we can email or chat or something about it and I can say all the things I can’t put here.

Don’t Tell Me How to Die isn’t the Marshall Karp I know, enjoy, and respect. It’s a new flavor of him that I’m getting to know, that I did enjoy and respect. And I can’t wait to see what other sides he has up his sleeve (to torture the metaphor). I’m trying too hard. I’m babbling. Go read this and I’ll shut up. Deal?

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Blackstone Publishing via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.


4 1/2 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.
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(slightly updated) REPOST: Buddy the Knight and The Queen of Sorrow by Peter David: A Tale of Friendship, Devotion, Bravery and Heart

I’m excited to welcome The Write Reads Blog Tour for Peter David’s Buddy the Knight and The Queen of Sorrow to The Irresponsible Reader today. It was one of my favorite fantasy novels of 2024, and I named David as one of my 10 favorite New-to-Me Authors because of this book. So getting the chance to share about this book again is something I had to jump at. I’ve posted a Spotlight about the book earlier and now’s here’s a tweaked version of my original post about the book. I’d also encourage you to go to https://twitter.com/WriteReadsTours feed to see all the great things that have been said about the book over the last week or so. Then get the book. Or get the book and then read everything we wrote about it. Or just get the book. I’m not picky.

Buddy the Knight and The Queen of Sorrow by Peter David Tour Banner

Cover of Buddy the Knight and The Queen of Sorrow by Peter DavidBuddy the Knight and The Queen of Sorrow

by Peter David

DETAILS:
Publication Date: August 22, 2024
Format: eARC
Length: 168 pg.
Read Date: September 2, 2024
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

What’s Buddy the Knight and The Queen of Sorrow About?

Buddy the Knight is a teddy bear. A valiant teddy bear, devoted to protecting his Person from the monsters from The Realm-Under-The-Bed. He’s a knight and has spent years defending a little girl named Mieya from these fearsome foes. He’s frequently assisted by his companion, a stuffed tamarin—a mandolin-playing bard. Esteban not only fights at Buddy’s side, but his songs frequently tell the tales of Buddy’s victories.

One night before Buddy can dispatch it, a monster inscribes a rune over Mieya—one that will bring her certain doom unless Buddy can defeat the monster’s master—the Queen of Sorrows. Buddy is given an enchanted googly eye to guide him and Esteban as they journey to the heart of The Realm-Under-The-Bed to find this Queen. There are countless enemies and obstacles along the way, but they have until dawn breaks to complete their quest, so they will have to be quick as well as brave.

The Cover

I don’t do this enough, but I need to call out the cover here. Candice Broersma knocked it out of the park with this one. I just love this cover. It’s one that you want to have on your shelf/eReader.

Also, I’d buy a print if Broersma/David were to make them available.*

* After my original post, Peter David let me know that Broersma does sell these prints. My copy looks as good as I’d figured.

A Little Treat

There’s a reference at one point to a series of books that Mieya read. I hope, hope, hope that kids who read this have their curiosity piqued and go ask someone (like a librarian or bookseller) what it might be a reference to and then read those books. They’ll be in for (another) treat if they do.

Just seeing the reference was enough for me.

There are other nods to fiction and movies, too—cleverly hidden throughout, and just enough to make the grown-ups reading this smile (the Captain Shakespeare/Captain Johannas Alberic nod was particularly well done). None of them made me quite as happy as the series of books she read, but that’s me. You (if you’re above the age of 15), will likely have other favorites—but you’ll enjoy all that you catch.

So, what did I think about Buddy the Knight and The Queen of Sorrow?

I know that many people think that Paladins are boring characters. I’m not one of them—just think of Sturm Brightblade, Superman, Michael Carpenter, or Paksenarrion and tell me they aren’t great to read (okay, some people have made Supes a little boring—but not all of them). Buddy the Knight is yet another entry in the Great Paladin Characters list I should get around to compiling sometime.

Esteban is one of the better comic relief sidekicks with a lot of heart, too. He’s as funny and heartfelt as Shrek‘s Donkey with the devotion of Samwise Gamgee. The other allies and people—including the sentient magic sword—who help Buddy out are really well done, too.

The monsters, other antagonists, and (of course) the Queen of Sorrows are equally well depicted—but unlike the above, you really don’t want to spend time with them. They’re all drawn from types we’ve all seen before, but given a twist to make them feel new—and the reason we’ve all seen them before anyway is that they’re just about always compelling, and with David’s twist? They’re just what this book needed.

Throughout the book—either in flashbacks that Buddy has to his maker’s lessons or in the things the characters say to motivate each other or themselves—the reader is going to get a lot of slogans, life lessons, or morals thrown at them. I appreciated reading them—and I expect that readers 40 years (plus or minus a couple) younger than me will, too. Coming from stuffed animals probably makes them more palatable and somehow less corny than they’d be coming from an authority figure (in fiction or real life). It’s likely that some of these will get lodged in the back of a young reader’s mind and will prove beneficial later in life.

The story itself is a pretty straightforward Fantasy tale—the hero and his allies (some picked up along the way) are on a journey with a deadline to fight a powerful in order to rescue someone. As always, it too, is effective.

There’s a lightness to the prose, but it’s not a comedy—it comes across as whimsical and fantastical. It will charm you as it draws you in. We don’t really see Mieya in action and don’t get to know her, but we want her safe, we worry for her, because Buddy, Esteban, and the others are so devoted to her. We care about her because we care about the bear and the tamarin, and anything they think is important we think is important.

This is the kind of book that 10 year-old me would’ve curled up with and read and re-read. It’s also the kind of thing that my kids would’ve loved—and I’d have had a blast reading to them. And 51 year-old me was just about as captivated with it as my younger self would’ve been. I strongly recommend this to those young at heart and those young readers you happen to buy books for. I’ll note that the grown-ups that I’ve suggested this to in the months since I originally posted this have all agreed with me. You’ll be glad you gave this Teddy Bear Fantasy a try.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this eARC from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.


4 1/2 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.

My thanks to The Write Reads for the invitation to participate in this tour and the materials they provided.

