Wulf C. Krueger

Complicated, convoluted, small-town vibes to the point of weirdness (to put it mildly). This would also explain the distinct lack of intelligence displayed... Another one which was suspenseful but very much forgettable. Tinned ravioli are tastier, more palatable and more interesting.

I won't continue this series or read anything else by Dugoni.

What 107 Days Promised, and What 285 Days Betrayed

When I was a young man, I saw the United States of America as a source of good in the world. I dreamt of migrating there and becoming a hot-shot IT guy in Silicon Valley.

My belief was further fuelled by people like Noam Chomsky, Barack and Michelle Obama, Paul Auster and Siri Hustvedt, Robert Langer, and, last but not least, Kamala Harris.

I feverishly followed those 107 days of Harris’ campaign and loved how she presented her vision for the USA, the world, and herself. Her authentic passion and the joy she exuded gave me hope.

Then the USA elected, for the second time, the racist felon whose Republican administration is now responsible for the death of millions of people around the globe. The current US administration is dismantling everything good about the USA and leaving it as many from my generation have always seen the USA: an imperialist nation that forces other countries into compliance.

Now, my only hope is that the sheer incompetence of said administration will be their downfall: an intellectually challenged president, an oafish backwater turd as VP, a “war” secretary running the Pentagon like a frat house on steroids - a drunken, misogynistic circus where the bar tab is as scandalous as the supposedly secure documents, a self-styled medical maverick who treats science like folklore, spreading conspiracy memes, apologising by text, and claiming no memory of infamy, a blonde right-wing barbie spinning inflated stats, and picking civil rights when they’re convenient - just ignoring the rest of the US Constitution, and a mercurial voice claiming civil liberties, parroting disinformation, shifting ideologies, and cherry-picking minority rights when it fits her brand.

All the more so since Kamala Harris had wonderful ideas and plans. Had she even been able to implement a fragment of what she describes in “107 Days”, ironically, it would have actually made the US great again.

Harris writes engagingly in short- to medium-length chapters about every step along the way. We don’t learn anything really new, but it’s still highly interesting to get to know Harris’ personal points of view and how she actually felt. More often than not, I was in tears when comparing her ideals, her plans, and what she did with what is happening right now.

I agree with almost everything she writes but one major point she’s trying to make: Harris writes that two thirds of the US population did not vote for Trump. She’s being honest in stating that one third simply stayed home instead of voting. This is not a valid excuse, though: the US citizens knew what was at stake - namely their democracy - and they still didn’t vote.

This is why Harris is wrong: You The People are responsible for Trump. You The People are complicit in what your administration is committing. You The People do not rise against the current administration in defence of your democracy.

Instead, you let your modern Gestapo, ICE, randomly arrest people who are not white enough or speak with an accent. Your corrupted Supreme Court is the new Volksgerichtshof the majority of judges of which give all of this their blessings.

What we see in the news daily, this is who you are now, and I promise you: We, The World, may eventually forgive but we will never forget.

Five stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

A thrilling yet tangled chase through secrets, ethics, and emotional turmoil.

This instalment in the Cormoran Strike & Robin series delivers suspense, complexity, and compelling character dynamics, yet is weighed down by convoluted plotting and missed opportunities for clearer development.

This eighth instalment of the Cormoran Strike & Robin series doesn’t quite reach the brilliance of its predecessors. The primary case Strike & Robin are investigating is very convoluted and complicated. At some points I actually had to search for and go back to earlier parts to remember the connections.

As such, this novel was somewhat more challenging to read. It was nevertheless worth it: It was suspenseful, interesting, and - despite the complexity - believable and very, very engaging.

Much room is given to the relationship between Robin and Strike, and countless were the times when I wanted to grab one of them and shake them and shout at them to finally talk to each other. (I confess to loudly yelling at my Kobo to that effect.)

Coming from the previous novel’s ending, I had hoped for, but did not expect, big developments - which may or may not have occurred in this novel…

If you’re a fan of this series, get it from a library to try and make sure the author doesn’t get a dime from you. Do not start the series with this book, though. It’s probably good enough for a stand-alone read, but you’ll definitely be confused by many of the references to earlier books.

