hc.newton

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s Locks & Keys’s Blurb?

Will a persecuted witch give the kingdom’s heir what he deserves? Does the squad of plucky rebels find a way out of an infiltration gone wrong? How can a street urchin survive in the shadow of an infamous gang? Can a thief brave the belly of the beast in search of a treasure that will never be hers? How sinister can a bond be between an orphan and her mother?

Pirates raid a fishing island in the sky. A sickly girl pushes past the threshold for Demonsnight. An apprentice gloomsinger comes face to face with what he fears most. With her life on the line, a cook prepares one last dish. A demon girl flies to the city of humans, begging them to change.

Ten unique fantasy stories by ten different authors. Dragons, sky pirates, and even samurai inhabit these pages. Locks, keys, and secrets loom over all.

These authors are part of a group that calls themselves The Secret Scribes—and you should check them out.

Highlights for Me

Sometimes when it comes to collections like this, I write a paragraph or two about each story. I’m not going to do that this time, because 1-1.5 of these stories didn’t do much for me, and I really don’t want to say anything negative about the stories, nor do I want to say something tepid (which is really what I’d go for). Because even with those stories, there was something about the writing that made me want to root for the authors.

But I want to say some specific things—so I’m going to focus on just a couple of the stories.

“Rebels Without a Clue” by Seán O’Boyle I was feeling pretty positive about the collection from the first story, but this sealed the deal for me—there was no way I wasn’t going to like the anthology. There’s some great satire where the revolutionaries are so caught up in notions of equality that they can’t do anything. There are…um, nope, can’t say that. Hilarious and bleak. And the ending was just fantastic. I own both of O’Boyle’s books, but just haven’t gotten to them yet—that’s changing really soon.

“Cold Mutiny” by Tom Bookbeard Okay, Bookbeard has been tantalizing me and you readers the last two Julys by talking about his book about Space Pirates. Well, this short story gives us an idea what that novel could be like. And, yeah, I’m ready for it.

“Drakesong” by Bill Adams I admit that at the beginning of this story, I chalked it up to “interesting, but whatever…” But before it was over, I’d moved into “interesting, and wow!” I don’t know how to talk about it without ruining the whole thing, so I’ll just say give this one a chance, you’ll be glad you did. (and most of you won’t need that encouragement anyway)

“You’re the Key” by Alex Scheuermann It’d be easy to say that this collection saved the best for last (although the competition is stiff). Scheuermann takes you for a ride—the world is stunning, beautiful and broken, the characters are truly flawed (or worse), the plot takes directions you won’t see coming—and somehow, there’s a little bit of hope in the midst of a lot of darkness.

So, what did I think about Locks & Keys?

I had to force myself to stop there—if only because I kept reading bits and/or pages from those stories, and I was on the verge of re-reading the whole book again. And I just don’t have time for that.

Okay, one more quick thing—if all you know about Dave Lawson comes from the covers to his novels (which puts you in the same boat as me), you won’t expect his story to be what it is.

This is a strong collection—while I won’t say they’re all winners, none of them are losers. Not only are these stories solidly entertaining reads on their own—or as a whole—they’re great advertisements for the other stories/books by the individual authors.

I’ve built a shopping list while reading this—and I expect you will, too. And if you don’t? Well, you’ll have had a good time anyway. This is one you want to nab, folks.

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s Righteous Trash About?

Jake Halligan’s sister, Frankie, has come back to Idaho after a time in Mexico. She wants to start her business again—there’s always a market for guns, right? Especially of the extra-legal variety. But first, she wants to take care of some business for an old friend. With Jake’s help, of course. It’s messy and…well, never mind that.

But before they can really get into that, they find themselves at the scene of the nuttiest (gutsiest?) robbery—that promises to wreck Jake’s life. There’s some involvement with the FBI, some political corruption and cover-ups, and so many people pointing guns at the siblings that it’d be too hard to count.

All in all, a good time.

Action

One thing you expect from a Jake Halligan novel is some good action scenes—and boy howdy, does Kolakowski deliver here. There are some intense—almost cinematic—action scenes here.

But the first big gun fight in particular is the one I want to focus on for just a moment—there are multiple groups, with varying alliances (the exact number is hard to determine in the moment). You need someone like John Woo or Chad Stahelski to bring this to life—you’ve got the bullets, the quips, some stupid and useless deaths, and a couple of good twists. If you haven’t been fully engaged in the novel to that point, you will be after it.

The other action scenes are more grounded. I’m not saying they’re all that realistic, I don’t think (who reads these novels for hyper-realism?). But they seem a little more like what would happen to actual people, not stuntmen, in the situations. Just as compelling, just a little less eye-candy.

Stand By Your Man

One of the more interesting things through this series has been tracking the relationship between Jake and his wife. Or maybe it should be phrased as the relationship between Janine and her husband and sister-in-law’s lifestyle. She’s not comfortable with it (to undersell it), she doesn’t want it anywhere near their daughter, she’s barely tolerant of Frankie at all. And who could blame her for any of that? The number of bullets I want flying anywhere near my spouse is far lower than what Jake sees in the first book—never mind the others. And as for their kid? Forget it.

That’s not to mention how often Janine’s life has been in danger. That alone should drive her away.

Nevertheless, she stands by her man. I’m not sure if she should be admired or pitied, really. Either way, it makes her the kind of character you want to watch, and gives you something to think about in the midst of everything else.

The Missing Sequel?

Back in 2018, the first time I got to ask Kolakowski some questions, he mentioned a sequel to the first Jake Halligan book set in New Orleans. We ended up getting a very different sequel. Now in book three, we get a flashback to an adventure that Jake and Frankie had in The Big Easy.

