hc.newton
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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What’s Murder by Memory About?
Dorothy Gentleman is a ship’s detective on a ship called Fairweather on a centuries-long voyage. After one of her lives ended, Dorothy asked not to be put into a new body, but for her data/personality to stay “on the shelf” for a bit. But she finds herself awakened in someone else’s body.
A security protocol revived her and put her in the nearest body in order to investigate a murder.
Dorothy sets out on a series of conversations/interviews over several cups of tea, to not only find out who the murderer was (that was actually pretty easy), but why the murder happened (that’s the tricky bit in this case).
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I grabbed this from the library because I saw something about the sequel, Nobody’s Baby, and that sounded great. But I have developed an allergy to reading series out of order.
I kept at it because of the narrator’s voice, I was curious about the world, and it moved so fast that I really didn’t have a chance to think about dropping it (I wouldn’t have, I should stress, but I didn’t have the time).
What does this book tell us about humanity?
There’s a good deal to question about if who a person is can be reduced to software that can be uploaded and downloaded. This book isn’t the place for that—but I can’t help thinking of other books that made me ask the same question. This is sort of the sanitized version of Altered Carbon in that way—you just have to accept it unquestionably, or the book doesn’t work.
There’s a lot about grief, loss, inevitability of aging, and what betrayal and (a twisted version?) of love can drive a person to, here as well. But again, it feels like trying to dig deeper than this novella invites you to in order to ask this. It really just seems like it wants you to kick back and enjoy the ride uncritically. Just to have some fun.
And that’s 100% okay. It’s even welcome. It just makes finding something to write about difficult, you know?
So, what did I think about Murder by Memory?
The balance between worldbuilding, character, and the mystery seems off. Worldbuilding and explaining that world takes an inordinate amount of space. However…that’s not true; it’s key for this particular mystery to have the worldbuilding (the tech, the social structure, and behavior of the ship) explained.
I do think that the characters get swallowed up a bit in everything, and could be better fleshed out. The mystery itself was…fine, but your investment in the investigation hinges on learning about the ship and the technology behind the transfer of consciousness from one body to another.
That was enough for me—and enough for me to suggest that you give this a shot—but I hope for better in the next book.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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What’s Murder by Memory About?
Dorothy Gentleman is a ship’s detective on a ship called Fairweather on a centuries-long voyage. After one of her lives ended, Dorothy asked not to be put into a new body, but for her data/personality to stay “on the shelf” for a bit. But she finds herself awakened in someone else’s body.
A security protocol revived her and put her in the nearest body in order to investigate a murder.
Dorothy sets out on a series of conversations/interviews over several cups of tea, to not only find out who the murderer was (that was actually pretty easy), but why the murder happened (that’s the tricky bit in this case).
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I grabbed this from the library because I saw something about the sequel, Nobody’s Baby, and that sounded great. But I have developed an allergy to reading series out of order.
I kept at it because of the narrator’s voice, I was curious about the world, and it moved so fast that I really didn’t have a chance to think about dropping it (I wouldn’t have, I should stress, but I didn’t have the time).
What does this book tell us about humanity?
There’s a good deal to question about if who a person is can be reduced to software that can be uploaded and downloaded. This book isn’t the place for that—but I can’t help thinking of other books that made me ask the same question. This is sort of the sanitized version of Altered Carbon in that way—you just have to accept it unquestionably, or the book doesn’t work.
There’s a lot about grief, loss, inevitability of aging, and what betrayal and (a twisted version?) of love can drive a person to, here as well. But again, it feels like trying to dig deeper than this novella invites you to in order to ask this. It really just seems like it wants you to kick back and enjoy the ride uncritically. Just to have some fun.
And that’s 100% okay. It’s even welcome. It just makes finding something to write about difficult, you know?
So, what did I think about Murder by Memory?
The balance between worldbuilding, character, and the mystery seems off. Worldbuilding and explaining that world takes an inordinate amount of space. However…that’s not true; it’s key for this particular mystery to have the worldbuilding (the tech, the social structure, and behavior of the ship) explained.
I do think that the characters get swallowed up a bit in everything, and could be better fleshed out. The mystery itself was…fine, but your investment in the investigation hinges on learning about the ship and the technology behind the transfer of consciousness from one body to another.
That was enough for me—and enough for me to suggest that you give this a shot—but I hope for better in the next book.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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What’s True Color About?
Have you ever had trouble describing a color to someone? Strange sea creatures, sunsets, a (hopefully) food stain on a shirt, paint on a wall? It’s not easy. For some of us more than others, I’m sure (I’m at the weak end)—but it’s not that easy.
Now, try to imagine doing it not for a friend or paint clerk—but for the thousands or more that might read your description (read: definition) in a dictionary or other reference work.
Stamper points to two significant markers in the development of these definitions. The first is that prior to the First World War, Germany was the world’s biggest source of commercial dyes. During the War, two things happened—first, those plants became weapons factories (and learning how easy that was is a bit disconcerting), and second, places like the U.S. had to start producing their own. And if, say, two different suppliers understood a tint of green differently—the camouflage they provided to the Army in Europe could have significant consequences.
The other is a little less dramatic, but no less impactful. When people in the U.S. started making oleomargarine in the 1800s, dairies were upset about them coloring it to look like butter—this resulted in legal battles, and eventually, the U.S. Congress weighed in.
These two things began efforts in the U.S. to codify colors, dyes, hues, and whatnot into some sort of standard.
Fast-forward to when Kory Stamper is editing Merriam-Webster’s website (and from her description, this is not an easy job), when she came across some odd color definitions. The wording was odd, the definitions themselves were puzzling—where did these come from?
Thus begins this story about the attempts to define colors—in a way that satisfies diverse audiences like artists, scientists, and general readers—during the development of their Second and Third Unabridged Dictionaries. Stamper tells the story of putting these dictionaries together, some of the editors who worked on them—and worked with outside consultants like I. H. Godlove (and his wife and colleagues) and others to craft these definitions.
It’s a book of human drama, academic politics, technological limitations, and the limits of human language and understanding.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up because I enjoyed Stamper’s earlier book Word by Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries and because I was intrigued by the question—how do you define a color? I also hoped to pick up some tips to help me with that. Spoiler: I did not. But I don’t care. This was better. It’s also encouraging to know that even professional definers struggle.
Why did I keep reading? There’s just so much trivia—especially in the beginning, so many strange little facts you pick up along the way—for example (taken from the publisher’s description, because I hate to ruin stuff like this) “did you know that the word ‘puke’ used to refer to a fashionable shade of reddish-brown before it was associated with vomit?”
But more importantly, I was just fascinated by the way these editors and experts went about putting together these dictionaries—the differences in approach between the two—and so on. Stamper can make what one might think is dry and dusty history come alive and fill it with humanity.
Readers of Nero Wolfe will learn that he wasn’t the only one who had problems with the Third Unabridged Dictionary—although most derided it in reviews or newspaper articles, rather than burning it page by page in their fireplace.
So, what did I think about True Color?
I was, again, fascinated by the people she focused on to tell her story. I wanted to talk to people about them—I’d like to learn more about them and their work.* Her following up with the Godlove family’s living relatives so we could get more insight into the people behind the work was a wonderful touch.
Like her previous book, True Color will disabuse many of what they imagine the behind-the-scenes of Dictionary production is like. You will read about one of the worst bosses around, for example. Stress, overwork, burnout, crazy turnover, rampant misogyny (okay, you might have guessed that given the time periods), tiny budgets, and more. It turns out that Dictionaries are put together by human beings, not beings of pure intellect.
Also, I cannot say enough about Stamper’s use of language. It will not come as a surprise that someone who works on dictionaries has a way with words—she has ready access to all the best ones, after al—but to see it in action is something else. Stamper’s rich vocabulary is on full display here, and she crafts it beautifully.
* I will not—particularly about their work, I wouldn’t understand it. But I wanted to.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Knopf via NetGalley in exchange for this post, which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s True Color About?
Have you ever had trouble describing a color to someone? Strange sea creatures, sunsets, a (hopefully) food stain on a shirt, paint on a wall? It’s not easy. For some of us more than others, I’m sure (I’m at the weak end)—but it’s not that easy.
Now, try to imagine doing it not for a friend or paint clerk—but for the thousands or more that might read your description (read: definition) in a dictionary or other reference work.
Stamper points to two significant markers in the development of these definitions. The first is that prior to the First World War, Germany was the world’s biggest source of commercial dyes. During the War, two things happened—first, those plants became weapons factories (and learning how easy that was is a bit disconcerting), and second, places like the U.S. had to start producing their own. And if, say, two different suppliers understood a tint of green differently—the camouflage they provided to the Army in Europe could have significant consequences.
The other is a little less dramatic, but no less impactful. When people in the U.S. started making oleomargarine in the 1800s, dairies were upset about them coloring it to look like butter—this resulted in legal battles, and eventually, the U.S. Congress weighed in.
These two things began efforts in the U.S. to codify colors, dyes, hues, and whatnot into some sort of standard.
Fast-forward to when Kory Stamper is editing Merriam-Webster’s website (and from her description, this is not an easy job), when she came across some odd color definitions. The wording was odd, the definitions themselves were puzzling—where did these come from?
Thus begins this story about the attempts to define colors—in a way that satisfies diverse audiences like artists, scientists, and general readers—during the development of their Second and Third Unabridged Dictionaries. Stamper tells the story of putting these dictionaries together, some of the editors who worked on them—and worked with outside consultants like I. H. Godlove (and his wife and colleagues) and others to craft these definitions.
It’s a book of human drama, academic politics, technological limitations, and the limits of human language and understanding.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up because I enjoyed Stamper’s earlier book Word by Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries and because I was intrigued by the question—how do you define a color? I also hoped to pick up some tips to help me with that. Spoiler: I did not. But I don’t care. This was better. It’s also encouraging to know that even professional definers struggle.
Why did I keep reading? There’s just so much trivia—especially in the beginning, so many strange little facts you pick up along the way—for example (taken from the publisher’s description, because I hate to ruin stuff like this) “did you know that the word ‘puke’ used to refer to a fashionable shade of reddish-brown before it was associated with vomit?”
But more importantly, I was just fascinated by the way these editors and experts went about putting together these dictionaries—the differences in approach between the two—and so on. Stamper can make what one might think is dry and dusty history come alive and fill it with humanity.
Readers of Nero Wolfe will learn that he wasn’t the only one who had problems with the Third Unabridged Dictionary—although most derided it in reviews or newspaper articles, rather than burning it page by page in their fireplace.
So, what did I think about True Color?
I was, again, fascinated by the people she focused on to tell her story. I wanted to talk to people about them—I’d like to learn more about them and their work.* Her following up with the Godlove family’s living relatives so we could get more insight into the people behind the work was a wonderful touch.
Like her previous book, True Color will disabuse many of what they imagine the behind-the-scenes of Dictionary production is like. You will read about one of the worst bosses around, for example. Stress, overwork, burnout, crazy turnover, rampant misogyny (okay, you might have guessed that given the time periods), tiny budgets, and more. It turns out that Dictionaries are put together by human beings, not beings of pure intellect.
Also, I cannot say enough about Stamper’s use of language. It will not come as a surprise that someone who works on dictionaries has a way with words—she has ready access to all the best ones, after al—but to see it in action is something else. Stamper’s rich vocabulary is on full display here, and she crafts it beautifully.
* I will not—particularly about their work, I wouldn’t understand it. But I wanted to.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Knopf via NetGalley in exchange for this post, which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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Before I get into things…that title is great (not that Quinn’s a stranger to good titles). I want to believe he wrote that title down some time ago and spent a couple of years thinking of a story to go with it.
What’s Cat on a Hot Tin Woof About?
One of the best things about the Chet and Bernie books is the wide diversity in cases they investigate—sure, the Little Detective Agency specializes in missing persons cases—but they do it all. Well, almost all. The clients they have this time are something that Bernie isn’t really ready for—and Chet would’ve been happier if they’d never run into them.
It’s a mother-daughter pair—the daughter had accidentally launched herself (well, her cat) to Internet fame and a very respectable income for a high schooler (well, more than respectable). Her mother is her business manager. Their problem? Miss Kitty is missing. Their sponsors are coming in soon to sign a new deal, and her audience is clamoring for fresh content. So the clock is ticking.
Bernie understands very little of this, but signs on—and quickly learns that despite what his clients believed—the cat didn’t slip out of the house somehow. She’s been stolen.
Naturally, it doesn’t stop with a stolen cat—more crimes turn up, as does an element of danger.
Bernie’s ex-wife, Leda, has some drama of her own, for him to deal with, too. But Bernie’s focus is on the case (although he takes time out for a fun scene to help Leda)
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
That’s simple—while Quinn isn’t a stranger to less-impressive books, he’s incapable of writing an un-entertaining one—particularly with this series. And it’s been a while since he stumbled anyway.
Why did I keep at it? There is simply something infectious about Chet’s voice—as much as you want to figure out what happened—who kidnapped the cat and why, will they figure out the other mysteries along the way, will Bernie lose a lot of money doing something foolish, etc.—you want to stay in Chet’s head for longer than it’ll take to finish the book. This book is a textbook example of that.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
There’s a good deal here about the human propensity for making mistakes you’d regret later—if not sooner.
There’s a lot about good parenting and inadequate parenting/parents. There are a couple of good parents in this book (one came so late in the book, you’d almost despair of seeing another one ever again), and several inadequate ones. Most of those didn’t realize they were—but boy howdy, they should’ve.
What this book tells us most about humanity—and this is largely true for every Chet and Bernie book is the importance of a connection between a human and an animal. Even if it’s just a connection for a short-time. We’ve got cats, a pig, and a couple of dogs. The cats enrich (literally, in at least one case) the lives of those they stay with. Chet gets to comfort people going through rough times and gets to support Bernie. The pig? Well, it’s there. The cats and the dogs are just wonderful and will make you want your own (assuming you don’t already).
So, what did I think about Cat on a Hot Tin Woof?
It’s a Chet and Bernie book—of course, I had a good time.
I’d have liked a little more clarity on a point or two about the conclusion. But when your narrator is delightfully unreliable, that’s hard. I think about these cases in a way Chet wouldn’t bother with, so unless Bernie muses about some of the action, there’s just no way that we get the answers I want.
But you have to expect that going in, so it really doesn’t matter.
It’s been a minute since “old man Heydrich” was brought up (and I’m more than okay with that), and I think his replacement could be fun. We get some good Charlie and Leda stuff. Weatherly could’ve been in it more (but was used well). The client herself is the kind that you hope Quinn finds a way to bring back (as he does with another client here), and…well, it’s all just good.
It’s a fun mystery that will keep you smiling throughout—even when Chet solves the mystery (and doesn’t realize it)—maybe it’d be better to say that the reader solves it through Chet’s eyes—and you’re just sitting there waiting for Bernie to catch up. That’s frequently a frustrating experience when I’m that far ahead of the protagonist in a book—but here, it’s just fun.
If you’ve never met our intrepid pair of P.I.s, this would be a perfect book to jump into the series with—honestly, any of them would work, but you might as well start with this one. If you’ve been around the duo before, this is as good as you remember. Either way—check out Cat on a Hot Tin Woof.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley in exchange for this post, which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
Before I get into things…that title is great (not that Quinn’s a stranger to good titles). I want to believe he wrote that title down some time ago and spent a couple of years thinking of a story to go with it.
What’s Cat on a Hot Tin Woof About?
One of the best things about the Chet and Bernie books is the wide diversity in cases they investigate—sure, the Little Detective Agency specializes in missing persons cases—but they do it all. Well, almost all. The clients they have this time are something that Bernie isn’t really ready for—and Chet would’ve been happier if they’d never run into them.
It’s a mother-daughter pair—the daughter had accidentally launched herself (well, her cat) to Internet fame and a very respectable income for a high schooler (well, more than respectable). Her mother is her business manager. Their problem? Miss Kitty is missing. Their sponsors are coming in soon to sign a new deal, and her audience is clamoring for fresh content. So the clock is ticking.
