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The Last Smile in Sunder City by Luke Arnold: A Fantasy Novel that Defies My Pithy Headline Composing Abilities

The Last Smile in Sunder City

The Last Smile in Sunder City

by Luke Arnold
Series: The Fetch Phillips Archives, #1

Kindle Edition, 368 pg.
Orbit, 2020

Read: August 26-27, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!


I think this could be my longest post ever, and I’d still leave things left unsaid, you wouldn’t believe the length of my notes for a book of this size. I’ll try to hit the most important points. To fill in whatever lacunae appears below, you should probably also read what was said over at Witty and Sarcastic Bookclub, The Tattooed Book Geek, Grimdark Magazine, and FanFi Addict—they’re what convinced me to buy the book.

“So, you’re a Man for Hire?”

“That’s right.”

“Why don’t you just call yourself a detective?”

“I was worried that might make me sound intelligent.”

The Principal wrinkled his nose. He didn’t know if I was trying to be funny; even less if I’d succeeded.

“What’s your relationship with the police department?”

“We have connections but they’re as thin as I can make them. When they come knocking I have to answer but my clients’ protection and privacy come first. There are lines I can’t cross but I push them back as far as I can.”

What’s The Last Smile in Sunder City About?

Fetch Phillips is hired to find a missing vampire, Edmund Albert Rye, an instructor at an exclusive private school for the children of magical creatures (lycanthropes, vampires, elves, dwarfs, etc.). It’s been a few days since he was seen, which is uncharacteristic enough that the principal’s getting nervous—he’s tough, but he’s been unwell. He, the students, and staff just need to know what happened to him.

I made my way east along Fourteenth Street without much hope for what I might be able to find. Professor Edmund Albert Rye; a man whose life expectancy was already several centuries overdue. I doubted I could bring back anything more than a sad story.

I wasn’t wrong. But things were sticking to the story that knew how to bite.

Fetch gets to work, enjoying the feeling of a good amount of cash in his pocket. The first step is the city library, Rye’s been living in the attic for that last several years, so he could enjoy some privacy and the sunlight. The librarian is just as worried as the principal had been.

It’s really not long before Fetch’s investigation brings him to an old private club for Vampires—and he find the remains of a couple of vampires. The lab concludes that it Rye wasn’t one of the fresh corpses. There’s another dead magical creature there, one that Fetch has never seen, and it takes a couple of days for the results identifying that to come in, too.

One thing that Fetch learns fairly soon is that Rye isn’t the only one missing, a girl vanished around the same time as he did. Now, Fetch has to track down a missing vampire and a teen-aged Siren. His work is definitely cut out for him.

Because he knows from the get-go that the story he’ll bring back to his employer won’t have a happy ending, he has a hard time pursuing it head-on. He keeps finding little things to distract himself, to slow the investigation. Even when the missing girl gets factored in, and he knows he needs to be fully committed just to have a chance to find her, to. He really can’t pull it off. The sad story just became so much sadder, and he doesn’t want to know the depth of that sadness.

Fetch Phillips

While the majority of the book traces this story, we also get several flashback chapters tracing Fetch’s tragic childhood, decent (but not great) adolescence and then troubled adulthood leading up to the point where he helped the Human Army destroy all the magic in the world. It’s an event called the Coda, and it occurred six years before Fetch was hired by the school. All magical creatures lost the abilities that distinguished their races, and the world was never the same. As an act of penance that no one but Fetch cares about, he’s since refused to work for humans, only for formerly-magic creatures. Which is what brought him to the search for Rye.

Fetch is a broken man—he wasn’t in great shape before the Coda, but he’s worse after it. An ex-soldier, convicted criminal, ex-prisoner, and now a drunk, with moments of sobriety (fewer than he should have while on a job, but all that money can buy many drinks).

There was a hangover on the horizon, along with something else. Something sort of stupid.

A devil was sitting on my shoulder whispering the kinds of things that stopped working on me years ago. I was only in my thirties but I was old. You don’t measure age in years, you measure it in lessons learned and repeated mistakes and how hard it is to force a little hope into your heart. Old just means jaded and cynical and tired. And boy, was I tired.

It’s the penance that drives him. He’d been an author of so much of what was wrong with the world, and he’s doing what he can to alleviate it just a little bit. It’s the only thing keeping him going. It’s not enough, but it’s all he has.

Fetch is such a rich character. It’s hard to like him, it’s hard to find anything redeemable in him*, any reason to be interested in what happens to him. But you can’t help pull for this broken, beaten, disillusioned, and cynical man.

* Which is, admittedly, the point of redemption.

What a Piece of Worldbuilding

This is such an incredibly conceived world. The Coda is so fresh that the citizens have started to move on, but aren’t used to dealing with the post-magical world. And so many of them are still hoping that it’ll all come back just as suddenly as it left.

The mixture of the fantasy elements and Human tech and science in this world, picking up the slack for the things that magic can’t do anymore is so rich, so well designed, so well-written that the reader has to stop every so often and try to take it in.

Even if I didn’t really like the book all that much, I’d still be recommending the book for the worldbuilding. It’s a master class in how to do it, how to describe it, and how to reveal it to the reader.

A Gripe

Just so, so, so many extended passages in italics. I won’t try to make a case against them, Benjamin Dryer does a better job than I possibly could. I just find them aggravating. It’d be so easy to indicate that something’s a flashback without them and spare readers the annoyance.

So, what did I think about The Last Smile in Sunder City?

Maybe nobody gets better. Maybe bad people just get worse. It’s not the bad things that make people bad, though. From what I’ve seen, we all work together in the face of adversity. Join up like brothers and work to overcome whatever big old evil wants to hold us down. The thing that kills us is the hope. Give a good man something to protect and you’ll turn him into a killer.

Fetch is a classic hard-boiled detective in a classically noir tale—the fact that it takes place in a Fantasy world (yet full of fairly modern technology) is just icing on a pretty tasty cake. The narrative voice is great, the writing leaps to life, and I can’t say enough about the way the world—and the novel—were designed and executed.

This probably deserves more than the 4 Stars I’m giving it, but I just didn’t connect with the story, with Fetch, with everything else going on as much as I wanted to. This regrettably ends up in the category of books that I admire more than I enjoy. But my admiration of this is so high that it almost doesn’t matter. This is a great Fantasy novel, and one unlike any you’ve read.