»We are all of us, though not all equally, mistaken. - Albert Pike The Liturgy of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry«

Please take note: Rowling is still very much openly transphobic and, thus, I encourage you not to buy her books, but rather get them in a library so that at the very least she won’t profit any more than she already has.

If you’re one of those people who don’t believe who and what she is, here’s an excellent article (permanently updated) that collects Rowling’s disgusting statements and actions:

www.glamour.com/story/a-complete-breakdown-of-the-jk-rowling-transgender-comments-controversy

Roman Polanski, Woody Allen, Bill Cosby, Joanne K. Rowling - they are different kinds of monsters and yet monsters they all are. I recoil whenever I’m confronted with their depravity. And yet, I cannot break from their art. I can keep calling them out, though.

Four stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

Banal, completely forgotten not even two months later. Not recommended.

Oh, wow, this one was a very serious let-down: At break-neck speed, we're (oftentimes literally) rushing through Prague with no time to reflect. There's no place for reason, intelligent behaviour, believable developments, or anything that would give the reader time to actually think about this uninspired mess.

Worst of all: Langdon teams up with a person who calls herself a "noetic scientist". "Noetic science" is a term you'll find nowhere near any reputable scientific institute, serious researchers, or anything else you might consider even ever-so-slightly scientific. You won't find it on Wikipedia either.

It's basically a "faith-based science", or, in plain words, complete utter bullshit (just like this novel). Brown has his heroine even tell us explicitly that her "science" should be exempted from any kind of burden of proof because that’s simply too high a bar... An "experiment" that succeeded once, the results of which have not been reproduced in decades, should be taken at face value instead. That's Trump, MAGA, and Kennedy "science".

Yes, the novel is suspenseful - if you disengage your brain and just follow our pair of professors-cum-action heroes and the mysterious and murderous "Golem" along on their unlikely and unbelievable ride. It's so outlandish a story that Brown obviously felt the need to tell us in a foreword that all locations actually exist. We might not believe anything he writes otherwise.

Oh, and the title? That stroke of genius is explained tediously in the end as well. Even now, my brain hurts when I think of this novel.

One generous star out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

(Still compulsively reading. Who am I to disrupt my flow by writing detailed reviews? ;-) )

Finally, a complete winner!

This is Josie Quinn no. 23; if you know her, read it. You won't be disappointed, I promise! No Mettner whining, no dead granny trauma, just a cold case coming up from the bottom of a river, a patchwork family, and its secrets.

If you're new to Josie Quinn, feel free to jump right in. Yes, you're missing a lot of background but it doesn't matter all that much. The case is still riveting and interesting.

Thrilling, suspenseful, intelligent, and warm-hearted in some aspects (Wren!) as well. Really good one!

(Still compulsively reading. Who am I to disrupt my flow by writing detailed reviews? ;-) )

Ja, das war genau das Richtige für einen ausklingenden Sommer. Dupin in Höchstform, unter Druck, im Stress und dann sind auch noch seine Schwiegereltern bei ihm zuhause!

Ein spannender Fall, ein großartiges Ensemble, bei dem alle an Konturen gewinnen, viel Spaß mit Kaffee und Schokolade - wunderbar.

(Still compulsively reading. Who am I to disrupt my flow by writing detailed reviews? ;-) )

This was a huge let-down for me. The author barges on with the conspiracy theory bullshit he started serving somewhat earlier. He goes to such lengths, though, that the entire novel loses any kind of credibility.

I feel like I have to read this stuff; don't be me, you don't have to!

(Still compulsively reading. Who am I to disrupt my flow by writing detailed reviews? ;-) )

Puh... Leider sehr dürftig. Von Schirach erzählt lakonisch bis zur Belanglosigkeit einerseits oder zu Selbstverständlichkeit andererseits.

Weitgehend schlicht langweilig. Über Recht, Kaffee und Zigaretten konnte er wunderbar schreiben. Seitdem geht ihm die literarische Luft aus.