I don’t know if any of the material he’d prepared for that would-be sequel ended up as that flashback, but it’s fun to think about (and fun to imagine what would happen after it). Obviously, it could just be a coincidence, and he needed a non-Idaho place for the siblings to get into trouble—and New Orleans works well for both of those criteria.

So, what did I think about Righteous Trash?

Again, Kolakowski nails the local geography. I really think I could drive to each location he describes—and for those who aren’t from around these here parts, he describes them in a way that conveys a good feel for the place. The fact that I could give a tour of the series locations to a reader who dropped by is just a bonus. (and I can absolutely see the Idaho political scene function the way he depicts it, although I think that could be easily ported into the other 49, too).

I enjoyed both the change—and utter lack of it—that we see in Frankie. She’s aged a bit, got some perspective (maybe wisdom), and knows what she wants. She’s also enough of a realist to understand what’s possible for her (you might read a little pessimism into that, too—but she’d deny that).

I’m a little worried about our friend Jake, at least where he was at the beginning of the novel. He’s a survivor, and he has Janine and his daughter to worry about, so I assume he’ll find a way to get it done. These novels have taken their toll on him (and everyone else), which I appreciate because these kind of books can gloss over that kind of impact. But, he’s such a nice guy (most of the time), that you hate to see it.

Great action, a clever story, characters that you just can’t get enough of. This is a fast-moving novel that will keep you turning pages longer than you should (plan your sleep accordingly; the adrenaline can only do so much). This is a fun thrill ride that will satisfy fans of the series and probably create some new ones, too. (It is absolutely not necessary to read the earlier novels before this, but you will appreciate some things more if you have.)

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s Algospeak About?

I can’t do a decent job of summarizing this (I’ve tried), so I’m just going to paste the Publisher’s Description.

From “brainrot” memes and incel slang to the trend of adding “-core” to different influencer aesthetics, the internet has ushered in an unprecedented linguistic upheaval. We’re entering an entirely new era of etymology, heralded by the invisible forces driving social media algorithms. Thankfully, Algospeak is here to explain. As a professional linguist, Adam Aleksic understands the gravity of language and the way we use it: he knows the ways it has morphed and changed, how it reflects society, and how, in its everyday usage, we carry centuries of human history on our tongues. As a social media influencer, Aleksic is also intimately familiar with the internet’s reach and how social media impacts the way we engage with one another. New slang emerges and goes viral overnight. Accents are shaped or erased on YouTube. Grammatical rules, loopholes, and patterns surface and transform language as we know it. Our interactions, social norms, and habits—both online and in person—shift into something completely different.

As Aleksic uses original surveys, data, and internet archival research to usher us through this new linguistic landscape, he also illuminates how communication is changing in both familiar and unexpected ways. From our use of emojis to sentence structure to the ways younger generations talk about sex and death (see unalive in English and desvivirse in Spanish), we are in a brand-new world, one shaped by algorithms and technology. Algospeak is an energetic, astonishing journey into language, the internet, and what this intersection means for all of us.

The Best Parts for Me

After the Introduction sets up the book and the reason for it—Aleksic traces the use of language to get around censorship back quite a ways—at least back to the use of grawlix and the like.

He also talks about things like rhyming cockney or leetspeak, how both use a sense of play to get around censorship or monitoring—as such, they’re precursors to Algospeak. Which is really just another form of slang that spreads just like all other forms of slang before it—through people talking to one another in person or through the media. That just happens on a faster and larger scale now than it used to.

What I found really compelling was the way he demonstrated the two primary sources for dominant Algospeak—4chan’s (and the like) channels and memes, and African-American English. It almost seems impossible for those two sources could produce something together, but Aleksic makes a compelling case for it.

The last chapter in total is worth the price of admission—but subsections discussing the “purity” of language that’s being shaken by these developments, and the new kinds of dialects emerging, etc., are just gold. It’s the kind of thing that I’ll return to again.

Not Sure this Really Helped

Starting in Chapter 3, “No Because What Happened to Your Attention?”, Aleksic spends a good deal of time in several chapters discussing the nitty-gritty aspects of getting TikTok’s/YouTube Shorts’/Instagram Reels’ algorithms to feed individual users certain types of short-form videos, and how creators work to get their videos to be fed to the largest amount of likely engagers. He discusses how word choice, speed of speech, how long it takes for a voice to start, camera movements, etc., etc. all play a role in this.

Yes, he does end up applying this to “How Social Media Is Transforming the Future of Language,” in each chapter. But it often seemed more like he was giving tips on how his readers could be better at getting attention for their own short-form videos/accounts (often using himself as a case study) than in discussing linguistic evolution. I was wrong each time I started to wonder about that. Nevertheless, I did.

That said…I found it great reading and more interesting than I might have just described it. There’s just so much of this that I’ve never thought about—or even realized I could think about. For someone who cut his teeth on Windows 3.11, 28.8k modems, and Usenet forums, I find a lot of this mind-boggling (and kind of cool, even if it does make me feel positively paleolithic).

So, what did I think about Algospeak?

A couple of years ago, my daughter got me hooked on the Instagram account of @etymologynerd, and his rapid-fire insightful (and fun) glances at word origins so on. So when I saw that he’d gone analog and produced a book, I just had to check it out (the book’s description helped, too). And I’m so glad I picked this up—and think you will be, too.

It’s because of this book that I publicly defended the use of “unalive” as a verb the other day. I can honestly say that I’d never expected that to happen. That right there is probably a huge endorsement for the book, I’m not sure what else I can say to match that for this stodgy stick-in-the-mud who still isn’t sure about using “contact” as a verb.