Don’t Tell Me How to Die by Marshall Karp: The Last Days of Maggie Dunn

Cover of Don't Tell Me How to Die by Marshall KarpDon’t Tell Me How to Die

by Marshall Karp

DETAILS:
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Publication Date: March 4, 2025
Format: eARC
Length: 336
Read Date: January 29-31, 2025
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

A Note of Introduction

I typically stay away from spoilers, but this is one of those books where almost everything I want to say feels like it’s in that general neighborhood. So I use illustrations from other books that are pretty well-known by this point. I can’t think of another way to do it that’s fair to Karp and this text.

What’s Don’t Tell Me How to Die About?

This is one of those novels where it’d be easy to say too much, so let me rely on whoever wrote the jacket copy at Blackstone:

I have one thing to do before I die. And time is running out.

I had it all: a fantastic husband, two great kids, an exciting career. And then, at the age of forty-three, I found out I would be dead before my next birthday.

My mother also died young. I was seventeen, and she warned me that women would flock to my sudWherdenly single father like stray cats to an overturned milk truck. They did. And one absolutely evil woman practically destroyed his life, mine, and my sister’s.

I am not letting that happen to my family.

I have three months, and I plan to spend every waking minute searching for the perfect woman to take my place as Alex’s wife, and mother to Kevin and Katie.

You’re probably thinking, She’ll never do it. Did I mention that in high school I was voted “Most Likely to Kill Someone to Get What She Wants”?

The book takes place in three parts: 1. When Maggie and her twin sister were seventeen and was dealing with their mother’s impending death and the events after it. 2. After Maggie’s diagnosis and her trying to implement the above plan. 3. Where the weaknesses in her plan threaten to overtake everything else.

Tone/Humor

For much of this book, it felt like Women’s Commercial Fiction more than anything. But two things kept me from concluding that—1. Marshall Karp is going to write something with a mystery/crime element, period. and 2. that cover image with the blood (or whatever) writing the word “Die.”

Even before I figured out what Karp was up to with this book, it became clear that this fit in more with some of the recent books by Lisa Lutz (particularly The Accomplice)—I’m also thinking of Sascha Rothchild’s Blood Sugar or a restrained Darynda Jones—than it did with a Jennifer Weiner or Abbi Waxman.

So as I was preparing to read this novel, I said that it “looks like a return to his roots” because of some of the blurbs talking about Karp’s humor and so on. When I think of Karp and humor, I think of his Lomax and Biggs series. So that’s what I expected.

I was very wrong. It took less than a couple of pages to realize that this was a different Marshall Karp than I’d ran into before. That’s not an evaluation, that’s a description. Here’s an evaluation: he pulls it off well. Again, see Rothchild or Lutz. The more I think about the Lutz comparison, the more I like it—if you think of the change between her Spellman Files and things like The Accomplice, Karp’s new tone is somewhat similar.

Either way, you’re getting a guy who knows how to write comedy, no matter the flavor. He also knows when to pull back and let the drama take center stage.

Twists/Structure

I know that when it comes to psychological or domestic thrillers the twists are what generate headlines. While I appreciate a good twist as much as the next reader, what’s more important to me is the reveal of the twist. Plots go in strange directions sometimes—it’s how the author prepares the reader for the twist and how the author lets us in on the strange direction.

As an illustration: Benjamin Stevenson’s Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone has a moment when he says that so-and-so enjoyed her final cigarette, or maybe she lit it, or something like that. The phrase “final cigarette” is the important part. Now, the reader has two guesses as to why that phrase is used here—1. She quits smoking after this or 2. She dies. As this is in the middle of a stressful weekend with her ex-husband’s family, with her on the verge of financial problem, her ex is definitely not coming back and is with his new partner, they’re all snowed in, there’s a killer on the loose, and the book isn’t close to ending…you pretty much know how that’s going to go for her. Does that matter? Not really, it’s how Stevenson sets us up for this and then how he shows us how she dies that’s important.

Now I’m not going to spill any of the twists or reveals in this book, but Karp does a few things like Stevenson did—they’re even more blatant, you could say. But he will distract you, make you wait a lot longer for the reveal, and will throw a bunch of red herrings at you (I won’t tell you how often I made a note like, “Oh, is this how he pays off X?” because I’d also have to tell you that I was wrong equally often). I didn’t guess anything right.

He also pulls a few things from seemingly nowhere—but explains them in such a way that you retrospectively say, “of course” or “y’know, that makes sense.”

Maggie

This is one of those books that you’re only going to keep reading (initially, anyway) if you get invested in Maggie, our protagonist/narrator quickly. Other elements might keep you going eventually, but Maggie’s diagnosis, Maggie’s plight (and kooky plan), and character/voice are what’s going to get you to commit.

If you ask me, you’re going to want to commit. You can tell from the beginning that she’s smart. She’s driven. She’s brave (at least in the face of some things…like dying). She loves her family. She’s gone through a lot. She’s pretty funny. (probably pretty, too, but that’s not that important, especially when you see the world through her eyes). You later learn what a good friend she can be and why she was elected.

Now, like a parfait, or an onion, or an ogre—Maggie has layers. I’m not going to talk about those layers because you need to discover them for yourself. But she has them—and you keep learning about those layers as the book continues. Each layer—for me, anyway, and I predict for most readers—got me to like her more as a person (pretty frequently) and as a character (always). Is there a difference? Sure—one extreme example (that doesn’t apply here, but gets my point across) would be Dr. Lecter. Fantastic character, but not someone you’d want to hang out with.

So, what did I think about Don’t Tell Me How to Die?

Is this as good as the first two or three Lomax and Biggs books? Probably not—although it’s been a long time since I last re-read them, also this is a different sub-genre, so I could be wrong. Also, that’s really high bar. Is this better than anything else that Karp has done since then? Yes.

The way that Karp unspooled this was so well done. I sat back and enjoyed the ride more often than I “ought” to have, and didn’t take as many notes and whatnot as usual—I was just into the ride that much that continuing was more important than jotting things down. At least in the moment…I’d be sure to write that idea down, right after this part. Well, maybe the next bit.

I should note that I dipped back in a couple of times while writing this post to fact-check myself and even now I ended up reading a few pages or a chapter when I only needed a clause or a name. Karp just doesn’t want to let me go.