Trotzdem: Ferdinand von Schirach ist und bleibt eine großartige Person.

Bog-standard feel-good stuff featuring clicheed, over-the-top characters, a rather boring story, conflicts that are resolved by "a good, strong talking-to" by one senior or another.

Readable but not worth my reading time.

Read due to a New York Times book review. Once I saw the cover, I should have known better...

Every chapter introduces a new issue which is promptly resolved in the next. The entire story felt like I had read it before (I hadn't!) because there's not a single original thought in this entire novel. Each and every character, from the saintly ex-con, the alholic(s), the small-town heroine and her estranged mother. There's also the reborn christian grandma (no worse human beings than those!) with her "tough love", the reformed music agent, and many more who feel like you've read about them a million times, or seen their story in some TV trash.

None of them were likeable in any kind either. Another complete waste of reading time.

Not so hot anymore but I'm too tired to write proper reviews right now.

While not quite as good as some of the earlier instalments, "Little Children" is most certainly a good read. Kim and her team are called out to help another team in Blackpool - while at the same time checking on said team.

The team dynamics are a bit different due to the different location and the strained collaboration with the Blackpool team but it's still an easily recognisable and devourable Kim Stone.

A good read, indeed, but I'm certainly looking forward to seeing Kim and her team in her usually haunts next time!

Not so hot anymore but I'm too tired to write proper reviews right now.

So, this one? A complete, utter turd. A highly questionable detective who physically forces his "love" interest into submission. Said love interest, in turn, gets understandably angry, but not-so-secretly swoons at his manliness. (Yes, both.)

A troupe of pagans and satanists, pedophiles, drugs, corruption, the catholic church; all of these (often combined!) get thrown in. For good measure a bit of prostitution, homophobia, and incest complete this unholy mess.

During this extremely warm summer, I'm writing bite-sized reviews at best.

Oh, well, this is kind of mistitled and the pen name is strongly misleading: This should have been called "Running" because our self-styled "Slutty Cheff" sounds more like a manic-depressive person who's telling us about how she starts to live up to her dream, then either gets bored, proficient, or panicky, runs away, and then restarts the cycle.

She's not "slutty" but constantly drunk while not in a kitchen, while also abusing cocain, ketamin, and heroin, indulging in (mostly) unsafe orgasm-less sex with the wrong people (puppy-eyes-style barman, cheating chef, asshole chef). Also, despite knowing full well about her mental health challenges, she only looks for professional help *very* late in the game, then proceeds to "hesitatingly" take her medication and wash it down with more alcohol...

You're really making those of us struggling proud, "Drunken Junkie Maybe-Cheff"! Also, don't hold your breath for another book of hers - she's sufficiently competent at writing now, so I guess she's drunkenly running away already...

Meh!

During this extremely warm summer, I'm writing bite-sized reviews at best.

FINALLY! Bruno is back in local crime and not up against international, state-sponsored, or other high-profile crime and/or terrorism right there, in the darkest backwaters of rural France.

It's a sensible, enjoyable novel that's very much about Bruno and his friends, the Greems, the Left, and the Right who all decide to go up against our noble hero policeman. There's a newly-dead woman, a new very-much-alive woman, dinners with everyone and, literally and metaphorically, their dogs, a woman who finally says good-bye, and, perhaps, a new job on the horizon for Bruno.

If you liked the earler Bruno novels, I'm sufficiently sure you'll enjoy this one. If you dislike this one's predecessors, you'll also like this one. So, what are you waiting for?

What’s better than a novel you don’t want to put down? Well, one that actually makes you take time off from your job in order to keep reading. I did, because it was so irresistibly great.

In ”The Drop”, Harry Bosch is back at “Open-Unsolved” with his new partner (after Ignacio Ferras completely fulfilled his potential in the previous novel (sorry, Belle! ;) )), David Chu, whom you might remember from the previous instalment in what’s quickly becoming my favourite series of all time.