I found this whole discussion fascinating—sure, the bits about various speeds of talking depending on the type of influencer you are seem odd and too technical for me—but when Aleksic shows how this spills over into not just wider online speech, but into offline language use, it becomes worth it.

More than that, the chapters that are primarily focused on language development and how online use is shaping that (whether in text or video format), it’s like popcorn—I’ll shove handful after handful of that into my mouth without noticing that’s what I’m doing.

It’s entertainingly written, too. Aleksic’s passion for this kind of discussion comes through loud and clear. It’s not nearly as infectious as his videos are, but it’s close (of course, he can’t tweak the pace, volume, or anything else about the way that I read the way he can with his videos—so it makes sense). I do wonder how this would come across in audiobook—but I think you’re going to want the print version to slow down over some of the math.

This is about more than language—it’s also about how the Internet changes the way we think and express ourselves in general. And therefore, how society changes (which leads to Internet changes, and other circle-of-life things).

If you’re on the fence—read the Introduction and the closing chapter—and you’ll likely be convinced that you should read everything in between. Language in general—but English particularly—is a constantly-changing thing, and these changes are happening faster and faster l the time. With the tools provided in Algospeak, you can start to see some of this change in realtime—and that’s a gift in itself.

Language nerds—go get this. Other readers might want to check it out—and get started on becoming a language nerd.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Knopf via NetGalley—thanks to both for this. Sorry it’s up late.

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s Mrs. Plansky Goes Rogue About?

Mrs. Plansky and Kev Dinardo (who I think we met briefly toward the end of her first book), win an exciting mixed doubles tournament between a couple of retirement communities. Flush with victory and excitement, they head back to his home to celebrate on his yacht. Their mood is sobered considerably when his yacht explodes in front of them. Kev tells the fire department that it was lightning that hit the boat.

The next day, Mrs. Plansky returns to check on Kev and is told he’s not available. The person who tells her this seems…off. But she accepts him for who he claims to be. Mostly. But when she can’t find Kev and it looks like his home has been ransacked.

When she factors in the fact that she didn’t see any lightning and that Kev seems to have been involved—at least a little bit—with her son and his probably criminal associates…all sorts of bells go off in Mrs. Plansky’s head and she starts to do a little sleuthing.

Things get interesting—and perhaps a little dangerous—after that.

Also, I should mention that the alligator on the cover is not just there for decoration.

Your Results May Vary, But…I Just Had No Patience

When I started writing this post, I was afraid I was going to have to walk back something I said last year when I wrote about Mrs. Plansky Gets Revenge. So I went back and read that post. Turns out, I agree with myself. Last year, I wrote:

I loved most of the characters (even the bad guys). And even…when I didn’t like the characters, I appreciated the way Quinn wrote them. The one exception is her father, who lives in a nearby assisted living facility. I’m not sure that we needed Mrs. Plansky’s father as a character—I think he was supposed to be both comic relief and just one more source of financial pressure for her. I don’t think the comedy worked all that well—and Quinn could’ve given us another source for the pressure.

It turns out that I have an even dimmer view of her father as a character this time (as a person, I’m just as impressed). I didn’t find him, his antics, or his behavior amusing at all. I found scenes that he was in tiresome at best—and I don’t think Mrs. Plansky came across half as well in them as she does in the rest of the book.

I hope that I’m alone in this and that the rest of Quinn’s readers don’t get what I’m saying. I just don’t see it, and hope that the events of this book take him off the board for most of the next book.

Mrs. Plansky’s Chettification

I write frequently about Quinn’s other ongoing series, the Chet and Bernie mysteries. And Chet is one of my favorite characters in detective fiction—and one of my favorite dogs in fiction. That said, we don’t need another Chet. And there are times in this book that I think Mrs. Plansky got too close to it.

She’s under stress, she’s dealing with injury and confusion (and possibly a concussion at one point). But there are times when the omniscient narrator gives us a look into her thought processes and she comes across as distractible and erratic as our beloved canine hero. That carries over at least once to a conversation she has with a human.

I’m not saying it’s not realistic, nor am I suggesting that it’s wrong to think that a woman in her seventies might not be as wholly lucid as she was a decade or two ago—or as lucid as she wants to be. It’s just…when she reminds you of a non-human character…it’s not good. Particularly when the book usually shows her as strong and capable—determinedly working through a world that’s ready to ismiss her because of her age.

Quinn’s capable of better.

So, what did I think about Mrs. Plansky Goes Rogue?

This was not my favorite book by Quinn (nor was it my least favorite), and I wasn’t as enchanted by Mrs. Plansky this time. But let’s not for a moment think that means I didn’t have a lot of fun with this book. Also, I’m more than ready to see what Quinn has in store for her. (There’s no way that he leaves this here; at the very least, Kev needs to get some stability in his life)

I do like the…I don’t want to say growth, that feels out of place—the development of Mrs. Plansky’s character. She’s gained some good confidence in herself after her Romanian adventures. This doesn’t mean she’s impervious to self-doubt or braver than she should be. But she knows—and can prove—that she’s capable of more than what most people think she is. She can see this through—although she knows she needs help.

There were some good twists—some surprises that I don’t know that I fully enjoyed, and a couple that I did. And I did enjoy this read—and most people who met Mrs. Plansky in the first book will, too. And I’m very glad to see that she isn’t the victim of anything—this time she’s just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time who decided to do something about it.

I do recommend this to the growing audience for senior citizen amateur sleuths out there (more than I would most others in the subgenre), it’s fun, and Mrs. Plansky is a great character that you cannot help but root for—in her investigation and on the tennis court.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Tor Publishing Group via NetGalley—thanks to both for this.