Bernie understands very little of this, but signs on—and quickly learns that despite what his clients believed—the cat didn’t slip out of the house somehow. She’s been stolen.
Naturally, it doesn’t stop with a stolen cat—more crimes turn up, as does an element of danger.
Bernie’s ex-wife, Leda, has some drama of her own, for him to deal with, too. But Bernie’s focus is on the case (although he takes time out for a fun scene to help Leda)
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
That’s simple—while Quinn isn’t a stranger to less-impressive books, he’s incapable of writing an un-entertaining one—particularly with this series. And it’s been a while since he stumbled anyway.
Why did I keep at it? There is simply something infectious about Chet’s voice—as much as you want to figure out what happened—who kidnapped the cat and why, will they figure out the other mysteries along the way, will Bernie lose a lot of money doing something foolish, etc.—you want to stay in Chet’s head for longer than it’ll take to finish the book. This book is a textbook example of that.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
There’s a good deal here about the human propensity for making mistakes you’d regret later—if not sooner.
There’s a lot about good parenting and inadequate parenting/parents. There are a couple of good parents in this book (one came so late in the book, you’d almost despair of seeing another one ever again), and several inadequate ones. Most of those didn’t realize they were—but boy howdy, they should’ve.
What this book tells us most about humanity—and this is largely true for every Chet and Bernie book is the importance of a connection between a human and an animal. Even if it’s just a connection for a short-time. We’ve got cats, a pig, and a couple of dogs. The cats enrich (literally, in at least one case) the lives of those they stay with. Chet gets to comfort people going through rough times and gets to support Bernie. The pig? Well, it’s there. The cats and the dogs are just wonderful and will make you want your own (assuming you don’t already).
So, what did I think about Cat on a Hot Tin Woof?
It’s a Chet and Bernie book—of course, I had a good time.
I’d have liked a little more clarity on a point or two about the conclusion. But when your narrator is delightfully unreliable, that’s hard. I think about these cases in a way Chet wouldn’t bother with, so unless Bernie muses about some of the action, there’s just no way that we get the answers I want.
But you have to expect that going in, so it really doesn’t matter.
It’s been a minute since “old man Heydrich” was brought up (and I’m more than okay with that), and I think his replacement could be fun. We get some good Charlie and Leda stuff. Weatherly could’ve been in it more (but was used well). The client herself is the kind that you hope Quinn finds a way to bring back (as he does with another client here), and…well, it’s all just good.
It’s a fun mystery that will keep you smiling throughout—even when Chet solves the mystery (and doesn’t realize it)—maybe it’d be better to say that the reader solves it through Chet’s eyes—and you’re just sitting there waiting for Bernie to catch up. That’s frequently a frustrating experience when I’m that far ahead of the protagonist in a book—but here, it’s just fun.
If you’ve never met our intrepid pair of P.I.s, this would be a perfect book to jump into the series with—honestly, any of them would work, but you might as well start with this one. If you’ve been around the duo before, this is as good as you remember. Either way—check out Cat on a Hot Tin Woof.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley in exchange for this post, which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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What’s Stakeouts and Strollers About?
Charlie Shaw, a former investigative reporter, is now a rookie P.I. His boss has him working low-risk cases as he learns the job—and because he’s a new dad. Charlie is besotted with his little girl, Callie. So much so that he does things like wear down his phone battery enough watching her on the monitor so he doesn’t have enough power to take the photos he needs to document his target’s affair.
Soon after, he’s back on the case and tracks the woman to the home of the man she’s having an affair with. Beyond getting the photos he needs to satisfy the client, two significant things happen.
First, he runs into a teenage girl who is seemingly trying to follow the same person. Secondly, he witnesses the man his target was seeing get beaten by a large man and acts to help him.
My summary is getting convoluted—that’s on me, not Phillips. Charlie tracks down the girl—Friday Finley—who didn’t turn out to have anything to do with anyone that was at the scene he met her at. She’s actually trying to track down her father, who ghosted her and her mother years ago, and is now seemingly tied to some criminals working out of a dive bar.
Charlie’s between jobs, thanks to getting the incriminating photos, so he can help Friday track down her dad. This is where things get complicated and dangerous.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
The cover and title caught my eye, and the premise sold me.
I kept reading because Phillips’ text is smooth and engaging, and Charlie is one of those narrators that you can’t help but like immediately, so you want to see how things turn out for him. And I can’t imagine how a reader can’t want to know what happens next for Friday once they’ve met her.
Basically, everything about the book made me want to keep going.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
The big through-line with this book is family. Sometimes we’re talking about found families, but most of this is blood family.
Some of the families are dysfunctional, some are loving and supportive, some are still figuring themselves out, some are falling apart—but this novel is just littered with families. It’s the key to practically every motivation, decision, and goal for these characters.
Family is something many of us take for granted, at least one we can undervalue, given whatever day/stage of life we’re in. But seeing these characters do all these various and sundry things because of family rings so true. When X is doing Y for reason Z, it’s easy to dismiss Z as folly or greed. But as soon as it becomes “for reason Z and family,” both the character X and the action Y become relatable, understandable, and possibly even sympathetic.
This is on just about every page of this novel, and more than any other reason, it’s what grounds this work and draws you in.
So, what did I think about Stakeouts and Strollers?
This is just fun—Charlie’s got all the makings of a decent fictional PI, but Callie is a big distraction for him. Which makes you like him all the more—he’s such a girl dad. When it comes to Friday, he assumes a role between paternal and big brother.
A book that starts with a P.I.’s phone battery dying because he’s watching his daughter starts off with a certain tone—mildly comedic and light. Sure, there are legitimately tense and violent scenes (nothing that couldn’t show up on Prime Time TV), but the book retains that lightness. It’s practically wholesome—particularly any scene that features Charlie’s family.
The investigation itself is full of a bunch of great turns. And Charlie’s investigative chops are pretty evident.
I don’t know if this is the beginning of a series or just a fun one-off. Either way, it’s a satisfying time, and I recommend you pick it up. I’d enjoy watching little Callie grow while her dad tackles more cases. But if this is it, I can imagine that happening anyway. I expect I won’t be alone in hoping we get to see the family again.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from St. Martin’s Press & Minotaur Books via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Stakeouts and Strollers About?
Charlie Shaw, a former investigative reporter, is now a rookie P.I. His boss has him working low-risk cases as he learns the job—and because he’s a new dad. Charlie is besotted with his little girl, Callie. So much so that he does things like wear down his phone battery enough watching her on the monitor so he doesn’t have enough power to take the photos he needs to document his target’s affair.
Soon after, he’s back on the case and tracks the woman to the home of the man she’s having an affair with. Beyond getting the photos he needs to satisfy the client, two significant things happen.
First, he runs into a teenage girl who is seemingly trying to follow the same person. Secondly, he witnesses the man his target was seeing get beaten by a large man and acts to help him.
My summary is getting convoluted—that’s on me, not Phillips. Charlie tracks down the girl—Friday Finley—who didn’t turn out to have anything to do with anyone that was at the scene he met her at. She’s actually trying to track down her father, who ghosted her and her mother years ago, and is now seemingly tied to some criminals working out of a dive bar.
Charlie’s between jobs, thanks to getting the incriminating photos, so he can help Friday track down her dad. This is where things get complicated and dangerous.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
The cover and title caught my eye, and the premise sold me.
I kept reading because Phillips’ text is smooth and engaging, and Charlie is one of those narrators that you can’t help but like immediately, so you want to see how things turn out for him. And I can’t imagine how a reader can’t want to know what happens next for Friday once they’ve met her.
Basically, everything about the book made me want to keep going.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
The big through-line with this book is family. Sometimes we’re talking about found families, but most of this is blood family.
Some of the families are dysfunctional, some are loving and supportive, some are still figuring themselves out, some are falling apart—but this novel is just littered with families. It’s the key to practically every motivation, decision, and goal for these characters.
Family is something many of us take for granted, at least one we can undervalue, given whatever day/stage of life we’re in. But seeing these characters do all these various and sundry things because of family rings so true. When X is doing Y for reason Z, it’s easy to dismiss Z as folly or greed. But as soon as it becomes “for reason Z and family,” both the character X and the action Y become relatable, understandable, and possibly even sympathetic.
This is on just about every page of this novel, and more than any other reason, it’s what grounds this work and draws you in.
So, what did I think about Stakeouts and Strollers?
This is just fun—Charlie’s got all the makings of a decent fictional PI, but Callie is a big distraction for him. Which makes you like him all the more—he’s such a girl dad. When it comes to Friday, he assumes a role between paternal and big brother.
A book that starts with a P.I.’s phone battery dying because he’s watching his daughter starts off with a certain tone—mildly comedic and light. Sure, there are legitimately tense and violent scenes (nothing that couldn’t show up on Prime Time TV), but the book retains that lightness. It’s practically wholesome—particularly any scene that features Charlie’s family.
The investigation itself is full of a bunch of great turns. And Charlie’s investigative chops are pretty evident.
I don’t know if this is the beginning of a series or just a fun one-off. Either way, it’s a satisfying time, and I recommend you pick it up. I’d enjoy watching little Callie grow while her dad tackles more cases. But if this is it, I can imagine that happening anyway. I expect I won’t be alone in hoping we get to see the family again.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from St. Martin’s Press & Minotaur Books via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Black Bag About?
A struggling character actor (who seems to primarily pay the bills with dinner theater gigs) receives an unusual offer—a local university professor wants to hire him as part of an experiment. He is to attend three class sessions a week wearing a large black satchel—only his lower legs and feet are to be visible. He is to not interact with anyone—no speaking, no gesturing, no reacting to anything while on campus.
In exchange, Black Bag gets a roll of cash each week.
Easy enough, right? But it’s harder to not interact with other people than our actor realizes. And while this inspires him to look for other atypical roles, they’re not that easy to get (and he’s not that sure he wants them). His childhood friend—a game streamer—starts to see ways to monetize Black Bag (I’m not saying his friend’s hallucinogen use inspires these ideas, but I’m not saying they don’t). Also, another professor starts to take an interest in Black Bag for their own purposes.
So, what did I think about Black Bag?
Let me start by saying that the opening paragraphs to this are among my favorite in the last year or so—the rest of the book is worth the time, too.
Beyond that…I’m finding it difficult to really talk about what the novel seems to want to talk about without talking about events and things said in the last 10-20% of the book. I’m not sure how important it is to avoid plot points when discussing this particular novel, because the plot seems tertiary (at best) for Black Bag, but I have an aversion to doing that.
I’m not entirely convinced that Kennard has an agenda that he’s trying to push—and if he does, he’s certainly not leading anyone by horns to it—but he wants the reader to think about certain ideas/themes. Some prominent ones (I won’t try to be exhaustive here, I’d fail) are: the place of art in society and how it should try to shape discourse; the intensity of online communities—and how fragile they are; sex without emotional attachment; monetization of personal details online; post-humanism; academic politics; contemporary expressions of masculinity—and the various movements cropping up to address the “crisis” of it; the need for attachment to others.
If the plot is tertiary, the themes and issues in focus are definitely primary. I think the characters are, too. At times—and even now—I’m tempted to see the characters as flat, merely placeholders for Kennard to attach arguments/points of view on. Arguably, this is a valid reading. But each of the characters is more than that—they’re all fairly well-drawn, and the depth of each one is seen in the way they react to and interact with Black Bag. Just as Dr. Blend intended.
Do they project their desire for a get-rich-quick scheme onto it? Or perhaps they see it as a tool for sexual pleasure. One student sees the bag as a solid point to discuss the class with (at?) in place of the erratic professor. And then there’s the narrator himself, at times in danger of becoming more than Black Bag—detached from humanity, his career, his reality—losing himself to fantasy during the lectures, observing those around him, doing little more than noting their reactions to him. The more we consider how the characters respond to Black Bag, the more we see about them. And, breaking the fourth wall (the narrator does this himself, inviting the reader to do the same), the way the reader reacts to Black Bag at various points of the novel reveals something about ourselves, too.
The narration itself is deceptively breezy and light. It is possible to lose yourself in the pacing and ease of the narrator’s conversational address to the reader and gloss over details—inherently, this is a strength. It would be very easy for this book to fall over under the weight of its own pretensions, but Kennard protects it from that. It keeps the reader engaged and entertained—Black Bag is frequently funny, both in how he bumbles through life and how he describes that to the reader.
I also find myself asking at this point, how would I react to the novel on a re-read? Knowing where all of this is happening, what meaning that Black Bag finds (for example) in the experiment, how would I react to him at the beginning, and in his early sessions. As a thought experiment, I’m getting nowhere—but I can’t stop wondering.
Surreal and absurd in the best way, full of challenging ideas, and brought to life through a very oddball collection of characters, Black Bag is a novel you won’t soon forget (nor will you want to).
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Zando Projects via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Black Bag About?
A struggling character actor (who seems to primarily pay the bills with dinner theater gigs) receives an unusual offer—a local university professor wants to hire him as part of an experiment. He is to attend three class sessions a week wearing a large black satchel—only his lower legs and feet are to be visible. He is to not interact with anyone—no speaking, no gesturing, no reacting to anything while on campus.
In exchange, Black Bag gets a roll of cash each week.
Easy enough, right? But it’s harder to not interact with other people than our actor realizes. And while this inspires him to look for other atypical roles, they’re not that easy to get (and he’s not that sure he wants them). His childhood friend—a game streamer—starts to see ways to monetize Black Bag (I’m not saying his friend’s hallucinogen use inspires these ideas, but I’m not saying they don’t). Also, another professor starts to take an interest in Black Bag for their own purposes.
So, what did I think about Black Bag?
Let me start by saying that the opening paragraphs to this are among my favorite in the last year or so—the rest of the book is worth the time, too.
Beyond that…I’m finding it difficult to really talk about what the novel seems to want to talk about without talking about events and things said in the last 10-20% of the book. I’m not sure how important it is to avoid plot points when discussing this particular novel, because the plot seems tertiary (at best) for Black Bag, but I have an aversion to doing that.
I’m not entirely convinced that Kennard has an agenda that he’s trying to push—and if he does, he’s certainly not leading anyone by horns to it—but he wants the reader to think about certain ideas/themes. Some prominent ones (I won’t try to be exhaustive here, I’d fail) are: the place of art in society and how it should try to shape discourse; the intensity of online communities—and how fragile they are; sex without emotional attachment; monetization of personal details online; post-humanism; academic politics; contemporary expressions of masculinity—and the various movements cropping up to address the “crisis” of it; the need for attachment to others.
If the plot is tertiary, the themes and issues in focus are definitely primary. I think the characters are, too. At times—and even now—I’m tempted to see the characters as flat, merely placeholders for Kennard to attach arguments/points of view on. Arguably, this is a valid reading. But each of the characters is more than that—they’re all fairly well-drawn, and the depth of each one is seen in the way they react to and interact with Black Bag. Just as Dr. Blend intended.
Do they project their desire for a get-rich-quick scheme onto it? Or perhaps they see it as a tool for sexual pleasure. One student sees the bag as a solid point to discuss the class with (at?) in place of the erratic professor. And then there’s the narrator himself, at times in danger of becoming more than Black Bag—detached from humanity, his career, his reality—losing himself to fantasy during the lectures, observing those around him, doing little more than noting their reactions to him. The more we consider how the characters respond to Black Bag, the more we see about them. And, breaking the fourth wall (the narrator does this himself, inviting the reader to do the same), the way the reader reacts to Black Bag at various points of the novel reveals something about ourselves, too.
The narration itself is deceptively breezy and light. It is possible to lose yourself in the pacing and ease of the narrator’s conversational address to the reader and gloss over details—inherently, this is a strength. It would be very easy for this book to fall over under the weight of its own pretensions, but Kennard protects it from that. It keeps the reader engaged and entertained—Black Bag is frequently funny, both in how he bumbles through life and how he describes that to the reader.
I also find myself asking at this point, how would I react to the novel on a re-read? Knowing where all of this is happening, what meaning that Black Bag finds (for example) in the experiment, how would I react to him at the beginning, and in his early sessions. As a thought experiment, I’m getting nowhere—but I can’t stop wondering.