The sequel is out in a couple of weeks—I’m coming back to this world because now that Arnold doesn’t have to spend so much time explaining how the world works (or, more properly, how it no longer works) that he’ll be able to focus on telling a story or two, and I want to see what heights he’s capable of when the rules have already been established.

Do I recommend this book? Oh yeah. You’ll probably like it more than I did (I’m a little worried about hitting “publish” on this, as I know I’m one of the less enthusiastic readers of this). And even if you don’t, you’ll be just as impressed as I am with Arnold’s imagination and skill.


4 Stars

20 Books of Summer

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.

Rather Be the Devil by Ian Rankin: He’s Hardly the Retiring Type

Rather Be the Devil

Rather Be the Devil

Ian Rankin
Series: John Rebus, #21

Hardcover, 310 pg.
Little, Brown and Company, 2017

Read: August 28-29, 2020

Clarke nodded towards the figure striding across the foyer. She waved, and Rebus noticed her. He offered a curt nod and signaled with his hand that there’d be a phone call later. Then he was out of the automatic doors and gone.

‘What was all that about’ Fox asked.

‘I think it means trouble for someone,’ Clarke answered. ‘Been a while since I saw him with that look in his eyes…’

What’s Rather Be the Devil About?

Darryl Christie is savagely beaten in front of his own house and Clarke jumps onto the case. He didn’t see his attacker/attackers, and there were no witnesses. Cafferty’s name has to be on the suspect list, and as luck would have it—John Rebus calls at that moment for a small favor. As much as Clarke would love to go up against Cafferty, everyone knows that Rebus would get better results. So she trades favors with him.

Malcolm Fox is soon assigned to the Christie case, too—and then something else happens that requires their attention. Clarke, Fox, and Rebus find themselves in the middle of a messy tangle of crimes that are decades old, in progress, brutal and old school, or high-tech and almost hard to fully grasp.

Rebus

He’s dealing with COPD, carrying an inhaler, not smoking (and is handling that about as well as you can expect), and not drinking. Well…okay, not drinking that much. He’s trying to be the good retired man that he’s supposed to be. But sometimes walking the dog and trying to be healthy just isn’t enough…so when he starts telling Deborah Quant an interesting story about a murder that happened in the hotel above the restaurant they were dining in*, he can’t keep his curiosity in check and has to see if he can finally close the case. If only for his own amusement.

* because where can they go where he doesn’t know an interesting story about a murder committed on or near the premises? And, who but Quant would listen?

And then once this turns into an opportunity to lock horns with Cafferty again? And maybe help his friends/protégés take Christie down before he can become as strong as Cafferty was? Well, this certainly beats counting flowers on the wall.

I really love the fact that so much of this book depends on Rebus needing something to do to keep his mind occupied. As nice as it would be for him to find peace with his dog and Quant—and maybe enjoying time as a grandfather, that’s just not Rebus. This kind of thing is so much better for him.

Works out well for we readers, too.

Siobhan Clarke

I really think she got the short-end (again). She’s a better police detective than Rebus or Fox, and while it’s believable that the brass will overlook her to give Fox the promotion, it’s regrettable that Rankin does almost the same.

Rebus and Fox get up to all sorts antics, hiding a lot of it from her—at least until they’re done with them—so she won’t stop them. She doesn’t play things wholly by the book, but compared to Rebus (as always) and (increasingly) Fox, she’s a model officer.

Still, when she’s going toe-to-toe with Christie or his family, or his henchmen? She’s fantastic. I just got wish we got more of her. Maybe Rankin figures we know all we need to know about her, and we’re still trying to figure Malcolm out?

Malcolm Fox

After what happened to him in the last book, he’s given a nice promotion to the Major Crimes Division of Police Scotland. A promotion he takes, but knows he doesn’t deserve, while Clarke does. Clarke knows it, too (and is having a hard time not resenting him getting it). His superiors are hoping the situation with Christie will put them in a situation where they can take him down—and more importantly, a couple of his allies with him, so he’s sent back to Edinburgh to be their man on the ground. He does all he can to keep Clarke involved, which helps their relationship a degree.

It turns out that Christie has a tie to Fox’s sister, Jude, and is working that for all it’s worth. Between that and his willingness to involve Rebus far and above what he should be, Fox is coloring outside the lines that used to define him so clearly. Which is good for this case, but is that really going to serve him long-term?

Big Ger

If you can’t keep a good man down, how do you explain Morris Gerald Cafferty?

So, what did I think about Rather Be the Devil?

I loved the way the cold case resolved. I enjoyed just about everything about the Christie beating story (including what Fox was really there to take care of) and how that took care of itself. And generally, I just really liked being in this world again.

At this point, all I have are smallish gripes (as expressed above) and general expressions of satisfaction and enjoyment. I wish I had some deeper thoughts to offer, but I really don’t. I just like these books and am impressed with the ways that Rankin has found to keep Rebus active. Now if he can just keep him alive…


4 Stars

2020 Library Love Challenge20 Books of Summer
This post contains affiliate links. If you purchase from any of them, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Tales from the Folly by Ben Aaronovitch: Entertaining Quick Dips into the Rivers of London

Tales from the Folly

Tales from the Folly: A Rivers of London Short Story Collection

by Ben Aaronovitch
Series: The Rivers of London

Kindle Edition, 139 pg.
JABberwocky Literary Agency, Inc., 2020

Read: August 1-3, 2020


If asked, I’d have thought I posted about this book weeks ago, so imagine my surprise this past weekend when I saw this title still on my “To Be Written” list when I was checking for something else. Better late than never…

What are the Tales from the Folly?

The subtitle pretty much gives it away, really. These are shorter works set in the Rivers of London series. The Folly is the unofficial name for the recognized British magical organization, following in the first formal study of magic made by Sir Isaac Newton (no known relation, but that doesn’t stop me from claiming him as an uncle), it’s currently formally organized as the Special Assessment Unit of the Metropolitan Police. The Folly is also the nickname for their headquarters. Either use works for this collection.

There are seven short stores (or one novella and six short stories) told from Peter Grant’s perspective—just like the series. Then there are four stories from the point of view of other characters in the series and three “moments” (Aaronovitch’s term for “something that is more of a mood than a story, something that will last a page or two and conjure an atmosphere).

Peter Grant Stories

Obviously, this is Peter’s series (at least so far…), so he gets the bulk of the space. Most of these take place around the time of the first few books in the series, but at different stages of Peter’s development. I enjoyed them all and most of them are good enough to justify the purchase price on their own.