Anyone picking this book up—unless you do it blindly (and even then it’s told to you within a chapter)—knows that Maggie’s mom died almost two decades before these events. And yet—in her final moments, her last personal triumph—I was moved. I shouldn’t care this much about the impending death of a character I knew was long dead. But I did. And again, even though it’s right there in the description, “And one absolutely evil woman practically destroyed [“my suddenly single father”‘s] life, mine, and my sister’s,” watching it feels like a traffic accident—you know it’s coming, but you can’t stop watching.

Maggie’s plot, when introduced, feels like a silly rom-com plot that’s going to blow up in her face. And for most of the book, her sister treats it that way. You kind of do while you’re reading, too. It feels like one, you react like one. Then…well, you start to take her seriously. As does her sister, Lizzie (eventually).

Speaking of Lizzie. I really would’ve enjoyed more time with her, she seemed like a hoot and a half. Her kids Katie and Kevin were also the kind of characters you want more of. And if we were looking at any other part of Maggie’s life, we would’ve had more time with all three and we would’ve been perfectly content watching them go through their life. But this book just introduces them, lets us spend some time enjoying them (in pretty un-enjoyable circumstances) and then we just have to imagine the rest of their lives. Which is enjoyable enough.

I feel like I’ve talked around the book a lot, hopefully, I’ve talked about it enough. But I’m not sure what else to say. On March 4, go pick yourself up a copy (or go put it on reserve at your library now, and read it ASAP). Then we can email or chat or something about it and I can say all the things I can’t put here.

Don’t Tell Me How to Die isn’t the Marshall Karp I know, enjoy, and respect. It’s a new flavor of him that I’m getting to know, that I did enjoy and respect. And I can’t wait to see what other sides he has up his sleeve (to torture the metaphor). I’m trying too hard. I’m babbling. Go read this and I’ll shut up. Deal?

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Blackstone Publishing via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.


4 1/2 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.
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Aftermarket Afterlife by Seanan McGuire: Things Get Serious

This is long-overdue. But half of what I do in these posts is figure out what I think of a book—and since about 30 minutes after finishing this book, I’ve known what I had to say (although I’m pretty sure I had the title in mind since I was about 1/3 of the way in, which is a shame, because “Adventures in Babysitting” is right there). Knowing exactly what I want to say makes writing a post hard, there’s no discovery for me. But, I’ve got an ARC for the next book waiting for me, so I had to get serious about things and get this out of my head so I can dive into it.


Cover of Aftermarket Afterlife by Seanan McGuireAftermarket Afterlife

by Seanan McGuire

DETAILS:
Series: InCryptid, #13
Publisher: Daw Books
Publication Date: March 5, 2024
Format: Trade Paperback
Length: 299 pg.
Read Date: March 21-27, 2024
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

What’s Aftermarket Afterlife About?

Just before I started writing this (or started again…this is something like the 15th attempt since March of last year), I took a glance at what I wrote about Backpacking Through Bedlam. This was either a mistake because I said everything there that I was about to say to start this post and now I have to come up with something new. Or it was smart because now I can cut out a lot of things and point you to that instead.

I’m lazy enough to lean toward “mistake.” But let’s see what I can do instead.

Lest we think that the Covenant of St. George in general and Leonard Cunningham in particular have just been twiddling their thumbs while we’ve been focused on Annie’s adventures (although we see some of Leonard there) or the end of Alice’s quest, we learn very quickly that they’ve been active. They’ve been gathering intelligence and plotting. The result is a shock-and-awe campaign that takes the family and their cryptid (and human) friends and allies unaware—and results in several injuries, deaths, and loss of property. Probably more damage, too.

But before we can get to that, Thomas and Alice (and Sally) arrive at the Portland-area compound for a reunion/(re)introduction. This goes so incredibly poorly that the reader will initially be relieved by the attacks because you foolishly think that means things are going to get more entertaining.

All this results in Mary, of all people, coming up with a plan to take the action to the front door of the Covenant.

Luck Runs Out

I’m not sure that I noticed it during my initial reads of the series—but in the last couple of books, as I listen to them on audio, I keep hearing about the strange luck the family has. And honestly, even if I hadn’t used the word luck—it’s hard not to think that. Verity and her friends/family/loved ones (same for her brother and sister and their friends/loved ones) largely escape the novels unscathed.

The thing about luck is…it runs out. This can be seen in the way that Sarah’s rescue of Artie at the end of Calculated Risks isn’t as successful as we might have thought at the time. And for another telling piece of evidence is pretty much this entire novel.

Choice of Mary

I was initially surprised to see Mary the family’s babysitting ghost as our POV character for this one. I expected another of the Price kids to get the slot (it’s been too long since we spent real time with Alex, for example). But I wasn’t going to complain—if only because it was nice to see her backstory.

In retrospect, there was no other choice. The reader (and McGuire) needed someone who could rapidly move between the various parts of the country to see everything going on and to take part in the action in some (not all) of the places the Covenant was acting. Thanks to her being the major actor, we get a little more insight into what happened to the animus mundi following Annie’s defeat of the Crossroads.

There are a couple of other things that only Mary could contribute to this story, but I can’t talk about those. So, as I expected but didn’t see going in, McGuire didn’t have a choice in POV character. It just had to be her.

Hail The Aeslin Mice

It’s really hard not to feel bad for these guys (when they’re not making you smile) throughout the series. This is probably the hardest novel to get through because of what happens to them. Their losses—different from the losses the family takes, and almost worse—are so hard to watch. Ditto for the family talking about them.

What’s even worse is the note that the race as a whole likely doesn’t have many more generations left. I’m sorry…I’m just not okay with that. I hope/trust that we’re going to find out how wrong those predictions are.

So, what did I think about Aftermarket Afterlife?

When I put this down I said something—I don’t remember what—but my daughter seemed shocked at my reaction. I was stunned, I didn’t expect most of what I spent the last hour or so reading (or the hours previous to it) and I guess that came out forcefully. And I’m still in that frame of mind almost 11 months later. I’m stunned by what McGuire did here.

The InCryptid books have always been (in my mind) the lighter of McGuire’s series—Toby’s for drama and excitement, the Wayward Children are to fill you with whimsy and heartbreak, and Verity/Alex/Annie et al are for some goofy action and strange critters.

I should know McGuire better than that. She’s never going to just let something be light entertainment. Still, I wasn’t prepared for this escalation. I should’ve been. The signs have been there since the end of Chaos Choreography. I’m not going to get into all the ways she gut-punches the readers here. But there are several. Some small, some huge, some of indeterminate size as of this time.