This time, Harry investigates why a child’s blood (and, thus, DNA) was found on the body of a murder victim. Just when he and his partner start picking up the case, Harry is called out to a very recent body: George Irving, son of Bosch’s old nemesis, Irvin Irving, now a city councilman, has been found dead below the window of his hotel room. His father requests Bosch for the investigation.

True to his motto - everybody counts or nobody counts - Harry works both cases at the same time while also trying to be a good father to Maddy. She’s living with him and now, at 15, set on following in Harry’s footsteps and becoming a cop. While in previous novels, Maddie played a small role, if at all, in this one she really grows into an important and interesting person.

Harry also meets a person of, let’s say, “personal interest” during his DNA-related investigation who makes for a great (temporary?) addition to the cast and makes Harry re-evaluate his own perceptions.

As can be expected, there’s a lot of politics involved in the Irving case which makes for a truly riveting hunt for the truth below all the layers of deception, intrigue, and scheming - even from unexpected parties…

As usual, there are lots of twists and almost shocking revelations throughout the story, which made me lose a lot of sleep. They always make sense, though, and, especially near the end, come as a final surprise for Harry (and me) as well.

When it comes to style, this is vintage and quintessential Connelly at his best. The medium-length chapters are sensibly chosen, making the pacing perfect: the novel is never slow, nor too rushed. The narrative maintains a splendid and fitting balance, giving time for suspense to simmer without ever dragging. Every character has a distinctive “voice” and quirks, making them feel like real, living people.

Connelly is just as sharp when it comes to the bigger picture. The novel really digs into the messiness of politics - both in City Hall and inside the LAPD - and shows how complicated justice can get. All those tangled relationships and shifting alliances feel completely authentic, and the way Harry tries to stick to his code while dealing with so much pressure really rings true. Plus, as always, Los Angeles isn’t just a setting - it’s practically another character in the book: textured, gritty, and full of life.

One point worth mentioning: for reasons I can’t go into without spoiling things, this is probably not the best entry point for newcomers to the Bosch series (but truly, who starts a series at book fifteen anyway?). Fans will find plenty to love here.

So, grab a beverage of your choice, some snacks, and make yourself comfortable to immerse yourself right into “The Drop”.

Five stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

Michael Connelly’s “The Lincoln Lawyer” is probably the most convincing legal thriller I’ve ever read. Mickey Haller’s world comes alive on the pages - his “office” the back seat of a Lincoln, his (sometimes questionable) clients, and his approach which is an exquisite mix of street-smart savvy, courtroom elegance, and hard-earned cynicism.

Each twist lands, every setback ratchets up the tension, and Mickey’s voice carries the narrative with wit, weariness, and surprising vulnerability. He is far from the “white-knight” lawyer - constantly dancing on the edge between pragmatism and principle - but it is the flashes of conscience and dry humour that give Haller real depth.

»My greatest fear had been realized, realized for two years but I hadn’t known it. Not until now. I had been presented with innocence but I had not seen it or grasped it. Instead, I had thrown it into the maw of the machine like everything else. Now it was a cold, gray innocence, as dead as gravel and hidden in a fortress of stone and steel. And I had to live with it.«

Connelly’s supporting cast is just as convincing - whether it is the investigator, Raul, the ex-wives (especially Maggie!), or the primary client here whose story is never quite what it seems, each adds momentum to the story.

Perhaps most impressive is the way Connelly melds hardboiled crime, legal manoeuvring, and a thoughtful exploration of justice and morality - without sacrificing entertainment. “The Lincoln Lawyer” brims with energy, depth, and an appeal which makes for compulsive reading.

Whether you are new to courtroom thrillers or a seasoned crime fiction reader, for me, this was an absolute page-turner and a remarkably strong series opener.

Compared to Connelly’s Harry Bosch, Mickey Haller is - at least in this first instalment - less gritty and slightly more “glossy”. I greatly enjoyed it.

Five stars out of five.

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Oh, wow, this was ridiculously bad.

Carter and Arizona have been friends since fourth grade. They are the closest of platonic friends - until they, as is most convenient for the plot, both suddenly at the same time realise how insanely hot they are for each other.