Surreal and absurd in the best way, full of challenging ideas, and brought to life through a very oddball collection of characters, Black Bag is a novel you won’t soon forget (nor will you want to).
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Zando Projects via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
Huh. Didn’t see that coming.
The InCryptid series is really a series of small arcs featuring a particular narrator before we move on to the next. Back in 2020 and 2021, we got an arc featuring Sarah Zellaby. Then we moved on to a pair of books focusing on Alice and then two on Aunt Mary.
But whoops–we’re not actually done with Sarah’s arc. It wasn’t a duology after all; it was a trilogy, and McGuire’s back to tie everything up.
I didn’t think we needed that. But now I see how much we did and how the series as a whole is better for it.
So, What is Butterfly Effects About?
So, we’d learned in Sarah’s books that the Johrlac on Earth (and in the wake of destruction they’d left behind) aren’t Johrlac-proper, they’re a bunch who’d been ejected from their home world for being as awful as we’d thought. These cuckoos were practically a separate species at this point, and most of what people on Earth knew about the cuckoos or Johrlac was horribly wrong.
And basically, everyone had moved on–it didn’t matter anymore, because there were only a handful left on Earth and Sarah had removed the ticking genetic time-bombs from them.
Except…the Johrlac are a really uptight bunch and once they saw what Sarah had done, they came to Earth and arrested her to be tried for crimes against Johrlac law. They also kidnapped Arthur to be used as State’s Exhibit A in the show trial, right out of the Edo of Rubicun III vs. Wesley Crusher on “Justice.”
Back on Earth, Annie and Alice get word of this, so they grab Thomas and use some of Alice’s remaining travel spells and inter-dimensional know-how to launch a rescue mission (and Sam insists on coming along).
And things get interesting from there…
We Sing It Anyway
I almost never discuss the novellas packaged with McGuire novels–and I’m not going to do that this time, either. Primarily because it’s solely “here’s what happens because of the novels conclusion next.” So to really talk about it would be to talk about the last half-chapter of the novel in detail.
So why am I talking about it at all? Just because I’m sure some readers are like me and don’t always read the novellas. Don’t skip this one. Trust me.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I grabbed this because I’ve been on board for this series since the beginning.
Why did I keep reading? Pretty much everything I have said–or am about to say–about the book. I wasn’t prepared for McGuire to revisit this storyline, and I enjoyed getting to see what she was up to. I thought the world of the Johrlac was utterly fascinating–and watching the chaos that follows Annie, Sarah, and Alice as they interact with it was as entertaining as it could be.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
That’s the tricky thing, isn’t it? Given this series, I’m going to have to broaden this idea to “people” or “persons.” Also, a good part of it is about just how non-human some of these people can be.
Yet there’s something that humans and other non-human species can relate to in the middle of all the otherness.
(also, McGuire’s a human and all of her species are going to reflect that in some way, it can’t be helped)
The culture of the Johrlac is all about the collective–but there are several individuals expressing themselves (and we can assume some others we don’t encounter) in various and sundry ways. Most of these individual expressions are small–insignificant, really. But you get enough insignificant acts, and something noticeable can happen.
That’s one of the main things this book is about. While collectives–like both the Johrlac or the Price-Healys–are important, and together can accomplish great feats. It’s the individuals involved in them, and their interests and strengths, that make the collectives powerful.
So, what did I think about Butterfly Effects?
This is one of the better books in this series lately. I do worry that we’re becoming too dependent on the Annie/Sam/Alice/Thomas antics to the detriment of the others. But also? I don’t care, because I like Annie/Sam/Alice/Thomas, and everyone else is busy raising kids, so I prefer them out of danger.
The story took a lot of twists and turns that keep you on your toes. Not just on your toes, either, there are a few outright surprises. Some of those surprises come from the fact that the main action of this novel isn’t on Earth, and our friends don’t have to pull their punches so they can stay under the radar. Annie and her fire can do a whole lot when given the chance.
But this isn’t all danger, twists, and fire–there’s a lot of fun to be had on this alien world. It’s so strange that you just can’t help but have fun.
Action, heart, and plenty of smiles. This series shines brightest when McGuire brings these elements to the forefront. Butterfly Effects is proof of that.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Tor Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
Huh. Didn’t see that coming.
The InCryptid series is really a series of small arcs featuring a particular narrator before we move on to the next. Back in 2020 and 2021, we got an arc featuring Sarah Zellaby. Then we moved on to a pair of books focusing on Alice and then two on Aunt Mary.
But whoops–we’re not actually done with Sarah’s arc. It wasn’t a duology after all; it was a trilogy, and McGuire’s back to tie everything up.
I didn’t think we needed that. But now I see how much we did and how the series as a whole is better for it.
So, What is Butterfly Effects About?
So, we’d learned in Sarah’s books that the Johrlac on Earth (and in the wake of destruction they’d left behind) aren’t Johrlac-proper, they’re a bunch who’d been ejected from their home world for being as awful as we’d thought. These cuckoos were practically a separate species at this point, and most of what people on Earth knew about the cuckoos or Johrlac was horribly wrong.
And basically, everyone had moved on–it didn’t matter anymore, because there were only a handful left on Earth and Sarah had removed the ticking genetic time-bombs from them.
Except…the Johrlac are a really uptight bunch and once they saw what Sarah had done, they came to Earth and arrested her to be tried for crimes against Johrlac law. They also kidnapped Arthur to be used as State’s Exhibit A in the show trial, right out of the Edo of Rubicun III vs. Wesley Crusher on “Justice.”
Back on Earth, Annie and Alice get word of this, so they grab Thomas and use some of Alice’s remaining travel spells and inter-dimensional know-how to launch a rescue mission (and Sam insists on coming along).
And things get interesting from there…
We Sing It Anyway
I almost never discuss the novellas packaged with McGuire novels–and I’m not going to do that this time, either. Primarily because it’s solely “here’s what happens because of the novels conclusion next.” So to really talk about it would be to talk about the last half-chapter of the novel in detail.
So why am I talking about it at all? Just because I’m sure some readers are like me and don’t always read the novellas. Don’t skip this one. Trust me.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I grabbed this because I’ve been on board for this series since the beginning.
Why did I keep reading? Pretty much everything I have said–or am about to say–about the book. I wasn’t prepared for McGuire to revisit this storyline, and I enjoyed getting to see what she was up to. I thought the world of the Johrlac was utterly fascinating–and watching the chaos that follows Annie, Sarah, and Alice as they interact with it was as entertaining as it could be.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
That’s the tricky thing, isn’t it? Given this series, I’m going to have to broaden this idea to “people” or “persons.” Also, a good part of it is about just how non-human some of these people can be.
Yet there’s something that humans and other non-human species can relate to in the middle of all the otherness.
(also, McGuire’s a human and all of her species are going to reflect that in some way, it can’t be helped)
The culture of the Johrlac is all about the collective–but there are several individuals expressing themselves (and we can assume some others we don’t encounter) in various and sundry ways. Most of these individual expressions are small–insignificant, really. But you get enough insignificant acts, and something noticeable can happen.
That’s one of the main things this book is about. While collectives–like both the Johrlac or the Price-Healys–are important, and together can accomplish great feats. It’s the individuals involved in them, and their interests and strengths, that make the collectives powerful.
So, what did I think about Butterfly Effects?
This is one of the better books in this series lately. I do worry that we’re becoming too dependent on the Annie/Sam/Alice/Thomas antics to the detriment of the others. But also? I don’t care, because I like Annie/Sam/Alice/Thomas, and everyone else is busy raising kids, so I prefer them out of danger.
The story took a lot of twists and turns that keep you on your toes. Not just on your toes, either, there are a few outright surprises. Some of those surprises come from the fact that the main action of this novel isn’t on Earth, and our friends don’t have to pull their punches so they can stay under the radar. Annie and her fire can do a whole lot when given the chance.
But this isn’t all danger, twists, and fire–there’s a lot of fun to be had on this alien world. It’s so strange that you just can’t help but have fun.
Action, heart, and plenty of smiles. This series shines brightest when McGuire brings these elements to the forefront. Butterfly Effects is proof of that.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Tor Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s The Dentist About?
DS George Cross is called to a murder scene for what the uniformed officers are assuming is going to be a simple, probably unsolvable, murder of a homeless man at the hands of another homeless person. Cross almost instantly sees some things that tell him that’s not the case at all, and saddles up for a complicated case.
It is a complicated one, too (obviously, you don’t want your novel’s protagonist to be wrong at the first thing he concludes in the book). Cross and his not-very-willing partner, DS Josie Ottey, start learning a good deal about this homeless man—who not that long ago was a prominent dentist in the area. Cross becomes convinced that this murder is tied to an unsolved case from over a decade ago and sets himself to solving both crimes.
This sets him at odds with former police detectives who investigated the earlier case, the higher ups in the Service who are looking for a quick conclusion, and parts of the dentist’s own family. Ottley supports him in this, but gets the other side, too—and will try to guide him to the “safer” conclusion (while hoping his obstinacy will show that he’s not the person she should be partnered with for the next case).
I Have to Talk About Cross and the Spectrum
We meet George Cross having a very awkward introduction to a new coworker—it doesn’t go well for either of them (and only one of them understands why). And then he finds calm in leaving that conversation to focus on the murder victim in front of him. A crime to investigate, clues to notice, a puzzle to solve—that’s what Cross needs. Not a friendly (and we’ll learn, clever) new coworker.
In many ways, Asperger’s Syndrome* is what distinguishes Cross from his peers (on the force and in Police Procedural fiction). But Sullivan never makes this out to be a super-power (as so many tend to do), or a disability for him to overcome in some inspirational manner (phew). Nor—and this is the big one—is it played for comedy (think Adrian Monk’s OCD which is portrayed comedically, tragically, and with sensitivity—often in the same scene.)
It’s just who Cross is. He is off-putting, he is borderline rude, he only realizes how to better handle a conversation at work or in private after the fact (and almost never goes back to redress things). He is hyper-focused at times, to the point of obsession. He is very self-aware of his challenges and has done many things to ease his way through them (one would argue, not enough). His co-workers and superiors are also very aware of his challenges and have done things to ease his way through them (one would more easily argue, not enough).
He’s on the spectrum, just the way that Ottley is a black single mom. The way that his father is a hoarder. The way that their civilian aid is anxious to prove herself. The way their DCI is a better politician than a detective (but one who can see when he needs to get out of the way and let detectives detect). It’s just part of him.
That’s the way this should be handled.
* I realize that “Asperger’s Syndrome” is considered an outdated term, but it’s what the novel uses, so I’m using it, too.
How was the Narration?
Well, first I had to cope with Heffernan’s pronunciation of “Asperger’s” (well, the British pronunciation, its not just his). It doesn’t really matter to me, but it, more than anything, reminded me where this book takes place (I really didn’t register the accent otherwise).
Other than that—I really appreciated and enjoyed Heffernan’s work here. He got the tension just right (when appropriate) and captured the humanity of all the characters and Cross’ investigation. He conveyed the rigor of Cross’ style and thought process as well.
I don’t know if I can separate the Heffernan’s reading of the book from my appreciation of it—it’s likely a series that I’ll have to continue on audio, because the two are joined so solidly in my mind. (and, boy, do I hope Heffernan’s got a long-term contract).
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this read “Mind and Matters of Crime: Meike Alana Lokos at the DS George Cross Mysteries” over at The Hard Word and the series seemed like something I should give a shot.
I kept going because I was right—this is totally my thing. Some great characters, a unique way to approach a criminal investigation, and a pretty twisty mystery. What does this book tell us about humanity?
It feels like the obvious thing here is to talk about Cross being on the spectrum, and the way that others respond to him, avoid him, get frustrated with him, and yet respect his work. Or the way that has learned to make his way in the world. This is valid and important.
It also feels too easy—and like something I could copy and paste for the next however many books there are. More than that, it wasn’t the thing that jumped out at me the most.
What really rises to the top when I think about this book are the connections between the people—what forges them, what strengths (or weakens them), and how that plays out over the course of their lives. Cross and his father have a very solid relationship—it’s predictable, it’s reliable. Cross and Ottley have a…strained and awkward relationship—but one that Cross somewhat depends on, one that Ottley frequently resents (I think she softens a bit). The relationship between Cross and his superiors isn’t what you get from other procedurals—even with “the brass” isn’t wild about a particular detective who does things their own way.
And as for the relationships between the victims, suspects, and others that Cross encounters in this case—those are firmly in spoiler territory, but watching the web be revealed—and add layers as the book goes on was really intriguing. The book really is about human relationships and much of their diversity more than just about anything else—including the murders. (although, well, they’re rooted in them, too.)
So, what did I think about The Dentist?
I was charmed instantly, by the end of Chapter One—I was sold. My appreciation and enjoyment grew from there, and I wasn’t halfway through before I knew I was at least getting the sequel to this soon. And anticipated catching up on the series by the end of 2026.
This satisfied me on every front—mystery, character, storytelling, writing, and promise for things to come. I felt like I understood Cross and Ottley, and wanted to see them ply their craft with another case or twelve.
Lastly, while DS Cross isn’t DC Smith, and no one would confuse the Bristol police with King’s Lake Central—there’s something about this book (and Heffernan’s narration) that scratched a Peter Grainger-itch in my psyche. This is good, because now that I’ve caught up with Grainger’s series, he can’t produce things quickly enough to satisfy me. Also, it’s pretty high praise in my book for Sullivan.
For readers who are into British Procedurals, atypical Detectives, and/or quality fiction. I strongly encourage you to pick this up.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s The Dentist About?
DS George Cross is called to a murder scene for what the uniformed officers are assuming is going to be a simple, probably unsolvable, murder of a homeless man at the hands of another homeless person. Cross almost instantly sees some things that tell him that’s not the case at all, and saddles up for a complicated case.
It is a complicated one, too (obviously, you don’t want your novel’s protagonist to be wrong at the first thing he concludes in the book). Cross and his not-very-willing partner, DS Josie Ottey, start learning a good deal about this homeless man—who not that long ago was a prominent dentist in the area. Cross becomes convinced that this murder is tied to an unsolved case from over a decade ago and sets himself to solving both crimes.
This sets him at odds with former police detectives who investigated the earlier case, the higher ups in the Service who are looking for a quick conclusion, and parts of the dentist’s own family. Ottley supports him in this, but gets the other side, too—and will try to guide him to the “safer” conclusion (while hoping his obstinacy will show that he’s not the person she should be partnered with for the next case).
I Have to Talk About Cross and the Spectrum
We meet George Cross having a very awkward introduction to a new coworker—it doesn’t go well for either of them (and only one of them understands why). And then he finds calm in leaving that conversation to focus on the murder victim in front of him. A crime to investigate, clues to notice, a puzzle to solve—that’s what Cross needs. Not a friendly (and we’ll learn, clever) new coworker.
In many ways, Asperger’s Syndrome* is what distinguishes Cross from his peers (on the force and in Police Procedural fiction). But Sullivan never makes this out to be a super-power (as so many tend to do), or a disability for him to overcome in some inspirational manner (phew). Nor—and this is the big one—is it played for comedy (think Adrian Monk’s OCD which is portrayed comedically, tragically, and with sensitivity—often in the same scene.)
It’s just who Cross is. He is off-putting, he is borderline rude, he only realizes how to better handle a conversation at work or in private after the fact (and almost never goes back to redress things). He is hyper-focused at times, to the point of obsession. He is very self-aware of his challenges and has done many things to ease his way through them (one would argue, not enough). His co-workers and superiors are also very aware of his challenges and have done things to ease his way through them (one would more easily argue, not enough).
He’s on the spectrum, just the way that Ottley is a black single mom. The way that his father is a hoarder. The way that their civilian aid is anxious to prove herself. The way their DCI is a better politician than a detective (but one who can see when he needs to get out of the way and let detectives detect). It’s just part of him.
That’s the way this should be handled.
* I realize that “Asperger’s Syndrome” is considered an outdated term, but it’s what the novel uses, so I’m using it, too.