I can’t put my finger on why, exactly, but the first story “The Home Crowd Advantage” is my favorite. It’s about a French practitioner who got up to no good during the 1948 London Games who revisits the scene of the crime in 2012 when rookie apprentice Peter Grant is the only one around to deal with him.

The last entry in this section is the novella, A Rare Book of Cunning Device that I talked about when it was released as an Audible Original in 2017. It’s rare for me to go from hearing a work to reading it, so it was interesting that way. I enjoyed it just as much this time around, but I think Holdbrook-Smith’s voice is a better one for this series than whatever is echoing around in my skull.

Everyone Else

The fact that Aaronovitch is able to tell stories outside of Peter’s perspective shows the strength of the series in my book, he’s built the world and the characters out enough that they can carry the weight of a narrative for at least a little bit.

We get a story from the perspective of one of the Rivers, one from Abigail’s perspective that will warm the cockles of your heart (and maybe make you a little sad for a bit), a nice one featuring Vanessa Sommer from Germany (making me hope we get back to Germany for another novel soon), the answer about what happened to the River Lugg after Foxglove Summer. Then there are the moments, one featuring Nightengale, one with Reynolds and one with Sommer’s pal Tobias Winter years before The October Man

So, what did I think about Tales from the Folly?

That’s easy, I thought it was great. I’d buy volume 2 tomorrow, and volume 3 next month. If Aaronovitch wrote that quickly, anyway. They’re like the comic series in a way—a nice way to spend some time in this universe without having to put in the time of a novel.

The collection covered the gamut of emotions and types of story typical of the series with Aaronovitch’s evident charm and skill. It’s a must for every Rivers of London fan.


4 Stars

The Ninja Daughter by Tori Eldridge: The Norwegian-Chinese Ninja Hero You Never Realized You Needed in Your Life

The Ninja Daughter

The Ninja Daughter

by Tori Eldridge
Series: Lily Wong, #1

Paperback, 300 pg.
Agora Books, 2019

Read: August 21-22, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

What’s The Ninja Daughter About?

Lily Wong’s nickname is Dumpling, and like that food, there’s a lot hidden underneath the surface.

For starters, there’s the fact that she trained extensively in martial arts—more than her parents realized—growing up. Then there’s the fact that she (in her mind, at least) let her sister down the night that her sister was sexually assaulted and murdered. Which fuels the last hidden part of her life—she uses her guilt and need for vengeance to fuel her utilization of those martial arts skills to be a kunoichi—a female ninja—to help women and children who are the victims of abuse while she hunts for her sister’s killer. Her parents only know she does IT work from home.

When the book opens she’s trying to help a Ukrainian immigrant woman and her son get away from her abusive husband (who brags about his criminal connections), but that’s not going too well. To distract her self from the lack of success there, she takes up the cause of a waitress who’d been attacked in her home by a customer. The judge tossed the case based on insufficient evidence following weeks of the waitress being victim shamed through the media (traditional and social).

Lily decides that this waitress needs a big sister to look out for her and appoints herself to fill that role. She does this by doing what she can to keep Mia safe and then to investigate the guy she pressed charges against. This leads her into a murky world of government contracts, real estate, organized crime, and murder.

You Know Who Lily Reminds Me Of?

Part of it’s the city of L.A., part of it’s the female action-hero vibe, the one woman against the world kind of thing. Part of it is ineffable. But I couldn’t help but think of Cas Russell (of Zero Sum Game and Null Set) and Teagan Frost (of The Girl Who Could Move Sh*t with Her Mind) as I read this book.

Sure, Lily’s more grounded than either of them, she has no real powers other than those that are the result of years of training and practice. Theoretically, everything that Lily does in this book Tori Eldridge is (or at least was at one point) capable of doing herself—and a lot of what Cas and Teagan do are purely the stuff of fiction. Still, I’m probably going to lump the three of them together in my mind for some time to come.

The biggest difference between them is that Lily knows just who she is and where she comes from—her family is strong, affectionate (in their way), and supportive. She may have friends to augment that core support, but they’re not everything she has. This makes her a bit more stable and capable of dealing with challenges that come than the others.

(and, yeah, I thought of Lydia Chin and her mother every time Lily and her Ma interacted, but that’s a whole other can of worms).

The Food

There’s food all over this book. Lily’s father owns and runs a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown. The woman that runs the shelter she works with cooks amazing sounding soul food. The meals she eats with her family and on her own sound amazing. Spenser and Elvis Cole may know their way around a kitchen, but Lily Wong knows her way around some fantastic restaurants in L.A. She’s so far ahead of the game than Kinsey Milhone’s lousy sandwiches and Hungarian food that it’s hard to believe they’re in the same genre.

Do not read this book if you’re peckish. Keep yourself fed well, or you’re going to be snacking far too much.

Lily’s Heritage

It’s that family makes Lily who she is. In these three hundred pages, we hear more about Lily’s grandparents and parents than I’m used to hearing about a protagonist’s family over several books. Particularly when we’re talking about an action hero.

Eldridge has given Lily the same heritage that she has—a Norwegian father from North Dakota and a Chinese mother. So Eldridge knows the special kind of alchemy that the mixture of the two cultures produces.

The Important Word in the Title

Obviously, it’s Ninja that draws your attention and is the memorable takeaway, but as you can tell, it’s Daughter that colors the whole book. It’s Lily’s interactions with her parents, her application of the way they raised her and still care for her, the way she draws on what they teach and tell her that defines her and proves to be the key to figuring out what’s going on in the book.

So, what did I think about The Ninja Daughter?

If you want to ignore the deeper stuff and enjoy a book about a determined young woman out for vengeance (presumptive and by proxy, as it often is) on the streets of Los Angeles, this book will do the trick.

If you want a rounded, complex, female character trying to figure out how to deal with personal guilt, and trauma while helping out women and children by any means necessary, this book will do the trick, too. The idea that she may be starting to figure out a way past the guilt and move into healing and happiness* makes that all the better.

* Sure, I realize that within the first fifty pages of the sequel, all that can go away. The important thing is that it was there

You could make the case that Philip Marlowe was Chandler’s attempt at telling the story of a knight errant in early-twentieth-century L.A. Lily’s in the same vein—just a little more modern (and, ironically enough, using an older kind of warrior). Eldridge’s L.A. has slightly nicer mean streets, but they’re just as deadly and are in just as much need for a hero. I hope we get to see her at work for quite some time.


4 Stars

20 Books of Summer

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.