With all the language skills of a teenager and the sensitivity of a butcher, Whitney G. spins a tale as coherent as a fever dream and as inventive as a rerun (this novel contains not a single original thought).

Arizona sneaks routinely into paid cooking lessons, and, in doing so, manages to get a full scholarship at “the second best culinary school in the world” in France and plans to move there. The remaining two weeks until her departure, she spends nearly every waking moment and every night with Carter. He, in turn, is so great between the sheets, he sexually awakens her, and Whitney G. writes smut like this:

»“Oh… Oh...Oh god…”. I felt him [...]. “Ahhh… Ahhh…”«

And that’s just the very obvious tip of the proverbial iceberg of bad, weird writing throughout the entire novel. In my reading experience, G.’s authorial eloquence is pretty much at rock bottom. It’s so bad that she used to self-publish under what is probably her real name, Whitney Gracia Williams. In Germany, the media must shorten the names of criminal suspects. That G. does it herself seems perfectly fitting.

Just before leaving for the airport, Arizona finally expresses her feelings for Carter to him in plain words. Carter, who wants to become a hotshot lawyer, has the amazing idea to respond by pushing her firmly away (“I don’t love you like that and it was just sex for me.”). He does it because he is obviously convinced Arizona needs to be protected from herself…

(Which she will actually confirm to be true later on.)

To top off this male chauvinist crap, Carter is obviously as smart as a paramecium when he tells Arizona the following near the end of the reader’s torture:

»If I knew that what I said would make you give me the cold shoulder or stop talking to me, I can promise you that I never would’ve done it and I would take it back in a heartbeat.«

Arizona moves to France, becomes the ultimate cooking princess there, befriends characters as flat as cardboard cutouts (which every person in this novel is), and eventually returns home with a boyfriend to whose presence Carter predictably reacts like an enraged gorilla. He first pounds his chest until Arizona caves and finally lets him pound her again.

Much to my dismay, the author also seems to face semantic or memory challenges:

»Panting and trembling, I shut my eyes—not answering any of his questions that he peppered with forehead kisses.«

In this scene, Carter didn’t ask a single question…

There’s also this gem of a scene in which Arizona confesses her feelings for Carter to her mother:

»”I asked him if he had feelings that were more than friend-like, if he felt like there was something more than sex between us, and he said no.”

“You asked him that in person?”

“No. It was in a text message. Same thing.”«

The thing is: She actually did ask him in person before leaving for the airport. It’s bad when an author doesn’t even remember what they wrote before…

As if all of that wasn’t bad enough in itself, the pace is that of a snail on tranquilisers. Thankfully, I read this mostly at night, so the way this steaming turd wore me out helped me find my way to bed. Since the novel was also as emotionally moving as reading IKEA instructions, it numbed my mind sufficiently to sleep at any moment.

Stay well away from this, my friends! Don’t be a non-DNFing Wulf!

One star out of five.

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Phew… Once more, I was looking for a fun romance and despite recent disappointment, I chose to go with Christina Lauren’s “Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating”.

This first sentence of the blurb accurately sums up the essence of this entire novel:

“Just friends. Just friends. JUST FRIENDS. If they repeat it enough, maybe it’ll be true…”

“Hazel”, the same blurb goes on to tell us, “knows she’s a lot to take”. Absolutely, and Hazel does it so well, it leads to a string of boring, horrible, humiliating, and/or confusing double dates on which Josh and Hazel set each other up.

Through these ordeals, which they go through about nine times, they and the reader suffer, but Josh and Hazel realise only very late they were actually going out with each other. This reader, on the other hand, would have had the chance to learn through pain and DNF this… novel. (He didn’t.)

Josh — well, guess what: Josh was so memorable, I’ve already forgotten everything about him. I’ve made no annotations about him, I have no highlights that would showcase his character. Just nothing. I think that either speaks volumes about my memory, or about the blandness of the character. You get to be the judge of that.