Still, McGuire deals with the various personalities, histories, abilities, interests, and everything else like a master. The writing is quirky as it needs to be without taking away from the drama or heartbreak. Mary is a great character and it’s good to see her come into her own, and we see a lot from other family members that we haven’t spent enough time with, too—ll while catching up with old friends. This is McGuire at peak performance.

Installment Immortality is due soon, and I have no idea what to expect from it—nor from the series going forward. But it’s going to be a very different kind of entity than we’ve seen before. I can’t wait for it.


4 1/2 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.
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PUB DAY REPOST: I Have Too Many Things to Say About Robert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets by Christopher Farnsworth

Cover of Robert B. Parker's Buried Secrets by Christopher FarnsworthRobert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets

by Christopher Farnsworth

DETAILS:
Series: Series: Jesse Stone, #22
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons
Publication Date: February 4, 2025
Format: eARC
Length: 352 pg.
Read Date: January 4-6, 2025
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

What’s Buried Secrets About?

Jesse is called to make a welfare check on an elderly Paradise resident (no one he knows) and finds the worst outcome—they are weeks too late for this check. Also, the man was a hoarder, and it’s near impossible to navigate through his home to his body without disturbing some of his stacks of…whatever it was that he’d accumulated.

When one box of photos is dislodged, Jesse finds several photos of murder victims. Crime Scene techs soon find $2 million in cash stashed in the house. Either one of these finds would send Jesse’s “coply intuition” to sound alarm bills—the two together? He knows that they stumbled onto something bad—and worse is on the way to Paradise if they can’t wrap up this case soon.

The A Story and Jesse

(not that most of the cast of characters aren’t involved in this storyline)
Something about this case sets Jesse off. Something is eating him in ways that he’s unprepared for, and he gets a little on edge and grumpy (at least to those on the outside). The bottle is calling to him in a way it hasn’t for a while. The voice is loud and tempting. There’s at least once that he goes looking for a bottle that thankfully isn’t there anymore.

The way this—and the related issues it brings up—work themselves out through this novel shows just how far Jesse has come since he first came to Paradise—or even since he stopped drinking in earnest. But that battle isn’t over.

The rest of the PPD is involved in this storyline, but this is Jesse’s focus throughout the novel—it’s also where everything that Jesse goes through emotionally/psychologically is rooted. As such, I’ve found that I can’t keep talking about this without telling you too much. So let’s move on to:

The B Story and Everyone Else

The day that this body is found is also the first day for a new officer for the PPD. He’d spent some time on patrol in a major city, and then a smaller city before this relocating. He tells Jesse that he wanted to be in a town like Paradise, where he could do some good.

There’s an incident or two—you could see them as first-day on-the-job eagerness, a training issue, or something worse. Before you know it, people in Paradise (and in the PPD) are divided over this one officer. Jesse is too caught up in this case, the city politics, and other things to really dig into things. Some others in the department aren’t so sure about him. Others are willing to give him a chance or three. Essentially, Jesse is willing to let things shake out on their own—at least until he’s able to close the murder.

He might not get that chance. Making this call is arguably Jesse’s biggest mistake in the novel.

In addition to the story of this officer, Farnsworth is able to bring in some discussion of what it means to be a police officer in the 21st Century USA. What does it look like, what kind of people should wear the badge? What kind of equipment should police departments have? How can people who have a problem with the police in their area safely do? There’s a related scene that touches on public protest and social media/legacy media fanning the flames.

In many—most—ways, this story is not the main focus of the book—but it’s so close that it might as well be. And as much as I enjoyed The A Story, this is the one that hooked me the deepest. Farnsworth did the franchise proud with it, too.

Farnsworth at the Helm

Poor Jesse Stone, this is his fourth author since Parker’s death. Just for that reason alone, I hope Farnsworth sticks around for a while. He and his readers need some continuity. Once you figure in what a bang-up job that Farnsworth did, I can underscore that hope a couple of times.

Unlike just about every other (I think every other, but let’s throw some wiggle room into this), Farnsworth didn’t give us a lot of trivia from Parker’s books to establish his bona fides. There were some references, but they were the same kind that Parker himself made. Farnsworth showed us his credentials in the way he wrote these characters, this community, and the story.

I was a little apprehensive about him—I read at least the first two of his Nathaniel Cade books—maybe all three, but nothing since. There was something about whichever Cade book was my last that didn’t leave me eager to try him again. Don’t ask me what it was—it’s been over a decade. I’m glad my loyalty to the series won out over my vague sense of apprehension (it wasn’t a close competition). He nailed it.

The one item that I’m most happy about is that with one line of dialogue, Farnsworth expanded on—added depth to—Dix. Did we need this for Dix? But I love that we got it. Also…it was a great way to give that gift to us.

BTS Question

I know there have been conversations between some of the Parker-verse authors about moves they were going to make with certain characters and whatnot—I can’t remember the details, but I heard in one or two interviews that  Atkins or Coleman had to make an adjustment to one book because of something the other did (I’m being very vague because I don’t remember too much and I’m too lazy to do the homework). So I’m sure that Farnsworth and Lupica had a conversation about this book and the events of Hot Property.

What I want to know is how did Hot Property impact this novel? Did Farnsworth have Rita’s scenes in this book completed and added a couple of lines to reflect it? Did he have something else in mind for those scenes and revised them to take advantage of Lupica’s latest? Just what kind of collaboration happened?

Does this impact my appreciation for either book? Nah. But I’m certainly curious.

So, what did I think about Buried Secrets?

At each step along the way, I kept thinking of other things I wanted to say about this one—and at book 22 of a series (no matter how many authors have contributed), that’s saying something. I’ve done my best to limit myself to the bigger matters, but I think I could add at least another 5 paragraphs without breaking a sweat (and they’d likely lead to others).

When Coleman got Jesse into AA, I saw one fan complain about him turning Jesse into “another whining Twelve Step wuss” (that’s very close to it). This seemed like an odd take, as most of Parker’s work (since 1974’s God Save the Child) has celebrated people getting help via therapy or some other means to improve—even save—their lives. I’m afraid that some of what this book does is going to elicit similar reactions from that fan and many others. I hope that the publisher, the Parker Estate, and Farnsworth ignore all that. I don’t see anything here that doesn’t fit in Parker’s worldview (or at least the worldview of all of his fiction).