Dark Jenny (Audiobook) by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki: Eddie LaCrosse Meets a Legend

Dark Jenny

Dark Jenny

by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki (Narrator)
Series: Eddie LaCrosse, #3

Unabridged Audiobook, 8 hrs., 45 min.
Blackstone Audio, 2012

Read: July 24-28, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

What did I say about Dark Jenny the first time I read it?

I have only the vaguest of memory of what actually happened in the first Eddie LaCrosse novel (The Sword-Edged Blonde), and only somewhat better recall about the second (Burn Me Deadly). That’s a reflection on the amount of stuff I’ve read in that time, and is in no way a reflection on Bledsoe. I do have a very clear recollection about what both books told me about Alex Bledsoe’s talent and that I enjoyed them a lot. I’m equally certain that Dark Jenny won’t suffer from that same fading from memory/excuse to reread them. This one is gonna stay with me for a while.

Essentially, this book is a variation of an Arthurian story—ideal king, queen rumored to be less than ideal, noble knight corps with a few rotten apples thrown in, a wizard figure, wicked half-sister, and a whole lotta intrigue—with a few unique twists of Bledsoe’s own thrown in for good measure. Not a sour note to be found here—some notes that were hard to listen to, sure, but…okay, there’s a metaphor that went awry. I was trying to say that yes, there were things that were less pleasant than others—this book goes to some dark, nasty places–but it all worked well.

We get this Arthurian tale via an extended flashback—in the middle of a nasty winter storm, with nothing else to occupy the attention of his neighbors, Eddie receives an interesting package. One so interesting, there has to be a great tale that goes along with it—which he ends up telling to the crowd at his favorite tavern (with only the tiniest of breaks to remind us that this is all in Eddie’s past). By making this all an extended flashback, Bledsoe is able to give us a slightly different version of Eddie—one on the way to being the guy we’ve seen in the last two books. It also gives him the excuse to have a great femme fatale to grab Eddie’s attention without having to write around his lovely lady.

A great, riveting fantasy noir. Can’t wait for the next one already. A decent jumping on point for those new to the series, and a great third installment for those who’ve been around for awhile.

Thoughts this time through

In the nine years or so since I read Dark Jenny I held on to a vague recollection of the plot, I remembered it was a clever twist on an Authurian Legend, and that it knocked me for a loop. But that’s really all I remembered.

So when I started it on my Eddie LaCrosse re-listen, I was excited. And spent a lot of time pretty disappointed. I couldn’t see why it knocked me for a loop.

It was a very clever way to tell an Authurian story while critiquing the Authorian stories. Bledsoe got the best of both worlds there, he got the utopia, the glory, the all the trappings. And he got to show the inherent problems with them, how short lived the utopia was (and if that’s the case, just how “eu” was the topia?)

And it was a fun story about a younger Eddie LaCrosse, sword jockey at large. I wasn’t blown away, but I was having a good time.

And then I got to the part that I must’ve been thinking about when I wrote my original post about it years ago. It’s not long after we learn why the book is called Dark Jenny, if you’re curious. And then I remembered exactly what I felt in 2011 and why the impression lingered even if the details had faded.

What about Dark Jenny as an audiobook?

Once again, Stefan Rudnicki, isn’t who I’d have guessed was a good fit for LaCrosse. But I’d have been wrong, he’s a great voice for this series and I can’t imagine anyone else doing it now. I can’t put my finger on why, but I think this novel works better in print than in audio (which is not a reflection on Rudnicki, it’s something about the story)—but I have no complaints about this as an audiobook.

So, what did I think about Dark Jenny?

I guess I kind of gave it away earlier. At this point in the series, Bledsoe has locked it in. He knows who Eddie is and how to tell his stories. There’s the right mix of fantasy elements (including the Arthurian material) and hard-boiled PI elements; humor and grit; violence and sympathy.

I don’t know if this is that much better than it’s predecessors—but it is somewhat, at least. And it resonates on an emotional level for me far more than they did. I’m completely sold on it.


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.

The Rome of Fall by Chad Alan Gibbs: 90s Rock and High School Football Combine for a Shakespearean Tale

The Rome of Fall

The Rome of Fall

by Chad Alan Gibbs

Paperback, 260 pg.
Borne Back Books, 2020

Read: August 15-17, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

During the tenth month of the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and ninety-four, as foretold in the book of Garth, the gods unleashed a plague upon Rome. Not a plague of frogs, or lice, or locusts—those would have been fine. The Coosa River did not run red with blood—that would have been okay, too. No, the gods were not messing around that October, and they blighted our fair town with a pestilence of heel, toe, do-se-dos that seemingly afflicted everyone in school but Jackson and me. Like a zit, Dixie Dancehall & Taxidermy materialized overnight, filling the void of Main Street cruising with, perhaps, the worse recreational activity in the history of human recreation: Country. Line. Dancing.

What’s The Rome of Fall About?

If you’ve ever asked yourself what would a Julius Caesar fanfic told through the prism of High School Football and 90s Rock look like, have I got a book for you…

Marcus Brinks spent the first semester of his senior year as a new student in Rome, Alabama before moving back to Texas with his father. To say that that semester was radically life-changing is to misunderstand both terms. Twenty-three years later, he returns to Rome to care for his dying mother, and to teach English at his old High School. In the intervening years, Brinks had fronted a very successful 90s indie band (for one album and an aborted tour, anyway), graduated from Harvard, and then spent sixteen years living on a beach in Jamaica, coasting on the fading fumes of his fame.

In 1994, Brinks had been befriended by Jackson and Silas. Jackson was a third-string QB with delusions of grandeur and a gift of gab (and brag, come to think of it). Silas was a white kid obsessed with gangsta rap who dreamed of coaching football—he couldn’t play, as he was on crutches due to Muscular Dystrophy—but he understood the game better than Jackson (or many others) ever could and with a passion that surpassed theirs, too. All of them were the victim of bullying by Deacon, the first string QB, who was as arrogant as only starting football stars can be. Jackson and Silas had a plan to bring Deacon down and disgrace him, but Brinks didn’t want to go along with it—until Deacon beats him up for the crime of being friends with Deacon’s girlfriend, Becca.

* And, we might as well be honest, Brinks wants to be a lot more than friends with her.

