Wulf C. Krueger
"For Reasons Unknown" and absolutely unknowable, this collection of words but mostly without proper punctuation, was actually published.
Another family murdered in their locked house, another "damaged", "dark", DCI called Matilda Darke (can you hear me cry?) who tragically lost her husband to cancer, mostly sees through to the bottom of bottles, not cases, is being brought back to investigate a cold case.
»She popped two Venlafaxine from the blister pack, washed them down with the wine, and left the house, taking the newspaper with her.«
(Note the admirable use of commas! The author doesn't ususally grace his wooden sentences with them. Here's proof: »‘No you don’t do you?’«)
As with the latest lot of novels I've been reading, this one just plain sucks: Shallow characters, unbelievable villains, cops who act to the best of their minimal abilities, a completely unhinged antagonist - this one has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. It does feature lots of melodramatic bollocks...
»The rage and tension building up inside her was agony.«
(Having recently finished this, I do sympathise with the general sentiment, though.)
Also, "your" and "you're" is hard for such gifted authors as this one...
»‘Yesterday, a body was found in the city centre, on Holly Lane. I went to the scene and you’re Acting DCI Hales was there.'«
"Michael Wood", once more I hope this person has no children to embarass or was at least smart enough to choose a pen name, also suffers from (and makes us suffer for) his distinct incompentence in the use of idioms:
»for argument’s say, let’s say it was your fault.«
For <beep>'s sake! I should be paid for reading such drivel!
Go forth and read any old directory because it surely is better written, edited, and more interesting than this turd of a novel.
0.25 stars out of five because it's composed of words and has a (story-unrelated) cover.
"For Reasons Unknown" and absolutely unknowable, this collection of words but mostly without proper punctuation, was actually published.
Another family murdered in their locked house, another "damaged", "dark", DCI called Matilda Darke (can you hear me cry?) who tragically lost her husband to cancer, mostly sees through to the bottom of bottles, not cases, is being brought back to investigate a cold case.
»She popped two Venlafaxine from the blister pack, washed them down with the wine, and left the house, taking the newspaper with her.«
(Note the admirable use of commas! The author doesn't ususally grace his wooden sentences with them. Here's proof: »‘No you don’t do you?’«)
As with the latest lot of novels I've been reading, this one just plain sucks: Shallow characters, unbelievable villains, cops who act to the best of their minimal abilities, a completely unhinged antagonist - this one has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. It does feature lots of melodramatic bollocks...
»The rage and tension building up inside her was agony.«
(Having recently finished this, I do sympathise with the general sentiment, though.)
Also, "your" and "you're" is hard for such gifted authors as this one...
»‘Yesterday, a body was found in the city centre, on Holly Lane. I went to the scene and you’re Acting DCI Hales was there.'«
"Michael Wood", once more I hope this person has no children to embarass or was at least smart enough to choose a pen name, also suffers from (and makes us suffer for) his distinct incompentence in the use of idioms:
»for argument’s say, let’s say it was your fault.«
For <beep>'s sake! I should be paid for reading such drivel!
Go forth and read any old directory because it surely is better written, edited, and more interesting than this turd of a novel.
0.25 stars out of five because it's composed of words and has a (story-unrelated) cover.
The murder of a family of local old-money, seemingly perpetrated by the criminal equivalents of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, leads to a commune of aging hippies, high-profile international drug smuggling, police corruption, murder-by-cop, and loads of other crimes against readership by the highly incompetent author, "Caro Ramsay" (in quotation marks because nobody would publish anything like this under their real name, I hope!).
The large cast is ridiculously clichéd from their "crooked" toes, "endless" legs, flat stomachs, big breasts, large blue eyes, and, of course, blonde hair. "Adorable" animals, the same plot device used three times inside a single chapter - unless you're either a completionist fool like myself, or had a recent lobotomy, stay away.
I keep reading about publishers rejecting authors. If only they had rejected this one.
One star out of five.
The murder of a family of local old-money, seemingly perpetrated by the criminal equivalents of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, leads to a commune of aging hippies, high-profile international drug smuggling, police corruption, murder-by-cop, and loads of other crimes against readership by the highly incompetent author, "Caro Ramsay" (in quotation marks because nobody would publish anything like this under their real name, I hope!).