There’s not much more to be said about this one: It was clichéd, adequately written, sometimes a bit slow, and at no point did it exceed mediocrity.

Hazel’s pregnancy before she and Josh even get together, how she handles that, as well as the ending, further soured my enjoyment.

Compared to the fresh, sensitive, and much more enjoyable “The Paradise Problem”, or the “raw, awesome honesty” reflected hilariously in “The Unhoneymooners”, “Josh and Hazel” feels simplistic, old-fashioned, and more shallow and bland.

The novel is still good enough for three stars out of five.

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Another read, another Bosch. A better Bosch than the previous one and, yet, still not back to old form.

It begins interestingly enough when Bosch is called out to a liquor store he knows from way back, the owner of which has been murdered. Just as usual, this sets off a police procedural with Harry Bosch at its front and centre. Ignacio Ferras, his latest partner, also makes some appearances, but only attains any kind of significance at the very end.

What comes next, though, is in several ways a complete departure from earlier paths: Maddy, at this point 13, is abducted in Hong Kong. Bosch is contacted and is told in no uncertain terms that he’s to stop looking into things. This is where a completely different part of the novel begins.

Bosch, of course, travels to Hong Kong to join forces with his ex-wife, Eleanor Wish, to rescue their daughter. This part is basically a wild manhunt through the city and its seedier districts. There’s much violence, and almost gore, in this part, and it felt like a bit too much. It’s also very different from other Bosch novels because here, Harry plays the role of a vigilante, and that doesn’t really suit him. Also, Eleanor deserved a better ending: She is shot and killed in a simple mugging attempt, instead of, as in the TV show, being killed for revenge.

Back in L.A. things start getting better until a very rushed ending that’s also told in a flashback - a curious decision on the author’s part.

Still, it’s a Bosch, and it was definitely more satisfying and interesting than “The Overlook”.

Four stars out of five.

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Ugh… I didn’t expect this. A bad Bosch novel!

Well, bad is, of course, relatively speaking: “The Overlook”, instalment 13 of the ongoing Bosch series by Michael Connelly, isn’t outright bad. It’s just surprisingly and significantly mediocre.

For the first time in his new job in Robbery Homicide Division (RHD) at Homicide Special as a senior investigator looking into cases that might require long-term engagement, Harry is called out to the eponymous overlook where a murder took place.

Soon it becomes clear the case might not solely be a murder, but also a case of terrorism, and so the FBI is called in. Rachel Walling is first among them. If you remember the previous novel’s outcome with respect to Harry and Rachel, you might wonder at the tension between them. There’s a bit of it, but not much.

“Not much” is, in fact, something that can be said about many aspects of this novel as well as the novel in its entirety. Harry is still Harry, but even he slowly meanders along for most of the story, and, suddenly, it all comes to a rushed ending.

Harry’s new partner Ignacio “Iggy” Ferras feels like stuffing – he’s hardly around, and if and when he is, it’s as a semi-serious sidekick with much of the character and personality of a toothpick.

The investigative part also suffers from this strong imbalance: Whereas Harry follows a sound and logical train of thought, the FBI and other three-letter agencies are on a wild goose chase for domestic and international terrorists. They never really come together, nor do they clash as spectacularly as in other Bosch novels.

Similarly to earlier Bosch novels, but on the positive side, is the writing which is just as clear, dark, and gritty as always. “Overlook” certainly is an easy read, if at times a bit slow, and at its end there’s a lot of action and some suspense. It’s just like a fast food version of Bosch: Easy to devour, but not very nourishing.

»Bosch checked his watch. It was almost one. He had ridden the case from beginning to end in little more than twelve hours.«

“Overlook” reads just like that. I was also rather surprised to see an already short novel end, at less than 200 pages, at 80% of the ebook.

Three stars out of five.

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During this extremely warm summer, I'm writing bite-sized reviews at best. As for this one, it's fine. No third-act breakup, no excessive drama, a cute story. Never reaches the level of Brinn's pervious series but I still enjoyed it. Just all that sex is a bit much. I like smut but if there's more smut than "I love you", my brain gets embarrassed.