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s The Blue Horse About?

For Porter Beck and the Lincoln Sheriff’s Department, change—and a pandemic—are in the air. But we’ll talk about that later. The main thing that they all have to focus on is a controversial wild horse roundup.

It’s a Federal mandate that it occurs, and there are plenty of good wildlife management and other environmental arguments in favor of it. There are also plenty of traditional, environmental, or animal rights arguments against it. Naturally, the event faces protests both large and small—even in the middle of a pandemic. So Beck and his team are providing some security.

Because of that security, Beck and Tuffy are around to witness a helicopter involved in the roundup crash. Thanks to them, it’s not written off as human error or some other accident—they know it was murder (a difficult one to perpetrate, mind you).

The easy answer seems to be that it’s someone associated with the protests, but Beck’s not satisfied with that. And despite what the FBI wants to focus on, he starts assembling evidence to buttress his hunch. Then another, grisly murder happens. And all signs point to something worse on the horizon. The Feds want a quick resolution, Beck wants the truth.

Brinley and Rafa

So, while all this is going on, Beck can’t rely on his sister to pitch in. As a follow-up to the volunteering she did in Shades of Mercy with the “at risk” youth of the area, she’s off with a handful of these teens on a wilderness retreat. Rafa, in particular, is one she can identify with and really wants to help. He, on the other hand, wants no one’s help. He’s learned that he can only rely on himself and what his own strength, temper, and brutality can provide for him.

One night, after Brinley had already started to think he’d run off, he does just that. Annoyed at herself for letting her guard down enough to let that happen, and assured of her superior ability to track compared to the other adults in the group, she takes off on her own to track him down. As it’s Brinley that we’re talking about, she’d normally be right—but with COVID symptoms kicking in, are her stamina and clarity of mind up to the task? And what will she do if/when she finds him?

Sometimes, it can be a critique for a reader to note that a subplot like this one is frequently more interesting and engaging than the primary story. Early on, I was mildly irritated every time we cut from this back to the murder investigation. I really enjoy Brinley and Rafa is both a good character by himself, as a foil for Brinley? He’s perfect. Together, it’s a great combination.

I eventually came around on the murder investigation—it was more of a slow-burn for me, but by the end, I was equally invested in both storylines.

COVID-19

I thought it was gutsy for Borgos to tackle COVID and the reaction to both the virus and the social reactions to it. Especially in places like Beck’s part of Nevada, you’re not going to get a lot of people reacting to either of them the same way as you would in L.A. or NYC. (I think this is going to be the case for readers drawn to the series, too)

Borgos dealt with it as well as you could hope—Beck didn’t seem to take a firm stand on things like masking or hand-shaking himself—he basically matched the environment he was in (somewhat begrudglingly at times). And his deputies clearly saw it as overblown—particularly one deputy who showed clear signs of it. The clinic is full, and the disease shows up in several ways—some that hit too close to home for Beck, too.

At the same time—the impact of the virus itself was clearly shown. Whether it was a temporary, minor obstacle or a life-altering disease (or points in between) for the characters—COVID made its presence felt. Beck doesn’t have an overabundance of deputies for his large county on the best day. You force them to deal with murder cases like this—plus the security they need to provide for the roundup—with deputies out sick? That’s going to have a major impact on their ability to do any of their jobs effectively.

More than a gutsy move by Borgos for the social observation, it’s a smart move for narrative tension.

All the Personal Stuff

I was relieved to see Charlie Blue Horse back again—not only was she a good addition to the cast in Shades of Mercy, but I really didn’t like the idea of Beck having a new romantic interest/dalliance in every book. I’d have been perfectly content to have a few books without one, too—but a returning romantic interest is a good way to go, too.

I did think that Beck was a bit too clueless in the beginning—you can tell how he got to his age still single—but that’s a tangent.

There’s a lot more going on for Beck outside the case—his father’s health continues to deteriorate, there are big changes looming for the Sheriff’s office as we learn early on. Basically, these murders come along at a juncture for our Sheriff and serve as a welcome distraction as much as they could interfere and possibly derail his plans.

Deputy Frank Columbo

Bo may have been a two-time washout from the K-9 academy, but he’s a good, loyal companion for Beck—and he shows signs of being a good seeing-eye dog in the future. Who doesn’t want a good dog along for a story like this?

But honestly, he just seemed to be a nice little flavoring—something to add to the Western/Sheriff setting. Like Spener’s Pearls, Joe Pickett’s dogs, Max Boucher’s Russ, Ballard’s Lola, and didn’t Quinn Colson have one? They’re there, they’re fun to see, but they’re not a major player in the story.

But by the end The Blue Horse, he’s that and more. He’s not quite as remarkable as Longmire’s Dog, or Sharp’s Winnie, (definitely not in Chet Little’s league). But he’s on the way—this will come as no shock to anyone who’s read me, I loved Bo’s moments of glory (even if they weren’t appreciated at the time). I don’t need this series to become the Beck and Bo show, but I hope he gets more chances to shine.

Then again, would the Beck and Bo show be a bad thing?

So, what did I think about The Blue Horse?

We’re only on book three of this series, but we’ve got a strong recurring cast already (with promises of more). There’s the FBI Agent that Beck didn’t really get along with last time (and he continues to not really get along with now), there’s our friendly hacker doing the things Beck and Charlie can’t—but legally (probably), all the great characters in the Lincoln County Sheriff’s office, and even X Files. Yes, he’s back again—and I loved the way he get’s involved with this one. There’s more to this guy than paranoia and delusion. The characters—suspects, witnesses, standers-by, and more—are up to the same standards, and you’ll end up hoping that those who live and aren’t serving time come back sometime soon.