In 2017, Becca teaches at the middle school, Jackson’s the High School Football coach, and is pretty much the town’s biggest celebrity. Silas is now wheelchair-bound, and is his offensive coordinator. Something happened between Jackson and Brinks and they haven’t spoken in decades, and Brinks has no intention of breaking that streak. Deacon is a pretty successful local businessman, jealous of Jackson’s status, and is determined to bring him down (and wants Brinks to help). Oh, and adult Brinks can’t help himself and is determined to be a lot more than friends with Becca this time.

We bounce back and forth between the timelines, seeing both how Jackson, Silas, and Brinks plot against Deacon—and what drove them all to it. While eventually, we figure out what drove the rift between Jackson and Brinks, why Deacon and Brinks almost get along, and why they (and others) are plotting against Jackson. Mix in some high school fun, some good times with friends, a budding and rocky romance (in both timelines), some good 90s music nostalgia, a little teaching humor, and a whole lot of heart—and this becomes a novel that’s almost impossible to put down and that’ll hit you on several emotional levels at once.

All the characters are familiar at once, yet feel like Gibbs was one of the first to write about High School sports and those who aren’t part of the Team. Their adult versions all feel like genuine extensions and evolutions from who they were in High School. I’d have enjoyed hanging out with everyone but Deacon in High School and in 2017, I think I could’ve had fun with Brinks, Silas, and Becca. And at times the book almost makes you feel like that’s what you were doing. The relationship between Brinks and his mother was one of the best parts of this book, providing mirth and pathos. I’d likely recommend the book based only on the strength of it—and really, it’s not that important to the book overall.

Talking about the Julius Caesar of it All

On the one hand, Gibbs isn’t even a little bit subtle about the novel being a cover* of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, occasionally, maybe even going over the top with it. That said, there were a couple of references that I didn’t pick up on right away, and then felt really dense a few pages/chapters later when I stopped myself to flip back and re-read a little bit.

* Given the general rock music vibe that permeates this novel, I figure I should stick with music terminology whenever I can.

I grant you, it’s been decades since I last read the play (I think it’s one of the two Shakespeare plays I’ve read recreationally and for school), but I think Gibbs nailed it. He got all the major and many of the minor details right while keeping the whole thing feeling fresh and new. Frequently I thought the way he worked things in was pretty clever and unexpected.

What if you’ve never read/watched the play, will you be lost? Nope. It won’t matter at all to you. But if you have, you’ll appreciate the whole thing on another level.

The Little Things…

As with so many areas of life, it’s the little things that move a book from good to memorably entertaining. Yes, there are a lot of funny scenes, moments, and characters in The Rome of Fall, but Gibbs nails the little things in the narration. Things that don’t move the plot forward, or even really reveal much about Brinks or anyone else—but they add just the right bit of flavor to the book.

A non-exhaustive list of examples includes the aforementioned Line Dancing (it gets better from there) scenes, a nice bit about an overcooked steak, Brinks’s theories about things invented by bored teens in Rome, a line about armed teachers, and almost every conversation between Brinks and his mother that doesn’t advance the plot.

So, what did I think about The Rome of Fall?

“Okay, maybe I wasted some of my life, but people do still talk about our band. If we’d followed up with a bunch of shitty albums, no one would care anymore. But we didn’t, and they do. Not doing anything for the last twenty years wasn’t the worst career move.”

If Dear Brutus had been a real thing, I’d have left college before their album was released, and I might not have paid attention to them. But I’m close enough to the right age to remember the feel of that era of music and what those bands—especially of the indie/college rock variety—meant to their fans (yeah, it’s similar today, but with Spotify/Youtube, etc., it’s a little easier to connect with a band/their music than it was in the days of CDs and cassettes). A week or so before I read this book, a one-and-done band from about the same time that I loved launched a Kickstarter for a live album (recorded in the 90s). You wouldn’t believe how fast I contributed—me, and enough people to fully fund within a day—because of what emotions and memories that tapped into.

The Rome of Fall anchors itself in that feeling and then capitalizes on that to tell its stories. Really, the novel has nothing to do with the music of Dear Brutus. At the same time, it’s all about it. It’s about the ideas, the emotions—and the girl—that prompted Brinks to go all-in with his music, it’s about what the band’s dissolution did to him, and then what might lead to more of that music. I can’t say enough about that aspect of the novel.

Beyond that? Strip away the Shakespeare and music, and you have a charming and earnest story about High School and the way it shapes our lives, loves, friendships, and attitudes for the rest of our lives—and just what it takes to (maybe) shake them off. Failing that, how adults can channel the lingering effects of High School into both positive and destructive changes to their lives. It’s a strong novel that’s just a whole lot of fun (that sneakily works in some deeper material). Highly recommended.

N.B.: I won a copy of this book from the author in a giveaway on Witty and Sarcastic Bookclub and just wanted to take the opportunity to say thanks to both! You should probably also check out the post about the book on the site, it’s a good one.


4 Stars

20 Books of Summer

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: Going Back by Neil Lancaster: Improvise, Adapt, Overcome. Just another day for Novak.

Going Back

Going Back

by Neil Lancaster
Series: Tom Novak Thriller, #3

eARC, 506 pg.
Burning Chair Publishing, 2020

Read: August 11, 2020

What’s Going Back About?

Over the last couple of books, Tom Novak has received some pretty significant favors from Mike Brogan, his old friend who does some sort of work for American Intelligence (I like how vague his actual role is kept). And now he’s collecting.

There’s an ex-Serbian Special Operations officer who was freed from a prison van by a paramilitary force using some sort of device that seems like a portable EMP. Which is something that everyone (including governments around the world) wants, but no one’s been able to create. There’s a two-fold interest in this—1. can that portable device actually do what they think? and 2. There seems to be something major underway from this officer, probably using the EMP-like device. Which is not good for anyone.

Brogan’s team is pretty sure they know who’s bringing the tech-savvy to the team. Stefan Cerović left the country about the same time as Novak—but he ended up in the States. He was recently fired from a prominent tech company for failing a drug test and resurfaced in Belgrade. Cerović appeared to be relying on one particular black-market arms dealer, who’d recently been arrested. The job is for Novak to present himself as a new supplier as a way in. His ability with the language and similar background to Cerović is seen as a way for him to connect.

Mike will be around as backup, and of course, Pet will be around, too, doing all the typical technical wizardry.* Pet’s one of those characters that changes every scene she’s in—and makes Novak a more likable character when she’s around. I forget how much I like her until she shows up.

* Minor spoiler: Pet makes a costly mistake. I was so happy to see this. So often tech wizards like her are depicted as nigh infallible. But she makes a bad judgment call and she and Tom pay for it, keeping her human—a fantastically talented human, sure—but human.