How was the Narration?
Well, first I had to cope with Heffernan’s pronunciation of “Asperger’s” (well, the British pronunciation, its not just his). It doesn’t really matter to me, but it, more than anything, reminded me where this book takes place (I really didn’t register the accent otherwise).
Other than that—I really appreciated and enjoyed Heffernan’s work here. He got the tension just right (when appropriate) and captured the humanity of all the characters and Cross’ investigation. He conveyed the rigor of Cross’ style and thought process as well.
I don’t know if I can separate the Heffernan’s reading of the book from my appreciation of it—it’s likely a series that I’ll have to continue on audio, because the two are joined so solidly in my mind. (and, boy, do I hope Heffernan’s got a long-term contract).
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this read “Mind and Matters of Crime: Meike Alana Lokos at the DS George Cross Mysteries” over at The Hard Word and the series seemed like something I should give a shot.
I kept going because I was right—this is totally my thing. Some great characters, a unique way to approach a criminal investigation, and a pretty twisty mystery. What does this book tell us about humanity?
It feels like the obvious thing here is to talk about Cross being on the spectrum, and the way that others respond to him, avoid him, get frustrated with him, and yet respect his work. Or the way that has learned to make his way in the world. This is valid and important.
It also feels too easy—and like something I could copy and paste for the next however many books there are. More than that, it wasn’t the thing that jumped out at me the most.
What really rises to the top when I think about this book are the connections between the people—what forges them, what strengths (or weakens them), and how that plays out over the course of their lives. Cross and his father have a very solid relationship—it’s predictable, it’s reliable. Cross and Ottley have a…strained and awkward relationship—but one that Cross somewhat depends on, one that Ottley frequently resents (I think she softens a bit). The relationship between Cross and his superiors isn’t what you get from other procedurals—even with “the brass” isn’t wild about a particular detective who does things their own way.
And as for the relationships between the victims, suspects, and others that Cross encounters in this case—those are firmly in spoiler territory, but watching the web be revealed—and add layers as the book goes on was really intriguing. The book really is about human relationships and much of their diversity more than just about anything else—including the murders. (although, well, they’re rooted in them, too.)
So, what did I think about The Dentist?
I was charmed instantly, by the end of Chapter One—I was sold. My appreciation and enjoyment grew from there, and I wasn’t halfway through before I knew I was at least getting the sequel to this soon. And anticipated catching up on the series by the end of 2026.
This satisfied me on every front—mystery, character, storytelling, writing, and promise for things to come. I felt like I understood Cross and Ottley, and wanted to see them ply their craft with another case or twelve.
Lastly, while DS Cross isn’t DC Smith, and no one would confuse the Bristol police with King’s Lake Central—there’s something about this book (and Heffernan’s narration) that scratched a Peter Grainger-itch in my psyche. This is good, because now that I’ve caught up with Grainger’s series, he can’t produce things quickly enough to satisfy me. Also, it’s pretty high praise in my book for Sullivan.
For readers who are into British Procedurals, atypical Detectives, and/or quality fiction. I strongly encourage you to pick this up.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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What’s Nine Goblins' Book Jacket Say?
No one knows exactly how the Goblin War began, but folks will tell you that goblins are stinking, slinking, filthy, sheep-stealing, henhouse-raiding, obnoxious, rude, and violent. Goblins would actually agree with all this, and might throw in “cowardly” and “lazy” too for good measure.
But goblins don’t go around killing people for fun, no matter what the propaganda posters say. And when a confrontation with an evil wizard lands a troop of nine goblins deep behind enemy lines, goblin sergeant Nessilka must figure out how to keep her hapless band together and get them home in one piece.
Unfortunately, between them and safety lies a forest full of elves, trolls, monsters, and that most terrifying of creatures…a human being.
Sings-to-Trees
Nessilka and her troops are not the sole focus of the book. We also spend a lot of time with an Elf who is a veterinarian. We meet Sings-to-Trees when he’s struggling to help deliver a breach unicorn—it took me back to James Herriot books that I read in Junior High—but with a bit more graphic detail than the genteel Herriot would give.
I was very happy to read in the Author’s Note that he was the inspiration of Sings-to-Trees, incidentally.
While the goblins are good for laughs and ridiculous antics, Sings-to-Trees grounds this in a sort of reality, and brings most of the heart and maturity to the book.
There’s part of me that wonders why we got him in this book rather than some other party that seems more thematically on point. But I liked him so much that I really don’t care if it doesn’t make sense to feature a veterinarian in this. (then again, something making sense would feel a little out of place)
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up on the strength of A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking.
I kept reading for a few reasons: it was too short to quit once I started (not that I ever wanted to, I’m just saying); and it was so sweet and amusing that I couldn’t help but keep going.
So, what did I think about Nine Goblins?
I like this side of goblins—it reminded me of Jim C. Hines’ Jig the Goblin. The nasty, grim, killing type of goblin is all well and good. Same for the super-clever tinkerer types. But there’s something about the not-terribly-bright, misunderstood goblin that really gets me.
But this book is about more than that; there’s this great elf—and some okay elves, too. And the wizard turned out to be a lot more interesting than you’d think when we first met him (and an interesting wizard is always a welcome sight).
I laughed, I chortled and chuckled, and I found a lot of this to be surprisingly sweet. It’s a quick read that’s practically pure pleasure. Fantasy fans should pick it up.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Nine Goblins' Book Jacket Say?
No one knows exactly how the Goblin War began, but folks will tell you that goblins are stinking, slinking, filthy, sheep-stealing, henhouse-raiding, obnoxious, rude, and violent. Goblins would actually agree with all this, and might throw in “cowardly” and “lazy” too for good measure.
But goblins don’t go around killing people for fun, no matter what the propaganda posters say. And when a confrontation with an evil wizard lands a troop of nine goblins deep behind enemy lines, goblin sergeant Nessilka must figure out how to keep her hapless band together and get them home in one piece.
Unfortunately, between them and safety lies a forest full of elves, trolls, monsters, and that most terrifying of creatures…a human being.
Sings-to-Trees
Nessilka and her troops are not the sole focus of the book. We also spend a lot of time with an Elf who is a veterinarian. We meet Sings-to-Trees when he’s struggling to help deliver a breach unicorn—it took me back to James Herriot books that I read in Junior High—but with a bit more graphic detail than the genteel Herriot would give.
I was very happy to read in the Author’s Note that he was the inspiration of Sings-to-Trees, incidentally.
While the goblins are good for laughs and ridiculous antics, Sings-to-Trees grounds this in a sort of reality, and brings most of the heart and maturity to the book.
There’s part of me that wonders why we got him in this book rather than some other party that seems more thematically on point. But I liked him so much that I really don’t care if it doesn’t make sense to feature a veterinarian in this. (then again, something making sense would feel a little out of place)
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up on the strength of A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking.
I kept reading for a few reasons: it was too short to quit once I started (not that I ever wanted to, I’m just saying); and it was so sweet and amusing that I couldn’t help but keep going.
So, what did I think about Nine Goblins?
I like this side of goblins—it reminded me of Jim C. Hines’ Jig the Goblin. The nasty, grim, killing type of goblin is all well and good. Same for the super-clever tinkerer types. But there’s something about the not-terribly-bright, misunderstood goblin that really gets me.
But this book is about more than that; there’s this great elf—and some okay elves, too. And the wizard turned out to be a lot more interesting than you’d think when we first met him (and an interesting wizard is always a welcome sight).
I laughed, I chortled and chuckled, and I found a lot of this to be surprisingly sweet. It’s a quick read that’s practically pure pleasure. Fantasy fans should pick it up.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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What’s the Description of The Greatest Sentence Ever Written?
To celebrate America’s 250th anniversary, Walter Isaacson takes readers on a fascinating deep dive into the creation of one of history’s most powerful sentences: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”
Drafted by Thomas Jefferson and edited by Benjamin Franklin and John Adams, this line lays the foundation for the American Dream and defines the common ground we share as a nation.
Isaacson unpacks its genius, word by word, illuminating the then-radical concepts behind it. Readers will gain a fresh appreciation for how it was drafted to inspire unity, equality, and the enduring promise of America. With clarity and insight, he reveals not just the power of these words but describes how, in these polarized times, we can use them to restore an appreciation for our common values.
How Was the Narration?
If this is how his lectures go? Sign me up for a class. Isaacson comes across as a knowledgeable person just talking to you about something he cares deeply about–not as someone reading text (even text he wrote). There’s just enough personality to it to keep you listening, but not so much that it overshadows the material.
It’s just what this book needs.
So, what did I think about The Greatest Sentence Ever Written?
It feels strange to talk about a book that clocks in at 80 pages or 88 minutes in audiobook format (and that counts the appendices). But that’s how it’s being sold, so that’s how I’m going to talk about it. And really, he’d have had to tackle at least one more sentence
Do I wish he’d spent a little more time on a phrase or two? Did I really need as much detail has he gave on one thing or another? Yes to both. But I can’t remember what those things were now. And if I listened to/read it again today, I’d probably have other things I’d like to hear more/less about.
At the end of the day, this is a very nice meditation on that vital sentence, and a reminder that it’s still something important, something to rally around.
For the 250th anniversary of the Declaration, this is something important to think about. On the 249th or 252nd, it would be to. It’s sort of an evergreen idea. Probably an evergreen book, too.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s the Description of The Greatest Sentence Ever Written?
To celebrate America’s 250th anniversary, Walter Isaacson takes readers on a fascinating deep dive into the creation of one of history’s most powerful sentences: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”
Drafted by Thomas Jefferson and edited by Benjamin Franklin and John Adams, this line lays the foundation for the American Dream and defines the common ground we share as a nation.
Isaacson unpacks its genius, word by word, illuminating the then-radical concepts behind it. Readers will gain a fresh appreciation for how it was drafted to inspire unity, equality, and the enduring promise of America. With clarity and insight, he reveals not just the power of these words but describes how, in these polarized times, we can use them to restore an appreciation for our common values.
How Was the Narration?
If this is how his lectures go? Sign me up for a class. Isaacson comes across as a knowledgeable person just talking to you about something he cares deeply about–not as someone reading text (even text he wrote). There’s just enough personality to it to keep you listening, but not so much that it overshadows the material.
It’s just what this book needs.
So, what did I think about The Greatest Sentence Ever Written?
It feels strange to talk about a book that clocks in at 80 pages or 88 minutes in audiobook format (and that counts the appendices). But that’s how it’s being sold, so that’s how I’m going to talk about it. And really, he’d have had to tackle at least one more sentence
Do I wish he’d spent a little more time on a phrase or two? Did I really need as much detail has he gave on one thing or another? Yes to both. But I can’t remember what those things were now. And if I listened to/read it again today, I’d probably have other things I’d like to hear more/less about.
At the end of the day, this is a very nice meditation on that vital sentence, and a reminder that it’s still something important, something to rally around.
For the 250th anniversary of the Declaration, this is something important to think about. On the 249th or 252nd, it would be to. It’s sort of an evergreen idea. Probably an evergreen book, too.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- This is such a strange, comforting, hilarious, and relatable collection of short pieces. Some are memoirs, some are humorous pieces, some are hard to define. All are absolutely worth your time. They will warm your heart, bring a smile to your face, and make you feel all sorts of things.
I think this would work well on the page—but do yourself a favor and get it on audio. Myers' delivery is so good (as anyone who's watched her videos knows), hearing her words in her voice really captures the intangibles of the book in a way that I don't think that the page is fully capable of.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- This is such a strange, comforting, hilarious, and relatable collection of short pieces. Some are memoirs, some are humorous pieces, some are hard to define. All are absolutely worth your time. They will warm your heart, bring a smile to your face, and make you feel all sorts of things.
I think this would work well on the page—but do yourself a favor and get it on audio. Myers' delivery is so good (as anyone who's watched her videos knows), hearing her words in her voice really captures the intangibles of the book in a way that I don't think that the page is fully capable of.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- This really fits in the Finley Donovan demographic. It's a little more grounded, a little slower on the romance burn (okay, a lot slower), a little less zanier. But the same overall feel. I didn't get as into all of the plotlines as I was supposed to—and I'd figured out the whodunit, with a pretty good (but growing) confidence in the whydunit early on. But watching our semi-intrepid investigator, Capri Sanzio, wind her way through the investigation was entertaining enough.
I didn't buy her podcast recording at all (and it would've been good to see her do something other than record episodes). But the rest was okay.
It was as entertaining as you'd want this to be—not an inch more. But good enough.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- This really fits in the Finley Donovan demographic. It's a little more grounded, a little slower on the romance burn (okay, a lot slower), a little less zanier. But the same overall feel. I didn't get as into all of the plotlines as I was supposed to—and I'd figured out the whodunit, with a pretty good (but growing) confidence in the whydunit early on. But watching our semi-intrepid investigator, Capri Sanzio, wind her way through the investigation was entertaining enough.
I didn't buy her podcast recording at all (and it would've been good to see her do something other than record episodes). But the rest was okay.
It was as entertaining as you'd want this to be—not an inch more. But good enough.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- Individually, these characters were just fantastic—plenty of quirk, plenty of heart, plenty of "I just want to live a quiet life with books and nice people" kind of energy. Sign me up for that! The murder mysteries were intriguing enough, too. But combining the characters and the murders—with too many amateur detectives running around—it all felt very soapy. Very melodramatic.
I flitted back and forth between "Oh, I really like Character X and want to see what happens to them" and "Oh, please, shut up and return to reality! Cut the melodrama!" so often I got whiplash.
I'd recommend it with several caveats and a stress on low-expectations. Then again, I could name worse.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- Individually, these characters were just fantastic—plenty of quirk, plenty of heart, plenty of "I just want to live a quiet life with books and nice people" kind of energy. Sign me up for that! The murder mysteries were intriguing enough, too. But combining the characters and the murders—with too many amateur detectives running around—it all felt very soapy. Very melodramatic.
I flitted back and forth between "Oh, I really like Character X and want to see what happens to them" and "Oh, please, shut up and return to reality! Cut the melodrama!" so often I got whiplash.
I'd recommend it with several caveats and a stress on low-expectations. Then again, I could name worse.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- This is quotable, clever, and filled with interesting characters. It's also a little too convoluted; it's hard to believe some of the interpersonal relationships with the characters, and the solution is a bit of a letdown.
That said, from the first page to the last I was hooked and couldn't stop reading it. Most of it worked in the moment, or was something I could shrug off while reading it. But when I was done and started thinking about it, I the doubts and quibbles kept growing.
Maybe Sandlin couldn't really figure out the book he was trying to write—tone, characters, and/or outcome—he wouldn't be the first author to do that. As much as a lot of the passages sang—the book, in retrospect, was just good enough. Read this one to enjoy the journey, not necessarily the destination.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- This is quotable, clever, and filled with interesting characters. It's also a little too convoluted; it's hard to believe some of the interpersonal relationships with the characters, and the solution is a bit of a letdown.
That said, from the first page to the last I was hooked and couldn't stop reading it. Most of it worked in the moment, or was something I could shrug off while reading it. But when I was done and started thinking about it, I the doubts and quibbles kept growing.
Maybe Sandlin couldn't really figure out the book he was trying to write—tone, characters, and/or outcome—he wouldn't be the first author to do that. As much as a lot of the passages sang—the book, in retrospect, was just good enough. Read this one to enjoy the journey, not necessarily the destination.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- I didn't write a full post on this because I can't write a sentence about what I think about it without writing one contradicting it. And then one defending the first sentence. And then one defending the second. And then...
I love the concept of this book. Think the execution was wonderful. There's so, so, so many cool things and ideas packed in here. But it's also slow and plodding. It could be argued that 80% of the book is setup and only the last 20% is the story. That 20% (an estimate, I didn't really do the math) is pretty cool and almost makes up for the rest.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- I didn't write a full post on this because I can't write a sentence about what I think about it without writing one contradicting it. And then one defending the first sentence. And then one defending the second. And then...