Isn’t it the worst act of treason when a book disappoints? I was looking for a fun romance by one (or actually: two) of my favourite romance authors. That’s how I came across “Love and Other Words” by Christina Lauren and, sadly, and unusually, it turned traitor quickly!

Macy and Elliott have been friends since childhood. They’re perfect for each other and they both know it. They even get together until one day, Macy breaks off contact for a whopping 11 years. The reasons? They do make sense, but eleven years? I’m not sure I can suspend my disbelief that much.

This is where “Love” starts: Macy is now a resident physician. Elliott is, probably, some kind of author. Either we don’t really get to know, or I already forgot. He seems to pretty much have all the time in the world.

Once they meet again, things start moving inexorably to the inevitable happily-ever-after. Unfortunately, despite many nice ideas, “Love” tells us much about their shared past and a bit about their present but it always feels “low stakes”: Yes, there’s some rather weird drama in lieu of a third-act breakup but it’s over within a few pages and then we’re back with Elliott and Macy on cloud nine.

»His front door is flat brown, and before it is a thin doormat with the Dickinson quote The soul should always stand ajar.«

Emily Dickinson’s poem in full reveals a clever double meaning to Macy whose soul Elliott hopes to “re-open” and “visit”. It also serves as a warning not to let this chance pass…

»The Soul should always stand ajar

That if the Heaven inquire

He will not be obliged to wait

Or shy of troubling Her

Depart, before the Host have slid

The Bolt unto the Door —

To search for the accomplished Guest,

Her Visitor, no more —«

They both know each other so immensely well (and neither of them seems to have significantly changed much during that decade apart) that both Elliott, and, to an even higher degree, Macy, know full well how they’re going to end up. They often end up asking each other “Do you really question that?”, and the answer is always and unequivocally a “no”. They know beforehand.

This is one of the reasons I’m not much into second-chance romance: the people involved have already been together, and in this kind of romance, will always get back together. So where’s the thrill of discovery? The allure of the new?

All side characters stay schematic and either serve to cheer Macy on (Sabrina), to be “mini villains” (Christian), or to be just plain “exotic” (her Danish father or her late but ever-present mother, Laís). Even Elliott’s family, of which we get to “see” a bit more, remains nevertheless vague and relatively insignificant to the story as a whole. They all play a part, but come across more as extras.

Even more so in a scenario like this: Macy and Elliott read like two halves of a whole. Apart from the event that broke them, there’s nothing but violins and fluff. The respective partners are quickly disposed of (Elliott pretty much immediately leaves his girlfriend; Macy conveniently finds out she and her partner didn’t even love each other in the first place) and, if Christina Lauren didn’t spell out the exact date per chapter, you’d think everything happens during a few days, or maybe weeks..

During the later chapters of their past, when our protagonists are in their adolescence (16 to 18, roughly), they, naturally, discover sexuality and each other (to some degree). I’ll be fifty later this year; their “explorations” made me feel somewhat uncomfortable and voyeuristic.

The latter was somewhat eased by the sensitive writing, and sustained consistency of the authors: Christina Lauren’s prose is fitting and competent. Despite the novel’s shortcomings, it reads very well: medium-length chapters, much showing, few instances of telling, and the emotions feel believable.

“Love” reads like pure (and simple) wish or fantasy fulfilment. I seem not to share those wishes. If you, though, are looking for this kind of wish fulfilment, predictability, or even nostalgia for young love, “Love” might fit your bill.

Three stars out of five.

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Michael Connelly’s “Echo Park” returns readers to the streets of Los Angeles, with LAPD detective Harry Bosch once again at the center of a haunting case which involves a file Bosch could never truly let go.

Years later, new evidence in the form of a serial killer’s confession offers closure, but as is typical for Bosch, easy answers don’t satisfy him. This is classic Connelly territory: police work that’s both methodical and deeply personal, drawing readers into the emotional and ethical struggles of a detective haunted by the ones he couldn’t save.