Three books in, one thing that Borgos has clearly shown us all is that he can people his novels with compelling characters. What about the story? I don’t know that anything will (or can) live up to The Bitter Past, but this is as good as you can ask for next to that. The storyline involving the murders is really well-paced and plotted—the herrings are the perfect shade of red—and Beck’s atypical approach to policing really helps here. Aside from my own impatience early on, there’s nothing to complain about here.

Mild-spoliery thoughts—feel free to skip this paragraph. I do wonder a little about Chapter Two—it takes away some of the mystery, you’ll know that the murders likely tie into it at some point, and you might not bite on some of the bait Borgos wants to tempt you with because of it (at least not as hard as you might otherwise). But it also makes a twist or two seem like they don’t come out of nowhere. I can argue both sides of it convincingly to myself. The more I think of it, I think Borgos made the smart move. But I instinctively disagree and think he should’ve skipped it. I’d love to hear what others think.

Maybe other readers feel this way when they read about the Mexicantown in August Snow’s Detroit, or about Ballard/Bosch’s LA, the racial tensions in the LAPD that Trevor Finnegan navigates, the gang-culture in Eve Ronin’s LACSD, or the changes in the Edinburgh police that Rebus has witnessed (and felt)—but the society/politics that Borgos shows hit close to home. The former are interesting to read about, but Borgos hits close to home (C.J. Box does, too). Lincoln County, NV could easily be 20-30 minutes south of my house, rather than the 8+ hours it really is. Borgos reflects the attitudes of the area so well—it feels easy at a distance to take issue with the gangs Ronin faces, but there’s a way for locals to understand both sides of something like the roundup that I just can’t with the others. I know and trust people on every side of that issue, and sympathize with them. For every hint that Borgos gives you about his (or Beck’s) opinion—he provides one that might disprove it. I fully expect readers from Scotland or New York to roll their eyes at one group or another that Borgos shows us. But I can’t—they’re my neighbors, are married to my coworkers, and share a pew with me on Sundays. I love how well Borgos does that. A good Crime Novel talks about society without getting on a soapbox, and Borgos excels at it.

Setting that aside, let’s focus on the experience of reading The Blue HorseYour heart will be in your throat in at least two occasions, you will be horrified at man’s inhumanity at least once (it’s comparable to the opening of The Bitter Past), you’ll feel sadness, relief, and even joy throughout. I wasn’t looking for another Western-set mystery series to become addicted to, but Bruce Borgos has made me a die-hard anyway. Jump on the bandwagon!! We’ll make room.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley—thanks to both for this.

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s Dogged Pursuit About?

Andy Carpenter has recently left the Prosecutor’s Office to become a defense lawyer. He’s rented an office, helped one client, and…well, that’s it. His wife is leaning on him to take a job as a corporate lawyer (and her father can get him such a position), but his heart isn’t in it.

He has decided it’s past time for him to get a dog after years of wanting one—so he goes to a shelter, falls head over heels with one, and adopts her. The shelter tells him that his new dog (Carpenter fans know Tara very well at his point) has bonded with the dog she shared a run with. So he offers to adopt her, too. That can’t happen because her owner is in jail awaiting trial. They assure him that if he can get a release from the owner, he can take the dog.

Carpenter fans know at this point that this will be Andy’s first client. People new to the series will probably know this, too. Rosenfelt isn’t playing his cards close to his chest here.

And, hey, what do you know? That’s exactly what happens. The trick is that Andy’s new client is charged with multiple murders—that of his old friend and boss who fired him two weeks previously, and the two people he was giving a ride home to (so they wouldn’t drive after drinking at a corporate party).

The circumstantial case is pretty strong—almost too strong. No one that Andy talks to at his client’s old company could believe he’d be capable of such a thing. And he really seems to care about his dog. Which is enough for Andy to dive in.

He just needs evidence on his side, an investigator to do some work for him, and a clue about how to defend this particular client. But that’ll come, right?

The Prequel-ness

I was surprised when I saw this was a prequel. I don’t know that I ever stopped and wondered, “How did Andy get started in the business?” Particularly as early in his career that book one, Open and Shut, isn’t that far into his career and really serves just as well as an origin story.

That said…this is a really good novel, a solid prequel, and a treat for fans of the series. Let’s take a quick glance at some of the series regulars we meet here:

• Tara. You don't have an Andy Carpenter book without his best friend. Their meeting goes beyond a meet-cute, and watching their relationship blossom is great. Honestly, the rest of this list isn't necessary, as long as Rosenfelt nailed this one, and it's no surprise that he did.
• Sam. Sam gets a little more "screen time" here than he typically does. This is a-ok with me, Sam's great. We get some seeds planted for a lot of what we see from this accountant/hacker in the future. What we don't get—and this is the biggest problem with this book—is the song talking. I get that he and Andy have grown out of it by later books (as odd as it is to think of Andy maturing). I miss it, but I can cope (as well as grumble about it). But they're not there yet. Something that so characterizes their relationship in the first few books should be here now.
• Laurie. Andy meets and hires Laurie here, a wonderful decision on his part. It's totally platonic, Rosenfelt shows us that Andy is a stand-up guy on that front (as he continues to be). Given where their relationship ends up, I have to give Rosenfelt a lot of credit for keeping it professional. Laurie struggles some (as I think she continues to do for quite a bit) with working for the defense—not as much as say, Harry Bosch does (although she wasn't working for the PD as long as Bosch did). And that's good to see, but her adaptability and smarts are on full display.
• Pete. Pete and Andy aren't as friendly as they will one day be. It's actually nice to see them approach bonding, and the beginning of Andy picking up Pete's tab.
• Nelson Carpenter. We don't get to see a lot of Andy's father before his death, so it was really nice to see the healthy relationship here. It's hard not to like this guy, and you can see why he was such a legend in the legal community in the area.
• Edna. Andy hasn't hired—much less met—Edna at this point, but she's mentioned to him a few times as someone he should hire. Reading what Andy is told about her, and what we know about her, is one of the best chuckle-generators of this novel.
• Nicole. This has to be the trickiest one in the book—the relationship is doomed, we all know this. But neither Andy nor Nicole is ready for it to end. Rosenfelt has to show the crumbling, without showing the last straws—as those straws are still to come. And man...I liked Nicole. I enjoyed seeing her bond with Tara. I liked seeing her interact with Andy; she seems like a pretty good match for him.