I love the concept of this book. Think the execution was wonderful. There's so, so, so many cool things and ideas packed in here. But it's also slow and plodding. It could be argued that 80% of the book is setup and only the last 20% is the story. That 20% (an estimate, I didn't really do the math) is pretty cool and almost makes up for the rest.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- I enjoyed (and apparently didn't write about) Chilton's Swiped a couple of years ago. Almost none of the charm or zaniness of that book made its way here. I'm not saying I expected a carbon copy, obviously, but this could almost have been written by someone else.
A lot of the framing of this story was well done—and the way it was ordered was, too. But I could practically see that all of the heart and character were sacrificed for the sake of clever plotting and telling. And if I have to go on without one of those pairs, I know which one it should be.
I'm not saying that I'm done with Chilton, but I won't be in a rush for whatever's next.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- I enjoyed (and apparently didn't write about) Chilton's Swiped a couple of years ago. Almost none of the charm or zaniness of that book made its way here. I'm not saying I expected a carbon copy, obviously, but this could almost have been written by someone else.
A lot of the framing of this story was well done—and the way it was ordered was, too. But I could practically see that all of the heart and character were sacrificed for the sake of clever plotting and telling. And if I have to go on without one of those pairs, I know which one it should be.
I'm not saying that I'm done with Chilton, but I won't be in a rush for whatever's next.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- Professor Jason Fitger is a delightful character (in fiction, please don't sit next to him at a dinner or stand near him at a party. Or maybe don't be in the same room with him). He's full of himself, a little self-deluded, put-upon, and (probably) past his prime with a career going nowhere (but hey, tenure!).
We learn about him through a series of letters of recommendation he's sending to various businesses, schools, programs, and scholarships for his students; interdepartmental emails; emails to old friends/ex-lovers/ex-wife; and maybe one or two others. I like a good epistolary novel, and this is one of them. We learn about Fitger, and a couple of his students, the moves his University is making to gut itself of the liberal arts, and more, in a way that feels incredibly authentic and very entertaining.
Still, I don't think I could take it if the book was much longer, and I don't know that I want to read the rest of the trilogy (but I kind of do).
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader as part of a quick takes post to catch up. The point of these posts is to be pithy, not thorough (as I typically strive for). --- Professor Jason Fitger is a delightful character (in fiction, please don't sit next to him at a dinner or stand near him at a party. Or maybe don't be in the same room with him). He's full of himself, a little self-deluded, put-upon, and (probably) past his prime with a career going nowhere (but hey, tenure!).
We learn about him through a series of letters of recommendation he's sending to various businesses, schools, programs, and scholarships for his students; interdepartmental emails; emails to old friends/ex-lovers/ex-wife; and maybe one or two others. I like a good epistolary novel, and this is one of them. We learn about Fitger, and a couple of his students, the moves his University is making to gut itself of the liberal arts, and more, in a way that feels incredibly authentic and very entertaining.
Still, I don't think I could take it if the book was much longer, and I don't know that I want to read the rest of the trilogy (but I kind of do).
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared in Grandpappy's Corner at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!.
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What’s The Man Who Walked Between the Towers About?
This is the story of Philippe Petit’s 1974 courageous and dramatic (and reckless, perhaps foolish) tightrope walk between the towers of the World Trade Center. Petit spent about an hour going back and forth between the towers entertaining onlookers and frustrating police on both ends of his wire, waiting to apprehend him.
Well, I Didn’t Expect That
This was originally published in 2003—so at least a good portion of it was written/illustrated after the Towers were destroyed and we get a couple of pages about how they aren’t there any more. Which takes this book from an enjoyable tale of some reckless bravado and art to a meditation on art’s fleeting aspect. Sure things like books, photographs, illustrations are more permanent. But the act—the performance—is just for a moment.
I can be inspired by watching footage and documentaries about this event, or reading books like this (or ones for grownups) about it. But, at best, I’m getting it second-hand. Even things we think are going to be around for ages, like buildings, don’t last—something as ephemeral as art and the way it impacts the audience can’t be either (although the echoes and memories in our minds and lives do).
I don’t know how much of that can really be communicated to the audience—for which object permanence as a concept wasn’t that long ago. But at least for older readers, that’s going to hit a bit.
Let’s Talk about the Art for a Minute
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t experience acrophobia—not crippling, but I’ve flirted with it on occasion. I won’t and can’t say that this art induced that reaction in me. But it got me as close to it that a Picture Book could. Gerstein captured the reality of Petit’s world—while keeping it fanciful enough to engage younger readers and to capture the spirit of the man and event.
There are a couple of pages, that fold out, too to increase the reader’s impression of the feat. Great idea and Gerstein’s execution of it was a highlight.
I can only be effusively positive when it comes to the art, it seems. And I’m okay with that.
How is it to Read Aloud?
This is a straight-forward narrative. Nothing flashy about it, so it’s easy. The page layouts (and pages without text) will help the older reader convey the meaning to their younger companions. And those text-less page provide plenty of space for discussion about the images.
So, what did I think about The Man Who Walked Between the Towers?
I expected something a bit more playful, imaginative, and perhaps just goofy. This is on me—I just didn’t see this as fodder for a Picture Book outside of that.
But nooooo, Gerstein had to prove me wrong.
This is just facts—presented in a way that will appeal and be understandable to a younger reader. But that’s it. A nice “torn from the headlines” kind of story. It should inspire, amuse, and (hopefully) dazzle the audience.
I’m very impressed with this work on several levels and absolutely understand how it made “25 Greatest Picture Books of the Past 25 Years” list.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared in Grandpappy's Corner at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!.
---
What’s The Man Who Walked Between the Towers About?
This is the story of Philippe Petit’s 1974 courageous and dramatic (and reckless, perhaps foolish) tightrope walk between the towers of the World Trade Center. Petit spent about an hour going back and forth between the towers entertaining onlookers and frustrating police on both ends of his wire, waiting to apprehend him.
Well, I Didn’t Expect That
This was originally published in 2003—so at least a good portion of it was written/illustrated after the Towers were destroyed and we get a couple of pages about how they aren’t there any more. Which takes this book from an enjoyable tale of some reckless bravado and art to a meditation on art’s fleeting aspect. Sure things like books, photographs, illustrations are more permanent. But the act—the performance—is just for a moment.
I can be inspired by watching footage and documentaries about this event, or reading books like this (or ones for grownups) about it. But, at best, I’m getting it second-hand. Even things we think are going to be around for ages, like buildings, don’t last—something as ephemeral as art and the way it impacts the audience can’t be either (although the echoes and memories in our minds and lives do).
I don’t know how much of that can really be communicated to the audience—for which object permanence as a concept wasn’t that long ago. But at least for older readers, that’s going to hit a bit.
Let’s Talk about the Art for a Minute
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t experience acrophobia—not crippling, but I’ve flirted with it on occasion. I won’t and can’t say that this art induced that reaction in me. But it got me as close to it that a Picture Book could. Gerstein captured the reality of Petit’s world—while keeping it fanciful enough to engage younger readers and to capture the spirit of the man and event.
There are a couple of pages, that fold out, too to increase the reader’s impression of the feat. Great idea and Gerstein’s execution of it was a highlight.
I can only be effusively positive when it comes to the art, it seems. And I’m okay with that.
How is it to Read Aloud?
This is a straight-forward narrative. Nothing flashy about it, so it’s easy. The page layouts (and pages without text) will help the older reader convey the meaning to their younger companions. And those text-less page provide plenty of space for discussion about the images.
So, what did I think about The Man Who Walked Between the Towers?
I expected something a bit more playful, imaginative, and perhaps just goofy. This is on me—I just didn’t see this as fodder for a Picture Book outside of that.
But nooooo, Gerstein had to prove me wrong.
This is just facts—presented in a way that will appeal and be understandable to a younger reader. But that’s it. A nice “torn from the headlines” kind of story. It should inspire, amuse, and (hopefully) dazzle the audience.
I’m very impressed with this work on several levels and absolutely understand how it made “25 Greatest Picture Books of the Past 25 Years” list.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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Short Novels?
Let’s address this thing that’s been irking me. The title page calls these “Six Short Novels.”
Nope. Just nope.
I know, there are no hard and fast rules about length of a novel, novella, etc. But five of these works clock in around 40 pages. That is not—no way, no how—a novel.
The sixth, “Collision,” is around 90 pages. I’ll buy that as a novella—or a “short novel.” But even that feels like stretching things too much.
Just had to get that off of my chest—it’s been bugging me since I read the Table of Contents.
Also, that’s the last negative you’re going to see in this post.
What’s The Final Score?
Don Winslow un-retires with this stunning collection of six crime stories. Beyond that, it’s hard to describe them all as a group—they all differ in tone, voice, side of the law, style, and how much you’d like to see the protagonist punished/get away with something.
The Final Score
We start off with the “title track”—a story about a man who’s made a career of robbery, trying to go for his final score to provide for his wife as his career is ending. There’s something sweet about it (if you ignore all the felonies and risks to human life).
But there are surprises waiting for him.
This is a solid start to the book—I liked the characters, the pacing, and story. It’s not Winslow’s best, but I’m not complaining about it.
The Sunday List
This is only a crime story by technicality. But whatever it is, I really enjoyed it.
In the shadow of the Vietnam draft, Nick, a teenager with ambition beyond the hippie life his parents live, works hard to make it to college—and will do all sorts of things to get the money for it. Even if that means crossing a few lines.
The North Wing
There’s an old-school mafia vibe to this story. Family ties are tested when a police officer’s cousin gets into legal trouble.
There are so many beats in this story that feel familiar—even if only from Winslow’s oeuvre. But there’s a freshness to it, and Winslow’s ability to make you care about anything that separates this from the familiar.
True Story
Remember the part in Goodfellas where Henry Hill tells us all the names and nicknames of the men he works with? Imagine if that went on for pages and pages—with some digressions for stories about some of the men with those monikers.
In something that feels like it could’ve been a comic-relief in The Sopranos, this features two guys with some sort of mob ties in an extended conversation over breakfast. They’re basically gossiping about various men they know—what they’ve been up to lately, where their nickname comes from, and whatnot.
It was ridiculously fun—and every time you start to think that the shtick might be getting tired, they say something else that makes you get over it.
I strongly suggest making sure that you have enough time to finish this one before you start it—the end of my lunch break interrupted things for me, and it took a little too much effort to get back into the flow of things when I got home. But it was so worth it.
If it weren’t for the next story, I’d say it was the most entertaining entry in the collection.
The Lunch Break
But in any collection featuring Winslow’s Dawn Patrol, just about everything else is going to pale in comparison—at least for me. Boone is hired to watch over a movie star to keep her from getting carried away with drugs, drink, carousing, or anything else that will derail filming of her current film. He brings along Dave the Love God and High Tide to provide around-the-clock observation.
Things get wild from there.
“She sounds like trouble, bruddah.”
“She’s about five-three, can’t go more than a buck-five,” Dave said. “How much trouble could she be?”
Now he knows.
Bad things come in small packages.
This might be my favorite Dawn Patrol story since the first novel. (in a perfect world, Winslow’s next collection would be all his short Dawn Patrol stories with a few new ones thrown in)
Collision
The crowning achievement of the book. From the beginning you can tell that things are going too well, and that just can’t last.
And it doesn’t. What comes next will cause your stomach to drop. Your blood pressure to spike. Your heart to come close to breaking (if not further). I don’t know what to say that won’t take away from the experience for you—and I don’t want to do that.
It’s just so good.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
When I decided that I want to start talking about this kind of thing, I didn’t really think it through. Sometimes, it’s just this simple.
I picked it up because: Don Winslow.
I kept reading because: Don Winslow.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
One thing that seems prominent through all of these stories (with one possible exception) is the human potential, if not propensity, to change.
It’s not always going to be for the best—or even for the better. Sometimes change will just be change. Sometimes change will be for the detriment of the person doing the changing—or those they love.
But the characters in this book are not static, even in these short pages, they evolve, they develop, they show that whatever their lives may be like at one point in their life (not always in their youth), they can—through their choices and actions (frequently pushed by choices and actions of others), their stories, their lives, are not set in stone—they can change the direction they head in.
It’s both inspiring and a warning.
So, what did I think about The Final Score?
Reed Farrel Coleman pays tribute to Winslow in the Foreword to this collection, talking about Winslow’s dedication to the craft, his gifted writing, and the diversity of stories he tells. Which is incredibly fitting for this book—which really just shows off that ability of Winslow’s.
Every story in this collection was a winner, will likely end up in your personal “all time short story canon,” and will make you want to re-read them again and again to fully appreciate them.
I can’t recommend this enough.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
Short Novels?
Let’s address this thing that’s been irking me. The title page calls these “Six Short Novels.”
Nope. Just nope.
I know, there are no hard and fast rules about length of a novel, novella, etc. But five of these works clock in around 40 pages. That is not—no way, no how—a novel.
The sixth, “Collision,” is around 90 pages. I’ll buy that as a novella—or a “short novel.” But even that feels like stretching things too much.
Just had to get that off of my chest—it’s been bugging me since I read the Table of Contents.
Also, that’s the last negative you’re going to see in this post.
What’s The Final Score?
Don Winslow un-retires with this stunning collection of six crime stories. Beyond that, it’s hard to describe them all as a group—they all differ in tone, voice, side of the law, style, and how much you’d like to see the protagonist punished/get away with something.
The Final Score
We start off with the “title track”—a story about a man who’s made a career of robbery, trying to go for his final score to provide for his wife as his career is ending. There’s something sweet about it (if you ignore all the felonies and risks to human life).
But there are surprises waiting for him.
This is a solid start to the book—I liked the characters, the pacing, and story. It’s not Winslow’s best, but I’m not complaining about it.
The Sunday List
This is only a crime story by technicality. But whatever it is, I really enjoyed it.
In the shadow of the Vietnam draft, Nick, a teenager with ambition beyond the hippie life his parents live, works hard to make it to college—and will do all sorts of things to get the money for it. Even if that means crossing a few lines.
The North Wing
There’s an old-school mafia vibe to this story. Family ties are tested when a police officer’s cousin gets into legal trouble.
There are so many beats in this story that feel familiar—even if only from Winslow’s oeuvre. But there’s a freshness to it, and Winslow’s ability to make you care about anything that separates this from the familiar.
True Story
Remember the part in Goodfellas where Henry Hill tells us all the names and nicknames of the men he works with? Imagine if that went on for pages and pages—with some digressions for stories about some of the men with those monikers.
In something that feels like it could’ve been a comic-relief in The Sopranos, this features two guys with some sort of mob ties in an extended conversation over breakfast. They’re basically gossiping about various men they know—what they’ve been up to lately, where their nickname comes from, and whatnot.
It was ridiculously fun—and every time you start to think that the shtick might be getting tired, they say something else that makes you get over it.
I strongly suggest making sure that you have enough time to finish this one before you start it—the end of my lunch break interrupted things for me, and it took a little too much effort to get back into the flow of things when I got home. But it was so worth it.
If it weren’t for the next story, I’d say it was the most entertaining entry in the collection.
The Lunch Break
But in any collection featuring Winslow’s Dawn Patrol, just about everything else is going to pale in comparison—at least for me. Boone is hired to watch over a movie star to keep her from getting carried away with drugs, drink, carousing, or anything else that will derail filming of her current film. He brings along Dave the Love God and High Tide to provide around-the-clock observation.
Things get wild from there.
“She sounds like trouble, bruddah.”
“She’s about five-three, can’t go more than a buck-five,” Dave said. “How much trouble could she be?”
Now he knows.
Bad things come in small packages.
This might be my favorite Dawn Patrol story since the first novel. (in a perfect world, Winslow’s next collection would be all his short Dawn Patrol stories with a few new ones thrown in)
Collision
The crowning achievement of the book. From the beginning you can tell that things are going too well, and that just can’t last.
And it doesn’t. What comes next will cause your stomach to drop. Your blood pressure to spike. Your heart to come close to breaking (if not further). I don’t know what to say that won’t take away from the experience for you—and I don’t want to do that.
It’s just so good.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
When I decided that I want to start talking about this kind of thing, I didn’t really think it through. Sometimes, it’s just this simple.