The large cast is ridiculously clichéd from their "crooked" toes, "endless" legs, flat stomachs, big breasts, large blue eyes, and, of course, blonde hair. "Adorable" animals, the same plot device used three times inside a single chapter - unless you're either a completionist fool like myself, or had a recent lobotomy, stay away.
I keep reading about publishers rejecting authors. If only they had rejected this one.
One star out of five.
The new year starts as the last one ended: With me choosing daft books to read. At least this one was relatively short. DI Hillary Greene lost her husband due to circumstances I forgot about roughly 15 seconds after they were presented. Said husband was also a cop and as corrupt as they come. Sadly, Faith Martin, obviously struggling to come up with a good plot, decent characters, writing in general, and failing at all of that went to having him, a city cop, deal with exotic animals (I think, don't hold me to that; it could have been anything similarly ridiculous for his position).
Every character is clichéd, little of the story is believable, and the few original ideas don’t come to fruition because the author simply can’t deliver.
One star ouf of five.
P.S.(A.): Because I just noticed it: "Faith Martin" is just the fourth pen name for Jacquie Walton (a much more fitting surname) because she probably "burned" the first three in publishing circles. Just so you know whom to avoid. (There really should be a public "literay offender register"! ;) )
The new year starts as the last one ended: With me choosing daft books to read. At least this one was relatively short. DI Hillary Greene lost her husband due to circumstances I forgot about roughly 15 seconds after they were presented. Said husband was also a cop and as corrupt as they come. Sadly, Faith Martin, obviously struggling to come up with a good plot, decent characters, writing in general, and failing at all of that went to having him, a city cop, deal with exotic animals (I think, don't hold me to that; it could have been anything similarly ridiculous for his position).
Every character is clichéd, little of the story is believable, and the few original ideas don’t come to fruition because the author simply can’t deliver.
One star ouf of five.
P.S.(A.): Because I just noticed it: "Faith Martin" is just the fourth pen name for Jacquie Walton (a much more fitting surname) because she probably "burned" the first three in publishing circles. Just so you know whom to avoid. (There really should be a public "literay offender register"! ;) )
I'm always on the lookout for interesting (crime/mystery) series'. Especially with interesting female protagonists. And this one?
Female lead? Check. Interesting? Not so much. Our heroine whose name I've long forgotten suffers from trauma, finds a body (and then some more on the next day because the cops didn't search the house properly...), joins the murder investigation team on the first day of her job as a police constable and, of course, solves the case almost single-handedly.
Her superior officer, another oh-woe-is-me character, who is generally perceived as an arsehole, falls for the poor, traumatised, fragile, and homebody'ish dear, and she, of course, for him. Also, of course, they don't even talk about it but prefer swooning for each other.
Oh, yes, and their case? The plot is so thin, Phifer's imagination so limited, one would assume any random screenwriter had written this as an episode for some weird romance/mystery crossover for some TV show nobody knows (or, realistically, wants to know).
Instead of reading this, walk into the library of your choice, randomly grab a book and your chances of reading something more decent than this one are around 80%.
Two stars ouf of five.
I'm always on the lookout for interesting (crime/mystery) series'. Especially with interesting female protagonists. And this one?
Female lead? Check. Interesting? Not so much. Our heroine whose name I've long forgotten suffers from trauma, finds a body (and then some more on the next day because the cops didn't search the house properly...), joins the murder investigation team on the first day of her job as a police constable and, of course, solves the case almost single-handedly.
Her superior officer, another oh-woe-is-me character, who is generally perceived as an arsehole, falls for the poor, traumatised, fragile, and homebody'ish dear, and she, of course, for him. Also, of course, they don't even talk about it but prefer swooning for each other.
Oh, yes, and their case? The plot is so thin, Phifer's imagination so limited, one would assume any random screenwriter had written this as an episode for some weird romance/mystery crossover for some TV show nobody knows (or, realistically, wants to know).
Instead of reading this, walk into the library of your choice, randomly grab a book and your chances of reading something more decent than this one are around 80%.
Two stars ouf of five.