Fiction: “Murder Superior” by Jane Haddam

So yesterday was a magnificent day: in the first time in forever, I was able to finish two books on the same day. Crazy, right? This is the first one I finished — which, in a way, the finishing sucked: I had ten pages left in the entire damn book, and my lunch break ended. And all I wanted to do was finish it! But I had to go back to the floor! Why is my job so mean! oh wait …

ANYWAY. This was my “lunch break book,” to hide the fact that I was reading a tawdry romance novel (see the next entry). I hadn’t realized it had been over a year since I’d read the last in the Gregor Demarkian series, and I wanted to get back into it.

Unlike the last few in the series I’d read, this murder takes place conveniently in Philadelphia. That means that, in addition to the characters introduced especially for the murder plot, there are also some great interactions between Demarkian and his Cavanaugh Street cohorts. The holiday in question this time is Mother’s Day, and there’s a nun convention in town. It’s the same company of nuns that appeared in A Great Day for the Deadly, and they’ve invited Gregor to speak at their convention on the Brigit Ann Reilly case. The other important information is that there is a huge feud between two nuns: Mother Mary Bellarmine, and Sister Joan Esther. Joan Esther used to work for Mother Mary Bellarmine, and Mary Bellarmine is what you and I would call a heinous bitch (the other nuns would most likely call her ‘tempestuous,’ but even that is being too generous with Mary Bellarmine’s nature).

Bennis accompanies Gregor to the convention thingee. Prior to Gregor’s speech, there is a luncheon, including ice sculptures of all the mothers superior in the order. There is a procession of nuns, carrying the different ice sculptures and presenting them to the mothers superior, and Sister Jane Esther randomly gets the sculpture assigned to Mother Mary Bellarmine. Inside the sculpture, there is a small ball of chicken liver pate, which each mother superior takes and eats on a cracker, beginning the luncheon.

Except that the cracker that Sister Jane Esther is laced with fugu, which — as illustrated by this clip from The Simpsons — is either a delicacy, or extremely dangerous:

“Poison … poison … tasty fish!”

The difficulty around this particular mystery for Gregor is that by the time the police arrive, he’s already figured out the solution. Except that the lead detective is a prick of the highest order, and refuses to have Gregor’s assistance, and the detective pretty much accuses one of the sweetest nuns of murder, and the way the evidence points is that it looks like someone had been trying to murder Mother Mary Bellarmine because the chicken liver pate that did Sister Joan Esther in was from Mother Mary Bellarmine’s ice sculpture. Everyone believes that someone would want to murder Mother Mary Bellarmine, but everyone also agrees that no one would have the balls to do it.

Here’s what Gregor thinks about Detective Androcetti, and more importantly, how Gregor views the local constabulary:

If Jack Androcetti had been a halfway decent policeman, Gregor wouldn’t have spent the next two hours wandering around the back garden and along the strip of grass that allowed passage from the back garden to the sidewalk at the front. Androcetti knew Gregor had caught the body as it fell. Any policeman worth his service revolver would have taken that and run with it. Gregor had never liked the kind of detective story where the police were made to look like absolute idiots. To his mind, they exhibited a particularly obnoxious form of class snobbery and a total disregard for reality. Even the Nero Wolfe books — which he liked because Wolfe was fat and proud of it — annoyed him because of their portrayal of the police. What he was supposed to do with a case where the police really were idiots, he didn’t know. He consoled himself with the knowledge that Sergeant Collins at least seemed to have a brain in his head. How much good that was going to do anyone, Gregor didn’t know. [170]

For the first time in ever (and even Gregor remarks on this), the mystery is actually solved within 24 hours of the crime happening. There is also the one body, whereas I know I’ve said in past Demarkian mysteries that the bodies usually pile up one on top of another throughout the book. In a way, I liked the fact that there was only one body and the mystery was solved so quickly; in another way, however, I was disappointed. As I’ve explained, the Demarkian mysteries begin with a Prologue, in which Jane Haddam introduces all the characters that will be central to the mystery. In this entry in the series, I felt that she really didn’t need to spend all that time on some of the characters, because those particular characters (for example, Father Stephen Monaghan and Sarabess Coltrane) didn’t really interact that much with the plot, and are removed as possible suspects simply from the nature of their being. And due to the lack of development and the loss of possibilities, I am giving this entry 2 stars.

The other point of interest I had in this book is that there are actual hints that Gregor may have different feelings for Bennis besides friendship. Of course, Gregor being Gregor, he refuses to acknowledge them (and probably writes them off as heartburn), but I still think it’s interesting:

[...] but Bennis was already gone, her bare feet slapping carelessly against the wooden floor of her foyer, on the way to the privacy of her shower. Gregor wondered suddenly if Bennis felt that she needed privacy from him — and then he shoved that away, because it made him feel a little crazy. In fact, everything about his relationship with Bennis made him feel a little crazy lately. It was as if, after years of running along on a track on which they were both comfortable, an invisible hand had thrown a switch that got them both off course. he had even started to dream about her. [67]

Of course, he represses that emotion and moves on to try and solve a murder. I felt that this quote adequately captures the true relationship between Gregor and Bennis:

“It’s easy,” Gregor said pleasantly. “All you have to know is not only who is dead but who was supposed to be dead.”