I picked it up because: Don Winslow.
I kept reading because: Don Winslow.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
One thing that seems prominent through all of these stories (with one possible exception) is the human potential, if not propensity, to change.
It’s not always going to be for the best—or even for the better. Sometimes change will just be change. Sometimes change will be for the detriment of the person doing the changing—or those they love.
But the characters in this book are not static, even in these short pages, they evolve, they develop, they show that whatever their lives may be like at one point in their life (not always in their youth), they can—through their choices and actions (frequently pushed by choices and actions of others), their stories, their lives, are not set in stone—they can change the direction they head in.
It’s both inspiring and a warning.
So, what did I think about The Final Score?
Reed Farrel Coleman pays tribute to Winslow in the Foreword to this collection, talking about Winslow’s dedication to the craft, his gifted writing, and the diversity of stories he tells. Which is incredibly fitting for this book—which really just shows off that ability of Winslow’s.
Every story in this collection was a winner, will likely end up in your personal “all time short story canon,” and will make you want to re-read them again and again to fully appreciate them.
I can’t recommend this enough.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter About?
A widow in her thirties struggles to keep the charity that she and her husband started afloat in 1920’s Montreal. They find stray cats on the street, get them cleaned up, spayed/neutered, whatever other basic veterinary care they need, and then match them with loving homes.
Oh, and her new landlord turns out to be the most feared and reviled magic user in the world.
I know, I know…that tired plot again.*
That’s all well and good—it’s just a business relationship, right? But at a certain point his business starts interfering with and threatening her charity (and the cats!). So Agnes decides she has to start meddling to keep anything truly harmful from happening. Even if that means spending time with said magician. Who is not at all attractive and charming, thank you very much.
* I truly hope the sarcasm there is obvious. But I’ve been missing a lot of swings like that lately.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I thought the plot seemed amusing enough, but I was probably convinced to pick this up by my curiosity about what Fawcett could do outside of Emily Wilde‘s adventures.
I stuck with it because of Agnes. Sure, the story and other characters were fun and kept me reading. But for me, it’s all about Agnes. Her attitude, her fortitude, the way she acts as if she can bend reality to her will (she sure seems capable of turning the wills of most around her to hers)—she’s just a dynamo and you can believe that this non-magical person (anti-magic actually) can hold her own with people throwing spells around.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
There’s a good deal we can learn from Agnes about tenacity, about the power of people coming together in a common cause, about grief.
But the thing that stood out the most to me—and given the title, it’s probably to be expected—is the very human magic of pairing someone—man, woman, or child—with a pet fit for them. There’s the initial joy, and then long-term benefits as well. It’s that king of magic that keeps Agnes going. It’s what gets her sister to help, her volunteers to keep showing up, and it’s the way that people she’s matched with their cat that come to her aid—that fills the book with its heart.
So, what did I think about Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter?
It’s not often that I read a book featuring pets that don’t happen to be dogs, so it may come as some kind of surprise when I talk about one—I don’t know that I’d go so far as to say it surprised me, too—but it did seem a little strange.
This book was a pleasure from start to finish—I really didn’t know what to expect. But Fawcett sold the setting, the characters, and the story—it was all perfectly charming and engaging. The magic system seems really fitting for this world, and better than others. You get someone like Raistlin Majere or Harry Dresden running around, and I just don’t think it’d work as well.
There were some plot turns that I didn’t see coming—and maybe should’ve, but I enjoyed being taken unawares—and the bigger reveals at the end were so satisfying.
If you like Emily Wilde, you’ll like Agnes Aubert—they’re not the same character, but the core of each is pretty similar (as differently as they express that core). The rest of the characters are almost as good—the tertiary characters and the people she runs into in the neighborhood are just as well-drawn as the primary/secondary characters. Same for the cats and their personalities. There’s a treasure trove of personalities to get to know here.
This is a fantasy that’s full of charm and heart—you’ll be glad you picked this up.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Del Rey via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter About?
A widow in her thirties struggles to keep the charity that she and her husband started afloat in 1920’s Montreal. They find stray cats on the street, get them cleaned up, spayed/neutered, whatever other basic veterinary care they need, and then match them with loving homes.
Oh, and her new landlord turns out to be the most feared and reviled magic user in the world.
I know, I know…that tired plot again.*
That’s all well and good—it’s just a business relationship, right? But at a certain point his business starts interfering with and threatening her charity (and the cats!). So Agnes decides she has to start meddling to keep anything truly harmful from happening. Even if that means spending time with said magician. Who is not at all attractive and charming, thank you very much.
* I truly hope the sarcasm there is obvious. But I’ve been missing a lot of swings like that lately.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I thought the plot seemed amusing enough, but I was probably convinced to pick this up by my curiosity about what Fawcett could do outside of Emily Wilde‘s adventures.
I stuck with it because of Agnes. Sure, the story and other characters were fun and kept me reading. But for me, it’s all about Agnes. Her attitude, her fortitude, the way she acts as if she can bend reality to her will (she sure seems capable of turning the wills of most around her to hers)—she’s just a dynamo and you can believe that this non-magical person (anti-magic actually) can hold her own with people throwing spells around.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
There’s a good deal we can learn from Agnes about tenacity, about the power of people coming together in a common cause, about grief.
But the thing that stood out the most to me—and given the title, it’s probably to be expected—is the very human magic of pairing someone—man, woman, or child—with a pet fit for them. There’s the initial joy, and then long-term benefits as well. It’s that king of magic that keeps Agnes going. It’s what gets her sister to help, her volunteers to keep showing up, and it’s the way that people she’s matched with their cat that come to her aid—that fills the book with its heart.
So, what did I think about Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter?
It’s not often that I read a book featuring pets that don’t happen to be dogs, so it may come as some kind of surprise when I talk about one—I don’t know that I’d go so far as to say it surprised me, too—but it did seem a little strange.
This book was a pleasure from start to finish—I really didn’t know what to expect. But Fawcett sold the setting, the characters, and the story—it was all perfectly charming and engaging. The magic system seems really fitting for this world, and better than others. You get someone like Raistlin Majere or Harry Dresden running around, and I just don’t think it’d work as well.
There were some plot turns that I didn’t see coming—and maybe should’ve, but I enjoyed being taken unawares—and the bigger reveals at the end were so satisfying.
If you like Emily Wilde, you’ll like Agnes Aubert—they’re not the same character, but the core of each is pretty similar (as differently as they express that core). The rest of the characters are almost as good—the tertiary characters and the people she runs into in the neighborhood are just as well-drawn as the primary/secondary characters. Same for the cats and their personalities. There’s a treasure trove of personalities to get to know here.
This is a fantasy that’s full of charm and heart—you’ll be glad you picked this up.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Del Rey via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Strange Animals About?
Following a strange near-death experience, Green feels a compulsion to get back to nature. Well, maybe not “back,” he seems like someone very comfortable in the city. But you get what I mean.
So he sells his home, quits his job, puts everything in storage, and heads out. He’s drawn to Appalachia and sets out to find a long-term campsite to start whatever this next stage of life is.
Along the way, Green meets some delightfully odd characters—and I wish I had the room to talk about them, but you want Anderson to introduce you to them anyway.
His first night in his campsite he sees animals that can’t exist. He’d be tempted to think he had a hallucination or two if it weren’t for some evidence that people who weren’t around can also see.
From there, Green starts to learn about strange creatures all around him—and learns not to call them strange. They’re not strange, they’re not monsters (despite what some appear to be) or anything else derogatory. They’re simply uncommon—so uncommon that very few can see them. But Earth is just as much their home as it is to mice, giraffes, or emus. Of course, not every common animal should be around people, and that applies to some of these uncommon creatures, too.
Can Green and his new friends stop one who seems to be hunting humans?
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I can’t tell you specifically what it was that appealed to me in the NetGalley advertisement I got for this book, but it intrigued me. Lightly skimming Witty & Sarcastic Book Club’s post about it intensified that (I only read deep enough to pick up her tone, so I didn’t inadvertently steal any of her points).
What kept me reading? There was something about Chapter 0 that got me. It didn’t matter what happened for the rest of the book—I was sold, and the rest of the book was going to have to be really lousy to get the hook that it put in me dislodged. At the end of Chapter 1, my notes read, “I think I might be falling in love with this book.”
And yes, I said Chapter 0—that wasn’t a typo. Anyone who numbers chapters like that has to intrigue a reader, right?
What does this book tell us about humanity?
I walked away with two things on this front.
First, humans need nature. Plants, animals, sunsets/rises—the works. When we shut up and pay attention to it—better if we can get further away from population centers (as nice as they and their technologies and comforts may be) to focus on it—there’s a benefit to our health. At least mental. Probably physical—and spiritual (depending on how you want to define that). This is the central drive for Green—and while it ends up not being what he expected, it’s this that fulfills him. As he connects with both the common and uncommon around him, he’s renewed and bettered.
Second, and it’s hard to say which is more important, is that people need—and will find—community. In this case, Green finds a few groups of people and brings a couple together (or at least is a bridge between them). He’s an outsider to this area, but finds himself befriending these groups almost instantly. These two—and one much larger—converge on the area (more precisely, Green and his teacher) when the chips are down, and people need help. Somewhat to protect people in general, but largely to protect “their people” (for lack of a better term). The communities step up in a way that we all want to see—and frequently do. It’s rather encouraging.
So, what did I think about Strange Animals?
Anderson checks all the boxes here—he can put together a sentence just right, if this wasn’t an ARC, I’d be struggling to keep my quotations to a reasonable limit; he creates fantastic characters and gets the reader to invest in them with very few words (and rewards that investment); the imagination demonstrated in this world and the uncommon animals—and the depiction of the common flora and fauna—makes you want to see more from him; and he can tell a pretty engaging story. Check, check, check, and check. If there are problems with this book, they’re minor.
Okay, there’s something toward the end that I’m rabidly curious about and want to know so much more about what happens. But I’m really glad Anderson just elides past it.
Still, if he wants to give me a call and describe it to me, I’ll give him my number.
This is not your typical Fantasy novel, for sure. It captures an Appalachian area in a similar way (though in different states) that Alex Bledsoe’s Tufa series did, which really makes me want to visit the real world version. Actually, as I say that, I realize that this book left me feeling the same way that the first Tufa novel, The Hum and the Shiver did. There are few books that I can say that about.
There’s something special going on in these pages. I encourage you to look into them yourself and see if you agree.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Strange Animals About?
Following a strange near-death experience, Green feels a compulsion to get back to nature. Well, maybe not “back,” he seems like someone very comfortable in the city. But you get what I mean.
So he sells his home, quits his job, puts everything in storage, and heads out. He’s drawn to Appalachia and sets out to find a long-term campsite to start whatever this next stage of life is.
Along the way, Green meets some delightfully odd characters—and I wish I had the room to talk about them, but you want Anderson to introduce you to them anyway.
His first night in his campsite he sees animals that can’t exist. He’d be tempted to think he had a hallucination or two if it weren’t for some evidence that people who weren’t around can also see.
From there, Green starts to learn about strange creatures all around him—and learns not to call them strange. They’re not strange, they’re not monsters (despite what some appear to be) or anything else derogatory. They’re simply uncommon—so uncommon that very few can see them. But Earth is just as much their home as it is to mice, giraffes, or emus. Of course, not every common animal should be around people, and that applies to some of these uncommon creatures, too.
Can Green and his new friends stop one who seems to be hunting humans?
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I can’t tell you specifically what it was that appealed to me in the NetGalley advertisement I got for this book, but it intrigued me. Lightly skimming Witty & Sarcastic Book Club’s post about it intensified that (I only read deep enough to pick up her tone, so I didn’t inadvertently steal any of her points).
What kept me reading? There was something about Chapter 0 that got me. It didn’t matter what happened for the rest of the book—I was sold, and the rest of the book was going to have to be really lousy to get the hook that it put in me dislodged. At the end of Chapter 1, my notes read, “I think I might be falling in love with this book.”
And yes, I said Chapter 0—that wasn’t a typo. Anyone who numbers chapters like that has to intrigue a reader, right?
What does this book tell us about humanity?
I walked away with two things on this front.
First, humans need nature. Plants, animals, sunsets/rises—the works. When we shut up and pay attention to it—better if we can get further away from population centers (as nice as they and their technologies and comforts may be) to focus on it—there’s a benefit to our health. At least mental. Probably physical—and spiritual (depending on how you want to define that). This is the central drive for Green—and while it ends up not being what he expected, it’s this that fulfills him. As he connects with both the common and uncommon around him, he’s renewed and bettered.
Second, and it’s hard to say which is more important, is that people need—and will find—community. In this case, Green finds a few groups of people and brings a couple together (or at least is a bridge between them). He’s an outsider to this area, but finds himself befriending these groups almost instantly. These two—and one much larger—converge on the area (more precisely, Green and his teacher) when the chips are down, and people need help. Somewhat to protect people in general, but largely to protect “their people” (for lack of a better term). The communities step up in a way that we all want to see—and frequently do. It’s rather encouraging.
So, what did I think about Strange Animals?
Anderson checks all the boxes here—he can put together a sentence just right, if this wasn’t an ARC, I’d be struggling to keep my quotations to a reasonable limit; he creates fantastic characters and gets the reader to invest in them with very few words (and rewards that investment); the imagination demonstrated in this world and the uncommon animals—and the depiction of the common flora and fauna—makes you want to see more from him; and he can tell a pretty engaging story. Check, check, check, and check. If there are problems with this book, they’re minor.
Okay, there’s something toward the end that I’m rabidly curious about and want to know so much more about what happens. But I’m really glad Anderson just elides past it.
Still, if he wants to give me a call and describe it to me, I’ll give him my number.
This is not your typical Fantasy novel, for sure. It captures an Appalachian area in a similar way (though in different states) that Alex Bledsoe’s Tufa series did, which really makes me want to visit the real world version. Actually, as I say that, I realize that this book left me feeling the same way that the first Tufa novel, The Hum and the Shiver did. There are few books that I can say that about.
There’s something special going on in these pages. I encourage you to look into them yourself and see if you agree.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Everybody Wants to Rule the World About?
The year is 1985, and apparently, there are USSR spies everywhere. At least in Washington, D.C. and Atlanta, GA. Reagan’s push for his “Star Wars” program is strong, and the KGB wants to know all it can about it before a summit between Gorbachev and Reagan. Tensions are high, cards are set up, and one teenaged boy is about to send them toppling over.
Because his mom is dating a jerk and Peter has an active imagination fueled by pulp novels and sensationalized “news.” He becomes convinced that his mom is dating a Russian agent and tries to enlist the help of a mostly failed novelist (and his drag queen buddy, a retired NFL player) to expose the boyfriend.
Meanwhile, a KGB officer defects so he can reunite with the love of his life; an actual Russian agent (who may, or may not be the boyfriend) has killed someone; the FBI is investigating that death, and another Federal agent wants to run away with an exotic dancer and is trying to leverage that defector to help him do that.
There’s gotta be another storyline or three that I didnt’t squeeze into that paragraph, too.
The point is, there’s a lot going on. Few of the people involved are properly qualified to deal with it. And the direction of the Cold War hinges on what happens over the next few weeks.
It should be noted that this is a comedy.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
It’s Ace Atkins—the last decade has taught me that I’m likely to enjoy a book he writes. Also—a comedic take on Russian deep cover agents in the 80s is right up my alley. Put the two of those together…
I stuck with it because that’s exactly what was delivered. A great plot with more twists than a corkscrew, a great voice, and an oddball cast of characters.
What Does this Book Say about Humanity?
There is a deep thread of self-deception going on throughout the book—the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, how others regard us, and what we think we’re capable of.
There are a couple of major characters who are honest about themselves—and largely understand others. But the rest are deluded to one degree or another—how heroic they are, how things will go when they reunite with an old flame, how their life will be better when they ditch their wife and kids for someone new (who any rational person will see isn’t that into you), how the world is against them, and so on.
Some of these are understandable—the teenage male tossing aside common sense because a hot stranger seems into him. Some are relatable, maybe even admirable—the writer who hasn’t sold anything in ages continuing to try. But the others are kind of sad once you stop to think about them—but you do have to force yourself to stop and think about them, because Atkins has you too focused on jogging to keep up with the book and chuckling at their foibles.
The 80s of It
There are a couple of ways to approach the time setting of the 80s. One way is to go over-the-top like The Wedding Singer or That 80s Show. The other way is restrained—like The Americans or Mad Men (different era, but same idea).
Atkins mostly stuck to the restrained approach, it is an 80s story with 80s concerns and ideas and the setting is appropriately depicted.
But every now and then, in the spirit of the book’s flavor, I do think he went a little over-the-top with the references in a Sandler-esque way. And I loved each time he did that. Over all, Atkins goes for realism and restraint—but when he indulges himself (and/or the reader), it’s just a treat.
Oh, and this is maybe a Content Warning I should give…you’ll find yourselves thinking a lot about Prince and Phil Collins, possibly driven to listen to them…at the very least, you’ll have a couple of songs acting as earworms for days.
So, what did I think about Everybody Wants to Rule the World?
I wasn’t thrilled with Atkins stepping away from the Spenser or Quinn Colson series, as curious as I was about what he’d do next. I’m still not—but if this is what he’s doing instead? I’m getting over it quickly.
This was ridiculous fun. Fast-paced, not quite frantic (because Atkins doesn’t let it happen) filled with crazy coincidences, turns you cannot see coming, twists you think you see coming and are only right occasionally, real people doing stupid and human things—frequently illegal, too.
It is a comedic work, but that comedy is successful because none of the characters is in a comedy. They’re all deadly serious (though some will express that by being a smart arse), worried, scared, or scheming. The danger is real, the stakes are high, people get hurt, lives are changed—it’s a very straightforward thriller that way. But when you can see the whole board, see what they don’t know—it’ll bring a grin to your face and possibly a cackle from you.
A lot of social media/news media can make us all think that the world is ending (and, I’m not for a second suggesting that it might not be)—but this book reminds us that it’s almost ended before. And we’re now far enough away from the genuine, grounded, and realistic fears that we can laugh at them. Isn’t it nice to think that 40 years from now, someone can write a book about now to relieve some stress?
I expected to enjoy this book, I didn’t expect to have fun with it. I don’t know how readers who grew up post-Cold War will react to it. But readers of a certain age will have a good time with Everybody Wants to Rule the World.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Everybody Wants to Rule the World About?
The year is 1985, and apparently, there are USSR spies everywhere. At least in Washington, D.C. and Atlanta, GA. Reagan’s push for his “Star Wars” program is strong, and the KGB wants to know all it can about it before a summit between Gorbachev and Reagan. Tensions are high, cards are set up, and one teenaged boy is about to send them toppling over.
Because his mom is dating a jerk and Peter has an active imagination fueled by pulp novels and sensationalized “news.” He becomes convinced that his mom is dating a Russian agent and tries to enlist the help of a mostly failed novelist (and his drag queen buddy, a retired NFL player) to expose the boyfriend.
Meanwhile, a KGB officer defects so he can reunite with the love of his life; an actual Russian agent (who may, or may not be the boyfriend) has killed someone; the FBI is investigating that death, and another Federal agent wants to run away with an exotic dancer and is trying to leverage that defector to help him do that.
There’s gotta be another storyline or three that I didnt’t squeeze into that paragraph, too.
The point is, there’s a lot going on. Few of the people involved are properly qualified to deal with it. And the direction of the Cold War hinges on what happens over the next few weeks.
It should be noted that this is a comedy.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
It’s Ace Atkins—the last decade has taught me that I’m likely to enjoy a book he writes. Also—a comedic take on Russian deep cover agents in the 80s is right up my alley. Put the two of those together…
I stuck with it because that’s exactly what was delivered. A great plot with more twists than a corkscrew, a great voice, and an oddball cast of characters.
What Does this Book Say about Humanity?
There is a deep thread of self-deception going on throughout the book—the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, how others regard us, and what we think we’re capable of.
There are a couple of major characters who are honest about themselves—and largely understand others. But the rest are deluded to one degree or another—how heroic they are, how things will go when they reunite with an old flame, how their life will be better when they ditch their wife and kids for someone new (who any rational person will see isn’t that into you), how the world is against them, and so on.
Some of these are understandable—the teenage male tossing aside common sense because a hot stranger seems into him. Some are relatable, maybe even admirable—the writer who hasn’t sold anything in ages continuing to try. But the others are kind of sad once you stop to think about them—but you do have to force yourself to stop and think about them, because Atkins has you too focused on jogging to keep up with the book and chuckling at their foibles.
The 80s of It
There are a couple of ways to approach the time setting of the 80s. One way is to go over-the-top like The Wedding Singer or That 80s Show. The other way is restrained—like The Americans or Mad Men (different era, but same idea).
Atkins mostly stuck to the restrained approach, it is an 80s story with 80s concerns and ideas and the setting is appropriately depicted.
But every now and then, in the spirit of the book’s flavor, I do think he went a little over-the-top with the references in a Sandler-esque way. And I loved each time he did that. Over all, Atkins goes for realism and restraint—but when he indulges himself (and/or the reader), it’s just a treat.
Oh, and this is maybe a Content Warning I should give…you’ll find yourselves thinking a lot about Prince and Phil Collins, possibly driven to listen to them…at the very least, you’ll have a couple of songs acting as earworms for days.
So, what did I think about Everybody Wants to Rule the World?
I wasn’t thrilled with Atkins stepping away from the Spenser or Quinn Colson series, as curious as I was about what he’d do next. I’m still not—but if this is what he’s doing instead? I’m getting over it quickly.
This was ridiculous fun. Fast-paced, not quite frantic (because Atkins doesn’t let it happen) filled with crazy coincidences, turns you cannot see coming, twists you think you see coming and are only right occasionally, real people doing stupid and human things—frequently illegal, too.
It is a comedic work, but that comedy is successful because none of the characters is in a comedy. They’re all deadly serious (though some will express that by being a smart arse), worried, scared, or scheming. The danger is real, the stakes are high, people get hurt, lives are changed—it’s a very straightforward thriller that way. But when you can see the whole board, see what they don’t know—it’ll bring a grin to your face and possibly a cackle from you.
A lot of social media/news media can make us all think that the world is ending (and, I’m not for a second suggesting that it might not be)—but this book reminds us that it’s almost ended before. And we’re now far enough away from the genuine, grounded, and realistic fears that we can laugh at them. Isn’t it nice to think that 40 years from now, someone can write a book about now to relieve some stress?
I expected to enjoy this book, I didn’t expect to have fun with it. I don’t know how readers who grew up post-Cold War will react to it. But readers of a certain age will have a good time with Everybody Wants to Rule the World.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Dogged About?
Dogged Determination and her mate, Vigilant Aggression, are Wardogs, a canine-humanoid race. They, like the rest of their squad are dedicated to going to other worlds to spread the Emperor’s peace (which could look like conquering a civilization and subduing the populace to someone who isn’t a Wardog). One fateful day, they are marching in formation through a wizard’s portal off to the next mission, and the unthinkable happens—the portal collapses, and the line in front of Dogged is caught half-in/half-out of the portal, leaving chunks (for lack of a better word) of the soldiers on each side.
She and her Kennel Master, stunned, go to report to the Emperor and get the permission of one of the advisors for Dogged to investigate what happened.
The one thing that she has going for her is her determination (she’s aptly named)—when she starts something, she sees it through. She’s not the brightest, she’s not subtle, putting together clues is not probably where she’ll shine But she will not stop looking until she knows what happened to her mate, the others, and why.
The Humans
Along the way she inspires the interest—and eventually loyalty—of the first mate of a commercial ship. Well, acting captain of a ship following a dispute between Dogged and his former captain. There’s sort of a friendship that builds between the two, and Balen sees that Dogged’s just not up for the task ahead of her and decides to help her out—basically acting as her human to Wardog translator. Not long after that, they encounter an elementalist who joins up with them.
The three of them together form a new pack of sorts, providing a kind of connection that Dogged was unprepared for and didn’t seem to know was possible. I don’t want to overplay this idea, but it’s really like Balen and Sahar found a lonely and sad dog at a rescue shelter and decided to bring her home with them. And in them, Dogged may have found her forever home (at least emotionally).
The Tone
Dogged is the best kind of unreliable narrator—she’s not lying (deception is hard for her), but her understanding of the world and people outside her experience and training is limited, so the reader will constantly be interpreting her first-person narration. Like any good dog, her observations and reactions will make an observer smile.
At the same time, Dogged is a warrior. She is great with a spear—and not bad with (human-sized) bladed weapons. But even without that, she’s a walking weapon: full sets of claws at the end of her hands, vicious and sharp teeth, and strength to go up against Conan and his mighty thews. And, yes, she’s trying to learn new ways of dealing with problems and questions—she’s being forced to, anyway. But for her entire life, all she’s ever been given to use is a hammer—every instinct, reflex, and response he has is to treat things as nails.
A lot of blood gets spilled, organs are torn, limbs are severed—starting in the opening scene, and it doesn’t let up.
You get this great mix of bloody violence, canine innocence, and heart. It’s hard to explain—but Fletcher pulled off something fantastic here.
So, what did I think about Dogged?
I think I just said it. This is a fantastic read.
The cover appealed to me and made me look into it. Some of the reviews—starting with Andy Peloquin’s—convinced me that I’d probably enjoy this book. Boy howdy, did they undersell it.
On some other day, I might not have relished this the way I did. But there’s no day where I don’t have an absolute great time with it.
I’m on the verge of overhyping this here. I don’t know what else to say that’s not potentially overblown.
This was the right book for me at the right time—I didn’t expect it, but it’s the case. One of my favorites of 2025—probably the 2020s as a whole. I dunno—let me get some distance on it before I start saying things like that.
I’m just telling ya—get this, you won’t be sorry.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
What’s Dogged About?
Dogged Determination and her mate, Vigilant Aggression, are Wardogs, a canine-humanoid race. They, like the rest of their squad are dedicated to going to other worlds to spread the Emperor’s peace (which could look like conquering a civilization and subduing the populace to someone who isn’t a Wardog). One fateful day, they are marching in formation through a wizard’s portal off to the next mission, and the unthinkable happens—the portal collapses, and the line in front of Dogged is caught half-in/half-out of the portal, leaving chunks (for lack of a better word) of the soldiers on each side.
She and her Kennel Master, stunned, go to report to the Emperor and get the permission of one of the advisors for Dogged to investigate what happened.
The one thing that she has going for her is her determination (she’s aptly named)—when she starts something, she sees it through. She’s not the brightest, she’s not subtle, putting together clues is not probably where she’ll shine But she will not stop looking until she knows what happened to her mate, the others, and why.
The Humans
Along the way she inspires the interest—and eventually loyalty—of the first mate of a commercial ship. Well, acting captain of a ship following a dispute between Dogged and his former captain. There’s sort of a friendship that builds between the two, and Balen sees that Dogged’s just not up for the task ahead of her and decides to help her out—basically acting as her human to Wardog translator. Not long after that, they encounter an elementalist who joins up with them.
The three of them together form a new pack of sorts, providing a kind of connection that Dogged was unprepared for and didn’t seem to know was possible. I don’t want to overplay this idea, but it’s really like Balen and Sahar found a lonely and sad dog at a rescue shelter and decided to bring her home with them. And in them, Dogged may have found her forever home (at least emotionally).
The Tone
Dogged is the best kind of unreliable narrator—she’s not lying (deception is hard for her), but her understanding of the world and people outside her experience and training is limited, so the reader will constantly be interpreting her first-person narration. Like any good dog, her observations and reactions will make an observer smile.
At the same time, Dogged is a warrior. She is great with a spear—and not bad with (human-sized) bladed weapons. But even without that, she’s a walking weapon: full sets of claws at the end of her hands, vicious and sharp teeth, and strength to go up against Conan and his mighty thews. And, yes, she’s trying to learn new ways of dealing with problems and questions—she’s being forced to, anyway. But for her entire life, all she’s ever been given to use is a hammer—every instinct, reflex, and response he has is to treat things as nails.
A lot of blood gets spilled, organs are torn, limbs are severed—starting in the opening scene, and it doesn’t let up.
You get this great mix of bloody violence, canine innocence, and heart. It’s hard to explain—but Fletcher pulled off something fantastic here.
So, what did I think about Dogged?
I think I just said it. This is a fantastic read.
The cover appealed to me and made me look into it. Some of the reviews—starting with Andy Peloquin’s—convinced me that I’d probably enjoy this book. Boy howdy, did they undersell it.
On some other day, I might not have relished this the way I did. But there’s no day where I don’t have an absolute great time with it.
I’m on the verge of overhyping this here. I don’t know what else to say that’s not potentially overblown.
This was the right book for me at the right time—I didn’t expect it, but it’s the case. One of my favorites of 2025—probably the 2020s as a whole. I dunno—let me get some distance on it before I start saying things like that.
I’m just telling ya—get this, you won’t be sorry.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
So much depended on a ball stitched together from thirty-two panels of waterproofed leather. The fans came to see what the players did with that ball: the blazing touchdown runs, the high-flying, bone-crunching hits. And the players played for peanuts. That was the only way any enterprise could achieve the sort of profit margins enjoyed by universities with nationally ranked teams. The trick, though, was convincing the rest of the country that college football was not a business, but instead a game, a contest played on the field of higher education, which also served the Chiefs well when it came time to file their taxes.
Because the University of Central Mississippi was an educational organization, it enjoyed a 501(c)(3) status, which meant nearly every dollar the institution made was exempt from federal income tax. It was the same exception granted to churches…
Yes, Mississippi was in the Bible Belt, but the real holy day, the day when every true Southerner bowed at the altar, was game day. And in just a few more hours, the congregation would gather inside their recently renovated, five-hundred-million-dollar cathedral.
What’s Mississippi Blue 42 About?
Rae Johnson is the only daughter of a legendary college football coach and spent most of her life working to be one, too. But at a certain point, she hit the wall of misogyny (with her own father as a spokesman for the wall) and had to find a new career path. Naturally (?), she chose the FBI. We all see the overlap, right?
Anyway, she’s fresh out of the Academy and is assigned to her first case. She’s been sent to help investigate some financial crime surrounding the University of Central Mississippi’s football program. She knows she got the assignment due to her father, which grates her pride. But, she’s not going to back down from the challenge. Her partner in the investigation has been there for months and hasn’t gotten very far, but he’s determined to uncover the problems that he knows are there.
The veteran agent is just getting her acclimated to the investigation when the team’s quarterback
The Fight for the Soul of Moses McCloud
Moses stared at him, still not sure what to make of Cerge’s story, but thinking it felt right somehow, the wildness of his tale in tune with the flashy locker room: the nude white boys, the ping-pong table, the barber chairs. This wasn’t real life. It was all a dream, a four-year fantasy the players paid for with their lives. Even if they did make it to the League, even if they got paid, they still paid for it. And it wasn’t just their knees or shoulders, not even their brains. It went deeper than that. Once their playing days were over, they would be booted out of Eden, resigned to the stands to watch as the next crop of finely tuned athletes took their place. As extravagant as a Saturday spent tailgating in the Glades was, it did not compare to the roar of the crowd. Only gladiators know true glory.
This book, in many ways, seems to be a fight over the soul of the backup quarterback thrust into a leadership position—will he succumb to the culture of bagmen and fame, or will he risk his potential windfall and give Rae the information she needs?
I really like Moses from the beginning—sure, he’s got all the maturity of a college freshman (read: not as smart as he thinks he is, too easily distracted/led along by good-looking women), but there’s something about him you can’t help but like. I really think the battle for his soul angle isn’t that filled with suspense—it’s just the adults around him that fail to understand what he’s saying and what kind of guy he is all along.
But that actually makes the whole thing more entertaining for everyone who isn’t Moses.
What do I think about this as a series debut?
According to the press kit for this book:
Mississippi Blue 42 is the first in what is planned to be an ongoing series starring FBI Agent Rae Johnson as she and a cast of recurring characters explore crime in the world of sports.