Marcus

In a couple of the more recent books, I’ve wondered if Marcus is losing a bit of what made him such a fun character for the readers because we’ve learned more about him. Is the mystique gone? Is he on the verge of becoming just another member of Andy’s circle?

That question gets set on the back burner for a while—phew—because in this prequel, Marcus is all mystique. Nothing but mystique and mystery.

So, what did I think about Dogged Pursuit?

Okay, let’s set aside all the fun of the prequel stuff. How’s the mystery, the case, the resolution?

Those are just what you want. Andy’s not the cocky, flashy trial lawyer he will become. But you can see it on the horizon. He’s nervous—in and out of the courtroom. He’s not prepared to meet with some of the truly nasty characters he needs to—or the threat they can represent.

There are plenty of twists and a revelation or two at the end that are just satisfying.

There’s not a huge conspiracy with international implications afoot. There’s some criminal activity around the murders that Andy runs across—but it’s not at the heart of the book.

There are some truly good lines (particularly involving Andy’s cowardice and lack of ability to defend himself—always a good place for Rosenfelt to return to). The momentum carries you right along, right up to the surprises at the end.

Throw in Andy and Tara’s relationship? You’ve got a solid book.

I strongly recommend this book to people who’ve read Andy Carpenter in the past (even if you’ve taken a break for whatever reason). If people have seen my glowing posts in the back and haven’t wanted to dive into a series of 30 mid-stream, this is a great place to jump on board. If people have never seen a thing I’ve written about this series before—this is a great place to jump on board, too. Really, there’s no one that I wouldn’t recommend this book to. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and I think you will, too.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley—thanks to both for this. I apologize for the tardiness.

★ ★ ★ ★ 1/2 (rounded up)

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s The Medusa Protocol About?

I’d written about half of this section, and wasn’t quite satisfied with it, and took a quick glance at the Publisher’s Description and realized that 1. I was echoing it in an unnerving way, and 2. It was better than i could deliver. So, I’ll borrow it and save myself from plagiarism accusations:

When Astrid, known in her assassin days as Azrael, stopped showing up to Assassins Anonymous, the group assumed her past had caught up with her. Only her sponsor Mark, formerly the deadliest killer in the world, holds out hope that she’s okay. Then, during a meeting, the group gets a sign, or rather, a pizza delivery. Is there another psychopath out there who actually likes olives on their pizza, or is Astrid trying to send Mark a message?

Meanwhile, Astrid wakes up in the cell of a black site prison, on a remote island. A doctor subjects her to mysterious experiments, plumbing the depths of her memory and looking for a vital clue from her past. She’ll do anything to escape, except…killing anyone. Hmm. Turns out it’s not easy to blow this joint without blowing anything, or anyone up.

Looking for Astrid

The group at the meeting splits into two groups—some head for safety, just in case someone’s coming for someone in addition to Astrid. Mark and Booker take the sign of the disgusting pizza as a signal to go looking for Astrid.

This is where you get your thirst for adventure slaked. They take a globe-trekking route while hunting for clues, pick up an ally or two along the way, go up against some pretty lethal guys—and really lethal snakes.

They do this with aplomb, nerve, and some really bad jokes.

Astrid’s Story

Meanwhile, Astrid faces two challenges—figuring out where she is, why she’s there, and how to make the best of the situation until she can find a weakness to exploit and get out of there. None of that will be easy.

But also, whatever this doctor is doing to her causes her to relive some of the bigger moments in her life—things she’s never really put behind her, but she has to look at them anew, and maybe a bit more intensely than she usually does.

The stakes are high (higher than she realizes), and without support, she has to rely on what she’s picked up from the meetings and her own grit to make it through each day.

Sobriety

While Assassins Anonymous showed the meetings, Mark hitting rock bottom, and choices to pursue this group’s particular expression of sobriety, The Medusa Protocol focuses on taking responsibility for your actions, making amends, and maintaining one’s sobriety. While none of the 12 Steps seem particularly easy, these things seem like harder work to me—and it’s good to see that reflected honestly.

(There’s some other things along these lines, but we can talk about that after you’ve read this book.)

The decision to stay sober—especially in the circumstances these characters find themselves, fighting for their lives against people who don’t have any problem taking a life, when a lifetime of reflexes tells them to do something else—takes a monumental effort. It takes monumental effort for more “traditional” 12-Step program attendees, too. But this makes for more exciting reading—it should, however, remind the reader what their friends/acquaintances go through on a daily basis.

I really admire Hart for this focus in these books, and hope these keep coming if only for it.

So, what did I think about The Medusa Protocol?