“You mean you think it was supposed to be Mother Mary Bellarmine who was killed after all?”

“I mean I hear police sirens.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean that one of my suspects seems to have called Lieutenant Androcetti. I’ll talk to you later, Bennis.”

“But –”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“If I had a penny for every time you promised to tell me later and didn’t, I’d be richer than my father was.” [249]

I will of course continue to read these, even though I felt that this one was a little less than what it could have been. At one point, I had read up through Skeleton Key, and there are about ten titles after that one now. Oh, that reminds me, I need to get on getting through the Kinsey Millhone Alphabet — by the time I really get into that again, she’ll have finished whatever Z will be for.

Grade for Murder Superior: 2 stars

Fiction: “The Maltese Falcon” by Dashiell Hammett

Hey, look! Two books in less than 48 hours! It’s a Saturnalia miracle!

(Incidentally, a real Saturnalia miracle would involve me finishing two books between now and 11:59 on New Year’s Eve, I’ll have actually increased the amount of books I’ve read year over year for the first time since I’ve started this blog. Everybody cross your fingers!)

I picked up The Maltese Falcon for two reasons: 1) I needed a ‘lunch break book,’ because (as I said in the entry for Retail Hell) there was no way in hell I was going to be caught reading Breaking Dawn by Brad and John and everyone else I work with. And 2), I was/am trying to write a novel with a distinct pulp fiction tone, and hey, why not one of the classics?

Now, at the risk of gaining more hell from friends and coworkers, I’m going to begin by saying that I’ve never seen the Bogart film of the same name. Although, knowing Brad and John, they could care less about me not seeing a classic film starring one of the best on-screen detectives of all time. But mention that I’ve never watched Pulp Fiction and let the skies fall down upon me in shame. So anyway, I cannot compare the book to the movie. I can, however, compare Sam Spade to that other embodiment of 1940s-era detectivery, Philip Marlowe from The Big Sleep.

The trouble begins when a Miss Wonderly walks into the office of Spade & Archer in San Francisco, and asks them to tail a man that she’s hanging around. Before the night is over, Archer’s dead, as is the man he was supposed to tail. Another 12 hours passes, and he learns that Miss Wonderly is actually a Brigid O’Shaughnessy, and she’s wrapped up in something more sinister than just being scared for her life.

Turns out, she’s a player in a gang of people playing one against the other, looking for something called the Maltese Falcon. It’s this extremely rare statuette that was originally used as payment to some king or something (look, it’s taken me about 24 lunch breaks and twenty minutes, a nap, and then another four minutes to read this damn thing, I’m not going back and looking shit up, okay?), and it’s gold-plated and practically bedazzled in jewels. So O’Shaughnessy, a “Leviathan” named Joe Cairo, and a man with overtones of Jabba the Hut(*) are all looking for this thing. And they rope Sam Spade into looking for it too.

(* — I’d like to remind the readers that I’ve never seen Star Wars in one sitting, or in chronological order. But I know who Jabba the Hut is. In short [hee!], shut up, Brad.)

Here’s the difference between Spade and Marlowe: Marlowe wears his moral code on his sleeve, and doesn’t compromise his morals for a job. Spade plays everyone against each other and just tries to stay ahead of the game and end up on top. Even after finishing the book today, I’m not sure if he would sacrifice his morals for his “relationship” with O’Shaughnessy, or if he would run away with her and the falcon. But I know that, if Marlowe were in the same situation, he’d remain aloof of Brigid and maintain his code of honor throughout the case.

In the end, I enjoyed this title, and I will look for The Maltese Falcon on TCM (I have too many movies on my Netflix queue — including the entire Star Wars series, coming as soon as True Blood is over, I promise!), and I may pick up more Hammett titles. But I know for a fact I will read a Philip Marlowe novel first.

Grade for The Maltese Falcon: 2.5 stars

Fiction: “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo” by Stieg Larsson

Oh man, maybe this was a bad idea. I was searching for a quote about dragons for this review, and accidentally refound the quote from Arrested Development‘s second season episode “Sword of Destiny,” where Gob is riding around on his Segway with his sword of destiny, and Michael says that it looks like he’s fighting dragons in the future, and then I made a huge mistake and decided to watch “Sword of Destiny” (no, thank you, Netflix), and now I’m afraid this entry will be rife with references to a show that only four of us have watched.