The Paradise Police Department—particularly the officers we’ve spent time with since Night Passage—got to shine as they ought to. Sure, it’s Jesse’s series, but Molly, Suit, Peter, Gabe, and the others are more than just cardboard cutouts in the background (obviously we don’t know as much about Peter and Gabe as we do some others). The more the various personnel get to contribute, the more the books feel like it’s about a Police Chief—not some rogue lawman. I’m glad Farnsworth did that.

Buried Secrets was satisfying on every level that I can think of. It’s the best Jesse Stone novel in years (with all due respect to Mr. Lupica), specifically since The Hangman’s Sonnet or Colorblind (now that I’ve mentioned those two books in particular, I could probably have written a post just about the ways that Buried Secrets parallels major elements of those, something I hadn’t thought of until now). It contains a good mystery, some strong social commentary, some great character moments, a bunch of characters on the other side of the law that you just have to meet, some solid action, and most of all, time with characters that fans have been spending time with for decades.

I strongly recommend this.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from PENGUIN GROUP Putnam via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.


4 1/2 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.
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I Have Too Many Things to Say About Robert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets by Christopher Farnsworth

Cover of Robert B. Parker's Buried Secrets by Christopher FarnsworthRobert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets

by Christopher Farnsworth

DETAILS:
Series: Series: Jesse Stone, #22
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons
Publication Date: February 4, 2025
Format: eARC
Length: 352 pg.
Read Date: January 4-6, 2025
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

What’s Buried Secrets About?

Jesse is called to make a welfare check on an elderly Paradise resident (no one he knows) and finds the worst outcome—they are weeks too late for this check. Also, the man was a hoarder, and it’s near impossible to navigate through his home to his body without disturbing some of his stacks of…whatever it was that he’d accumulated.

When one box of photos is dislodged, Jesse finds several photos of murder victims. Crime Scene techs soon find $2 million in cash stashed in the house. Either one of these finds would send Jesse’s “coply intuition” to sound alarm bills—the two together? He knows that they stumbled onto something bad—and worse is on the way to Paradise if they can’t wrap up this case soon.

The A Story and Jesse

(not that most of the cast of characters aren’t involved in this storyline)
Something about this case sets Jesse off. Something is eating him in ways that he’s unprepared for, and he gets a little on edge and grumpy (at least to those on the outside). The bottle is calling to him in a way it hasn’t for a while. The voice is loud and tempting. There’s at least once that he goes looking for a bottle that thankfully isn’t there anymore.

The way this—and the related issues it brings up—work themselves out through this novel shows just how far Jesse has come since he first came to Paradise—or even since he stopped drinking in earnest. But that battle isn’t over.

The rest of the PPD is involved in this storyline, but this is Jesse’s focus throughout the novel—it’s also where everything that Jesse goes through emotionally/psychologically is rooted. As such, I’ve found that I can’t keep talking about this without telling you too much. So let’s move on to:

The B Story and Everyone Else

The day that this body is found is also the first day for a new officer for the PPD. He’d spent some time on patrol in a major city, and then a smaller city before this relocating. He tells Jesse that he wanted to be in a town like Paradise, where he could do some good.

There’s an incident or two—you could see them as first-day on-the-job eagerness, a training issue, or something worse. Before you know it, people in Paradise (and in the PPD) are divided over this one officer. Jesse is too caught up in this case, the city politics, and other things to really dig into things. Some others in the department aren’t so sure about him. Others are willing to give him a chance or three. Essentially, Jesse is willing to let things shake out on their own—at least until he’s able to close the murder.

He might not get that chance. Making this call is arguably Jesse’s biggest mistake in the novel.

In addition to the story of this officer, Farnsworth is able to bring in some discussion of what it means to be a police officer in the 21st Century USA. What does it look like, what kind of people should wear the badge? What kind of equipment should police departments have? How can people who have a problem with the police in their area safely do? There’s a related scene that touches on public protest and social media/legacy media fanning the flames.

In many—most—ways, this story is not the main focus of the book—but it’s so close that it might as well be. And as much as I enjoyed The A Story, this is the one that hooked me the deepest. Farnsworth did the franchise proud with it, too.

Farnsworth at the Helm

Poor Jesse Stone, this is his fourth author since Parker’s death. Just for that reason alone, I hope Farnsworth sticks around for a while. He and his readers need some continuity. Once you figure in what a bang-up job that Farnsworth did, I can underscore that hope a couple of times.

Unlike just about every other (I think every other, but let’s throw some wiggle room into this), Farnsworth didn’t give us a lot of trivia from Parker’s books to establish his bona fides. There were some references, but they were the same kind that Parker himself made. Farnsworth showed us his credentials in the way he wrote these characters, this community, and the story.

I was a little apprehensive about him—I read at least the first two of his Nathaniel Cade books—maybe all three, but nothing since. There was something about whichever Cade book was my last that didn’t leave me eager to try him again. Don’t ask me what it was—it’s been over a decade. I’m glad my loyalty to the series won out over my vague sense of apprehension (it wasn’t a close competition). He nailed it.

The one item that I’m most happy about is that with one line of dialogue, Farnsworth expanded on—added depth to—Dix. Did we need this for Dix? But I love that we got it. Also…it was a great way to give that gift to us.

BTS Question

I know there have been conversations between some of the Parker-verse authors about moves they were going to make with certain characters and whatnot—I can’t remember the details, but I heard in one or two interviews that  Atkins or Coleman had to make an adjustment to one book because of something the other did (I’m being very vague because I don’t remember too much and I’m too lazy to do the homework). So I’m sure that Farnsworth and Lupica had a conversation about this book and the events of Hot Property.

What I want to know is how did Hot Property impact this novel? Did Farnsworth have Rita’s scenes in this book completed and added a couple of lines to reflect it? Did he have something else in mind for those scenes and revised them to take advantage of Lupica’s latest? Just what kind of collaboration happened?

Does this impact my appreciation for either book? Nah. But I’m certainly curious.

So, what did I think about Buried Secrets?