As things are wont to do, after some initial success (Cerović’s a lot more interested in drugs than initially thought, which opens up so many doors for Novak), Brogan’s nifty plan goes off the rails—but not in a way you’d expect. Novak and Pet have to rely on Novak’s Marine slogan, and improvise and adapt so they have a shot at overcoming their opponents.

Serbia, huh?

I keep wondering how much mileage Lancaster’s going to be able to get out of Novak’s heritage and assume at some point we’re going to get a novel where it’s not so central. But until then, I’ll continue to be interested in seeing how Lancaster can adapt it.

This time out, putting him in his old homeland allows (forces?) him to confront and better understand his history (both recent and decades-old). Lancaster is able to get a two-for-the-price-of-one return here, not only is it the perfect setting for this kind of story, but we get a little character development.

One Gripe…

No self-respecting Texan is going to describe himself as from the “Deep South.” Sorry. Yes, it’s a minor issue, but it took me out of the moment. And for a book/series that reeks of authenticity, it’s a conspicuous blunder.

I did read an eARC which I know are still subject to change. Hopefully, that’s one of those edits that’s addressed before publication date.

So, what did I think about Going Back?

The first two books in this series had a pretty clear line of demarcation between the “undercover police officer” part and the “action hero” part of the book, and it worked pretty well. In Going Back, however, Novak slides back and forth between the two pretty easily (although the there is a clear shift in emphasis). I liked that a whole lot and hope Lancaster can do more of that in the future.

Throughout the whole book it felt to me like Lancaster had taken everything that worked best in Going Dark and Going Rogue, combining them while leaving off everything that didn’t work as well. Giving us the best in the series, a confident and well-paced thrill ride that will please fans and probably pick up a few for the series. You don’t have to have read the previous three to enjoy this one, the backstory isn’t that important to it. This is a fun way to spend a couple of hours and I recommend it to you.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from the author in exchange for this post and my honest opinion—thanks for this.


4 Stars

PUB DAY REPOST: Betty by Tiffany McDaniel: A Beautiful Novel about a Tragic Childhood

Betty

Betty

by Tiffany McDaniel

eARC, 480 pg.
Knopf, 2020

Read: July 25-28, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!


I’ve struggled with this one for days now and was tempted to say something like, “It’s a Tiffany McDaniel book. This means the writing is gorgeous, the subject will provoke you, you will be moved. And did I mention it’s wonderfully written?” But I knew I couldn’t post that…it doesn’t actually tell you anything about this book (“Tiffany McDaniel” and “gorgeous writing” is essentially a tautology) and since when do I express myself in twenty-seven words?

Who’s Betty About?

Yeah, I normally ask what a book is about, but the what is so unimportant in this book a reader could be excused for not remembering. You won’t forget the who anytime soon. The who is what matters.

It’s about a young, poor family’s struggles between 1939 and 1973—with a focus on 1961-73 (when Betty was 7-19) when the family settles in Appalachian Ohio (and largely stays there). The father is of Cherokee descent (Tsa-la-gi. A-vn-da-di-s-di), the mother is white—and you can imagine how easy life was for them and their children in that time (harder for Betty who takes more after her Cherokee lineage, while her siblings favor their mother). While none of the children has an easy life, there’s a greater degree of difficulty of Betty.

I could spend a good deal of time talking about various family members, but I’m going to focus on two of them.

Landon Carpenter (a.k.a. “Dad”)

When Landon Carpenter met Alka Lark, he was working as a gravedigger, he later worked at a clothespin factory—and then several other jobs, including a stint in a coal mine (which left him with a permanent limp due to a beating given by racists), while the family moved from state to state. When they settled in Breathed, Ohio*, he became known for selling moonshine, herbal remedies (based on “Cherokee wisdom” that was essentially what he happened to make up on the spot), and hand-crafting furniture.

* A fictional city that also served as the setting for The Summer that Melted Everything—one of several nods to that work included here.

But really, what he does with his time is father his children and try to take care of his wife. They don’t all appreciate it, or understand what he’s doing, but they’re (largely) devoted anyway. He will be frequently found passing on a bit of received knowledge through myths or parable form. He wasn’t ready to be a father when he became one and two decades later, he still wasn’t entirely ready when Betty arrived (or her younger siblings, either), but he rises to the occasion as best as he can. I don’t get the picture that he’s the easiest guy to get to know or get along with for prolonged periods. But for those who do get to know him, he’s clearly a loyal and supportive friend.

Betty (a.k.a. “Little Indian”)

Either as a quirk of personality or because she’s physically closer to her Cherokee heritage (likely a combination), Betty embraces the cultural lessons her father passes down more readily than her siblings do—and always wants more. She’s naive, inquisitive, and somehow despite everything she witnesses innocent and optimistic (not precisely, but that’s the best word I can come up with). Life hands her horrible experience after horrible experience, and while momentarily cowed, she comes back, wiser, but still innocent. Toward the end of the book, she has a couple of experiences (one thing she’s told about, one thing she witnesses) that drive her to the breaking point—but even then she holds on for a little longer.

She’s our Point of View character and doesn’t understand everything that’s going on around her for most of the book—things really kick off when she’s seven, after all. So we see a lot of the book through unreliable eyes, but very reliable emotions and reactions. From the latter, we can get a good understanding of what’s going on, better than she can.

The Magic (for lack of a better word)

In McDaniel’s The Summer that Melted Everything, many things happen that may be supernatural or magical in origin, there’s a semi-magical realism feel to it. That’s not the case here. Nor is the source of the “magic” in this novel one mysterious stranger.

The power that keeps Dad and Betty—and the rest of the family—going comes from story. Dad’s constantly telling stories to his children, Betty in particular—and, we learn, he even tells stories to his friends (I don’t think Landon’s wife has much patience for many such stories, as much as she needs them). Betty typically doesn’t tell her stories to anyone, but she writes them down, filling notebooks with them. Some she keeps, some she buries (to preserve or to hid), some she gives away. By their use of story—sometimes use of words—Dad and betty keep themselves, and those around them, going. They inspire, encourage, and teach with them.

A story that Betty’s mother tells her is arguably the most powerful story in the novel—and it explains more of the novel than anything else. Her story, is wholly true, and wholly heartbreaking, but even that comes down to the power of storytelling.

