What You Did

What You Did
by Claire McGowan

Blurb:

A vicious assault. A devastating accusation. Who should she trust, her husband or her best friend? 

It was supposed to be the perfect reunion: six university friends together again after twenty years. Host Ali finally has the life she always wanted, a career she can be proud of and a wonderful family with her college boyfriend, now husband. But that night her best friend makes an accusation so shocking that nothing will ever be the same again. 

When Karen staggers in from the garden, bleeding and traumatised, she claims that she has been assaulted—by Ali’s husband, Mike. Ali must make a split-second decision: who should she believe? Her horrified husband, or her best friend? With Mike offering a very different version of events, Ali knows one of them is lying—but which? And why? 

When the ensuing chaos forces her to re-examine the golden era the group shared at university, Ali realises there are darker memories too. Memories that have lain dormant for decades. Memories someone would kill to protect.

My Reaction:
I chose this for something to listen to while doing dishes, cooking, etc., because it was convenient and free (through Amazon Prime). After a while, I started noticing that I was in a worse mood after each "session" of listening to it than I was before. That's probably because just about every character is infuriating in his or her own special way. (Mostly that was due to how they were written, but this was an audiobook, and the whiny "baby voice" given to the 10-year-old was also excruciating. The voice alone made me hate that nearly superfluous child character, and I don't even feel guilty about it. It's a voice made for hating.)

I grew to dislike every character, by the end of the book; even Mr. Perfect (Bill) annoyed me. I continued listening simply because I couldn't be bothered to find something else to listen to. Pure laziness. Well, maybe not pure laziness; there might've been a dollop or two of stubbornness mixed in there, too.

It was just... blah. I didn't really even care what happened to the characters, by the end. I disliked them, so who really cared who lived or died-- who went to jail or was exonerated-- who ended up shacking up together-- and whether or not these utterly crappy "friendships" survived? (Seriously, with friends like these...) There was a twist or two that I hadn't predicted (coming out of nowhere), but I couldn't find it in me to care. Very much a feeling of, "Meh, whatever..."

I Am Watching You

I Am Watching You

by Teresa Driscoll


Blurb:

What would it take to make you intervene?

When Ella Longfield overhears two attractive young men flirting with teenage girls on a train, she thinks nothing of it—until she realises they are fresh out of prison and her maternal instinct is put on high alert. But just as she’s decided to call for help, something stops her. The next day, she wakes up to the news that one of the girls—beautiful, green-eyed Anna Ballard—has disappeared.

A year later, Anna is still missing. Ella is wracked with guilt over what she failed to do, and she’s not the only one who can’t forget. Someone is sending her threatening letters—letters that make her fear for her life.

Then an anniversary appeal reveals that Anna’s friends and family might have something to hide. Anna’s best friend, Sarah, hasn’t been telling the whole truth about what really happened that night—and her parents have been keeping secrets of their own.

Someone knows where Anna is—and they’re not telling. But they are watching Ella.

My Reaction:

Two and a half stars rounded up to three. Some of the characters grated on my nerves, and I feel like I've heard a certain phrase ("You disgust me, Dad.") a bazillion times. I didn't see the twist coming (probably because it just popped up out of nowhere), and the story kept me interested.  It's not ground-breaking, but if you like the genre, you could do worse.

The audiobook was available for free through Amazon (well, it was included with a subscription to Kindle Unlimited), and it made for convenient listening entertainment while doing dishes and light housework.  

Lying Next to Me

Lying Next to Me
by Gregg Olsen


(Edited) Blurb:

It's a husband's worst nightmare: Adam Warner watches helplessly as his wife is abducted from their vacation spot in Washington State’s Hood Canal. A hundred yards from shore, in a boat with their three-year-old daughter, Adam struggles to get to Sophie, but by the time he reaches land, she's nowhere to be found.

For Adam, at least there’s comfort in knowing that Mason County detective Lee Husemann is an old friend of his. She’ll do everything she can to help. She must.

But as Adam’s paranoia about his missing wife escalates, Lee puts together the pieces of a puzzle. Lee suspects that not everyone is telling the truth about what they know—or they have yet to reveal all the lies they’ve hidden from the strangers they married.

My Reaction:
It's probably damning with faint praise, but I'd say this is a "serviceable" mystery.  There isn't much out of the ordinary for the genre, and nearly all the characters are unbearable in one way or another.  Even the most sympathetic character (Lee) is sometimes frustrating. (I'd go into the details of why, but they're fairly spoilery...) The emphasis on fertility (or lack thereof) and parenthood is a bit wearing, too.  All told, it wasn't a bad story, but it also wasn't a standout.

I chose this book primarily because it was free through Amazon, with the audiobook version also available for free.  I listened to maybe a third of it, at random points in the book, and confirmed that I tend not to like audiobooks. 

I do like being able to progress through a book while my hands and eyes are otherwise occupied, but apparently I don't enjoy the experience of listening to other people read. (I am fond of reading aloud myself, however, and sometimes read aloud when I'm alone, simply because I enjoy it... That's probably strange, but oh well!  You may be thinking that I just like the sound of my own voice, and that might be true, but I'm generally very quiet around other people.  It's mostly only to myself, my dogs, and my husband that I may "jaw" a bit too much. ...Anyway, back to the review, such as it is...)

So often, audiobook narrators emphasize things differently than I would or use an irritating vocal affectation for certain characters... I know that many listeners enjoy readers who "do all the voices", but most of the times I've come across it, it just bugs me! 

I'll probably keep trying audiobooks, every so often, but I may be too persnickety for the format.

Good Omens

Good Omens
by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman


Blurb:

According to The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch (the world's only completely accurate book of prophecies, written in 1655, before she exploded), the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just before dinner. 

So the armies of Good and Evil are amassing, Atlantis is rising, frogs are falling, tempers are flaring. Everything appears to be going according to Divine Plan. Except a somewhat fussy angel and a fast-living demon—both of whom have lived amongst Earth's mortals since The Beginning and have grown rather fond of the lifestyle—are not actually looking forward to the coming Rapture.

And someone seems to have misplaced the Antichrist . . .

My Reaction:
Donald and I wanted to read the book before watching the recent miniseries based on it-- so this is a continuation of the unplanned, unintentional "tradition" that I only read Pratchett with him and never on my own.  It's also the first thing I've read of Neil Gaiman's, but since it was a joint effort, I'm not sure which aspects were contributed by each author... However, the fact that we enjoyed the book may mean that we (or just I) should try something he wrote on his own, at some point.

As is usually the case with shared reads, I don't really have any specific observations to make.  It's pretty simple: We enjoyed the book, and now I'm looking forward to seeing the adaptation.

...Okay, I thought of one specific observation.  I didn't enjoy the parts with Adam and the Them that much. Occasionally "their sections" of the book would offer up something truly amusing (and I did like Dog), but generally, I found their discussions a bit wearing, and I was glad when the story left them again. I could have done with less of the Them, to be honest.

The Lair of the White Worm

The Lair of the White Worm
by Bram Stoker


Blurb:

In a tale of ancient evil, Bram Stoker creates a world of lurking horrors and bizarre denizens: a demented mesmerist, hellbent on mentally crushing the girl he loves; a gigantic kite raised to rid the land of an unnatural infestation of birds, and which receives strange commands along its string; and all the while, the great white worm slithers below, seeking its next victim...

My Reaction:(First, let me state that this was another 372-Pages podcast book club selection-- a shared read with Donald.)

I read and enjoyed Dracula at some point in high school, I think.  Possibly middle school. It's been so long, I can't remember exactly when, but I know I found it entertaining and a page-turner (by the period's standards).  I suspect that if I read it now, I'd be nit-picking at it like I do everything else I read these days, but still-- it's considered a classic for a reason.

Keeping Dracula in mind, it's amazing to me that this horrible novel was written by the same person. Admittedly, I read the abridged version, but unless the person doing the abridging purposefully set out to make the book worse, I can't imagine that more pages would improve on what I read.

The blurb makes the book sound better (or at least more interesting) than it is, but it also contains what I'd consider to be spoilers. (Tell me you expected a gigantic kite to appear in this novel!) I briefly considered writing my own blurb, but that would require too much work. It's genuinely not worth the effort.

As is typical of books selected for the 372-Pages podcast, this is an awful book. The writing is atrocious (not merely lacking in style, but frequently self-contradictory and at times almost incomprehensible). The pacing is bizarre-- achingly slow most of the time, but occasionally cramming in major developments in a single stingy sentence. The plot is so Swiss-cheese flimsy that it's almost nonexistent-- more hole than substance. Character development is a joke. As other reviews point out, the book contains several incidents of casual racism, but honestly, even leaving those out, it's still horrible.

I can't understand how anyone actually enjoys reading this book. That's how bad it is. It is certainly no classic!

In a Dark, Dark Wood

In a Dark, Dark Wood
by Ruth Ware


(Edited) Blurb:

Nora hasn't seen Clare for ten years. Not since Nora walked out of school one day and never went back. Until, out of the blue, an invitation to Clare’s hen do arrives. Is this a chance for Nora to finally put her past behind her? But something goes wrong. Very wrong. Some things can’t stay secret for ever.

My Reaction:
I believe this is the third work of this author's that I've read (following The Death of Mrs. Westaway and The Woman in Cabin 10), so I knew what to expect. Overall, the first half of In a Dark, Dark Wood was better than the other two books, from what I remember, but the second half dragged. Moreover, the mystery element was one of the most predictable I've come across recently, and because it was so obvious, the second half lacked much in the way of suspense. A less seasoned reader might possibly find it more suspenseful.


Some nitpicks (with SPOILERS aplenty):

-- I hated the use of cocaine and its normalization. Honestly, I don't even see the appeal of getting drunk, but I accept that I'm apparently in the minority on that one-- but cocaine? Is that really so commonplace these days? I'm sorry, but it's an idiotic thing to do, and yes, I "judge" people who use it.

-- With friends like these, who needs enemies? Rarely has the cliche been more apt!

-- Ugh, the politically correct approach to abortion. It was extremely predictable that the backstory included an abortion. I get that people have abortions, but Nora was needlessly callous: "And whatever people might think, it wasn't this [the abortion] that f****d me up. I don't feel a crucifying guilt over the loss of a cluster of cells. I refuse to feel guilty." Ah, "cluster of cells"! The author will get special P.C. points for that one! Wouldn't want your main character to flinch or even pause a moment to reflect on the ramifications of her "decision". Great way to make your lackluster protagonist even less sympathetic.

-- Even with such a small cast of characters, we still managed to tick three boxes out of "LGBT". (And if this had been written a few years later, what with the shift in emphasis in the media, I wouldn't be surprised if it had been four for four!) It's just a bit statistically unrealistic that three would be represented, and the casual revelation that James was bi felt strange and irrelevant.

-- Speaking of James, I guess he really had changed a lot, since he was engaged to Clare, was now "brand-conscious", drank fancy coffee (?), blah blah blah. It doesn't matter, I guess, but it's annoying.

-- Clare is about the same age as Nora, right? So, twenty-six, give or take a few months? When she shows up, near the end of the novel, fresh from the hospital, "she holds herself like someone twice her age"... So, like someone who's fifty-two? Has Nora (or the author) ever met someone in her early fifties? Because they're mostly still decently fit and able-bodied. Your body doesn't just break down immediately after the big 5-0 and leave you "holding yourself"/carrying yourself/moving in a noticeably different way. That truly is a nitpick, but it just irritated me for some reason.

-- So many things don't make sense! Too many things had to happen "just so" for Clare's crazy plan to work out-- and Clare's reason that James has to die is over-the-top insane, too. I know, I know. Characters like this have to exist in this type of book, but... Sometimes it's skillfully executed, sometimes not.

-- Perhaps the worst flaw is Nora's incredible stupidity. She herself repeatedly berates herself for being so stupid, and reading along, I could only nod in agreement. At one point, she goes through the list of possible suspects-- a very short list-- painfully (oh-so-boringly) tallying up the evidence against each one. However, she leaves out the most obvious suspect! There's some flimsy excuse for why she's not even considering Clare, but it is extremely flimsy and easily explained away (as, in fact, it eventually is, in the "summing up" portion of the book).

Even if you can excuse Nora for not seeing that her old friend is a sociopath and the ultimate "user" (and always has been, for as long as she's known her), how do you explain this? Clare has revealed herself to Nora as the killer. They're alone in an isolated location. Clare offers to make tea and casually reveals that she has heavy-duty painkillers from the hospital. And yet! Nora accepts a tea that Clare made for her in another room! Unbelievably, Nora tastes the tea. It's "bitter" and "vile", but hey, she's never really liked the taste of tea, so she drinks it anyway. Gulp, gulp, gulp. Nora notices she's having trouble thinking, her head hurts, she feels strange, and there's a vile taste in her mouth. Brilliant crime-writer Nora's reaction: "I take another gulp of tea to try to swill it away, but the taste only intensifies." And then she keeps on drinking, all through Clare's confession scene!! It's not until she feels lightheaded, stands, drops the cup, and actually sees the white residue of the pills in the dregs of her spilled tea that she finally realizes that Clare has drugged her. (At that point, I'm surprised she didn't just think, "Hm, strange-looking tea. Must be some exotic blend that Clare imports specially from China!" --And then ask for another cup!)

...I refuse to believe in such staggering stupidity. Please, tell me this isn't possible.

-- The beginning was entertaining. Too bad it all falls apart in the second half!

Witch

Witch
by Barbara Michaels


Blurb:

A silent stranger moves in twilight shadows...

It was more than her dream house. For Ellen March, buying the secluded old house nestled in the pine woods marked the start of a new life. Now she could put her failed marriage behind her, enjoy the quiet solitude of small town life, and get to know her worldly new neighbor, handsome Norman McKay...

But strange visions began to cloud her mind-- the shadowy figure of a woman, a ghostly white cat-- and Ellen's safe haven slowly became her prison. Had she buried the past? Or had a dark legend come back to haunt her...?

My Reaction:I have vague memories of actually enjoying some of Barbara Michaels' "gothic" thrillers, but apparently I either happened to read the better ones first or my tastes have changed.  Either way, this was yet another dud.

I had relatively high hopes for this one, as I'm always a sucker for a nice tale about a gently haunted house.  When executed with skill, descriptions of house-buying, redecorating, and general "doing-up" are like catnip to me, too.  (Living vicariously, I guess!  So much easier on the back and the pocketbook to read about fictional characters' home improvements rather than carrying out some of your own!)  Unfortunately, the fixing up of the house is glossed over to make way for more boring topics, and the ghostly subject matter is exceptionally weak.

Yes, it's dated (the descriptions of what the "adolescents" are wearing!), but that can be charming and nostalgic. Less charming is the stupidity and offensiveness of the main character.  I just didn't really care what happened to her, to be honest.  The overall impression is one of BLAH.


Observations, Reactions, and Nitpicks (with unmarked SPOILERS):
-- What a strange coincidence that this and the last book I read on my own (which means "not including the 372-Pages selections I read with Donald") should both include characters with ailurophobia (fear of cats)! I don't know if I've ever encountered a reference to this before, which makes it seem even odder.

-- Ellen is thirty-eight.  I realize that 38 isn't young, and that a 38-year-old in 1973 (this novel's year of publication) likely seemed older than a 38-year-old in 2019, but still... Seeing how her age was presented in the beginning of the book made me feel old! Not flattering to read at forty! To be fair, she doesn't act like an old lady, at least. (Maybe I'm just being sensitive.)

-- "It was not only her appearance that the older, country-bred woman unconsciously resented; it was her urban background, her accent, her clothes, her manner."  Here, have an eye-roll. Yes, everyone who's "country-bred" is unconsciously jealous of people with an "urban background".

-- "Later, Penny had tried to get her to experiment with makeup and wigs, but by then Ellen had lost interest." I can't imagine choosing to wear a wig if I had a perfectly good head of hair underneath.  It's another thing that dates the book.

-- "On the whole the reflected image pleased her.  It was a bit sedate, but not bad for a woman who was slipping downhill toward forty." ...Nope, I wasn't being too sensitive before.  She also refers to herself as "a silly old lady" later on in the book.

-- Not only are the adolescents in this book mostly described as all having shaggy hair and dressing like hobos, they sound absolutely filthy: "The bare feet were in vogue, too, but Tim's feet were black with mud; a trail of dirty prints marred the shining hall floor behind the boy." ... "Tim's bare feet had left a trail of dust this time." Yuck! Teens in the 70s were downright nasty, apparently.

-- "Ellen was surprised when Norman went on talking, despite the cook's presence."  ...Not the done thing, I guess? It amuses me.

-- Ellen asks, "Do I strike everyone as a feeble-minded female?"  ...Weeeeeell... Don't ask a question if you don't want the answer!

-- The author strikes me as someone who probably thought pretty highly of herself-- her intelligence, education, breeding, manners, etc.  I'm sure she felt that she had an impressive degree of "social consciousness".  And yet... Some of the opinions she puts into the mouths and minds of her heroes and heroines are definitely not "correct", by current social barometers! Based on these characters, she seems to have had a particular antipathy toward people who were not thin.

-- Ellen is more than a little catty about the other people in town.  Some of these characters turn out to be the "villains", but others are just unattractive or not dressed to impress:

"She was simply a very large woman, tall and big-boned, with the massiveness that overtakes such women later in life unless they diet strenuously. Mrs. Grapow's long-sleeved dark print dress and gray hair compressed into a bun made it clear that she would view dieting as tampering with the will of the Lord." ... "That beefy, stupid-looking--..."

"She was a faded blonde of approximately Ellen's age, although her lack of makeup and her shapeless cotton print dress  made her look older."

-- Guffaw moment: Mrs. Grapow calls Ellen "Miz March".  "After a moment Ellen realized she was being addressed in dialect, not in the latest mode advocated by women's liberation." Ew, dialect is so icky. (Care for another eye-roll?)

-- "Ellen was more amused than offended by the unsubtle tactics of the questioners.  Poor souls, she thought tolerantly, they haven't much to talk about. She fancied, however, that meaningful glances were exchanged when she admitted to being divorced."  No, Ellen's not judgmental at all.  Not like those poor hicks.

-- When a character isn't nice, it's fun to make him/her as physically repellent as possible.  Take Bob Muller, for instance.  He has acne and tries to hide it by growing a beard, but his beard is "too sparse to hide anything, including Bob's negligible chin and obtrusive upper lip".

Bob Muller's sister Prudence gets even tougher treatment: "She was pathetically plain, except for big blue eyes that had an unfocused look, and she wore a frilly blouse and full skirt that made her heavy hips look even wider." ... "The girl was so hopelessly unattractive. The sight of her made Ellen's maternal instincts itch; if Prudence had been her daughter she would have prescribed a dermatologist, a diet, and some decent clothes, just as a start. Penny had never looked that bad, even in the worst stages of puppy fat and pimples. Prudence was a hopeless case; her personality was as limp as her stringy hair."  "...Prudence needed more than a psychological boost. She needed a whole battery of experts working full time."

Bob and Prudence's father is a horrible man-- an abusive drunkard-- but her descriptions of him are distasteful, too.  "...she had recognized the gross, fat body..." ... "He was a revolting spectacle with his greasy, unshaven face and his fat belly wobbling above his belt."

-- I'm sorry, but I simply don't believe that a group of teens (whose only similarity is that they all live in the same small community) would all instantly take to someone like Ellen (who is the ripe old age of 38, remember!), as happens in this book. It seems remarkably unlikely.

-- "The Earthly Church of the Wrath of God".  ...Oh, come on.  You have to be kidding! (But she's not!!)  And of course the church is absolutely insane and evil-- one of the most insulting, ridiculous depictions of religion I've come across-- led by a preacher she compares to Hitler himself.  (Well, she claims she won't flatter him with that comparison, but it's too late for that, because she's pretty much already made it!)

-- Ellen goes shopping and buys a "pale-pink chiffon 'at-home' gown" (whatever the heck that is). "It would be totally out of place in her Early American living room..." ...Um, excuse me? What? Does anyone actually dress to match their home's style/period/decor? What an utterly bizarre thing to think about, much less write!

-- Jack (Ellen's brother-in-law and love interest) comes to visit Ellen and her daughter (Penny) after a while: "He embraced both of them and made sarcastic comments about the effect of country living on their figures." ...Huh? Weird thing to joke about, honestly. Seriously, I begin to wonder if the author might've been a bit obsessed with dieting and weight control. Either that or she believed that her readership enjoyed thinking about dieting even while indulging in escapist literature.

-- Ellen tells herself that even if Tim and 16-year-old Penny are in a relationship, it's okay. "Tim wasn't the friend she would have chosen for her daughter, but Penny was sound. She had probably dated boys who had equally serious problems. God knows there were plenty of them these days."

Now, keep in mind that at this point in the book, Ellen believes that Tim has severe emotional and/or psychological problems that have led him to torture and kill multiple animals, including neighborhood pets. I mean... really? Maybe it wasn't widely known at that time that animal torture is a behavior common to young men who go on to become serial killers, but obviously anyone would recognize it as a giant red flag in flames (with a blaring alarm off to one side)-- and yet she's okay with her daughter dating this guy? And she assumes that Penny has dated boys with equally serious problems?! Good grief! Washington, D.C., in the 1970s must've been a heck of a place!

-- After Ellen catches a drunk Muller shooting a gun on her property, she disarms him, then wonders what to do with the gun: "She didn't want to take it home with her; Muller might be inspired to come looking for it, since it was obviously dear to him. A sex symbol, no doubt. He was probably impotent without his gun." Ha ha, how clever and funny.  But also, it is his property, so of course he's going to want it back! You could tell him you were taking it to the police station for safe keeping, and he could get it back from them-- but obviously you can't confiscate someone's property and expect that they'll just go, "Oh well, c'est la vie!" and accept that they aren't getting it back. (Besides, guns aren't that cheap!)

-- Ellen invites a couple and their teenage son to dine at her home, but she seems to hate them and dread their visit. Why did she invite them, then?! She also invites Norman and warns him that the other guests are not "brilliant conversationalists". "The Randolphs were not only boring, they were a pain in the neck." Good grief, woman! No-one forced you to invite them! Could you be any more annoying?! Ah, and the icing on the cake-- they're fat! "Like his parents, Morrie was overweight and puffy from lack of exercise. He had fat, clumsy hands..." ... "The Randolphs' idea of exercise consisted of a gentle stroll around the yard. They refused to enter the woods." How dare they?!

-- Tim sounds so, so stupid sometimes, when he speaks: "'He was, like, you know, kind of dumb with kids. Like ho ho ho, if you know what I mean.'" ...Actually, I really don't know what you mean. False/forced joviality?

-- Eesh, this one's harsh... Penny's just as sweet and caring as her dear old mum! Talking about how it was actually Norman instead of Tim who assaulted Prudence: "'Just look at the probabilities, Mom. Look at Tim! Do you think that flabby female would have escaped with a few cuts and bruises if Tim had really wanted--' She glanced at Tim, who was beet-red, and took pity on him. 'He has better taste,' she concluded."

-- Then there's the mob of townspeople who descend upon Ellen's house. Some of them are literally carrying torches. It's painfully ridiculous. That whole section-- and the thing with the magical ghost cat/witch/familiar-- meh.

-- "Ellen turned as Jack came in. His chin was covered with a hideous salt-and-pepper stubble..." Ha, how the times have changed! These days, a little stubble is often considered attractive on a man-- certainly not "hideous"!

-- Everything's wrapping up, and Ellen declares her intention to stay in the house. I guess that's fine, but it seems like it will be just the teeniest bit awkward around town, for a while. Even if the worst offenders have been arrested, they'll have family and friends still living in town-- and at least some of those people who came to her house with torches are going to be her neighbors. It's not the kind of situation I'd want for myself!

-- Ellen asks Jack, "How did you happen to arrive at the last minute, like the deus ex machina in the play?" Well, at least she's kinda-sorta admitting to the laziness of the writing, I guess.

-- I resent this book's audacity in stealing the "disembodied voice of the beloved calling across the distance" from Jane Eyre. Maybe Jane Eyre wasn't its origin, either, but JE is just such a classic, whereas this is... decidedly not.

-- The so-called romance in this novel is so unromantic. I'll admit that it was going to be a mighty tough sell, in my case, because I don't particularly like the idea of a romance between a woman and her dead sister's husband. (Sorry, but it's off-putting!) If it had been handled skillfully, however, I could have come around to the idea. As it is, it's clear from the very beginning that Ellen loves Jack and that the two will be together by the end of the book, but we really don't get much of the two of them interacting or even a satisfying explanation of why they're in love. Evidently it just sort of "happens" when you live in the same house, raising kids together. Telling us that Ellen loves him despite the fact that he's balding (but not a bit paunchy, of course-- perish the thought!) just wasn't enough for me.

-- For a book titled Witch, there was precious little witch in it! The shadowy figure Ellen sees from the corner of her eye is creepy, and there were one or two little things that I thought were hints to some bigger, more mysterious history between Ellen's witch and Norman's family, but the latter never pans out, and the former is only barely mentioned at the end of the book. All in all, this novel is a let-down on the paranormal front.

The house still seems creepy to me, though, especially with the shadow woman hanging out (pun intended) in the bedroom! I wouldn't want to live there, even after Ellen's Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

Trucking Through Time

Trucking Through Time
by Charles E. Harris


(My Silly) Blurb:

In the middle of what they believe will be just another job hauling cargo, trucking duo Chad and Dale end up having the adventure of a lifetime.  This isn't a simple trip across the country: Chad and Dale are... trucking through time!

My Reaction:
Wow.  Another great selection by the 372 Pages We'll Never Get Back podcast book club. (As always, this was a shared read-aloud with Donald.)

In the immortal words of Dale Rhea (*ahem*), this is indeed a stirring tale of "mystery, drama, excitement, compassion, horror, and romance along with many, many other words that could never explain the trip [they] took"!

Truly.

Look, there's no way I can fully explain this book.  Just know that it's bizarre and unintentionally hilarious, but there are also some sections that are boring and/or  repetitious.  (Fellow podcast-listeners, by no means is this a 64-Squares situation, though!  Rest assured on that count!)  Harris had a tendency towards preachiness on his pet subjects, too, and there will be times when you'll shift uncomfortably in your seat and reflect that sometimes a book reveals a bit too much about its author...

The humor (again, completely unintentional) is wonderful, but the writing is bad (thus my rating).  If you're going to read it, I recommend giving the 372-Pages podcast a listen. 

(However, I must say I'm surprised that Mike and Conor didn't notice/mention the fact that Harris obviously "borrowed" his idea of the white girl adopted by Indians from Dances with Wolves, which incidentally was also about the Sioux and had a character-- the titular wolf-- named "Two Socks", which Harris one-upped with his own richly-developed character named "Three Socks"!)

One final note: I can't help but wonder who designed the cover art.  I can't find any credit for it.  Did Harris create it himself?

The Gabriel Hounds

The Gabriel Hounds
by Mary Stewart


Blurb:

It's all a grand adventure when English Christy Mansel unexpectedly runs into her cousin Charles in Damascus. And being young, rich, impetuous, and used to doing whatever they please, they decide to barge in uninvited on their eccentric Great-Aunt Harriet— despite a long-standing family rule strictly forbidding unannounced visits. Because when the Gabriel hounds run howling over the crumbling palace of Der Ibrahim in the Lebanon, someone will shortly die.

A strange new world awaits Charles and Christy beyond the gates of Dar Ibrahim— "Lady Harriet's" ancient, crumbling palace in High Lebanon— where a physician is always in residence and a handful of Arab servants attends to the odd old woman's every need. But there is a very good— very sinister— reason why guests are not welcome at Dar Ibrahim. And the young cousins are about to discover that, as difficult as it is to break into the dark, imposing edifice, it may prove even harder still to escape.

My Reaction:
Either I managed to read the best of Mary Stewart's romantic suspense first, leaving only the "lesser" ones still to read, or my tastes have changed since I started them.  In any case, I seem not to have enjoyed the last two or three as much as I'd hoped or expected.

First, the positives:
--Stewart writes a beautiful, vivid setting. 
--There was a brief period in the middle of the book when I thought things were about to get interesting... (And then it went in a different direction, and honestly, I was disappointed, even if this is the "positive" section of the review!)
--...Um... There were some cute dogs?  What else?  Not much comes to mind, I'm afraid!

The negatives, now...
--The setting isn't my cup of tea, I'm afraid, though the seraglio garden sounded beautiful.
--I tend not to get too bothered about old-fashioned ideas in older books, but this one irritated me in some of its attitudes toward women and "natives". 
--For most of the book, the story moved at a snail's pace. 
--The hero's and heroine's main personality traits seemed to be that they were rich, privileged, and sometimes a bit obnoxious.  Christy was much more annoying than Charles, but he didn't even feel like a real person, with his affected way of talking...  I'm not sure which is worse!
--Christy is... well, she's either naive or just a bit dim. And she always seems to need rescuing!
--There are some remarkable coincidences and outlandish, unlikely occurrences.  I can overlook those if the book creates enough of a feeling of goodwill to compensate, but in this case, that goodwill is somewhat lacking.  It just comes across as lazy writing.
--The title has almost nothing to do with the book!  Annoying.

And then there's this one, which deserves its own paragraph... I don't usually have a problem with "cousin romances" in older books.  It just doesn't bother me.  However, this one was a huge turn-off for a number of reasons.  First, the fact that "they" changed it from first cousins to second cousins for the American version makes the whole thing seem a bit dirty!  Second, the cousins look too much alike (and their fathers were identical twins?!?!). Third, the cousins seem to have been raised almost as siblings-- and refer repeatedly to have bathed together as children and... "played doctor" when they were young (unless my crazy brain just manufactured that on its own, which I almost hope is what happened, rather than for it to have been in the book... but here it is: "I had discussed sex with him at the age when we had no physical secrets from one another...").  I'm sorry, but that's gross. It's almost as if it's not enough that they were first cousins (with identical twin fathers?!?!); Stewart had to push the envelope even further by making them essentially siblings with a strong family resemblance and a weird habit of reminiscing over the shared baths of their childhoods.  Yeah, sorry, but that's gross. Why put that in a romance novel?!  Why?!  She didn't have to do that, so the only conclusion I can come to is that she thought it was... cute, or even sexy.  (Blurgh.)

Sadly, the novel simply didn't do it for me.  There were some beautiful descriptions, and it was interesting to see a severe 1960s take on "hashish", given the desire of so many to normalize it, these days-- but the positives were outweighed by the negatives listed above (and a spoilerish thing that I'll put down at the bottom of the post behind a warning).  I'm not sure how many of Stewart's "suspenseful romances" I've yet to read, but I hope they'll be stronger than this one was!



Okay, here's the spoilerish thing...

Avert thy eyes, lest thou be spoilt!

Ugh.  Did that idiot Christy actually suggest using one of the salukis as a guinea pig to determine whether or not the soup was poisoned?!  Yeah, I get that she was trying to prevent the other woman from being used as a test subject, but why suggest giving it to the dogs instead?!

And while I'm on a roll, I was similarly displeased when Christy and Charles only cared about saving the poor dog at the end of the book when they realized it was the Great-Aunt's dog.  The poor dog would've needed their help in any case, but they were just going to leave it there until they recognized its name on the collar.  I found that obnoxious, too.  (But admittedly, I was kind of disgusted with the whole family, by that point, so I'm probably not being fair on this point.)

...Oh, and what was with that weird bit at the end where Christy couldn't tell the difference between her own father and her uncle?!  I know they're identical twins, but it's her father, and adult twins aren't usually that indistinguishable, are they?  By that age, they usually have some fairly telltale differences that family members should easily recognize!  I just thought that was (extremely) strange.

Relic

Relic 
by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child


Blurb:

Just days before a massive exhibition opens at the popular New York Museum of Natural History, visitors are being savagely murdered in the museum's dark hallways and secret rooms. Autopsies indicate that the killer cannot be human...

But the museum's directors plan to go ahead with a big bash to celebrate the new exhibition, in spite of the murders.

Museum researcher Margo Green must find out who-- or what-- is doing the killing. But can she do it in time to stop the massacre?

My Reaction:This isn't my usual fare, but on the whole, I enjoyed it.  (I'd give it 3.5 stars.)  The museum made for a fascinating and atmospheric setting, and I found the main characters interesting and sympathetic enough that I cared what happened to at least a few of them.

The references to 1990's technology brought back memories from my youth... In many ways, modern tech is of course wonderful, but I do feel some nostalgia for the good old days-- especially the time before smart phones!

Without giving away too much, I wasn't really surprised by the twist, since it had occurred to me as one possibility earlier in the novel-- still interesting reading, though.

Ultimately, I'm not sure whether I'll read more in this series or not.  It was a reasonably enjoyable but oftentimes slow read for me, until the action finally kicked in and the story flowed more easily.  Psuedo-scientific thrillers are a little outside what I generally like to read, but I might give the next one a try, at some point.  I took a sneak peek at some plot points from later on in the series, and I have to say, it sounds a little crazy, but maybe...

The Mister

The Mister
by E.L. James


Blurb:

London, 2019. Life has been easy for Maxim Trevelyan. With his good looks, aristocratic connections, and money, he’s never had to work and he’s rarely slept alone. But all that changes when tragedy strikes and Maxim inherits his family’s noble title, wealth, and estates, and all the responsibility that entails. It’s a role he’s not prepared for and one that he struggles to face.

But his biggest challenge is fighting his desire for an unexpected, enigmatic young woman who’s recently arrived in England, possessing little more than a dangerous and troublesome past. Reticent, beautiful, and musically gifted, she’s an alluring mystery, and Maxim’s longing for her deepens into a passion that he’s never experienced and dares not name. Just who is Alessia Demachi? Can Maxim protect her from the malevolence that threatens her? And what will she do when she learns that he’s been hiding secrets of his own?

From the heart of London through wild, rural Cornwall to the bleak, forbidding beauty of the Balkans, The Mister is a roller-coaster ride of danger and desire that leaves the reader breathless to the very last page.

My Reaction:
Let me waste no time in absolving myself of this book choice by pointing out that it was a 372 Pages podcast selection (and as such, a read-aloud shared read with Donald).  I have no problem with romance as a genre (though it can be difficult to find one that I truly enjoy, now that I'm so much pickier, as an adult), but this particular one is kind of embarrassing...

It's just not good, in so many ways.

I can't be bothered to think up a cohesive, thoughtful review for this one-- or even the thrown-together, not especially cohesive type of review that I usually end up posting.

The characters are stupid, uninteresting, and unrealistic.  The plot is an odd mixture of the predictable and the bizarre.  The sex scenes are cringe-inducing and mind-numbingly repetitive.  (I think I probably sighed and rolled my eyes every time it became obvious that we were in for yet another of the "romance" scenes.  They were awful, and reading them aloud made them a hundred times worse!  I quickly made the executive decision to just skim through them and only read aloud any particularly hilarious tidbits that leaped off the page.)

There is very little going for this book.  ...Unless you happen to be reading it explicitly for the purpose of finding the humor in it, which is what 372 Pages boils down to.

Reading this "as a joke" made it so much more enjoyable than it would've been, read seriously.
It's still not a good book, though.

DNF: Bob Honey Who Just Do Stuff

Bob Honey Who Just Do Stuff
by Sean Penn


Blurb:

Bob Honey—a modern American man, entrepreneur, and part-time assassin. He’s just a guy trying to make it through each day while grappling with loneliness, alienation, violence—uncertain of his place in a culture that considers branding more important than being.

Bob Honey has a hard time connecting with other people. He dreams he is sleeping with his ex-wife every night, and imagines waking up unhappy next to her every morning. Advertising, entertainment, and commerce rule his days; he’s sick of being marketed to every moment, but is unable to pry himself away from the constant feed. A paragon of American entrepreneurialism, Bob sells septic tanks to Jehovah’s Witnesses and arranges colorful pyrotechnic displays for foreign dictators. He’s also a part-time assassin for an off-the-books program run by the CIA that targets the elderly, the infirm, and others who drain this consumption-driven society of its resources.

When a nosy journalist starts asking questions, Bob can’t decide if it’s a chance to form some sort of new friendship or if it’s the beginning of the end for him. With treason on everyone’s lips, terrorism in everyone’s sights, and American political life racing to ever-lower standards, Bob decides it’s time to make a change. If he doesn’t get killed by his mysterious controllers or exposed in the rapacious media first.

My Reaction:
I can sum up my reaction to this book (and the audiobook version read by Penn himself, which is how I "read" it) in one single word: UGH.

Yeah, big surprise: I absolutely hated it.  I'd give it negative stars, were it possible.  If not for the 372 Pages podcast, I never would have been tempted to read this one, and even with that as an incentive, we didn't get very far.  (This was another shared read/listen with Donald.)  I don't remember how far we got before saying, "Eh... Let's just listen to the podcast episodes without reading the rest, okay?"  (For the record, that's the first time we've done that, and it does reduce the listening pleasure of the podcast when you haven't read the book.  In this instance, however, I think we still came out ahead by avoiding further exposure to Bob Honey.)

Imagine my surprise upon discovering that there's a sequel in the works! 
Nope, not for me.

Son of Rosemary

Son of Rosemary
by Ira Levin


Blurb:

Son of Rosemary opens at the dawn of the new millennium - a time when human hope is shadowed by growing fear and uncertainty, and the world is in greatest need of a savior. It is here - against a glittering backdrop of New York City in 1999 - that Rosemary is reunited with her son. It is also here that the battle between good and evil will be played out on a global scale - a struggle that will have frightening, far-reaching consequences, not only for Rosemary and her son but for all humanity.

My Reaction (with SPOILERS):
Well, at least I finally finished it.  To be fair, I knew going in (based on the "bad-book recommendation" of my youngest sister) that it wasn't going to be a good book.  However, I didn't know what made it a bad book, and now I've satisfied my curiosity.

There are plenty of things I could nit-pick, but I'll try to confine myself to the bigger issues.

First, I get the impression that the author had some sort of writer's crush on his own creation-- Rosemary herself-- intensified by and linked to Mia Farrow's portrayal of her.  Rosemary isn't that interesting, honestly.  That's part of her appeal in the first book: she's just a normal, everyday woman tossed into a nightmare scenario.  In this sequel, however, it feels like we're supposed to adore or at least admire her in a way I just don't understand.  Maybe it's just me being too sensitive to the book-world's bizarre obsession with her, which is attributable to her connection to Andy, who himself has an apparent charisma-on-steroids that doesn't translate well to the page.

Example: Why would the world care particularly about Rosemary's "Fresh Eye" perspective on how things have changed since she went into her coma?  She's been "asleep" for 30-ish years, not a hundred.  Tons of living adults could make the same observations.  Yes, it's a little different when you're seen things gradually change vs. essentially waking up one morning after a 30-year sleep, but I still don't see why she just assumes that of course everyone will care about her ground-breaking theory on "terrorist-speak", etc.  (The maddening thing is, in the world of this book, people would care!  Yuck.  Never been one for the cult of personality. Hero/celebrity-worship is definitely not my thing.)

Second, the relationship between Rosemary and Andy.  ...What can you say about it?  Just... bizarre. It might be a while before I hear or read the word "biggie" without cringing.

Third, the ending.  I didn't find it quite such a cop-out as some evidently did.  I mean, I didn't like it-- found it a let-down and a fairly anticlimactic, boring conclusion-- but I'm pretty certain we aren't meant to believe that it was all really "just a dream", which means I didn't hate it as much as I would have if it had erased everything that happened in both books.  No, it's not really a dream-- or rather, maybe Rosemary's in a dream at the end of the book, but the events of the books all still happened.  She's just temporarily in a dreamlike bubble, hinted at by the "roast mules" and "exactly three minutes and twelve seconds by the clock".

Finally, I have to admit that while I found the sinister nature of "the Lighting" extremely predictable, it somehow never occurred to me that Joe might be Satan.  I also thought Andy would play a more active role in the last section of the book-- would whip off his (not-quite-actually-a) good-guy mask and do something particularly nasty and cruel and evil to Rosemary.

Okay, I was mistaken.  That "finally" was premature, because some nits must be picked.

#1:  "He [Satan] lives up to his reputation, Andy had said.  Surpassed it, rather; the worst she remembered from the Bible was 'the father of lies.'  How about the father of bestial savagery?"

...So a woman brought up in a strict Catholic family in the 1950s (?) is surprised that the Devil is a savage, cruel monster?  I find that a little strange.

#2:  Andy explains that he was nailed to the wall to keep him from telling Rosemary about the deadly candles "while there was still time to get the word out."  He says he was going to, then adds, "I feel so rotten about it."

...Um, what?!  Feel so rotten about it... About dooming all of humanity to an excruciating death?  Yeah, I can see how he might.  I'm sorry, was this supposed to be funny?  Because it's a darned weird sense of humor, if so.

Maybe I'm being unfair.  Some of the things I like best about Rosemary's Baby are the off-kilter moments of humor.  I think it's only in the movie, but I love it that Laura-Louise sticks her tongue out at Rosemary when she's reprimanded by the coven's leader.  Why do I love that but hate this?  I guess it just doesn't seem to fit.  The sequel isn't as well crafted, for one thing, but also... Ok, Rosemary's Baby is a horror-tragedy, but it's not quite on the same scale as the extinction of all human life.  Little jokes don't work, in this context.

No, I wouldn't recommend this sequel.  Far from adding anything to Rosemary's Baby, it tends to diminish its value.  Best to try to forget it altogether.

The Forensic Certified Public Accountant and the Cremated 64-SQUARES Financial Statements

The Forensic Certified Public Accountant and the Cremated 64-SQUARES Financial Statements

by Dwight David Thrash (CPA FCPA CGMA)

Blurb:

The magical world of Forensic Accounting comes to life as Titus Uno, Certified Public Accountant, Forensic Certified Public Accountant, and Chartered Global Management Accountant along with the other 3 members of his Forensic Certified Public Accountant Team: Drew Samson, Dena Hope, and Veronica Jackson try to catch the "cat burglar terrorist" of the 64-SQUARES skyscraper building and help 64-SQUARES reconstruct the financial statements.

My Reaction:

This was a shared read with Donald, another 372-Pages podcast selection.  Were it not for 372 Pages We'll Never Get Back, there is no doubt that we never would have heard about this book, much less read it.  But they chose it-- we read it-- and we'll never be quite the same again...

This book is unlike anything I've ever read before.  It's truly one of a kind.  (Well, apart from the fact that it's the first in a series of books that apparently are all very similar.)  

You'll laugh!  You'll cry (tears of frustration at the bizarre decision to copy and paste chunks of text so many times that you lose count)!  You'll put the book down, stare into space, and ask yourself one simple question... Why?  Just... why?  

I wouldn't have finished this, were it not for the book club podcast.  If you're a student of the absurd, there's a chance you might get something out of it, but if you're looking for a genuine mystery / crime thriller... Hm. Well, I'd keep looking.

For those whose interest has been piqued, the podcast is recommended-- as always, but particularly in this case, where you may need a little extra motivation to propel you through the umpteenth "I, Titus Uno..." and the seemingly endless parade of character introductions.  

This was definitely one of the more bizarre things I've ever read.

Rosemary's Baby

Rosemary's Baby
by Ira Levin


Blurb:

Rosemary and Guy Woodhouse, an ordinary young couple, settle into a New York City apartment, unaware that the elderly neighbors and their bizarre group of friends have taken a disturbing interest in them. But by the time Rosemary discovers the horrifying truth, it may be far too late!

My Reaction (with SPOILERS!):
I decided to read Rosemary's Baby for a couple of reasons. First, I'd enjoyed the movie and was interested in seeing how it might differ from the book. Second, my youngest sister and I were talking about it, and she mentioned that the sequel was... well, not quite as good (to put it kindly), and I was intrigued. It just made sense to read them both in order.

If you're even remotely interested in the genre, Rosemary's Baby is a great read-- a confirmed classic-- evocative of its time, creepy, and deeply unsettling. However, if you've already seen the 1960's film adaptation (as so many of us have), you're not in for many surprises when you read the book. This has to be one of the most faithful adaptions I've ever come across-- word for word, in many instances.

There were only three differences that really caught my attention, and I'm not even certain that one of them is a difference, or if I'm merely not remembering correctly. First, Minnie's accent is described in the book as Midwestern, but in the film the character has an unmistakable New York accent. Second, Rosemary takes a brief trip to a cabin in the book, but I don't recall that happening in the movie (though I may just have forgotten it). And third, the ending is more drawn out and explicit in the book than in the film.

This is one of those instances where the film may actually be better than the book, but it's difficult to judge, since I came to the book already knowing the story. Still, I think the fact that the baby is never shown in the film makes it a bit stronger, and the ending just seems faster-paced and more streamlined than in the book. However, a positive of the book is that we get a little of Rosemary's internal monologue as she makes her decision. The gist of her decision is obvious in the film, I think, but the book leaves no doubt at all about the specifics of how she reaches that decision.

One thing that's blatantly obvious in the movie but is somehow even more blatantly obvious in the book (maybe because there's simply more time for it all to sink in, since it takes longer to read than to watch) is just how awful Guy (Rosemary's husband) is and the profundity of his betrayal of her trust.  (I mean, yeah, that was very clear in the movie, as I've said, but I think it hits even harder when you're reading the book.)

Rosemary is betrayed repeatedly throughout the book, and if the thought of being the unwitting (and unwilling) vessel for the literal spawn of Satan isn't the kind of thing to give you the shivers, it's certainly terrifying to imagine being so isolated and helpless-- to have everyone around you working together to deceive and use you.

4.75 stars (rounded up).

The Perfect Neighbors

The Perfect Neighbors
by Sarah Pekkanen


Blurb:

Perfect Neighbors takes us into the homes of an idyllic suburban neighborhood where we discover the burning secrets hiding just below the surface. 

Bucolic Newport Cove, where spontaneous block parties occur on balmy nights and all of the streets are named for flowers, is proud of its distinction of being named one the top twenty safest neighborhoods in the US.

It’s also one of the most secret-filled.

Kellie Scott has just returned to work after a decade of being a stay-at-home mom. She’s adjusting to high heels, scrambling to cook dinner for her family after a day at the office—and soaking in the dangerous attention of a very handsome, very married male colleague. Kellie’s neighbor Susan Barrett begins every day with fresh resolutions: she won’t eat any carbs. She’ll go to bed at a reasonable hour. And she’ll stop stalking her ex-husband and his new girlfriend. Gigi Kennedy seems to have it all together—except her teenage daughter has turned into a hostile stranger and her husband is running for Congress, which means her old skeletons are in danger of being brought into the light. 

Then a new family moves to this quiet, tree-lined cul-de-sac. Tessa Campbell seems friendly enough to the other mothers, if a bit reserved. Then the neighbors notice that no one is ever invited to Tessa’s house. And soon, it becomes clear Tessa is hiding the biggest secret of all.

My Reaction:
The Perfect Neighbors reminded me of Desperate Housewives, but with less of whatever it was that made (the earlier seasons of) Desperate Housewives entertaining. It's not as quirky or funny as Desperate Housewives, and I think that's what was missing. It's more realistic, which might actually be an improvement, depending on what you're after.

Yes, each woman has a secret, but most of them are fairly clichéd, and their stories unfold much as you'd predict. Tessa's secret is more mysterious than the others', but even it isn't difficult to guess, after a certain point.

Though rather predictable, the novel is still perfectly readable. This is the literary equivalent of the typical prime-time soap/drama. You don't have to concentrate very sharply to keep up with the story, but there's some emotional depth to it.

I don't read this genre (slightly gritty chick lit?) very often and don't expect that will change, but it's a decent read, if your expectations aren't too high. It took a while for the characters to become reasonably distinct in my mind, but by the end, I liked Susan. Tessa and Kellie were just "meh", and Gigi... Well, see the section below for that. (That's right; Gigi gets her own section.)

Overall, I wasn't enthralled, but it kept me reasonably entertained. My most honest review would be 2.5 stars, but since half-stars aren't permitted, I'm rounding up to three.


Spoilery Nit-Picks:
I really didn't care for Gigi (or her part of the novel) at all. First, her main concern is "oh no, my teenage daughter is acting like a stereotypical teenager, and I'm afraid we'll never be friends again, even after she inevitably ages and matures"-- which, I'm sorry, I found painfully dull to read about. (Spoiler alert: Her rather bratty daughter is already behaving better by the end of the book, mere months after her brattiness began. So that was a compelling storyline...)

Then there's the side-plot of Gigi's story, which is that her husband is running for Congress. He's intended to be a nice, sympathetic character in a typical modern novel, so obviously this means he's a democrat. ...Fine, have it your way. (But yes, predictable!)