At each step along the way, I kept thinking of other things I wanted to say about this one—and at book 22 of a series (no matter how many authors have contributed), that’s saying something. I’ve done my best to limit myself to the bigger matters, but I think I could add at least another 5 paragraphs without breaking a sweat (and they’d likely lead to others).

When Coleman got Jesse into AA, I saw one fan complain about him turning Jesse into “another whining Twelve Step wuss” (that’s very close to it). This seemed like an odd take, as most of Parker’s work (since 1974’s God Save the Child) has celebrated people getting help via therapy or some other means to improve—even save—their lives. I’m afraid that some of what this book does is going to elicit similar reactions from that fan and many others. I hope that the publisher, the Parker Estate, and Farnsworth ignore all that. I don’t see anything here that doesn’t fit in Parker’s worldview (or at least the worldview of all of his fiction).

The Paradise Police Department—particularly the officers we’ve spent time with since Night Passage—got to shine as they ought to. Sure, it’s Jesse’s series, but Molly, Suit, Peter, Gabe, and the others are more than just cardboard cutouts in the background (obviously we don’t know as much about Peter and Gabe as we do some others). The more the various personnel get to contribute, the more the books feel like it’s about a Police Chief—not some rogue lawman. I’m glad Farnsworth did that.

Buried Secrets was satisfying on every level that I can think of. It’s the best Jesse Stone novel in years (with all due respect to Mr. Lupica), specifically since The Hangman’s Sonnet or Colorblind (now that I’ve mentioned those two books in particular, I could probably have written a post just about the ways that Buried Secrets parallels major elements of those, something I hadn’t thought of until now). It contains a good mystery, some strong social commentary, some great character moments, a bunch of characters on the other side of the law that you just have to meet, some solid action, and most of all, time with characters that fans have been spending time with for decades.

I strongly recommend this.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from PENGUIN GROUP Putnam via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.


4 1/2 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.
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REPOSTING JUST ‘CUZ: Deep Dark Night by Steph Broadribb: High Stakes Danger for Lori Anderson in the Windy City

Deep Dark Night

Deep Dark Night

by Steph Broadribb
Series: Lori Anderson, #4

Kindle Edition, 320 pg.
Orenda Books, 2020

Read: January 16-17, 2020
Grab a Steph Broadribb book from your local indie bookstore!

I’ve always felt an element of fear about the jobs I do. In the right dosage it can help you. It gets your adrenaline firing, makes you think clearer, faster—gets you alert and ready to tackle anything that comes your way. But if the fear builds too much, all that good stuff swings things around; the nerves make you hesitant, jumpy and too cautious. That’s when you start making mistakes. And mistakes, in my world, can be fatal.

After barely getting to take a breath following the events of Deep Dirty Truth, Lori finally gets the chance to work off her debt to FBI Agent Monroe. This puts Lori and JT in Chicago trying to get the mobster Cabressa to take possession of some stolen goods. Once that’s done, a series of dominoes will fall and Monroe will be able to put him away for a very long time.

So he insists, anyway.

Step one involves Lori getting an invite to an incredibly exclusive Poker game, Step two involves giving her a crash course in playing Poker so she seems mostly credible in the game. (this isn’t presented as a comedic segment, but I chuckled at this part of the book—also, I’m jealous, I wish I could learn how to play like this).

Now, every thriller reader knows what will happen next—no plan, no matter how thorough, how well-thought-out no matter who’s involved, will work. If for no other reason than it would produce a dull novel. But also, every thriller reader has heard the line, “no plan survives first contact with the enemy” and knows it to be true. The questions that need to be answered are: how badly will the plan go awry? and How will Lori and JT react to it?

So let me assure you, when this plan is derailed, it’s derailed in a spectacular fashion, providing a lot of danger for our heroes, peril for those around them, and more than enough tension to satisfy a hungry reader. Lori and JT respond appropriately, not perfectly (which would be boring), but they display the stamina, resourcefulness, and tenacity we’ve come to expect from them.

The poker game collected quite the interesting mix of players—sports figures, politicians, as well as shady characters like Cabressa. When things go wrong during the game, it opens things up for a lot of drama and conflicting interests causing trouble for all involved. Suddenly, Lori and JT can’t focus solely on getting Cabressa to fall into Monroe’s trap—they have to worry about survival—their own, and as many others that they can help. Sure, Cabressa is still their target, but there’s a lot they have to go through before they can make him a priority.

I’m not going to get more in-depth than that, I’ll leave it there and say there’s more than enough going on plot-wise to fuel a book at least half again as long as this one. Broadribb has stacked the deck against the pair and it’s great to watch them try to navigate the situation.

The game takes place at the top of a pretty high building in Chicago and the action centers around that location, stories above the ground. In the real world, I’m pretty acrophobic—and occasionally (okay, more than occasionally), a movie can get me to feel the anxiety that heights can bring out in me. I don’t remember ever feeling symptoms while reading a book, but I did here. It’s not like Broadribb focused all that much on the height and risk of falling (it was there, but she didn’t belabor the point), but something about the way that she told the story, flicked that particular switch in my brain. There’s something very disconcerting about sitting in a comfortable seat (on the ground level like a sane person) but feeling like I was standing in a precarious* location several feet off the ground. I’m not promising that anyone else will experience what I did, I assume the rest of humanity is a bit better adjusted than I am, but for me that was an unexpected “bonus” to the book.

* Yeah, fine, my definition of a precarious location applies to perfectly safe—even benign—spots.

I’m a little worried about the long-term health of Lori’s elbows. She uses them so often as weapons, she probably heads back to Florida with at least one of them horribly bruised. I don’t remember this being the case in the previous novels, maybe I just forgot—or maybe she’s just relying on the technique in these circumstances (I remember more than once the narration in a Jack Reacher novel talking about the usefulness of that tactic compared to the use of a fist).

As far as long-term character development goes, Lori and JT start a conversation they’ve needed to have since, well, since we met the two of them about Dakota and why Lori didn’t tell JT about her before she did. This will prove helpful in the future and provide the opportunity for the relationship to grow and change. The two of them have some sort of plan going forward about their careers and daughter, but we’re going to have to come back to find out what they have in mind. Seeing these two deal with each other and their daughter is almost as rewarding to me as the action-hero kind of thing is, and Broadribb’s featuring both sides of Lori like this is a real strength of the series.

For my money, this is the best of the series—she’s got a real handle on these characters by now and knows just how to put them through the wringer in a way that provides real tension and thrills. I got more wrapped up in this than I expected to (and I had pretty high expectations at this point in the series), and it was absolutely worth it. Book five cannot arrive soon enough for me.

If you haven’t met this bounty hunter yet, you need to—either in the pages of this book or the beginning, either would work (but you might as well just buy the set all at once, you won’t be satisfied until you read them all). Deep Dark Night will win Broadribb some new fans and confirm those readers already along for the ride.


4 1/2 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.

PUB DAY REPOST: Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear by Seanan McGuire: Water Loves Falling

Cover of Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear by Seanan McGuireAdrift in Currents Clean and Clear

by Seanan McGuire

DETAILS:
Series: Wayward Children, #10
Publisher: Tordotcom
Publication Date: January 7, 2025
Format: eARC
Length: 160 pgs.
Read Date: December 16-18, 2024
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

What’s Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear About?

One of the advantages (and, to be fair, aggravating parts) of this series is that each book can be from anywhere on the series timeline. Here in the tenth installment, we get the origin story of someone that we got to know in the third book (Beneath the Sugar Sky). Reality itself is wibbly-wobbly in this series, why not timey wimey?

We meet Nadya at birth—where a young Russian woman who is not ready to be a mother is rushing to give her up—even before she’s freaked out that Nadya is missing an arm. As we watch Nadya growing up, she doesn’t really seem to care about the arm she never had. But when a couple of Americans come to adopt a disadvantaged Russian child, it starts to become a factor in her life.

She’s not comfortable with her new life in the States (yet?), but when a prosthetic arm is imposed on her (in the name of help—see below), she’s made to feel incomplete as well as Other. Her only solace is the pond a short walk from her adoptive parents’ home where she can watch turtles—an animal that has long fascinated her.

Before she knows it, she falls through a Door and ends up in a world she doesn’t understand or recognize (but really isn’t that much stranger than the change from a Russian orphanage to a Colorado suburb).

The Lost and the Lonely

I probably shouldn’t have—but I laughed when she got the “Be Sure” message. It’s in a seemingly-cruel place, but it was original and it meant the story was progressing. I also found her Door rather intriguing.

But better than that was the way her arrival in Belyrreka, the Land Beneath the Lake, was explained to her. Sometimes people come to Belyrreka* because a hero is needed to do something. But sometimes, it’s just that someone isn’t at home in their world and they need a place to fit in. Nadya is the latter, so it seems. Given that most of the children we’ve seen go through a Door to do something heroic, it’s nice to see this option.

This doesn’t mean she’s incapable of heroism, or of doing something important. It just means that she probably ended up in Belyrreka because she belonged there more than on Earth.

This is really a slice-of-life story. We just get to see how Nadya lives and matures in a place where she feels that she belongs, with family, friends, and a purpose. Yes, in the back of our minds, we know that something is going to happen and she’s going to end up at Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children. But until then… This novella is like the years between Aslan coronating the Pevensies and the fateful hunt for the White Stag—nothing heroic, nothing particularly notable. Just…life. Regular, ordinary, day-to-day life.

Well, “ordinary” in a world that’s described as Beneath a Lake, where everyone is underwater to one degree or another (breathing without gills), full of talking animals, and where a river can magically endow people with gifts/obligations. So it’s a loose use of the word “ordinary.”

* And by implication, other worlds

I’m Not Entirely Sure This One is Fair

Many of the children we’ve met—particularly if we’ve met their parents, too—aren’t all that fond of their parents. They’re critical of them (even before their Doors appear, definitely afterward). By and large, I’ve been with the children in their critiques and evaluations of the parents—even when it’s clear that the parents are doing their best (which doesn’t happen as often as it should).

I’m not convinced that Nadya is entirely fair when thinking about the adults in her life. Her appraisal of the orphanage staff (at least after they arranged for her to get adopted) is harsh when they really just did what they could to help her get out of the orphanage (which she sees, but attributes it to less-than-altruistic ends). Her parents really don’t understand her (beyond the language) and are clumsy at best in their attempts to help her fit into Colorado. It’s hard to tell how much of the assessment of their motivations and attempts comes from the omniscient narrator and how much is Nadya’s. But really, I think whoever is doing the assessing could be more charitable (without giving blanket approval).

Particularly her adoptive father—I really get the sense that his affection is real and that in time, he’d have become what she needs. I’m not so sure about his wife, however… On some level, they are trying to make life better. But her ideas of better and what needs improved differ.

Now, Nadya is a prepubescent child yanked out of the only home she ever knew, brought to another country and culture without warning (or consent), and forced into a mold and environment that she’s unprepared for. So, sure, she’s going to be less than charitable—it’s justified and understandable. I just wish the narration did a slightly better job of showing that.

So, what did I think about Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear?

That aside…I loved Nadya. Getting to know her like this was great.

This is a book about home. About acceptance. About finding your place in the world, with people who “get” you, who care about you, and who want the best for you—even if that best doesn’t necessarily make a lot of sense to them.

It’s nice, it’s comforting, and it’s reassuring to see Nadya find this for herself and getting to enjoy it for as long as she does. Yes, it’s hard to see her end up back in the “real world” knowing that means some misery before Eleanor comes to her (at least partial) rescue.

There’s a little less whimsy to this novella than many of the other installments in the series—outside of the construction of the world. But if I had to tag this with any description, I’d probably use “cozy.” If I didn’t know this series, I’d assume it would belong with Travis Baldtree or S.L. Rowland. Maybe Heather Fawcett. But I do know better—this series continues to transcend easy categorization. Wayward Children is its own subgenre.

McGuire brings the emotional depth that Nadya and her story need. Belyrreka is a great world that operates on its own (self-aware) logic—it’s a place I’d love to visit (assuming I wouldn’t panic at the whole living underwater thing, which I can’t promise), but wouldn’t want to live. But McGuire brings it to life and fills it with people I wish I could get to know more.

This is definitely one of the stronger books in this series that is on a great roll lately, I commend it to your attention. As with just about every book in the series, it can be read as a stand-alone or as an entry point (but I strongly encourage reading at least Every Heart a Doorway before any of the others). I was sad when it ended—not because of the way it ended, I just wasn’t ready to move on. I predict I won’t be alone in that.