Drawbacks to the book

I don’t really want to label these as problems with the book, but there are a few things that keep me from being as enthusiastic about Betty as I was for The Summer that Melted Everything (which I am enthusiastic about to this day). I basically proselytized readers over that book, I won’t go that overboard for this.

The first is that it took me far longer than it should have to get what McDaniel was trying to accomplish, I kept waiting for a plot to emerge, and there’s never much of one by design. Instead, as I indicated above, this is about the characters. Growing, developing, faltering, stumbling, and retreating. It’s about how they react to the events (or non-events) in their lives that matters, now the events themselves. It’s entirely possible that this is all me and not the text. But I don’t think that’s the case (or I wouldn’t have gone on about it).

Secondly, the non-Carpenter characters. With two notable exceptions (the town Doctor who comes running when they call; and a friend of Landon’s who rents them the house they settle in. But the rest of the people (almost without exception), are simply horrible. Some of the Carpenters are okay, and most of them demonstrate growth (at least). But everyone else is horrible, blatantly so…so many people in authority of varying degrees are just horrible, spiteful, evil people. And it’s just hard to read that. I firmly believe in man’s inhumanity to man, but it’s usually tempered, at least on the surface/occasionally, with something positive. We aren’t given anything to look to and say, “Hey, there’s someone decent”, or “There’s someone doing something decent. Spiteful, racist, ignorant, misogynous, capricious, and evil. Those are the words that come to mind as I think about the non-Carpenter characters, and it’s just hard to read them.

So, what did I think about Betty?

I started off liking it, and that feeling slowly grew. There weren’t many moments that wow’ed me, but there were a handful that broke my heart. I sincerely want another 50 pages of the Dad’s odd little myths (some of which, I’m pretty sure contradict themselves, which Betty sees and rolls with). I wanted to help Betty through her challenges, to at least shoulder some of her burden with her.

And did I mention the prose is fantastic?

That said, I don’t think I connected with the characters (particularly those who aren’t Dad or Betty) the way McDaniel wanted me to. I don’t think there’s enough going on to urge people to read this, but I will recommend it strongly. That said, I think I will be in the minority with this book and most readers won’t understand my hesitation to rave over this. I do recommend this book, I do plan on re-reading it in a year or two, and I will be first in line for McDaniel’s next book.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for this post—thanks to both for this. I also want to thank McDaniel for approaching me to let me know it was available for request. None of the above kept me from giving my honest opinion.


4 Stars
20 Books of Summer

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.

Going Back by Neil Lancaster: Improvise, Adapt, Overcome. Just another day for Novak.

Going Back

Going Back

by Neil Lancaster
Series: Tom Novak Thriller, #3

eARC, 506 pg.
Burning Chair Publishing, 2020

Read: August 11, 2020

What’s Going Back About?

Over the last couple of books, Tom Novak has received some pretty significant favors from Mike Brogan, his old friend who does some sort of work for American Intelligence (I like how vague his actual role is kept). And now he’s collecting.

There’s an ex-Serbian Special Operations officer who was freed from a prison van by a paramilitary force using some sort of device that seems like a portable EMP. Which is something that everyone (including governments around the world) wants, but no one’s been able to create. There’s a two-fold interest in this—1. can that portable device actually do what they think? and 2. There seems to be something major underway from this officer, probably using the EMP-like device. Which is not good for anyone.

Brogan’s team is pretty sure they know who’s bringing the tech-savvy to the team. Stefan Cerović left the country about the same time as Novak—but he ended up in the States. He was recently fired from a prominent tech company for failing a drug test and resurfaced in Belgrade. Cerović appeared to be relying on one particular black-market arms dealer, who’d recently been arrested. The job is for Novak to present himself as a new supplier as a way in. His ability with the language and similar background to Cerović is seen as a way for him to connect.

Mike will be around as backup, and of course, Pet will be around, too, doing all the typical technical wizardry.* Pet’s one of those characters that changes every scene she’s in—and makes Novak a more likable character when she’s around. I forget how much I like her until she shows up.

* Minor spoiler: Pet makes a costly mistake. I was so happy to see this. So often tech wizards like her are depicted as nigh infallible. But she makes a bad judgment call and she and Tom pay for it, keeping her human—a fantastically talented human, sure—but human.

As things are wont to do, after some initial success (Cerović’s a lot more interested in drugs than initially thought, which opens up so many doors for Novak), Brogan’s nifty plan goes off the rails—but not in a way you’d expect. Novak and Pet have to rely on Novak’s Marine slogan, and improvise and adapt so they have a shot at overcoming their opponents.

Serbia, huh?

I keep wondering how much mileage Lancaster’s going to be able to get out of Novak’s heritage and assume at some point we’re going to get a novel where it’s not so central. But until then, I’ll continue to be interested in seeing how Lancaster can adapt it.

This time out, putting him in his old homeland allows (forces?) him to confront and better understand his history (both recent and decades-old). Lancaster is able to get a two-for-the-price-of-one return here, not only is it the perfect setting for this kind of story, but we get a little character development.

One Gripe…

No self-respecting Texan is going to describe himself as from the “Deep South.” Sorry. Yes, it’s a minor issue, but it took me out of the moment. And for a book/series that reeks of authenticity, it’s a conspicuous blunder.

I did read an eARC which I know are still subject to change. Hopefully, that’s one of those edits that’s addressed before publication date.

So, what did I think about Going Back?

The first two books in this series had a pretty clear line of demarcation between the “undercover police officer” part and the “action hero” part of the book, and it worked pretty well. In Going Back, however, Novak slides back and forth between the two pretty easily (although the there is a clear shift in emphasis). I liked that a whole lot and hope Lancaster can do more of that in the future.

Throughout the whole book it felt to me like Lancaster had taken everything that worked best in Going Dark and Going Rogue, combining them while leaving off everything that didn’t work as well. Giving us the best in the series, a confident and well-paced thrill ride that will please fans and probably pick up a few for the series. You don’t have to have read the previous three to enjoy this one, the backstory isn’t that important to it. This is a fun way to spend a couple of hours and I recommend it to you.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from the author in exchange for this post and my honest opinion—thanks for this.


4 Stars

Betty by Tiffany McDaniel: A Beautiful Novel about a Tragic Childhood

Betty

Betty

by Tiffany McDaniel

eARC, 480 pg.
Knopf, 2020

Read: July 25-28, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!