I just love it when a character is a politician (or has political aspirations), because we are treated to gems like this: "I didn't expect to spend hours talking to people who think Obama is an illegal immigrant. The other day I had to explain the concept of global warming to someone..." Oh, and this: "He supported raising the minimum wage-- one of Gigi's pet causes-- and he believed in a woman's right to choose, another one of her priorities." Just... I cringe. Why is this even in the book? It feels totally out of place, in my ever-so-humble opinion.

I do wonder what kind of magical, fairy-tale democrat Joe's going to be, though, because one of his neighbors/friends half-jokingly asks him to "just give us a tax break". (Ooh, something tells me she's in for a disappointment.)

Did I mention that Gigi likes to smoke the occasional joint? And that she convinces the hubster to partake "for old times' sake" (and because, apparently, he "needed this" to alleviate his stress)? It's clearly illegal wherever/whenever they are-- and he's currently running for CONGRESS, y'all-- but sure, light that bad boy up! "She wondered what the voters would say if they knew that Joe had smoked pot in college. ... Let the campaign photographer get a glimpse of this, Gigi thought as she put the joint between her lips." (Insert gratuitous eye-roll here!)

Gigi's secret skeleton-closet is pretty full, what with the marijuana, shrooms, and an old shop-lifting habit (not to mention an abortion). For someone with some seriously questionable behaviors of her own, she manages to be pretty self-righteous, though. (She's "certain" that someone is ID'd on the basis of their race, for instance, and she uses that air-tight "certainty" to justify one of her shop-lifting offenses.)

Look, I'll just be honest: I don't like Gigi. Thank goodness she wasn't the primary focus of the novel!

TekWar

TekWar
by William Shatner


Blurb:

Not satisfied with the thrills of being one of Greater Los Angeles’ toughest cops, Jake Cardigan turns to Tek, a computerized brain stimulant which transports the user to any reality he can imagine. He’s soon addicted to this fantasy-enabler—and it isn’t long before Cardigan is accused of dealing. When he fails to convince the mechanized jury of his innocence, the state strips his badge and sentences him to fifteen years in suspended animation. Four years later he’s awakened. His sentence has been changed, but no one will tell him why.

Cardigan’s search for answers takes him to Mexico, where a rogue scientist is attempting to rid the world of Tek. But these efforts have roused powerful enemies. Aiding this quest is the right thing to do, but for an ex-con, doing good can be the most dangerous decision of all.

My Reaction:
This is yet another shared read with Donald, chosen because it was featured on the "bad book" book club podcast, 372 Pages We'll Never Get Back.

Wow... Where do I even begin? When I first opened this document on my plasbook-- er, e-reader-- I little imagined the delights in store! Shatner and ghost-writer Ron Goulart have brought to life a stunning vision of the future, populated by finely drawn, truly distinctive characters whose scintillating, fast-paced, cleverly plotted adventures will have you clinging to the edge of your seat.

...Not! (Heh heh, really had you going for a minute there, didn't I?)

No, this novel will bring joy mostly just to those of us who take (perverse?) pleasure in absurdities. The phrase "so bad it's good" comes to mind. If you can enjoy watching a bad movie just to laugh at it, why not apply the same principle to bad books? It works better when you're sharing the joke with someone else, of course, which is why I'd recommend seeking out the relevant episodes of the podcast mentioned above.

What amazing crapcraftsmanship! The plas-this and plas-that! The skyvehicles in their infinite variety! The endless, mind-numbing cycle of travelling to a place, talking to a (typically "plump") person about other characters you've yet to meet-- rinse and repeat ad infinitum! The precisely measured (and usually unbelievably long) periods of time that things take to happen! The fact that nearly every secondary character has a gimmicky catch-phrase! The sheer stupidity of a future where androids feed printed slips of paper from slots in their chests and hands, every second person is a cyborg with one arm replaced by a weapon, and digital books are oh-so-conveniently printed on demand-- in a special shop-- a process which apparently takes hours-- rather than being available to read instantly on an electronic device! The befuddling decision to name a book after a "drug" that only makes a fleeting (and completely unimpressive) appearance in the pages of said book! The wonder and awe that is Beth Kittridge! All this and so. Much. More!

Summation: Best left to fans of humorously bad writing and those who so love Shatner that he can do no wrong. This isn't on the same level as The Eye of Argon (the previous 372 Pages selection), but then, what else is?

Death in Cyprus

Death in Cyprus
by M.M. Kaye


Blurb:

Twenty-year-old Amanda Derrington is on an extended cruise with her uncle when she decides to make a short side trip to the sun-washed island of Cyprus. But even before the ship arrives in port, there is a suspicious death. Once the passengers reach the island, it soon becomes clear that the death was in fact an act of murder. What Amanda had meant to be a pleasant excursion quickly takes a turn for the worse in this classic novel of suspense and romance.

My Reaction:
While not without flaws, this was a perfectly acceptable bit of escapism. It's not destined to be a personal favorite, though.

M.M. Kaye seems to have done the same kind of writing as Mary Stewart, but not quite as well. For instance, in this book there are a few pleasant descriptions, but in general, the exotic locale isn't as finely painted as in Mary Stewart's best work. I don't come away from the book feeling as though I'd visited Cyprus. The main thing I remember is that Kaye falls back again and again on the description of places as "dust-scented". I can't for the life of me understand what she means by that. How does dust smell? (Believe me, this is not a humblebrag to the effect that I never allow dust to accumulate! I've just never noticed it having a particular scent.)

More complaints: The author's approach to romance is very dated, and I'm becoming tired of her odd habit of repeatedly comparing her young, beautiful heroines to other, slightly older characters.  It seems to happen in all of the Death in... novels-- or at least the three I've read so far. In this instance, the descriptions of Monica are distasteful. No-one can believe the possibility that such a "thick", plain, middle-aged frump could attract the attention of any man ever. (She's actually described as "plain and effective and thick and thirty-five-ish"-- the shame of being 35ish! She also had the audacity to have "buck teeth and a forty-two inch waist".) Only the young, thin, and lovely-- or possibly the very-well-preserved not-quite-young 30-something-- should hope for love, apparently. And if a man ever does pay attention to a plain-featured, chubby, 35-ish woman ("a frustrated spinster"), it's only because he has ulterior motives. ("He was probably the only man who had ever looked twice at her, and he reduced her to a pulp.")

I haven't read many reviews yet... Was I the only one who noticed how often "Amanda demanded"? It happened so many times! Hilarious! Maybe it was more noticeable to me, though, because I read it aloud. (...Yes, I read aloud while I walk. I find I just enjoy some books more when I'm reading aloud, and my mind is less likely to wander. Usually there's no-one listening but the dogs. They're a wonderful audience for my "performances".)

Another side-note-- Amanda's hair was almost a character in its own right! First, we hear how beautiful it is-- and so unusual, too. (In the 1950s, most fashionable young women had their hair cut short, of course.) Then the hero starts commenting on it... And finally it ends up saving her life-- twice!  (Well, alright, the second time is debatable, but it's definitely mentioned as a factor in the fact that she isn't quite as damaged as she might have been if she had a bobbed cut.) I went from being annoyed by the hair to finding it, too, hilarious. (Maybe I'm easily amused.)

...But if you can look past those kinds of things, it's vintage escapism. (You kind of have to take the bad with the good, with a lot of these books.)