Now, excuse me…I need to go figure out a way to cram in a re-read of Beneath a Sugar Sky to my schedule.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Tordotcom Publishing via NetGalley in exchange for this post—thanks to both for this.


4 1/2 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.
Irresponsible Reader Pilcrow Icon

Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear by Seanan McGuire: Water Loves Falling

Cover of Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear by Seanan McGuireAdrift in Currents Clean and Clear

by Seanan McGuire

DETAILS:
Series: Wayward Children, #10
Publisher: Tordotcom
Publication Date: January 7, 2025
Format: eARC
Length: 160 pgs.
Read Date: December 16-18, 2024
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

What’s Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear About?

One of the advantages (and, to be fair, aggravating parts) of this series is that each book can be from anywhere on the series timeline. Here in the tenth installment, we get the origin story of someone that we got to know in the third book (Beneath the Sugar Sky). Reality itself is wibbly-wobbly in this series, why not timey wimey?

We meet Nadya at birth—where a young Russian woman who is not ready to be a mother is rushing to give her up—even before she’s freaked out that Nadya is missing an arm. As we watch Nadya growing up, she doesn’t really seem to care about the arm she never had. But when a couple of Americans come to adopt a disadvantaged Russian child, it starts to become a factor in her life.

She’s not comfortable with her new life in the States (yet?), but when a prosthetic arm is imposed on her (in the name of help—see below), she’s made to feel incomplete as well as Other. Her only solace is the pond a short walk from her adoptive parents’ home where she can watch turtles—an animal that has long fascinated her.

Before she knows it, she falls through a Door and ends up in a world she doesn’t understand or recognize (but really isn’t that much stranger than the change from a Russian orphanage to a Colorado suburb).

The Lost and the Lonely

I probably shouldn’t have—but I laughed when she got the “Be Sure” message. It’s in a seemingly-cruel place, but it was original and it meant the story was progressing. I also found her Door rather intriguing.

But better than that was the way her arrival in Belyrreka, the Land Beneath the Lake, was explained to her. Sometimes people come to Belyrreka* because a hero is needed to do something. But sometimes, it’s just that someone isn’t at home in their world and they need a place to fit in. Nadya is the latter, so it seems. Given that most of the children we’ve seen go through a Door to do something heroic, it’s nice to see this option.

This doesn’t mean she’s incapable of heroism, or of doing something important. It just means that she probably ended up in Belyrreka because she belonged there more than on Earth.

This is really a slice-of-life story. We just get to see how Nadya lives and matures in a place where she feels that she belongs, with family, friends, and a purpose. Yes, in the back of our minds, we know that something is going to happen and she’s going to end up at Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children. But until then… This novella is like the years between Aslan coronating the Pevensies and the fateful hunt for the White Stag—nothing heroic, nothing particularly notable. Just…life. Regular, ordinary, day-to-day life.

Well, “ordinary” in a world that’s described as Beneath a Lake, where everyone is underwater to one degree or another (breathing without gills), full of talking animals, and where a river can magically endow people with gifts/obligations. So it’s a loose use of the word “ordinary.”

* And by implication, other worlds

I’m Not Entirely Sure This One is Fair

Many of the children we’ve met—particularly if we’ve met their parents, too—aren’t all that fond of their parents. They’re critical of them (even before their Doors appear, definitely afterward). By and large, I’ve been with the children in their critiques and evaluations of the parents—even when it’s clear that the parents are doing their best (which doesn’t happen as often as it should).

I’m not convinced that Nadya is entirely fair when thinking about the adults in her life. Her appraisal of the orphanage staff (at least after they arranged for her to get adopted) is harsh when they really just did what they could to help her get out of the orphanage (which she sees, but attributes it to less-than-altruistic ends). Her parents really don’t understand her (beyond the language) and are clumsy at best in their attempts to help her fit into Colorado. It’s hard to tell how much of the assessment of their motivations and attempts comes from the omniscient narrator and how much is Nadya’s. But really, I think whoever is doing the assessing could be more charitable (without giving blanket approval).

Particularly her adoptive father—I really get the sense that his affection is real and that in time, he’d have become what she needs. I’m not so sure about his wife, however… On some level, they are trying to make life better. But her ideas of better and what needs improved differ.

Now, Nadya is a prepubescent child yanked out of the only home she ever knew, brought to another country and culture without warning (or consent), and forced into a mold and environment that she’s unprepared for. So, sure, she’s going to be less than charitable—it’s justified and understandable. I just wish the narration did a slightly better job of showing that.

So, what did I think about Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear?

That aside…I loved Nadya. Getting to know her like this was great.

This is a book about home. About acceptance. About finding your place in the world, with people who “get” you, who care about you, and who want the best for you—even if that best doesn’t necessarily make a lot of sense to them.

It’s nice, it’s comforting, and it’s reassuring to see Nadya find this for herself and getting to enjoy it for as long as she does. Yes, it’s hard to see her end up back in the “real world” knowing that means some misery before Eleanor comes to her (at least partial) rescue.

There’s a little less whimsy to this novella than many of the other installments in the series—outside of the construction of the world. But if I had to tag this with any description, I’d probably use “cozy.” If I didn’t know this series, I’d assume it would belong with Travis Baldtree or S.L. Rowland. Maybe Heather Fawcett. But I do know better—this series continues to transcend easy categorization. Wayward Children is its own subgenre.

McGuire brings the emotional depth that Nadya and her story need. Belyrreka is a great world that operates on its own (self-aware) logic—it’s a place I’d love to visit (assuming I wouldn’t panic at the whole living underwater thing, which I can’t promise), but wouldn’t want to live. But McGuire brings it to life and fills it with people I wish I could get to know more.

This is definitely one of the stronger books in this series that is on a great roll lately, I commend it to your attention. As with just about every book in the series, it can be read as a stand-alone or as an entry point (but I strongly encourage reading at least Every Heart a Doorway before any of the others). I was sad when it ended—not because of the way it ended, I just wasn’t ready to move on. I predict I won’t be alone in that.

Now, excuse me…I need to go figure out a way to cram in a re-read of Beneath a Sugar Sky to my schedule.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Tordotcom Publishing via NetGalley in exchange for this post—thanks to both for this.


4 1/2 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.
Irresponsible Reader Pilcrow Icon

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