I apologize in advance. I’m sorry! (You’ll be sorry! Wait, that doesn’t work after his line … )

Anyway. This is really unfortunate, because this book is the exact opposite of Arrested Development. There’s a lot of development, and it’s dark, and gruesome, and above all, there is a lot of violence against women. A lot. A lot a lot. Like, I cannot say it enough: if you happen to have triggers for rape and violence, this is not the book for you. You should probably go find “Sword of Destiny” on Netflix and watch that instead.

No, go ahead. I’ll wait. (I need to finish the episode first anyway.)

For those of you who want to solider on and see what the fuss was about, or if you’ve already read it and are interested in what I have to say about it, let’s get to it. Although I’m going to try, for once, to not spoil everything, because if I did that, it would ruin it for you.

As y’all are probably aware, this is one of the most highly touted new series of the past decade. And yes, I am a sucker for hype. I’m also a sucker for upcoming movies starring Daniel Craig, so, y’know, there was also that. The saddest thing about this novel and the other two titles (aside from the violence against women) is that Stieg Larsson died from a heart attack with only three out of a proposed ten titles completed. So once I’ve read The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, it’s all over. That’s very sad.

Anyway, I should probably talk about the book, huh? Considering I’ve just spend over two hundred words on a cancelled TV show and other miscellaney.

The book has two main characters: Lisbeth Salander is the titular character. She is a woman in her mid-twenties who is an accomplished hacker. She is extremely intelligent and also antisocial, but she has quite the career working with a detective agency. She is also prone to violence, but she only resorts to violence when defending herself or others. Due to her violent and asocial tendencies, she is a ward of the Swedish government, which poses problems for her in the first half of the book.

The other main character is Mikael Blomkvist, a journalist with the finanical magazine Millenium (hence, this series is referred to in many sources as the Millenium trilogy). Actually, he is a disgraced journalist, as at the beginning of the story, he has just been found guilty of libel. He had accused in his magazine a financier named Wennerstrom, and thanks to me being a huge depository of pop culture, every time I read that name, all I heard was Professor Farnsworth from Futurama grate out “WERNSTROM!” Y’know, this guy:

[It's moments like this that make me think I'm not a serious blogger.]

So while Blomkvist is dealing with forced unemployment, he gets a call from a Henrik Vanger, who wants him to solve a mystery. Forty-ish years ago, his niece, Harriet, disappeared from a family gathering. To this day, he’s unsure if she’s simply disappeared, or if she’s dead. Vanger asks Blomkvist to investigate her disappearance, which would require him to live on the Vanger Family compound for a year. Blomkvist initially wants to decline, declaring it an impossible task. Vanger sweetens the deal: should Blomkvist succeed, Vanger will give evidence that Blomkvist was correct in claiming that WERNSTROM (sorry!) is indeed a crook.

Meanwhile, Salander is incredibly violated. That’s all I’m going to say about that. That, and don’t worry, she gets her revenge in a fantastically awesome way.

In going through the investigation, Blomkvist realizes he needs a research assistant. When he learns that Salander was hired originally to do a background check on him for the Vanger corporation, he asks to hire her. She agrees, and they become a great team.

I’m not going to talk about the plot much more than that. Let me end with this: the plots are resolved (both Harriet and WERNSTROM), and they are twisty and dark and gruesome and it is more than worth it to remain as unspoiled going in as possible. I am a huge spoiler-er: with the exception of this book and maybe my no-spoiler stance on both Vampire Diaries and Veronica Mars, I like going in to things knowing how they’re going to end.

And here’s the part where we play a short round of Movies Alaina’s Never Seen, coupled with Things Alaina Knows About Those Movies Even Though She’s Never Seen Them:
- Animal House: Bluto’s a zit, FOOD FIGHT!, Marion Ravenwood’s ass, TOGA, TOGA, TOGA.
- Pulp Fiction: We never see what was in the suitcase, Uma gets shot with adrenaline on the dance floor, and they’ve never heard of McDonald’s in that universe.
- The Godfather: Leave the gun, take the cannoli; “you come to me, asking me to kill someone for money, on this, the day of my daughter’s wedding?”; and the horse head.
- The Shawshank Redemption: He escapes!
- Caddyshack: There’s a groundhog that drives Bill Murray nuts, but he’s going to Heaven, so at least he’s got that goin’ for him, which is nice.
- Star Wars: Emperor Palpatine’s a dick, Darth Vader is Luke & Leia’s dad, the Death Star gets blow’d up, and HAN SHOT FIRST.
- Schindler’s List: Schindler rescues Jews. (Enjoy your Chanukah cookie, man!) (I’m going to hell SO BAD for that joke.)

So when I finally sit down and watch these movies (and I will, because I seriously need to shut Brad and John up about that shit, and like yesterday, but I’ve been kind of busy, okay?), I want to know what’s going to happen beforehand. But I cannot tell you how happy I was that I refrained from looking up spoilers for the book, because it would have totally ruined how the plot unfolded.

I am greatly looking forward to the movie, and not just because Daniel Craig is playing Blomkvist (although, not gonna lie, that’s a big part of it). David Fincher is also directing, and I know he won’t compromise out the violence for a more marketable movie. And while there are some people in my circle who are still pissed that Noomi Rapace is not reprising her role from the Swedish movie version, I have no preconceived notions on Rooney Mara, and am awaiting the performance with open eyes and an open mind.

Two final thoughts: Firstly, I cannot stress enough that while the main plot of the novel revolves around a missing girl, the undercurrent of the entire story is a plea to fight against violence on women. There are scenes that were difficult for me to read, so I cannot warn people enough of the trigger possibilities.

Secondly, the book is very slow to start. It takes about two hundred pages for the action to truly pick up. But I beg you, stick with it, because it is totally worth it.

And now, after that highest of highs, will come the lowest of lows.

That’s right, my friends: next on my list? Breaking Dawn.

Stock up on the vodka now, kids. That one’ll be a doozy.

Grade for The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo: 5 stars

Fiction: “Club Dead” by Charlaine Harris

It’s been over a year since I read the last Sookie Stackhouse mystery. Coincidentally, I have the first two discs of the third season of True Blood hanging around my living room somewhere.

The third novel (and, supposedly, the third season) concerns Sookie and her relationships with men. There’s her previously-ever-present boyfriend, Vampire Bill; Bill’s boss, Eric Northman, the vampire sheriff of Area 5, which covers at least Bon Temps, Louisiana (if not all of Louisiana); Sookie’s boss at Merlotte’s bar, Sam, a shapeshifter; and now Alcide Herveaux, who owes Eric something so he agrees to help Eric and Sookie out when Bill goes missing.

Because yes, Bill goes missing. He’s working on some secret project or whatever and won’t tell Sookie about it, and when he goes to do more research or whatever, he ends up kidnapped in Mississippi. Eric wants Bill back, because now Bill’s on the turf of the Vampire King of Mississippi, Russell Edgington. (Louisiana has a Queen, if you’re keeping track.) Eric doesn’t want to send Sookie by herself, because even though she’s a telepath, she’s also merely human. So he calls on Alcide to stand by her. Oh, and Alcide’s a Werewolf.

So Sookie leaves Bon Temps behind and heads to Jackson, MI, with Alcide as her bodyguard. Except the more they get to know each other, the more Sookie and Alcide start liking each other. But both parties know they can’t get involved with the other; Sookie’s on a rescue mission for her boyfriend, after all, and Alcide is still getting over being dumped by his ex, Debbie.

Their first stop is Club Dead, a bar where supernatural beings congregate and regular humans can’t enter (unless accompanied by a supernatural being). Sookie’s goal is to listen in on humans and see if any of them are thinking about Bill. On the first night, Sookie nearly gets into a bar fight over some Weres flirting heavily over her. Russell Edgington happens to come to her rescue, and then practically demands that she and Alcide return the next night. Which they do, and Sookie interrupts an assassination attempt on one of the second-in-commands of Russell. Sadly, Sookie ends up with a stake in her side for her efforts. Russell (and Eric, who’s there in disguise, keeping an eye on Sookie) takes her back to his mansion so she can recuperate. After having a vampire blood transfusion, she’s ready and raring to go, because Eric’s spy vampire, “Bubba,” has found Bill.

To speed up on my plot recap: Bill, Eric, and Sookie all get back to Bon Temps safely. Sookie breaks up with Bill, because while he was missing, he hooked up repeatedly with his sire, Lorena. And it is revealed that Bill was going to leave Sookie for Lorena. Understandably pissed, Sookie rescinds Bill’s invitation to her house. Recognizing that there is also sexual tension between herself and Eric, she rescinds his invitation, too. She and Alcide agree to remain friends — for now.

Before I get into the awesomeness that is Sookie, let me recount why I enjoy these vampires so much. A of all, they don’t sparkle. (Hey, one of the books on my to-read list is Breaking Dawn. I’m not done with sparkling vampires yet.) B of all, they can stay awake during the day, if they have to, but really, they should be in a coffin when the sun comes up. Vampires are able to be tortured through the use of silver. They do feed on humans, though TrueBlood has made it easier for vampires to get sustenance without having to hunt. And they are most definitely evil. Now, I could digress here and discuss how The Vampire Diaries‘s vampires have the tendency to be more violent, but I’m not going to, because a, it’s a digression, and b, we all know it would end up being an aria praising Damon as the King of Awesome, and this is neither the time nor the place.

Now, Sookie. Sookie is, for the most part, human. Sure, she can hear the thoughts of other people, but in terms of immortality or changing her genetic structure when the moon is nigh, she is human. This sets her apart from Buffy (super-powered vampire slayer), Caroline Forbes (normal-girl-turned-vampire), and even Elena Gilbert (*gasp* the Doppleganger!). [The last two are from The Vampire Diaries.] Anita Blake, of the Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series is a necromancer, with an innate talent towards raising the dead. So I think that leaves Sookie’s only human contemporary to be … Bella Swan. So let’s turn to one of my favorite segments: Ways in Which Bella Swan Sucks.

… Basically, Bella wants to end her life in order to be with her boyfriend forever. Even when said boyfriend can be somewhat abusive and controlling (I will remind you about the WATCHING HER IN HER SLEEP). Also, she’s a whiny bitch and makes everything All About Her.

Sookie, meanwhile, doesn’t define herself by her man. When she finds out Bill has been cheating on her, she is very tempted to cheat her-ownself with Alcide. But she doesn’t, because she was raised right by her Gram. Instead, she breaks up with Bill. And even though she isn’t truly supernatural, that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t believe herself strong enough to hold her own against other supernatural beings:

If Alcide expected or wanted me to ask for smelling salts, or to beg him to save me from the big bad wolf, he had the wrong woman. [130-131]

She also remains her own person:

“They found the corpse in the closet of Alcide’s apartment, and they hatched a plan to hide his remains.” Eric sounded like that had been kind of cute for us.

“My Sookie hid a corpse?”

“I don’t think you can be too sure about that possessive pronoun.”

“Where did you learn that term, Northman?”

“I took ‘English as a Second Language’ at a community college in the seventies.”

Bill said, “She is mine.”

I wondered if my hands would move. They would. I raised both of them, making an unmistakeable one-fingered gesture.

Eric laughed, and Bill said “Sookie!” in shocked astonishment.

“I think that Sookie is telling us she belongs to herself,” Eric said softly. [269]

Hands-down, I prefer Sookie Stackhouse over Bella Swan. She’s sarcastic, she swears, she can hold her own, and she doesn’t want to subvert her own identity in order to keep a man. How’s that for a female role-model?

I continue to enjoy both the Sookie Stackhouse mystery series as well as True Blood, though the TV series is remarkably different from the novels. Someday, I’ll write that essay on their differences, but tonight is not that night — tomorrow ain’t looking that good, either.

Grade for Club Dead: 3 stars

Fiction: “The Surgeon” by Tess Gerritsen

Well, it would probably help if I spelled the author’s last name correctly …

I had been meaning to get into the Tess Gerritsen novels for a while. My mother actually was the first one to draw my attention to the series, though she never got in too deep when discussing them with me. She knows that I enjoy crime thrillers and not like a lot of romance (while I have since branched out into reading historical romances, you may have noticed that recently, that genre is not appearing as frequently as it was for a while), and as an added bonus, Ms. Gerritsen is sort of a local, living in Camden, Maine. She did a book signing years ago at the now-defunct Bookland, and Mom got a couple of her books signed by Ms. Gerritsen.

And then my roommate started watching Rizzoli and Isles on TNT last summer, and I don’t think it was until this summer that I realized that the series was based on the Tess Gerritsen series. I can’t remember how I figured it out — I think someone mentioned ‘the books’ in my hearing, and then I had them put two and two together for me. Sometimes I need extra people to do math for me.

Anyway. I went to the library (because both Bookland and now Borders are defunct, and also [and more importantly] I need to stop buying books all the damn time, that’s what libraries are for) and picked up Naked Heat, this, and the next book I’ll read, Cooking for Geeks. This came before the cookbook.

I liked the book. I don’t really watch Rizzoli and Isles when the roommate watches it; I have so much TV to watch as it is, and also, the plot didn’t really interest me. I like Angie Harmon well enough, but it seemed like just another procedural. I’ll watch it if she’s watching it and I’m in the room, but it’s not appointment TV. But the point of that sentence is that I began reading The Surgeon without preconceived notions. I had no idea what I was going into; I only knew to picture Angie Harmon when I read the part of Rizzoli.

This is the first book in the Jane Rizzoli series (I’m going to call it Rizzoli & Isles in the tag, however, because Dr. Isles appears in the next book, The Apprentice). She is a homicide detective for the Boston PD, which meant that I actually knew the neighborhoods the different characters lived in. Back Bay, Southie, Jamaica Plain — all are somewhat familiar to me. Well, there is a serial killer running around Boston, nicknamed The Surgeon. His modus operandi is to kidnap women, lash them to their bed with duct tape, perform a hysterectomy on them while they’re still alive, and then slit their throat. Yeah, it’s pretty gory and gross.

Det. Thomas Moore is the lead on the case, assisted by a handful of other detectives and Det. Jane Rizzoli. Rizzoli is tough and unemotional, the product of fighting for the spotlight as the youngest only sister to two brothers, as well as being the sole female detective in her unit. Meanwhile, Moore is patient, calm, and saintlike. During the course of the investigation, they discover a connection to a rash of killings that occurred in Savannah, Georgia. Those murders were committed by Andrew Capra, and he was killed by his last victim, Dr. Catherine Cordell. Dr. Cordell was able to shoot him while he was attacking her, so she survived. She then moved up to Boston. One year later, another woman is killed in a similar fashion. A year after that, the second murder is committed, and now there’s a series. The clues, once gathered, all point to a copycat of Andrew Capra, and the more they investigate, the more they are horrified to find that the murderer is killing in order to terrorize Dr. Cordell from afar.

Over the course of the investigation, Det. Moore begins to fall for Dr. Cordell, and she for him. At one point, he is sent to Savannah to investigate possible associates of Andrew Capra, but more importantly, to separate himself from his growing attraction for Dr. Cordell. In the end, the killer is caught, and all becomes right with the world.

What rubbed me the wrong way in a couple of places was what I felt to be over-the-top feminism. Now, before I go too far, let me explain my personal stance on feminism: yes, it sucks that women make sixty cents for every dollar that men earn in the same position (blanket statement). Yes, it sucks that women are always being portrayed in the media as sluts, whores, and sexual objects. Yes, it sucks that women are rarely recognized for their intelligence and reasoning skills. Do I find myself fighting the status quo and the media machine due to those portrayals? … eh. Not really. Because I am aware of those portrayals, and they are portrayals I’ve seen all my life, and because I know that the media machine is now a near-unstoppable male empire of testosterone and jackassery, I’m going to spend my time fighting for things where I know I can make a bigger difference. Like, attending the Rally to Restore Sanity, or writing that comedy pilot that finally portrays people like ordinary people and not stereotypes.

Oookay, that was a rant and a half. I apologize. To get back to the main impetus of the story, the victims of The Surgeon had all been sexually assaulted prior to being brutally murdered. I know, right? As if getting raped wasn’t bad enough, now they find themselves the target of a brutal killer. And yes, again, it sucks, but I almost took offense at this woman who runs a women’s crisis center in the book. Moore and Rizzoli are following a lead, and learn that one of the victims of the Surgeon availed herself of services at this clinic.

Here’s the first quote I bookmarked to return to:

“It’s a possibility we’re considering,” said Rizzoli. “Unfortunately, the victim is comatose and can’t talk to us.”

“Don’t call her the victim. She does have a name.” [119]

And I’m like, yes, she does have a name, but she is also a victim. It sucks that she is also female, but let’s not look past the dictionary definition of the word victim.

And then, two pages later, the Women’s Crisis Center lady [Sarah] has another feminist moment:

“Did she remember the man who took her home?” asked Rizzoli. “That’s what we really need to know.”

Sarah looked at her. “It’s all about the criminal, isn’t it? That’s all those two cops from Sex Crimes wanted to hear about. The perp gets the attention.” [121]

Listen, lady, do you know why the perp gets all the attention? Because they want to catch him and prevent him from hurting more women. Because at this point, the cops have done all they can towards helping the victim — they can refer her to health care, they can refer her to therapy, and they can refer her to support groups. But after that, the attention turns to the criminal so they can catch him and punish him. And this is why I tend to have a problem with the more severe feminists — at some point, they rely so much on redefining gender that they no longer rely on logic.

So in the end, I enjoyed the book. There were a couple of descriptions of violence that I had to read through quickly (I do admit, I can be squeamish at times), and I see the beginnings of a great character in Jane Rizzoli. I will most likely continue reading this series in the future.

But next? Molecular gastronomy for geeks.

Grade for The Surgeon: 3 stars

Fiction: “A Letter of Mary” by Laurie R. King

First: Oh, crap. The tag for the books I read this month are all going to be tagged “9/11.” Well, that does it — after I finish reading The Mayor of Casterbridge, I am now legally required to read at least one book about 9/11 or the Iraq War. (Does Stephen Colbert’s I Am America and So Can You count?)

Second: I have been sitting on this review for about a week. And when I say “sitting on it,” I mean “I’ve been meaning to do this for like a week, and today’s my first day off, and since I’ve gotten my roommate equally addicted to The Vampire Diaries, I can catch up on Conan while writing this review because I can’t continue my rewatch until she gets home.” Clearly, I need to use analogies, because I am overly verbose at times.

So: let’s begin with A Letter of Mary. The third title in the Russell/Holmes series, and the first one where Russell is married to Holmes. Holmes is becoming bored (noted by his forced ignorance of the papers), and Russell is straining her eyes translating ancient texts, working on her first scholarly book. And then she receives a note from a friend asking for a visit. The friend is Dorothy Ruskin, who she and Holmes met when they were in Jerusalem. She has a present for Russell: a beautiful jewelled box, with a letter potentially written by Mary Magdelene inside.

Miss Ruskin is killed in what appears to be a freak car accident. Holmes and Russell get involved because they believe that she was murdered. The case leads them to two primary suspects: a misogynistic Colonel Miss Ruskin had dinner with the night before her death, and her bitter sister who is left to take care of their elderly mother while ‘she plays in the dirt in Jerusalem’ [most likely not a quote, but definitely the sentiment].

During the course of the investigation, Holmes disguises himself as a workman to spy on Miss Ruskin’s sister, and Russell disguises herself as Secretary Mary Small, and goes to work with Colonel Misogyny (look, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to look it up because I really really like the name “Colonel Misogyny”). The reason Colonel Misogyny is a suspect is because Russell suspects Miss Ruskin told the Colonel about the Mary Magdelene letter, in which she refers to herself as an apostle of Christ. The idea that a woman would be one of Christ’s apostles would be sure to turn the entire Church on its ear. And because it’s not Colonel Understanding she’s having dinner with, it’s entirely possible that that letter could become motive for murder.

The final clues to the case are discovered when Russell hypnotizes a witness to Miss Ruskin’s murder. While Russell is not a psychiatrist, she has experience with hypnotism from her treatment following the deaths of her family members.

Finally, the mystery is solved and Russell and Holmes return to their cottage home in Sussex. After researching a bit more, Russell determines that the letter is actually from Mary Magdelene, but she chooses to keep the information hidden. She is aware of what that type of revelation would do to the religous sector, and while she believes the information should be revealed, she does not want to be the person responsible for bringing the information to the world.

Something that both Russell and Holmes do during all of these titles is throw Latin around like it’s regular English. And look, when I was in high school, I studied French, not Latin. As a result, these are the only bits of Latin I know: modus operandi ["method of operation], semper ubi sub ubi ["always wear underwear"], and post hoc, ergo propter hoc ["after, therefore, because of it"]. So when I’m reading a book and the following quotes happen and there is no following translation, the Alaina Who Learns Latin From The West Winggets frustrated at her need to Google:

“Not that she could have known,” he hastened to add, nil nisi bonum. [87]

“You know, Russell, one of the damnable things about working in partnership is that one has to take the other person’s proprietary feelings into account — Russell proponit sed Holmes disponit.” [247]

One of the things I enjoyed about this title are the cameos that are dropped into their little world. For instance, Miss Ruskin compares Holmes to Ned Lawrence:

“I like your Mr Holmes. Very like Ned Lawrence, d’you know? Both of ‘em positively quivering with passion, always under iron control, both stuffed full of ability and common sense and that backwards approach to a problem that marks a true genius, and at the same time this incongruous tendency to mystify, a compulsion to obfuscate and to conceal themselves behind an air of myth and mystery.” [25]

I love Ned Lawrence. Um, well, wait. I love Peter O’Toole, who played Ned Lawrence in Lawrence of Arabia. And holy shit, I just realized that it hasn’t been ‘a while’ since I’ve seen Lawrence of Arabia, thanks to my friend Sarah helpfully pointing out that we all started at Franklin Pierce College ten years ago this month. No, it’s been ten years since I watched Lawrence of Arabia, because I clearly remember borrowing the library’s two-VHS-set of Lawrence and watching it on my tiny TV over the minifridge. Well — I know what I’m watching when I finish this Vampire Diaries marathon.

She also mentions running into “an odd man named Tolkien” in Oxford, and Lord Peter Whimsey makes an appearance at a party, who is apparently a friend of Holmes. [At least, I read it was Lord Peter Whimsey -- his full name is never stated, and the one Dorothy L. Sayers book I've read was Gaudy Night, and I hated it so much I never picked up another Sayers title.] There’s also a reference to the Department of Antiquities in the British Museum, which brings to mind that Obtainer of Rare Antiquities, Dr. Indiana Jones. And then, because it’s the British Museum, I imagine Rupert Giles working with Dr. Jones, and then I pour myself a drink beause clearly, I am losing my mind.

Inspector Lestrade has great respect for Holmes, and in this paragraph, he not only compliments Holmes, but also his contribution to forensics:

“I’m not a child anymore, Miss Russell, but I know how much Scotland Yard owes to Mr Holmes. Things he did that looked crazy thirty, forty years ago are now standard procedure with us. Some of the men laugh at him, make jokes about his pipe smoking and violin and all, but they’re laughing at all those stories Dr Watson wrote, and they don’t like to admit that their training in footprints and the laboratory’s analysis of bloodstains and tobacco ashes comes straight from the work of Sherlock Holmes. Even fingerprints — he was the first in the country to use them in a case.” [86]

It’s crazy for me to think of that, without Sherlock Holmes, there probably wouldn’t be any CSI, and there definitely wouldn’t be any House.