While “Echo Park” references previous Bosch cases and relationships, it would “work” for newcomers to the series as well. Long-time fans, however, may notice it lacks some of the intensity and inventiveness of earlier series entries, such as “The Concrete Blonde” or “The Last Coyote”. The plot moves briskly, but certain character arcs - particularly Bosch’s relationships with colleagues - sometimes feel eclipsed by the procedural elements.

Still, Connelly’s skill is in crafting small, human moments that bring the characters to life.

»He started the car and pulled out, heading back to the freeway. They drove silently. When he got back to the 134 the flower vendor was still in the median. Rider looked down at the bouquet in her hand, realized that Bosch had gotten them as an afterthought and started laughing. Bosch joined in.«

These understated moments create space within the propulsive plot, grounding the story in relatable emotion.

The novel’s central ethical dilemma - what kind of detective Harry Bosch chooses to be - comes late but at a crucial point in the story:

»And, well, Harry, I guess this is the dog you chose to feed. I hope you’re happy with it. And I hope it fits in perfectly well with the way of the true detective.«

Bosch’s stubborn pursuit of justice, regardless of consequence or cost, defines him as a character and the series as a whole.

“Echo Park” may not reach the atmospheric heights of Connelly’s best work, but it remains a satisfying read: taut, engaging, and true to the spirit of its detective hero. If you like Bosch, you’ll enjoy this book.

Four stars out of five.

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I went into “All the Colors of the Dark” by Chris Whitaker thinking it was a mystery or thriller which for the most part, it absolutely isn’t.

“Colors” basically is the story of Patch, a one-eyed boy who helps a girl about to be abducted, and is abducted himself in the process. During his incarceration in absolute darkness, he’s joined by a girl, Grace, with whom he shares a year in captivity. He’s never going to get over her.

»“I carved our initials in the oak tree by the graveyard,” he said.

“Defacing nature for me, be still my beating heart,” she said, biting her lip to keep back her smile.«

On the other hand, there’s Saint, a girl Patch’s age and his best friend. Even though she is a teenager when she meets Patch, it quickly becomes clear that Saint loves Patch boundlessly and unconditionally. After Patch’s abduction, Saint investigates tirelessly until she finds him.

»To love and be loved was more than could ever be expected, more than enough for a thousand ordinary lifetimes.«

This could have been the point at which a novella might have ended with a happily-ever-after for Saint and Patch. “Colors”, though, is not that kind of novel. Instead, it moves on to show how things evolve from this point: Saint going on to become a police officer, join the FBI, and, finally, returning to her hometown becoming the new chief of police - and hunting Patch.

Patch is obsessed and as deeply in love with Grace as Saint is with him. He never ceases searching for her and other missing girls, painting their portraits with obsession and artistic merit that, ultimately, make him rich and famous. His obsession, though, frequently brings Patch into conflict with the law and so Saint does her utmost to be the one hunting for him, in order to bring him in safely.

Chris Whitaker tells a striking tale over decades during which we follow not only Saint and Patch but also their friends and relatives for whom the many twists and turns at times become as difficult as for the reader.

While the story is, without exception, always captivating and engagingly told in short, punchy chapters, there are some elements that made me roll my eyes, thinking “Was that really necessary?!”. (A certain vet at a zoo comes to mind…)

The story, at times, also slows down significantly to the point at which I wished for a bolder editor.

Amusingly, though, just like the novel I read before this, “Colors”’s messages are what made this novel work for me. Not least among them:

»[The objectors to legally sanctioned murder] would fall silent for those ten minutes when their government carried out one murder in vengeance for another.«

At times, the story is weighed down with strong pathos:

»Nix sat alone in the far corner, smiled when she met his eye, though in his she saw a hollow that dampened the stained glass, the triforium, the clerestory of color.«

Never in my life have I read “triforium” or “clerestory” before; no wonder, there are about 0.1 and 0.3 occurrences per million words respectively in modern written English according to the Oxford English Dictionary. I was not a fan of that.

Beyond the few twists and turns too many, though, I still really enjoyed “Colors” and basically didn’t want to put it down.

Four stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam