In this edition to the series, Murderbot must face its toughest challenge yet: PTSD. Proving its emotional bonafides to a bunch of strangers. And prodIn this edition to the series, Murderbot must face its toughest challenge yet: PTSD. Proving its emotional bonafides to a bunch of strangers. And producing its own media.
Oh, yeah, plus there's some creepy caves, an evil corporation, and a bunch of thrilling standoffs. All the good stuff!...more
A mystery novel billed as half-thriller, half-philosophical meditation. Smilla is a Greenlandic woman living in a subsidized apartment building in CopA mystery novel billed as half-thriller, half-philosophical meditation. Smilla is a Greenlandic woman living in a subsidized apartment building in Copenhagen: isolated, lonely, depressed, more interested in pure mathematics and the crystals formed in ice than in relationships with other human beings. The one exception is Isaiah, the six-year-old child of her alcoholic neighbor. Smilla and Isaiah form an odd but close bond, both of them missing the Inuit lifestyle they were raised in. Then Isaiah dies, supposedly from falling off the roof of the building, but Smilla suspects that there's more to it than that. She sets out to investigate, eventually uncovering a massive, multimillion dollar conspiracy involving Nazis, radioactive meteorites, alien parasites that threaten to unleash a global plague, and other incredibly dumb and/or cliched mysteries.
The philosophical meditation is pretty much all in the first half of the book, which does feature a lot of musing on ethnic discrimination, colonialism, the troubled marriage of Smilla's parents, lyrical descriptions of Copenhagen in winter, and other such topics. On the other hand, this part is slow. Very slow. About the same speed of glaciers, really. The pace picks up with the plot, discarding any literary pretensions for the sake of incredibly stupid revelations. It's a matter of picking your poison: well-written but boring, or fast-paced but ridiculous? I can't recommend either half.
An incredibly fun murder mystery set in ancient Rome during the early years of Caligula's reign. Valerius is your typical young Patrician man – too yoAn incredibly fun murder mystery set in ancient Rome during the early years of Caligula's reign. Valerius is your typical young Patrician man – too young to run for senator, too old to be a soldier, resigned to spending his nights drinking and days soaking away hangovers in the public baths, at least until one of his family members eventually succeeds in making him develop an ambition.
Valerius's problems: 1) someone was murdered at a dinner party he attended, and no one seems to care about figuring out who did it except for the annoying, tight-laced Plebeian watchman, Atreus.
2) Valerius is gay. Which would be fine if he just wanted to bang some pretty dancers, but an upstanding patrician man isn't supposed to want to bottom for said stoic plebeian watchman... What to do???
Burke uses a lot of modern slang, which I know annoys some readers of historical fiction, but I enjoyed it. She clearly knows a lot about the period, and her research shines through. She also doesn't make her heroes too modern in their attitudes; Valerius owns slaves, has no problems with the patriarchy, is a complete class snob, and is utterly unselfaware, but he's also just enough of relatable guy (and enough of a loser) that I liked him anyway. His relationship with his family and with Atreus were all very well-developed, and I really hope this gets a sequel, because I'd love to read more....more
A Benjamin January mystery! Always one of my favorites. This time around, Ben is back home in New Orleans as the town goes wild for the upcoming 1840 A Benjamin January mystery! Always one of my favorites. This time around, Ben is back home in New Orleans as the town goes wild for the upcoming 1840 presidential election. In the midst of many, many, many choruses of "Tippecanoe and Tyler too", a pretty young woman from an impoverished but well-regarded family is found shot to death in a sugar field. Who's the killer? The man she wanted to marry? That man's wife, who really did not want to get divorced? Henry Clay, famous Congressman in town to hold election rallies, whose son was maybe a bit too interested in the dead girl? Unfortunately all of these choices are white, so obviously the police instead arrest Ben's old boyhood crush, Catherine, mother of the accused man's placée, who attempted suicide when he dumped her for the dead girl. Once again Ben must uncover the real killer to protect a friend.
This was a very fun entry in the series. I love the New Orleans-set mysteries because we get to see so many of my favorite characters; Death and Hard Cider has cameo appearances by Rose, Olympe, Dominique, Livia, Hannibal, and very nice larger role for Shaw. We've also got a really intriguing milieu for Ben to investigate this time around: the presidential election, complete with riots, effigies, fake log cabins on wheels, scandalous rumors, and extremely annoying slogans, is both way too familiar to those of us in 2024 and fascinatingly different. And Henry Clay makes for an excellent historical figure to include in this series. As the leading Congressman against slavery, who nonetheless owned enslaved people himself and supported the American Colonization Society (which sent free Black Americans back to Africa, despite them frequently knowing nothing about the languages or skills needed where they were sent), he's a deeply complicated man, and Ben has to struggle with both supporting him and hating him.
I love this series so much and this is a great entry. It's also probably not a bad place to dip in, if you haven't read any of the Benjamin January books before. There's a lot of backstory built up by this point (it's the 19th book in the series, after all), but this one is more of a stand-alone than a lot of the later books. ...more
A serial killer thriller set in modern day New Zealand. Hana is a police detective and a Maori women, two identities that clash more often than they cA serial killer thriller set in modern day New Zealand. Hana is a police detective and a Maori women, two identities that clash more often than they cooperate. Things get more complicated when a string of gruesome corpses begin to appear across Auckland, decorated with mysterious symbols and with no clear connection between the victims. All is confusing, until the discovery of an 1863 photograph of a group of British soldiers and a dead Maori chief gives Hana some clues to the killer's motivations. The murders are a retribution for colonization because, as the killer says repeatedly throughout the book, "Better the blood of the innocent than no blood at all". Will Hana prevent additional deaths, or will she join the killer to atone for her own past sins?
Murder mystery in New Zealand was an intriguing hook for me, but the mystery part of the book is so cliched and boring. The whole 'serial killer leaves mysterious clues to tempt a police detective he's obsessed with' plot is ripped straight from a million '90s thrillers – The Bone Collector, Seven, Along Came a Spider – without an interesting updates or twists to account for the fact that it's been twenty years since then. The discovery of the photo above should technically be a spoiler, and is certainly treated like some grand, exciting revelation when it's revealed 100 pages in, but considering that the reader found out about it in the prologue, it's not exactly a surprise. There's no tension, no build-up of suspense – not even a red herring for interest! The very first name that the police investigate is the correct guy, and it's just a matter of tracking him down.
The setting is interesting, as are some of the details of Maori culture and history, but this could have been a much, much better book. I read this as an ARC via NetGalley....more
Historical nonfiction, bringing together the stories of one of France's first serial killers and the doctor and expert in criminal science who helped Historical nonfiction, bringing together the stories of one of France's first serial killers and the doctor and expert in criminal science who helped capture him. I thought the two threads could have been woven together much more deftly, but it's an interesting story and a fascinating period in time, when many rural villages in France had little connection to Paris or the modern age....more
A thriller/horror novel set in an isolated cabin in the Rocky Mountains. Traumatized, introverted Christa is invited on a magical trip by her soon-to-A thriller/horror novel set in an isolated cabin in the Rocky Mountains. Traumatized, introverted Christa is invited on a magical trip by her soon-to-be fiance: two weeks in a mountain lodge, a chance to drop out from the worry and stress of the working world and focus on connecting to nature. Unfortunately, the trip to the lodge is derailed by a massive blizzard, her fiance disappears into the storm, and Christa and her fellow vacationers end up in a backwoods cabin with no electricity, no food, and no phone line. And, since no one was expecting to hear from them for two weeks, no rescue is coming. To make matters even worse, someone begins murdering the vacationers one by one, mutilating the bodies and leaving them as macabre surprises for the survivors. Is the killer someone hiding in the woods? The mysteriously missing owners of the cabin? Or one of the vacationers themselves?
Dead of Winter is, in every possible way, the novelistic equivalent of a shitty slasher movie. Now, I have a lot of love for shitty slasher movies. They are an excellent way to spend a few hours, in my opinion. If you also enjoy them, you will probably enjoy Dead of Winter. Christa is a satisfactory final girl, the gore scenes are nicely gruesome, and the cast of expendable bodies is just interesting enough that you're sad to see them die. My one big complaint is that the identity of the killer is pretty obvious and I wish we'd gotten the reveal earlier, because I had to wait 150 pages after figuring it out for Christa to catch up.
On the other hand, if you're not already a slasher fan, then I don't think Dead of Winter is going to change your mind. It's not doing anything new with the genre, and the writing style is perfectly adequate but not special.
A thriller set in Lagos, Nigeria. Nicole is a British-Jamaican woman who married a rich Nigerian man, and has spent the last decade or so living in hiA thriller set in Lagos, Nigeria. Nicole is a British-Jamaican woman who married a rich Nigerian man, and has spent the last decade or so living in his parents' extravagant estate. Nicole has two sons and innumerable servants, but she's not happy; she has no real friends, no job, no purpose in life other than serving as an empty accessory for the family. And then she disappears. Did she commit suicide? Did she run away with the man she was having an affair with? Did her husband find out about the affair and kill her? Did she use local connections to flee an isolating marriage? Part of the problem with discovering what happened to Nicole is that there's too many possible explanations, and each of them seem equally plausible.
When Nicole's husband's family seem more interested in squashing the scandal than investigating her disappearance, her semi-estranged aunt Claudine arrives from London to take matters into her own hands. Claudine is determined to find Nicole to make up for everything that went wrong in their relationship, but quickly realizes that she knows almost nothing about Nicole's current life or how to operate in Nigeria.
The book alternates between Nicole's POV (before her disappearance) and Claudine's POV (after); this structure works really well for building tension. The writing style was also excellent, more lyrical and descriptive than thrillers usually are. There were so many excellent passages describing Lagos – natural features and urban troubles, rich parties and cultural misunderstandings – as well as Claudine's childhood in Jamaica, Nicole's inner struggles, and the generational legacy of their family's troubles.
Ugh, this book. Such a promising concept! South Asian Londoner sees visions of the Hindu gods, uses this to solve magical crimes.
Unfortunately the boUgh, this book. Such a promising concept! South Asian Londoner sees visions of the Hindu gods, uses this to solve magical crimes.
Unfortunately the book itself is boring and extremely male-gazey. For example, not even ten pages in the main character has sex with a woman he just met on a plane, after a brief, very stupid conversation about her tattoos and intention of going on a ~spiritual journey~ to India. (This is not critiqued. A white woman with a Kali tattoo is apparently just a chill, kinky sex partner.) The vibe of female characters being around only to throw themselves at the main character continues throughout the whole book, with one of the main women being basically an insane nymphomaniac. Every female character feels like she was imported from a trashy pulp novel of the 1950s, not a book published in 2016.
The conceit of Ravi seeing gods – the main reason I read this – also didn't work for me. It was never clear if they were hallucinations or actual visions, and while I'm all for books leaving some things ambiguous, but in this case I just felt confused and unengaged.
Sydney is a Black Brooklyn-born woman, fighting against the gentrification of her Bed-Stuy block. Theo is her new white neighbor, perhaps one of thoseSydney is a Black Brooklyn-born woman, fighting against the gentrification of her Bed-Stuy block. Theo is her new white neighbor, perhaps one of those very gentrifiers, but dealing with a crumbling relationship, no job prospects, and no friends. They team up to research a walking tour about the Black history of their neighborhood, but begin to uncover clues to something very bad, very big, and very recent.
I live only a few blocks from the area Cole is writing about, and I love getting to read about places I recognize. Cole does a wonderful job with it, really capturing the look and feel of Bed-Stuy. The first half of the book, as Sydney confronts the history of racism in NYC while avoiding her own family problems, was very good. Unfortunately the plot gets ridiculous by the end, and the romance between Sydney and Theo didn't work for me.
Overall, not bad, but it had the potential to be so much better. ...more
The fifth in a series of mystery novels starring urban historian Erica Donato, who uses her research skills to solve crimes in modern-day Brooklyn thaThe fifth in a series of mystery novels starring urban historian Erica Donato, who uses her research skills to solve crimes in modern-day Brooklyn that inevitably have a connection to older secrets.
In this particular outing, Erica meets a now-retired activist who was instrumental in getting Brooklyn Heights declared a historic district. Brooklyn Heights certainly deserves the title; it's a beautiful neighborhood directly on the East River, with stunning views of lower Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty, full of old brownstones and little pocket streets and charming stores that sell expensive doodads. It also, strangely, is home to the world headquarters of the Jehovah's Witnesses, complete with a massive "Kingdom Hall" with WATCHTOWER in red neon on its roof (or, at least, it was; they moved out about five years ago). Erica's new friend and the Jehovah's Witnesses are unsurprisingly not allies; they've quarreled for years over issues like property lines, development, and gentrification. But when fires that seem to be arson break out and people begin dying, could the crotchety old woman have gone too far in defending her beloved neighborhood? Is it the evasive leaders of a strange religion? Or is it someone else entirely?
Murder mysteries? In Brooklyn? About NYC history? Obviously this series is made for me.
Or so I thought.
Unfortunately, the execution does not live up to the promise. Stein's writing – bizarrely for a series that's entirely sold by its location-porn – has absolutely no sense of place. If you changed a name here and there, this could be any city in the world. And you wouldn't have to change many names, because Stein uses them as rarely as she can. Characters meet for dinner "at an old-school downtown Italian restaurant. No kale. No gluten-free pasta. Waiters in tuxedos. Lots of red sauce and Parm, like my elderly mother-in-law used to make." They exchange secrets at "a small cafe on a Heights side street". They eat at "one of our many local fancy burger restaurants." Every place in the book is like this; there's no individuality, no specifics, no distinguishing details. Reading it feels like visiting a TV studio lot, full of generic sets that can play the background in any sitcom that needs them.
I was also a bit puzzled by the choice of using the Jehovah's Witnesses to play the role of scary, mysterious cult. Not that I want to defend the organization – I certainly have my own problems with their beliefs – but the characters all act as though it's the equivalent of Heaven's Gate or the Manson family, something dangerous and new and unfamiliar, rather than a fairly standard presence in most American cities. And yet Stein never actually brings up any of the actual weird traits of Jehovah's Witnesses, like their refusal to celebrate birthdays or to get blood transfusions (the second is a particularly glaring absence, since the plot ultimately turns out to revolve around a refusal to provide medical care). They're just here to play the role of generic "cult", and could easily have been switched out for any number of other religions without changing the plot.
Overall, it's not a bad book, but it's a boring, flat one. And somehow I'm still tempted to read the others in the series, just because it should be so good. I read this as an ARC via NetGalley....more
A murder mystery set in modern-day China, in a small farming village in the northern Heilongjiang province. When pretty, young Yang Fenfang, who left A murder mystery set in modern-day China, in a small farming village in the northern Heilongjiang province. When pretty, young Yang Fenfang, who left the village to work in the big city, is found brutally murdered in her childhood home, police inspector Lu Fei is called on to solve the case, despite more often dealing with lost chickens and speeding tickets than homicide.
The plot and characters are extremely, extremely cliched. There's a psychotic serial killer focused on attacking beautiful young woman in supremely gory ways. The detective is an alcoholic, secretly romantic despite being single, given to quoting philosophers and poets that none of his colleagues recognize or appreciate, though of course he's also a martial arts expert who can take on multiple opponents without receiving a scratch. There's the tension between investigators from a national agency and the local cops. There's pushy journalists who just want to make Lu Fei look bad. The killer is unusually easy to guess: he's literally the only male character that isn't either a) a police officer or b) introduced as a suspect – and the people who start out as suspects are never the ones who actually did the deed.
But all that's fine, because I didn't want to read Thief of Souls for its plot. I was intrigued by its setting – I can't think of another book set in modern small town China. I can think of some in rural historical China, and some in modern-day Beijing or Shanghai, but none here. I love reading books set in places that I know nothing about, and mystery novels in particular are so good at exploring settings; the genre literally requires the main character to go around asking questions, drawing connections, looking for cultural problems and solutions. Would I have preferred a book written by an actual Chinese person? Of course, but I can only read what's available.
So how does Thief of Souls do at depicting its setting? It does...an adequate job. It's not terrible, but it's definitely not great. It's extrememly obviously written with an eye towards an American (or at least Western) audience, continuously stopping to explain every agency, belief, saying, or practice. On the other hand... well, I am an ignorant American. If Klingborg hadn't explained them, I wouldn't know what CIB stands for or its relationship to the PSB, or the "three no's" of homosexuality, or how much the average funeral costs, or on and on. I suppose I just wish the information could have been integrated in a less 'as you know, Bob' sort of way.
Also, there was this line, which almost made me give up a mere 18 pages in: Lu doesn't bother to knock. In the People's Republic, private property remains a loosely interpreted concept.
Not that I want to defend the current government of China! But, ugh, how annoyingly facile.
For all my complaints, I probably will read the sequel (Thief of Souls is intended to be the first in a series), just because that setting is so unique. I will forgive a lot for a good setting.
The first in a series of crime thrillers starring Taylor Jackson, the most beautiful and accomplished police lieutenant in Nashville. In this one, sheThe first in a series of crime thrillers starring Taylor Jackson, the most beautiful and accomplished police lieutenant in Nashville. In this one, she and her boyfriend FBI profiler John Baldwin hunt a serial killer whose MO is abducting young women with brown hair and eyes in one state and dumping their dead bodies in another state, while leaving fragments of poetry at the crime scene.
In case you couldn't tell from that description, everything about this book is a cliche. The plot, the characters, the mystery – all of it. The prose is mind-numbingly flat, there's no sense of place (one of my favorite parts of mystery series is the worldbuilding in them, and this has none), the killer is obvious from the first page he's introduced, and his motivations are dumb. Take those fragments of poetry – they're eventually revealed to be imitations of a husband leaving love notes for his wife, but two of the main poems are Yeats's Leda and the Swan and John Donne's The Flea. Neither of these are going to strike someone in 2007 as "romantic". I suspect the author did a search for Romantic poems with the word blood in them and took the first few hits, ignoring or unaware of the fact that they don't actually make sense in this context.
I do have one more serious complaint: a major subplot involving a serial rapist is sidetracked when it turns out that one of the victims wasn't actually raped, but just wanted to accuse her ex-boyfriend of a crime when he dumped her. Great, Ellison. False rape accusations are always the best trope to include.
Overall, a boring and stereotypical book that reads like a screenplay of an episode of CSI or Blue Bloods or NCIS or one of those other shows that you let play in the background because it's not worth giving your full attention to. Which, you know, there are worse things. It's (mostly) not an offensive or hateful book, and it's too nothing to even be bad, really. It's just there, a faded copy of a copy of a thousand other stories....more