Which sounds promising—especially the “world of sports” part. Not because I’m a big sports guy, but I had a hard time imagining Rae looking into some other kinds of crime because Cranor baked the sports-mindset so deeply into her. You put her in an art crime, or a counterfeit money situation? I just don’t see it working as well (but I was ready to try). Rae hunting down a crew of bank robbers would be interesting to see, I just don’t know if she gets into their heads. But even if you move her to professional sports—even something other than football, she’s got the right mindset, the right background to really give a series legs.
Rae reminds me of Ellie Hatcher, Renée Ballard, and Eve Ronin. She’s got ambition, she’s willing to cut corners (maybe too many), she’s determined to make it in a man’s world—and she lets all of that lead her into some blunders as she learns her way. The question is: will she learn from them? The other women did—I trust she will, too. But making those mistakes is fodder for good fiction along the way.
I do wonder what characters from this book will recur. One strong candidate is Rae’s friend who failed a drug test and got booted from the FBI Academy. She had a strong presence early on in the book, but she just vanished later on. Which makes sense for reasons of this book’s plot, but not if you’re establishing a series character. Beyond her, I’m pretty curious.
So, what did I think about Mississippi Blue 42?
This was about the players and the game they’d been forced to play. The contest that took place on the field was nothing compared to the battle that went down in Waffle Houses, seedy motel rooms, used car lots, and a laundry list of other skeevy locales. That’s where boys like Moses McCloud had been fighting for so long nobody even saw them as boys anymore. These were young men whose talents had been exploited to pay their coaches’ multimillion-dollar contracts, secure billion-dollar TV deals, and provide highly visible recruiting for their respective universities. College football wasn’t a game at all; it was a business, a completely self-sufficient economy powered by young, mostly Black athletes.
There are more “bad guys” in this book than in most its size—and I’m really unable to come up with a drop of sympathy or empathy for any of them. I wasn’t prepared for that. I’m used to Cranor helping me see the humanity of his characters. Not that I don’t see humanity here—all I see is the worst of it. Yes, there are some who are less-worse than others, and there are a few that you can easily call The Worst. Right up to the last revelation (which Rae really should’ve seen coming), the worst of America is on display. If you pull up a classic D&D Alignment Chart, you have a couple of Lawful Evil characters, many Neutral Evil characters, and a couple on the extreme end of Chaotic Evil, too. Worse, you have a Lawful Evil who pretends to be Lawful Good—and someone who is convinced he’s Lawful Good, but is really a deluded and easily manipulated True Neutral.
Sorry, that’s not helpful at all, but once I started thinking along those lines, I couldn’t stop. Hopefully, someone out there appreciates it.
The hypocrite bothers me more than they should (because it’s so obvious). The easily manipulated head coach really makes me miss the misguided integrity of the coach from Cranor’s Don’t Know Tough.
And honestly, not much better can be said of most of Rae’s allies through this. But they’re trying. I’m pretty sure they are, anyway. I found them entertaining anyway, and didn’t spend a moment hoping they’d find their comeuppance.
This established a strong world and at least one character that we can follow—I’m very curious to see how this experience shapes Rae’s career (at least the early days of it, obviously) and how she sees herself. But more importantly, this was an entertaining, gripping, roller-coaster of a ride. The series stuff can work itself out—right now, all I want to focus on is Mississippi Blue 42, and it’s a great ride.
You gotta check it out if you’re a Cranor reader (and probably already have). If the Venn Diagram of your interests includes college sports and Crime Fiction, you’ll enjoy this item from the overlap set. Actually, you’ll probably enjoy it if you don’t care about college sports at all, just Crime Fiction. Personally, most of what I know about college sports comes from I Am Charlotte Simmons—and Cranor tells the same story (essentially) about the industry it does, but in a more concise and focused way.
Okay, I’m rambling. Go get this thing, you’ll be glad.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
So much depended on a ball stitched together from thirty-two panels of waterproofed leather. The fans came to see what the players did with that ball: the blazing touchdown runs, the high-flying, bone-crunching hits. And the players played for peanuts. That was the only way any enterprise could achieve the sort of profit margins enjoyed by universities with nationally ranked teams. The trick, though, was convincing the rest of the country that college football was not a business, but instead a game, a contest played on the field of higher education, which also served the Chiefs well when it came time to file their taxes.
Because the University of Central Mississippi was an educational organization, it enjoyed a 501(c)(3) status, which meant nearly every dollar the institution made was exempt from federal income tax. It was the same exception granted to churches…
Yes, Mississippi was in the Bible Belt, but the real holy day, the day when every true Southerner bowed at the altar, was game day. And in just a few more hours, the congregation would gather inside their recently renovated, five-hundred-million-dollar cathedral.
What’s Mississippi Blue 42 About?
Rae Johnson is the only daughter of a legendary college football coach and spent most of her life working to be one, too. But at a certain point, she hit the wall of misogyny (with her own father as a spokesman for the wall) and had to find a new career path. Naturally (?), she chose the FBI. We all see the overlap, right?
Anyway, she’s fresh out of the Academy and is assigned to her first case. She’s been sent to help investigate some financial crime surrounding the University of Central Mississippi’s football program. She knows she got the assignment due to her father, which grates her pride. But, she’s not going to back down from the challenge. Her partner in the investigation has been there for months and hasn’t gotten very far, but he’s determined to uncover the problems that he knows are there.
The veteran agent is just getting her acclimated to the investigation when the team’s quarterback
The Fight for the Soul of Moses McCloud
Moses stared at him, still not sure what to make of Cerge’s story, but thinking it felt right somehow, the wildness of his tale in tune with the flashy locker room: the nude white boys, the ping-pong table, the barber chairs. This wasn’t real life. It was all a dream, a four-year fantasy the players paid for with their lives. Even if they did make it to the League, even if they got paid, they still paid for it. And it wasn’t just their knees or shoulders, not even their brains. It went deeper than that. Once their playing days were over, they would be booted out of Eden, resigned to the stands to watch as the next crop of finely tuned athletes took their place. As extravagant as a Saturday spent tailgating in the Glades was, it did not compare to the roar of the crowd. Only gladiators know true glory.
This book, in many ways, seems to be a fight over the soul of the backup quarterback thrust into a leadership position—will he succumb to the culture of bagmen and fame, or will he risk his potential windfall and give Rae the information she needs?
I really like Moses from the beginning—sure, he’s got all the maturity of a college freshman (read: not as smart as he thinks he is, too easily distracted/led along by good-looking women), but there’s something about him you can’t help but like. I really think the battle for his soul angle isn’t that filled with suspense—it’s just the adults around him that fail to understand what he’s saying and what kind of guy he is all along.
But that actually makes the whole thing more entertaining for everyone who isn’t Moses.
What do I think about this as a series debut?
According to the press kit for this book:
Mississippi Blue 42 is the first in what is planned to be an ongoing series starring FBI Agent Rae Johnson as she and a cast of recurring characters explore crime in the world of sports.
Which sounds promising—especially the “world of sports” part. Not because I’m a big sports guy, but I had a hard time imagining Rae looking into some other kinds of crime because Cranor baked the sports-mindset so deeply into her. You put her in an art crime, or a counterfeit money situation? I just don’t see it working as well (but I was ready to try). Rae hunting down a crew of bank robbers would be interesting to see, I just don’t know if she gets into their heads. But even if you move her to professional sports—even something other than football, she’s got the right mindset, the right background to really give a series legs.
Rae reminds me of Ellie Hatcher, Renée Ballard, and Eve Ronin. She’s got ambition, she’s willing to cut corners (maybe too many), she’s determined to make it in a man’s world—and she lets all of that lead her into some blunders as she learns her way. The question is: will she learn from them? The other women did—I trust she will, too. But making those mistakes is fodder for good fiction along the way.
I do wonder what characters from this book will recur. One strong candidate is Rae’s friend who failed a drug test and got booted from the FBI Academy. She had a strong presence early on in the book, but she just vanished later on. Which makes sense for reasons of this book’s plot, but not if you’re establishing a series character. Beyond her, I’m pretty curious.
So, what did I think about Mississippi Blue 42?
This was about the players and the game they’d been forced to play. The contest that took place on the field was nothing compared to the battle that went down in Waffle Houses, seedy motel rooms, used car lots, and a laundry list of other skeevy locales. That’s where boys like Moses McCloud had been fighting for so long nobody even saw them as boys anymore. These were young men whose talents had been exploited to pay their coaches’ multimillion-dollar contracts, secure billion-dollar TV deals, and provide highly visible recruiting for their respective universities. College football wasn’t a game at all; it was a business, a completely self-sufficient economy powered by young, mostly Black athletes.
There are more “bad guys” in this book than in most its size—and I’m really unable to come up with a drop of sympathy or empathy for any of them. I wasn’t prepared for that. I’m used to Cranor helping me see the humanity of his characters. Not that I don’t see humanity here—all I see is the worst of it. Yes, there are some who are less-worse than others, and there are a few that you can easily call The Worst. Right up to the last revelation (which Rae really should’ve seen coming), the worst of America is on display. If you pull up a classic D&D Alignment Chart, you have a couple of Lawful Evil characters, many Neutral Evil characters, and a couple on the extreme end of Chaotic Evil, too. Worse, you have a Lawful Evil who pretends to be Lawful Good—and someone who is convinced he’s Lawful Good, but is really a deluded and easily manipulated True Neutral.
Sorry, that’s not helpful at all, but once I started thinking along those lines, I couldn’t stop. Hopefully, someone out there appreciates it.
The hypocrite bothers me more than they should (because it’s so obvious). The easily manipulated head coach really makes me miss the misguided integrity of the coach from Cranor’s Don’t Know Tough.
And honestly, not much better can be said of most of Rae’s allies through this. But they’re trying. I’m pretty sure they are, anyway. I found them entertaining anyway, and didn’t spend a moment hoping they’d find their comeuppance.
This established a strong world and at least one character that we can follow—I’m very curious to see how this experience shapes Rae’s career (at least the early days of it, obviously) and how she sees herself. But more importantly, this was an entertaining, gripping, roller-coaster of a ride. The series stuff can work itself out—right now, all I want to focus on is Mississippi Blue 42, and it’s a great ride.
You gotta check it out if you’re a Cranor reader (and probably already have). If the Venn Diagram of your interests includes college sports and Crime Fiction, you’ll enjoy this item from the overlap set. Actually, you’ll probably enjoy it if you don’t care about college sports at all, just Crime Fiction. Personally, most of what I know about college sports comes from I Am Charlotte Simmons—and Cranor tells the same story (essentially) about the industry it does, but in a more concise and focused way.
Okay, I’m rambling. Go get this thing, you’ll be glad.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out! --- If you need to know what this book is about, or anything about this series...seriously, just stop what you're doing and pick up this book. I don't mean to be a snob, or maybe I do, but something was missing from your childhood, and now is your time to fix it. I realize that there are many legitimate reasons for people not to have read this (more than some of the earlier), and I'm not questioning the choices you or your parents made (actually, I guess I am). But I'm not going to try to talk about this book like I do most others.
If only because everything worth saying has been said by other, better, writers. Probably several times.
I've also read this too many times to count as a child—even through my college years, and at least once a decade since. I'll probably pick up the pace of re-reading them so I can talk to the grandcritters about them, too.
But I feel the need to say something now, so here are a few things that jumped out at me during this read:
* Shift is the first Narnian primate we've seen, right? There's probably a lot of meaning to be mined from that. hmmm....
* A couple of pages of watching Shift in action is enough to make a guy want to go hang out with pre-Dragon Island Eustace just for the company.
* I just want to yell at Tirian to pay attention to the Centaur and his reading of the stars. I mean sure the astrology is nonsense (or is it in Narnia?), but the rest of it...
* Then just a few pages later, we get word that "Aslan" is ordering tress to be cut down and sold. Sorry, just how clueless are Tirian, Jewel, and anyone else who thinks, "yeah, this could maybe be the guy."
*
The King was so dizzy from being knocked down that he hardly knew what was happening until the Calormenes untied his wrists and put his arms straight down by his sides and set him with his back against an ash tree. Then they bound ropes round his ankles and his knees and his waist and his chest and left him there. What worried him worst at the moment—for it is often little things that are hardest to stand—was that his lip was bleeding where they had hit him and he couldn’t wipe the little trickle of blood away although it tickled him.
That is just a great little detail there at the end. Hard to resist the impulse to wipe your mouth/chin there.
* Even in the midst of the end of the world, Lewis can find time to bring a smile with something like this:
...in Narnia your good clothes were never your uncomfortable ones. They knew how to make things that felt beautiful as well as looking beautiful in Narnia: and there was no such thing as starch or flannel or elastic to be found from one end of the country to the other.
* I thought about talking about Susan's absence at the end, but it seems even less controversial to me on this read than on others. Also, I just got my hands on Gaiman's "The Problem with Susan," and should keep my powder dry until I can read/interact with it.
* I didn't take that many notes while reading this one--I think I just caught up in the reading. Oops. I really liked Jill here (nothing against Eustace, but Jill really got to shine).
* This isn't a wholly satisfying ending to the series, but it's such a good one. I wonder a bit if Lewis could've done more--but I really can't complain. It'd have been really easy for him to bungle this--I'll take a pretty good conclusion over a mess.
And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can: most truly say that they all lived happily ever after, But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out! --- If you need to know what this book is about, or anything about this series...seriously, just stop what you're doing and pick up this book. I don't mean to be a snob, or maybe I do, but something was missing from your childhood, and now is your time to fix it. I realize that there are many legitimate reasons for people not to have read this (more than some of the earlier), and I'm not questioning the choices you or your parents made (actually, I guess I am). But I'm not going to try to talk about this book like I do most others.
If only because everything worth saying has been said by other, better, writers. Probably several times.
I've also read this too many times to count as a child—even through my college years, and at least once a decade since. I'll probably pick up the pace of re-reading them so I can talk to the grandcritters about them, too.
But I feel the need to say something now, so here are a few things that jumped out at me during this read:
* Shift is the first Narnian primate we've seen, right? There's probably a lot of meaning to be mined from that. hmmm....
* A couple of pages of watching Shift in action is enough to make a guy want to go hang out with pre-Dragon Island Eustace just for the company.
* I just want to yell at Tirian to pay attention to the Centaur and his reading of the stars. I mean sure the astrology is nonsense (or is it in Narnia?), but the rest of it...
* Then just a few pages later, we get word that "Aslan" is ordering tress to be cut down and sold. Sorry, just how clueless are Tirian, Jewel, and anyone else who thinks, "yeah, this could maybe be the guy."
*
The King was so dizzy from being knocked down that he hardly knew what was happening until the Calormenes untied his wrists and put his arms straight down by his sides and set him with his back against an ash tree. Then they bound ropes round his ankles and his knees and his waist and his chest and left him there. What worried him worst at the moment—for it is often little things that are hardest to stand—was that his lip was bleeding where they had hit him and he couldn’t wipe the little trickle of blood away although it tickled him.
That is just a great little detail there at the end. Hard to resist the impulse to wipe your mouth/chin there.
* Even in the midst of the end of the world, Lewis can find time to bring a smile with something like this:
...in Narnia your good clothes were never your uncomfortable ones. They knew how to make things that felt beautiful as well as looking beautiful in Narnia: and there was no such thing as starch or flannel or elastic to be found from one end of the country to the other.
* I thought about talking about Susan's absence at the end, but it seems even less controversial to me on this read than on others. Also, I just got my hands on Gaiman's "The Problem with Susan," and should keep my powder dry until I can read/interact with it.
* I didn't take that many notes while reading this one--I think I just caught up in the reading. Oops. I really liked Jill here (nothing against Eustace, but Jill really got to shine).
* This isn't a wholly satisfying ending to the series, but it's such a good one. I wonder a bit if Lewis could've done more--but I really can't complain. It'd have been really easy for him to bungle this--I'll take a pretty good conclusion over a mess.
And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can: most truly say that they all lived happily ever after, But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.