Review: Evil Genius by Patricia Rice

I don't like this cover. I don't like it a lot. To me it sort of says late 80's sexcapade, something by Jackie Collins or Harold Robbins.

The top is fine, and if the bottom of the book was a solid color it might work, but the girl throws it right in the hopper for me. Someone stop her before she plucks again - that eyebrow is barely hanging on. I'm thinking the brow issue might explain why she's holding a hank of hair in front of her face. Try and get your hair to sit like that without assisting it. Go ahead, I'll wait. I mean, if it's long enough. Right, it doesn't. That's got to tickle the nose and fatigue the elbow. But whatever, it's the contents that count.

I wanted to love Evil Genius but it made me like it. The price point is fantastic, it's a comfortable amount to pay for a read and the book itself delivers more than that in value. My quibbles were stylistic and quibbley. (Is quibbley a word? It totally should be. I'm inventing it right now if it isn't.) Evil Genius is mostly in the first person. Every so often we take a quick trip to the third person to see what's motivating our heroine's sister, the Evil Genius in question. That would be fine if we needed to know what EG is up to, but we largely don't. If the reader had the same lack of knowledge about EG's actions as the heroine does the story wouldn't suffer. Because of that the effect is like a commercial interruption in the middle of your favorite show. It doesn't matter if the commercial is entertaining, it's not the main event. My other quibbley point involves Ana herself. She's two girls in one. Ana is a mild introvert with a bit of a complex about her parents, and Ana is also Angelina Jolie on an endorphin high. It doesn't really work for me that this kick ass confident chick is also this insecure hermit. Yes, she shows her kick ass bona fides off early in the book so they are not a complete surprise, but they still don't sit comfortably on her shoulders. The conceit is that their mother, Magda, has raised all of them to be unique and powerful individuals through a system of benign neglect. I could never really buy into it.

All of those quibbly quibbles being set aside, Evil Genius was a very enjoyable read. There are some great moments in Evil Genius (same kind of car as your daddy, bitch) and some red herrings (Sean) coupled with a nice mix of high and low stakes mysteries. A little more resolution for The Man In The Attic would have made the book an even stronger read. (He's the Charlie to her Angel). I actually did find I liked Evil Genius enough to hope for a sequel. The short synopsis might go something like:

Ana, a kick ass heroine who dreams of being a quiet mouse, finds her cover of domesticity blown when her young sister arrives at the door. When EG is followed by another of their many siblings Ana realizes it's time to reclaim her ancestral home. Unfortunately, it's already been claimed by a mysterious man with little interest in her family problems. Ana must solve the murder of a Senator's aide, uncover a money laundering cartel and still get her sister to school on time. Can she do it all and still get dinner? Only with the help of her friends. 

Or something. I dunno. I don't write book blurbs. I just say cranky or fawning things about books. It's so hard when a book is just sitting there being a good read. What do you do with a good read? I guess you just buy it and move on.

Review: It Happened One Season by Mary Balogh, Stephanie Laurens, Candice Hern, Jacquie D'Alessandro

Anthologies don't get much respect. I've read some fantastic shorts, (Edith Layton and gingerbread, oh my god. I don't remember the story but the gingerbread and his aversion to it was so evocative that it's never left me.) some not so fantastic shorts and some dogs. I'm still attracted to them. I want this to be awesome, because the premise is awesome, but it's not. It Happened One Season is made of average. It's not bad, none of the stories caused me to storm off in a huff. It's not great, there's no gingerbread moment here.

I think the story that might stay with me belongs to Candice Hern, but for the wrong reasons. She's done one of my favorite things - the Regency Heroine With A Disability - but she's done it with some tedium. Phillippa has a pronounced limp and Nat has PTSD from the war. The problem is that Phillippa is perfect. Patient, understanding, gracious, pretty, it goes on and on. She's also disabled and that is her only interesting personality point. Her disability is mentioned, dwelled on, discussed, reiterated, it's a giant neon sign in the reader's face that obscures all else about this couple. I give Hern huge points for it, but by the time they dance awkwardly to the cheers of society I was ready to break Phillippa's other hip.

Stephanie Laurens is turning out some great shorts. (I'm not into her full length books of late so it confuses me.) Here she has hit another triple, if not a full home run.  Jacquie D'Alessandro gets a little complicated. Her hero feels responsible for the death of her heroine's brother while the heroine, Penelope, has lost her position as a governess due to an affinity for classical sculpture. While the tale of a women trying to survive on the fringe is welcome, Penny gives it up in about half a second when Alec sweeps in to rescue her. From there it's Alec's weird guilt, let him allude to it and Penny's independence, let her abdicate it. I thought it was going to be epic but D'Alessandro blinks. Alec isn't going to be relating a friendly fire incident in these few pages. (It's good but not great.) Mary Balogh brings her usual style with a damaged widow and the impatient soldier who fell for her on a battlefield far away. Theirs was the most satisfying on the romance front, but it's a familiar path for Balogh and it felt a bit familiar. Overall, I wouldn't go Agency pricing for this one. Anthologies trade for pennies after a few months, It Happened One Season is unlikely to be an exception.

Review: Look Away, Dixieland by James B. Twitchell

Look at that extended title. I'm not sure who this book is being marketed to. That title is designed to alienate the Southern reader, which makes little sense as the North doesn't care much about us.  I would suggest that Look Away, Dixieland be featured in The Oxford American (if it hasn't) because it dovetails nicely with the type of South they market.

So let's pretend that I came across this book in the OA and leave the marketing to someone else. Twitchell is the descendent of a carpetbagger and a long time resident of North Florida. The thing about Florida is that you can live there your entire life without having to encounter the South. It's not that the South doesn't exist, it's that Florida has created protective bubbles containing the Snowbirds, the Sh'tbirds, and the transplant who just wants the weather. (It's sort of like residing in Number 6's Village.) It is to Twitchell's credit that he stepped out of that bubble.

Look Away, Dixieland is a fantastic read on several levels. In revealing his personal brush with the post Civil War backlash (and correctly calling those involved Death Squads) he proves himself an able teller of history. As he tells the events, there was little mystery to me why things unfolded as they did. As well, I can certainly see why it wouldn't be as clear to someone not raised in the culture. The second half of the book is concerned with Twitchell's search of understanding of the South and a resolution of the events in the past. This ends with a powerful moment that brings Twitchell face to face with a Southern tradition - touching artifacts. Southern museums are often focused on the mundane and on touching those items with your own hands, so it is fitting that his journey ended this way. So many times in my youth I recall being invited to touch the ball that killed great uncle whoever, or to wrap my hands around a Nazi artifact and think about my jewish cousins. For the South, contact means context.

Twitchell's Southern encounters are almost as entertaining as his historical tales. While I don't agree with all of his conclusions (I certainly disagree with his version of how the North operates.) it's refreshing to find a transplant willing to open his mind to a different culture. At times naive (Why would a black president erase institutionalized racism?) and condescending, (Southern people! So nice!) Twitchell usually checks himself before the reader has to. I never felt the need to close the book or break out a "Bless his heart." Aside from being a very entertaining read Look Away, Dixieland offers a great look at how the other half thinks - both about themselves and about us. We are still a nation as divided as we are united. There are many Americas in America but Look Away, Dixieland offers a chance for two of them to appreciate each other.

Review: The Vampire Voss by Colleen Gleason

This is a unique case.

It's rare for me not to finish a book that I've taken to review, much less move forward with the review. But this is not your typical DNF. So much is right with The Vampire Voss that I think I could adore it if it didn't hit my particular buttons quite so hard. Right, so here is the solution.

I am not going to review The Vampire Voss. Mostly. I'll explain what kept me from enjoying it, and if those are not things that would keep you from enjoying the book then I think it's worth a look. Gleeson has an easy writing style with a nice eye for characterization and description, her pacing is solid, and her worlds are well realized. There's a lot more to The Vampire Voss than my displeasure. (If my Sony hadn't bricked twice during my third go at the book I might have made it to the end!)

In this world of Vampires and Vampire Hunters there are also rare persons with The Sight. One of those is Angelica. Her ability to see the moment of a person's death brings her to the attention of (say it with me) The Vampire Voss. Voss is the kind of kid his mother might describe as 'intellectual, sensitive, easily bored' and the other kids might describe as 'a serious pain in the ass'. My problem with Voss, and thus my problem with the book, is that he is a date rapist of high order. He sees a woman, he roofies her with his magic eyes, and they can get it on. He admits he doesn't really care how willing she is at first because hey, she'll like it later. Maybe he comes to realize this is wrong. I don't know. I didn't care. He 'thralls' half a dozen women and I just see rapist.

Book two is The Vampire Dimitri.  Dimitri's mom might have described him as 'studious, committed, ethical' while the other kids probably called him 'a serious pain in the ass'. You know that these two men will end up together. Dimitri is the required pigs blood drinker, the vampire with regrets. There's a scene where Voss marvels at the unneeded pain Dimitri puts himself through for his beliefs, since in this universe Lucifer continually sends physical signals of his displeasure to the bodies of his men. Being good hurts, what can Voss tell you. Voss proves he's the good kind of rapist when after a scene that's a little bit Merchant Ivory Slasher Flick, a little bit West Side Story With Fangs he comes upon a defenseless Dimitri and... doesn't hurt him. Ok then.

I understand that the Vampire genre either skirts with or embraces non-consent as a very fact of it's existence. This makes many of the books fail for me, because my bad boys need to be a little less bad than the whole 'She'll want it by the time I'm done' thing. Angelica, of course, is somewhat immune to being enthralled. She can't be the one girl in all the world if she isn't, right? Don't let them have the milk, make them buy the cow.

I like Gleeson's style, I like her mechanics, I will absolutely try her again. For me, the sheer Vampireness of Voss keeps me from falling in love.

Review: Bringing Adam Home by Les Standiford & Joe Matthews

This is going to be one of those reviews where the reviewer offers up personal anecdote you may or may not be interested in. To facilitate your buying experience, yes, Bringing Adam Home is the definitive book on Adam Walsh's murder. You should read it and shelve it next to In Cold Blood (if you go for that sort of thing). It isn't a perfect book. There's a whiff of homophobia, a bit of repetition but it's as close to perfect as a book about police corruption and child murder is likely to be. So go ahead and buy it. (Now, back to me.)

I lived in South Florida for decades. I did when Adam Walsh was kidnapped and I did when my friend's young sister disappeared a few years later. The kindness the Walsh family showed hers from disappearance to tragic discovery has stayed with me always. I have no patience for those who blame them for their son's murder. You cannot imagine now what South Florida was like then. Shopping malls had playgrounds for the children to stay unattended while the parents shopped. Children of all ages walked to and from school alone. My parents authorized an area of more than five miles for me to wander, increasing it yearly. This was normal. Those who blame Adam's mother for stepping away inside a store have no idea what they're talking about.

Unlike Adam, I was fortunate. I was not a trusting child and those who approached me, who promised me things, I ran from. I hid under cars, I cut through yards, the one thing I did not do was approach the police. Our neighborhood officer was a pederast. I have met some truly wonderful police officers in my life, but in South Florida I met only two amid dozens of less pleasant encounters. In my experience the local officers were either criminal themselves or too apathetic to be bothered. I would like to tell you things have changed, but from dozens of stories I will share this one. In Sailboat Bend a group of men have been assaulting and robbing people walking home from their low income jobs. The police have been given solid leads, they have been offered eyewitness identification, once they were even begged to just walk outside. The criminals were behind the station. The detective for the case simply hung up the phone.

I can understand why those reading Bringing Adam Home might react with disbelief to the account of willful obstruction of justice leveled at the Hollywood PD. Even the Walsh family took decades to understand what many of us in South Florida already knew. When the press conference was held naming Adam's killer, I viewed it with some doubt. So did (and does) the local media. It seemed like a way for the department to make the infamous case go away. If this was the killer, why wasn't the case solved years ago? Bringing Adam Home answers that with certainty. There is absolutely no doubt who killed Adam. None. The Walsh case is closed, the killer is dead. If Adam had not died, many other children would not have been saved, many criminals would not have been apprehended. If Adam's case had not been deliberately kept from prosecution, the same would be true. Even knowing that, the reader desperately wishes there could be a miracle ending. The head wasn't Adam's, his death wasn't painful, his family wasn't relentlessly tortured by the killer, by the police, by the public. Something, anything, to relieve the horror. There can't be. All of it is true.

And yet Bringing Adam Home is not a cruel book. It is a relentless one due to the nature of the crime and the crimes that followed. Unlike many True Crime books it doesn't sympathize with the killer or turn murder into a graphic pornography of horror. What happened to Adam is presented factually and concisely, the reader is haunted because there is no way to tell it gently. The focus is on the investigation and it's procedural aspects. What went right (precious little) what went wrong, and who lost track of their own morality. In searching so doggedly for  answers, the Walshes opened themselves up to one last victimization, one last horror inflicted by a man who had taunted them over the unspeakable end of their child. In doing so they once again used their pain to change their country.

Bringing Adam Home is about more than Adam Walsh. It is about how the worst of human nature can be seen not just in our killers, but in any one of us. Protect a friend here, doubt the truth there, offer a bone to a hungry public and soon you've created a wall only the most dogged and determined can break through. In the Walsh case, it took decades and immense resources. Even the killer himself offering proof of his guilt repeatedly couldn't break the Blue Line. Reading this you realize how many other cases have fallen under the same spells. (Jon Benet Ramsey, Trenton Duckett  - the list goes on.) The news cycle and the territory contests, the parent blaming and the street corner experts. The trust in authority and the distrust of the same. The things we just know, just decide, the obvious things.

We should all do better. At the very least, we should do as the Hollywood PD did, stand up and admit our flaws. Apologize for our errors and face those we failed. Remember that the truth is not something ephemeral or emotional,  it is a thing we discover piece by painstaking piece, regardless of the picture we wanted it to form. Adam has stood for so much in America. Wouldn't it be wonderful if he could stand for that? 

Review: My One And Only by Kristan Higgins

Kristan Higgins is a best selling author for a reason, she delivers the goods. She also bucks the trend of sexually descriptive romance to show that real intimacy happens with our clothes on. I'd feel comfortable handing this book to a young adult reader or my great grandmother. Since books are more fun when they're shared, I appreciate her choice.

 90% of My One and Only is engaging, realistic, heartwarming and rewarding. 10% of it made me want to toss it out the window. It's not that the 10% was bad (far from it) but it threw me out of a story I was totally engaged in. Our heroine is a hard charging divorce attorney jaded by life and jaded by her clients. What she hasn't done she's seen and what she's seen has made her deeply cynical. Harper's self protective and prides herself on being free of illusions. She also curses like a three year old child.

This might not bother you, in fact it might please many readers, but for me when the hardbitten Red Sox fan lets loose with "Crotch! Crochety crotch!" It's hard for me to take her seriously. Sure, she can conjugate it "Well, crotch! Oh, crotch!" but it doesn't help. Really, who says that? Do you have a friend who pulls her cell phone out of her pocket, looks down and says "Crotch. It's my boss." (Maybe I just need to get out more.) The other thing that threw me came in the last few chapters. Everything gets tied up neatly and cutely and by everything I mean every single little thing. I'm shocked the dog didn't get a surprise litter from a pedigreed princeling. It's a bit much. However! There's the other 90% of the book.

Our heroine has a pretty tidy life with an island home, a firefighter boyfriend and a priest for a best friend. She's doing alright. Sadly, she also has family. In Harper's case there's a little sister who likes to marry guys she's known about five minutes. Her most recent engagement is to Harper's ex-brother-in-law. As Harper would say, "Crotch!" (Ok, I'll let it go) Harper boards a plane and heads out to confront her sister's latest folly which means confronting one of her own. Nick is more than ready to reexamine their past. Since their divorce, he's moved on with his life but he never moved past Harper. They may have married too young, but they weren't wrong to marry.

Harper and Nick are savvy people damaged by life and afraid to invest too much in each other. They are also achingly familiar.  There's an element of "Just communicate!" at play, but it works here because the characters are afraid to talk to each other. Exposing their fears means exposing themselves to pain. Neither is the trusting type. I have to say I'm Team Harper all the way. I'd have divorced Nick too. But I can't blame her for taking him back, either. Older and wiser, he's still the right one for her. Even though he's a Yankees fan. Which reminds me - Kristan Higgins totally won the cover jackpot. Right down to the NY plate on the car and the dog by her side, My One and Only has the perfect cover for the story inside. Bold, charming and appropriate, I love the cover as much as the contents.

Review: An Unlikely Countess by Jo Beverley

*Why can't we have eyes anymore? I feel like this cover is saying "Hello! Up here!" to the Art Department. 

Rothgar, it's time to go. I adore you, you are one of the great romantic heros, you make other romantic heros look like pale anemic vampires, but I think we need to take a break. Here's the thing, I loved An Unlikely Countess, I adored An Unlikely Countess, I was ready sleep with An Unlikely Countess under my pillow, and then your wife showed up. She was kind of a total buzz kill.

This book was so good without her. It was Joanna Bourne good. It was Sherry Thomas good. It was Meredith Duran good. Hey, I'll go all the way - it was Jo Beverley good. And then it was easy. The thing is, Cate (can I call the Earl Cate?) was a great romantic lead on his own. His family doesn't understand him, his mother can't really stand him, his older brother is a know it all bore, and Cate likes to rescue girls he finds in alleys. He's adorable. Sure, he's got a bit of an inferiority complex, being suited to caretake a manor and finding himself without one, but that's totally not a problem.

Then there's Prudence! She's a total snob and I love that she can still be one after falling so far down in the world that up would be defined as a change of clothes. That whole thing she's got going with her neighbor? Will tutor for food? Love her! As an older sibling myself, believe me when I say I've got her back. Younger brothers can be the very devil. Look at Cate! By the time the two of them find themselves shacked up as Earl and Countess I'm fascinated. The intricacies of upstairs / downstairs life, the dizzying tightrope of small town life, the nuances of family dynamics. I love that stuff. It was like Downton Abbey with half the cliches.

Then the drama had to escalate. And with the drama, a sudden resolution of all their problems, some of it initiated by a certain overbearing nobleman's charismatic wife. I'm not naming any names, Rothgar, but I think you know her. Really really well if you get where I'm going with this. Really. Well. Indeed. Yes. Her. She shows up and it's like a giant tying of the plot lines. I liked it better when Cate and Prudence were muddling on as best they could, without the big jolt of charisma. And really, if you sponsor all the lame little ducks, aren't you going to start to get a reputation for it? Rothgar, Lord of the Ducklings and Holder of the Socially Unformed. It's a bit of a mouthful.

Ah, why am I blaming you? You weren't even there. Probably, when you heard about it, you didn't even approve. Ok, you're right, you can stay. In fact, you can show up in every book of your time period ever. Because you're awesome. And so were Cate and Prudence, before A Certain Person cast them in her shadow. Can't you talk to her? Well I was just asking. No need to get like that about it. Fine! I'll read the next one. But I'm not promising to change my mind.

Review: One Night Is Never Enough by Anne Mallory

We all know I adore Anne Mallory. I think her name should be on the same list as Lorraine Heath and Julia Quinn, maybe just a half step (or not) below Courtney Milan and Sherry Thomas. (It's so hard to line authors up by height when they won't stop moving.) It's established that I am quite fond of Seven Secrets Of Seduction, the first book in this loosely connected series. So did I love One Night Is Never Enough?

Yes?

(Yes, but? Yes, and?) It surprised me. One Night blends one of my favorite (young self made street rat) and least favorite (lost in a card game) romance standards together. Roman Merrick is exceptional as the street rat in question. A card carrying member of the have-to-laugh-or-you'd-cry-club, Roman is charming and believable as a man who lives by his instincts. Charlotte isn't the heroine I expected to emerge from Seven Secrets of Seduction. Instead of the plucky best friend, Anne Mallory has chosen to work with the discarded fiancee, the ice princess being sold to the highest title. Unlike most ice princesses, Charlotte revels in her control. Her desire to dominate society shows that what Charlotte hungers for most in life is power. Lots and lots of power. Roman has power in abundance, but it's not the sort that's useful to her. Rather like dating a guy with a coal mine when you're trying to pull a stagecoach along. (I predict Charlotte will ultimately get the social power she desires as predicting Roman's brother is the Lost Duke Of Something is like going out on a limb that's already fallen and been bolted to the ground.)

So on to the ? mark. Anne Mallory's books are always slightly different. In this case, she's looking for a little added realism. If you're a street rat who has scrabbled his way to the top, you had to get your paws pretty dirty on the way up. Other rats are always going to be grabbing your tail, trying to climb the pile themselves. Men who run gambling clubs are not renowned for their honesty. But in Romanceland, once you make it big you make it clean. The gangster on the top of the mountain is molded into the respected businessman on the top of the mountain, above the teeming masses he once dwelled among. No drive-by shootings here. (Would that be canter-by? Gallop-by? How would that work?) Not so with Roman Merrick. The book opens with him attacking an enemy, it closes with him reminding her that his is a life of criminals and crime, his is a life that will never offer safety for himself or those with him. He is a Bad Boy With A Heart Of Gold not a Man With A Past.

Charlotte is ok with it. After some reflection, I think I am too. After all of our heros being told it isn't their fault, that the past is just that, the evil is gone, the trouble transported, the jails broken into, the cops paid off, we were due for a change. King Rat is always going to snap the neck of anyone who tries to take his cheese, and the rest of the rats are always going to make their play. Thug Life, Baby.

*I have to throw a quick cover note out here - blue and green, eye catching. That fist he's making for no reason in her dress? Disturbing. She's all relaxed lazy Sunday, and he's all Olestra side effects. Look at his hairline, those are some cold sweats he's got going on.