I’ve struggled with this one for days now and was tempted to say something like, “It’s a Tiffany McDaniel book. This means the writing is gorgeous, the subject will provoke you, you will be moved. And did I mention it’s wonderfully written?” But I knew I couldn’t post that…it doesn’t actually tell you anything about this book (“Tiffany McDaniel” and “gorgeous writing” is essentially a tautology) and since when do I express myself in twenty-seven words?

Who’s Betty About?

Yeah, I normally ask what a book is about, but the what is so unimportant in this book a reader could be excused for not remembering. You won’t forget the who anytime soon. The who is what matters.

It’s about a young, poor family’s struggles between 1939 and 1973—with a focus on 1961-73 (when Betty was 7-19) when the family settles in Appalachian Ohio (and largely stays there). The father is of Cherokee descent (Tsa-la-gi. A-vn-da-di-s-di), the mother is white—and you can imagine how easy life was for them and their children in that time (harder for Betty who takes more after her Cherokee lineage, while her siblings favor their mother). While none of the children has an easy life, there’s a greater degree of difficulty of Betty.

I could spend a good deal of time talking about various family members, but I’m going to focus on two of them.

Landon Carpenter (a.k.a. “Dad”)

When Landon Carpenter met Alka Lark, he was working as a gravedigger, he later worked at a clothespin factory—and then several other jobs, including a stint in a coal mine (which left him with a permanent limp due to a beating given by racists), while the family moved from state to state. When they settled in Breathed, Ohio*, he became known for selling moonshine, herbal remedies (based on “Cherokee wisdom” that was essentially what he happened to make up on the spot), and hand-crafting furniture.

* A fictional city that also served as the setting for The Summer that Melted Everything—one of several nods to that work included here.

But really, what he does with his time is father his children and try to take care of his wife. They don’t all appreciate it, or understand what he’s doing, but they’re (largely) devoted anyway. He will be frequently found passing on a bit of received knowledge through myths or parable form. He wasn’t ready to be a father when he became one and two decades later, he still wasn’t entirely ready when Betty arrived (or her younger siblings, either), but he rises to the occasion as best as he can. I don’t get the picture that he’s the easiest guy to get to know or get along with for prolonged periods. But for those who do get to know him, he’s clearly a loyal and supportive friend.

Betty (a.k.a. “Little Indian”)

Either as a quirk of personality or because she’s physically closer to her Cherokee heritage (likely a combination), Betty embraces the cultural lessons her father passes down more readily than her siblings do—and always wants more. She’s naive, inquisitive, and somehow despite everything she witnesses innocent and optimistic (not precisely, but that’s the best word I can come up with). Life hands her horrible experience after horrible experience, and while momentarily cowed, she comes back, wiser, but still innocent. Toward the end of the book, she has a couple of experiences (one thing she’s told about, one thing she witnesses) that drive her to the breaking point—but even then she holds on for a little longer.

She’s our Point of View character and doesn’t understand everything that’s going on around her for most of the book—things really kick off when she’s seven, after all. So we see a lot of the book through unreliable eyes, but very reliable emotions and reactions. From the latter, we can get a good understanding of what’s going on, better than she can.

The Magic (for lack of a better word)

In McDaniel’s The Summer that Melted Everything, many things happen that may be supernatural or magical in origin, there’s a semi-magical realism feel to it. That’s not the case here. Nor is the source of the “magic” in this novel one mysterious stranger.

The power that keeps Dad and Betty—and the rest of the family—going comes from story. Dad’s constantly telling stories to his children, Betty in particular—and, we learn, he even tells stories to his friends (I don’t think Landon’s wife has much patience for many such stories, as much as she needs them). Betty typically doesn’t tell her stories to anyone, but she writes them down, filling notebooks with them. Some she keeps, some she buries (to preserve or to hid), some she gives away. By their use of story—sometimes use of words—Dad and betty keep themselves, and those around them, going. They inspire, encourage, and teach with them.

A story that Betty’s mother tells her is arguably the most powerful story in the novel—and it explains more of the novel than anything else. Her story, is wholly true, and wholly heartbreaking, but even that comes down to the power of storytelling.

Drawbacks to the book

I don’t really want to label these as problems with the book, but there are a few things that keep me from being as enthusiastic about Betty as I was for The Summer that Melted Everything (which I am enthusiastic about to this day). I basically proselytized readers over that book, I won’t go that overboard for this.

The first is that it took me far longer than it should have to get what McDaniel was trying to accomplish, I kept waiting for a plot to emerge, and there’s never much of one by design. Instead, as I indicated above, this is about the characters. Growing, developing, faltering, stumbling, and retreating. It’s about how they react to the events (or non-events) in their lives that matters, now the events themselves. It’s entirely possible that this is all me and not the text. But I don’t think that’s the case (or I wouldn’t have gone on about it).

Secondly, the non-Carpenter characters. With two notable exceptions (the town Doctor who comes running when they call; and a friend of Landon’s who rents them the house they settle in. But the rest of the people (almost without exception), are simply horrible. Some of the Carpenters are okay, and most of them demonstrate growth (at least). But everyone else is horrible, blatantly so…so many people in authority of varying degrees are just horrible, spiteful, evil people. And it’s just hard to read that. I firmly believe in man’s inhumanity to man, but it’s usually tempered, at least on the surface/occasionally, with something positive. We aren’t given anything to look to and say, “Hey, there’s someone decent”, or “There’s someone doing something decent. Spiteful, racist, ignorant, misogynous, capricious, and evil. Those are the words that come to mind as I think about the non-Carpenter characters, and it’s just hard to read them.

So, what did I think about Betty?

I started off liking it, and that feeling slowly grew. There weren’t many moments that wow’ed me, but there were a handful that broke my heart. I sincerely want another 50 pages of the Dad’s odd little myths (some of which, I’m pretty sure contradict themselves, which Betty sees and rolls with). I wanted to help Betty through her challenges, to at least shoulder some of her burden with her.

And did I mention the prose is fantastic?

That said, I don’t think I connected with the characters (particularly those who aren’t Dad or Betty) the way McDaniel wanted me to. I don’t think there’s enough going on to urge people to read this, but I will recommend it strongly. That said, I think I will be in the minority with this book and most readers won’t understand my hesitation to rave over this. I do recommend this book, I do plan on re-reading it in a year or two, and I will be first in line for McDaniel’s next book.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for this post—thanks to both for this. I also want to thank McDaniel for approaching me to let me know it was available for request. None of the above kept me from giving my honest opinion.


4 Stars
20 Books of Summer

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.

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