There’s part of me that wants to copy and paste most of what I said about Assassins Anonymous last year here. There’s also part of me that wishes I’d re-read or listened to it before this—not because I need the refresher, I just had fun with it. Yet…I think this is a better novel. It’s not quite as fun—Astrid’s POV is too prevalent for that and her sense of humor isn’t what Mark’s is (this is a good thing)—but the story is more emotionally developed, Astrid’s trauma is deeper-seated, and that comes through in the flashbacks (obviously).

Also, the Big Bad of the first book is a pretty standard kind of bad guy for the genre. The person responsible for Astrid’s plight, on the other hand, is just evil. Like a gut-twisting, I don’t want to think there are people like this in the world, kind of evil—sadly, it’s probably the most realistic part of this book.

I’m afraid I might give the impression that this book is so heavy on the trauma, the emotions, the recovery struggles, and so on that it’s not a Thriller. Sorry if I did. This is a rollicking, rocking Thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat with the kind of action you expect in a Thriller about a group of former (and current) assassins. If you liked the action, the humor, the pacing, and all the thriller aspects of the last book, don’t fear—it’s still there. It’s just the percentages of the book devoted to each are a little different. Mark is still a prominent character, and you can’t get away from his sarcasm, his humor, and his efficiency in a fight scene. That goes for the other people in the program, too. And when Astrid gets to do her thing, either in the present or in flashback—I’m telling you, it’s good stuff.

I had a blast with this, enjoying the opportunity to reconnect with characters like Mark, Astrid, Valencia, Booker, and so on. The one new face (at least) that will recur? Oh, I’m looking forward to getting to know them a lot more. The new characters we meet that we definitely won’t be seeing again? They’re as good as you want them to be.

Oh, and the titular Medusa Protocol itself? That was really cool.

There’s no reason not to pick this up if you’re in the mood for a thriller that embraces and yet puts a twist on the conventions. Would it help to have read Assassins Anonymous first? Yeah, but you’ll get in the groove pretty quickly if you haven’t.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Putnam Books via NetGalley—thanks to both for this. Sorry that it’s up late.

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s I See You’ve Called in Dead About?

One night after a disastrous blind date (oh, and the word disastrous seems inadequate), obituary writer Bud Stanley gets drunk and accidentally publishes his own obituary. This earns him a suspension (once you get to the part where it’s revealed why he can’t be fired, you’ll roll).

During this suspension, he’s inspired to attend the funerals of strangers. He drags his close friend with him to these, and the two of them gain some new perspectives, new insights, etc.

I should add—before the drunken mistake, during the date itself, is when I decided I liked Bud and couldn’t wait to spend seven hours and change with him.

It’s, of course, after he published the greatly exaggerated reports of his own death that Bud finally has the opportunity to learn how to live. Will he take advantage of it?

Is He Maybe Too Perfect?

I’m not talking about Bud here. No one is going to spend more than a half a paragraph before they start finding flaws with him (love the guy…but man, is he a work in progress). But his landlord/friend, Tim, just might be too perfect.

He’s kind. He’s generous. He’s wise. He’s…well, really, you’re going to have to look long and hard for a problem with the character. And that, of course, is hard to swallow for a primary character in a work of fiction. As in life, so in fiction, pobody’s nerfect.

But…and here’s the thing that applies to a lot of Mary/Marty Sues (and I don’t think Tim is one, but he might be their first cousin)—he’s so fun that you get over it. He works as Bud’s Jiminy Cricket as well as the guy he can joke around with. It’s likely that Bud just doesn’t give us a lot of Tim’s flaws in his narration, because he doesn’t see them.

Friendship

Which leads us to one thing (there are others, but this dominates the novel) that Bud seems to be pretty good at, friendship. Sure, frequently being a selfish jackwagon, he’s not great at being a friend—but the bonds he’s made are strong enough that they can take it.

There’s Tim, Bud’s office-mate (a strange friendship, but one that’s deeper than one might think), the friendship between Bud and his editor/boss, and then a sweet friendship with a lonely and eccentric little boy* who lives nearby. Bud may not have figured out how to successfully adult, but he’s assembled a great group of friends to help him navigate through it.

I’ve read/listened to a lot of people (in fiction/non-fiction) talk about how close male friendship has really taken a hit in the current culture—it’s not emphasized, it’s not modeled, and almost never discussed after a certain age. Take or leave that argument, it’s rare enough to see a decent portrayal. Bud has four of them—of various strengths and circumstances. But all are wonderful to watch.

* That kid (his name escapes me, and that bothers me) deserves a book of his own. I need someone like Wesley King, Victoria Willimason, or R.J. Palacio to buy the rights.

What did I think about the narration?

Well, there were a couple of location names that I wondered if Hopkins was pronouncing correctly (he probably was). But beyond that, he nailed the work. He got the humor, he got the heart, he got the…strange mental place that Bud spent most of the book in.

I don’t believe I’ve heard him in action before, but I’d like to.

So, what did I think about I See You’ve Called in Dead?

I assumed this would be a fun read from the premise. I wasn’t prepared for something that would make me care so much.

I did think the humor around the millennial HR employee felt overplayed, and that Kenney should’ve dropped it (or skipped it entirely). There might have been one or two other jokes that he could’ve skipped—but on the whole? Some of the best comedy I’ve encountered this year—and some of the dumbest, too. Bud, Tim, and Tuan (his office-mate) don’t seem to think there’s a joke to dumb to make. I don’t disagree, but I figure I should warn you. They also aren’t afraid of being awfully clever in their jokes as well.

There’s an extended bit in a Greek funeral that Tim and Bud attend, for example, that will make you roll your eyes—and then you’ll end up really loving as it continues.

I haven’t talked about the strange friendship/romance at all between Bud and the woman who starts him attending the funerals of strangers. It’s the kind of quirky thing that filmmakers used to give Zach Braff, Michael Cera, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and the like. But it rarely feels forced, and she’s definitely not manic. I don’t think her storyline is nearly as well-done as the others, but it’s satisfying enough that I’m not going to complain.

And of course—we need to talk about death and life. Bud and his circle spend a lot of time witnessing death and grief—and how it looks for various people. And from that, they all take different lessons about death and what can—and should—come before. Sometimes it feels a little heavy-handed, or rather, it feels like it’s going to be—you can feel the “special episode” atmosphere building. But it typically is delivered subtly and almost seamlessly. Kenney does it the right way.

This is a funny, wise, and heartfelt book—affirming, challenging, and downright entertaining. What’s not to like?

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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“You know this is how you’re going to get yourself killed, right? Something stupid like this?”

“I hope not.”

“I’m serious. It’s when you least suspect it, Walt.”

What’s Return to Sender About?

For the previous twenty books, we’ve learned a lot about Martha, Walt’s late wife. We learn a little more about her here—she had a cousin who is now the Postal Inspector for Wyoming. Sure, this doesn’t give us a lot of insight into her as a person—but it does allow this cousin, Mike Thurmin, to call upon Walt for a favor.

A few months ago, a postal worker who carries mail on the longest route in the U.S., 307 miles, disappeared from the face of the Earth. Law enforcement has written it off as an adult willingly leaving her home, her boyfriend has sold off pretty much everything she left behind, but her supervisor/friend isn’t satisfied. And that lack of satisfaction worked its way up to Thurman—who roped Walt into looking for her.

It’s possible, if not likely, that Blair McGowan’s boyfriend is behind her disappearance (he’s certainly unpleasant enough that you can see why many people would speculate about it); she’s an activist, and it’s possible she’s irked someone powerful; there’s a lot that can happen in 307 miles; or the aliens she claimed that abducted her a few years ago came back and picked her up again. Walt’s pretty sure it’s something else, but he has to look into things.

This book pretty much has three acts—let’s take a quick look at them.

The Search for Blair McGowan

In this part, we get the lay of the land and meet the essential characters. Walt tries to go undercover as a postal carrier brought in to cover for Blair temporarily (at least). While doing so, he makes some attempts to investigate—many of which lead people to believe he’s not a postal carrier.

Still, Walt and Dog have some interesting encounters with people in and around the Red Desert of Wyoming. There’s a little bit of consultation with Vic over the phone, and she (and a few others) repeatedly remind Walt to get to Cheyenne for a reception that is important to Cady.

The Women in Walt’s Life

Vic, Cady, Ruby, and Lola feature prominently in the second act (although we don’t get to really see Lola)—with a quick chat or two with Lucian and Henry. It’s all about the change in Wyoming government—a new governor and a prospective promotion for the greatest legal mind of our time.

That promotion to A.G. is complicated by her father’s position in the state—both as a sheriff of one county and his prominence in the law enforcement community.

It breaks up the search for McGowan, it moves some storylines forward, but it largely feels out of place in this book. Still, it was good to see these things move forward a little (and we can assume it will continue to do so).

The Next Search for Blair McGowan

That dealt with, the search for Blair picks back up in earnest. There’ve been a few developments while Walt was in Cheyenne, but Walt has reason to question them—and a greater determination to get to teh bottom of things.

This Act takes up the majority of the book, and we learn a lot more about almost everyone we were introduced to in the first Act. There’s a lot of action, some fun new characters are introduced, and Walt is pushed to the limits physically and maybe mentally.

We really have to go back a few books for me to enjoy things as much as I enjoyed this portion of the book, really. I’m thinking Daughter of the Morning Star or Next to Last Stand. The first two parts felt more like Johnson was getting warmed up, and then things really kicked into gear when Walt came back.

Dog

Dog rarely gets to shine in this series—he’s largely just a presence to receive a pat or two, to scarf down some food, and maybe to intimidate someone. But when he does get the spotlight—as he does a few times in Return to Sender—it’s a lot of fun. He’s almost too good to be true, but honestly—who cares? Johnson keeps it pretty grounded (much more so than the ghost of Virgil that might pop up here and there).

For a lot of this book, it’s Walt and Dog against the world—and there are few dogs that can carry that weight.

Oh, yeah, that…

There’s some movement on the part from First Frost about the disappearance of Ruth One Heart. But that’s pretty much all I can cover.

So, what did I think about Return to Sender?

I watched my family members enjoying themselves and then asked. “Lucian, how did you know it was time to hang up your star?”

“You came along.”

“No, seriously.”

“l am being serious.” He stopped and turned to look at me. “When I saw the county would be in good hands, I stepped down and never bad a second thought.”

“I don’t think I have that luxury. Saizarbitoria isn’t ready, and the voters won’t elect Vic.”

He smiled. “Maybe if you gag her.”

Walt’s retirement has been discussed a lot recently, and it seems like it’ll come up more (up until he actually puts in his papers).

Now, I was fully entertained—but also frustrated by Johnson—in the first two Acts. But I have few quibbles or frustrations with the rest. I do wonder about Walt’s ability to do everything physically that he did—but what’s the point of being able to suspend disbelief if you don’t do it occasionally? And there’s much to be said for the combination of adrenaline, necessity, and stubbornness.

Walt vs. nature; Walt vs. big odds; Walt’s determination to do the right thing even when he’s on his own. These are all hallmarks of the best of this series. We got them all, with some great character moments for friends old and new.

What’s not to like? This would work as a jumping-on point for the series (Johnson says every book should work like that, but I beg to differ). For fans? It’s a must read.