My final thought is the last paragraph in the book, and it has nothing to do, really, with the mystery or anything in the book. I mean, it’s in the book and it references the story, but the message is more worldly and broad:

Death, and life, and the written word that binds them. The first letter to hit my desk brought with it an all-too-brief refluorescence of a friendship and led to the deaths of four people. The next letter gave life to a voice which the world had lost for more than eighteen hundred years. And a last letter, reaching out from the grave to assert the will of its writer and ensure the continuance of her life’s work, coincidentally condemned those who would have brought that work to an end. The hand of bone and sinew and flesh achieves its immortality in taking up a pen. The hand on a page wields a greater power than the fleshy hand ever could in life. [315]

Here’s what I’m noticing about the Russell series: I loved Beekeeper’s Apprentice. I loved it. I don’t have an analogy appropriate enough to accurately describe my love for that book. And I liked Monstrous Regiment of Women, too — though not to the extent of Beekeeper’s. And Letter of Mary was … good, comparitively? I hope this is not going to be a trend, that the rest of the titles will just be good, comparitively. I hope against hope that there is a title in this series somewhere along the line that will find me reading while in the drive-through line at Starbucks, I love it so much.

Grade for A Letter of Mary: 4 stars

Fiction: “A Monstrous Regiment of Women” by Laurie R. King

Here I am, struck once more with the daunting task of figuring out how to write about a book I’ve already written about. Luckily for me (if you can think of it in that way), my previous review wasn’t the greatest. Seriously, guys — it’s a wonder anyone picks up a book I’ve read after reading my review of said book. I try so hard to not give away the farm that a casual reader will leave my review scratching his/her head, trying to figure out what the hell the book was actually about.

So, without further ado, my attempt to be a better descriptor of plot and action.

As I said before, Monstrous Regiment takes place three years after the end of The Beekeeper’s Apprentice. Russell is 21 and just about to a) graduate from Oxford and b) attain her inheritance, left from the death of her parents when she was 14. On a night just before Christmas, she travels from Sussex to London in search of her dear friend Holmes. He is acting as a cab driver (horse and buggy, not taxi), and she climbs up with him and rides through a not-so-great part of London. There is a misunderstanding between them: Russell just wants companionship, but Holmes assumes Russell is there to ask him to marry her. Russell literally runs away from Holmes, jumping off the buggy and running into the dark, creepy London night.

She meanders the back alleys all night, and ends up in a pub in the early afternoon and runs into an old friend, Ronnie Beaconsfield. They reconnect, and Ronnie asks Russell if she’d like to go to Temple with her.

Now, this Temple is not Jewish; this is the New Temple of God, run by a Margery Childe, a very interesting and intriguing woman. Mary is fascinated by her sermons, for Mary is a student of theology. She is amazed that someone she considers to be ‘plebian’ has come to the same conclusions as she has with tons of study. Ronnie invites Mary to meet Margery, and after a conversation, Russell agrees to tutor Margery in the ways of the Hebrew Bible. She will do this around her trips to Oxford, in which she is finalizing her dissertation.

Meanwhile, she learns that three former members of the Inner Circle (Margery’s close compatriots in the Temple) have been killed within the past year. When Ronnie threatens to become a fourth, Russell takes matters into her own hands: she enlists the help of Holmes, but also sets herself up to become the next prey.

Sure enough, Russell is captured and hidden away. While she undergoes deprivations I refuse to disclose in this review (suffice it to say, the ‘torture’ is not exactly violent in nature, but does become devastating to Russell in a very personal matter. Okay, that’s probably too vague. Look, don’t worry, no blood is spilled. But drugs are involved. That’s all I’ll say about it), a new will for Russell is discovered, in which almost all of her considerable means would be given to the New Temple in God upon her death.

In the end, good triumphs over evil, and Russell and Holmes do in fact marry. And I’m still not sure how I feel about that — I think they make an excellent couple; and while I recognize that mentally, Russell is much older than her 21 years, I wish Ms. King had made them meet when there was only thirty years between them instead of forty.

But here’s something that I envy Russell: her use of the Bodelian library at Oxford. There is nothing I’d like more than to take an entire day and hang out in the stacks and do research. I know I hated it when I was in high school and college, but the idea of being somewhere so quiet with all of those books full of information makes me salivate. Some day, I will do that — either at the Portland Public Library, or I’ll trek down to Boston and pretend to be a student at Northeastern or something like that (I can fake it, right?) — I have research to do on … stuff. And just spend a day in the stacks. By God, it’ll be beautiful.

So there’s that. I just finished A Letter of Mary, so look for that in the next couple of days. And then I have to read something different — I’ve been living on Harry Potter and Mary Russell for three months.

Grade for A Monstrous Regiment of Women: Still 5 stars

Fiction: “The Beekeeper’s Apprentice” by Laurie R. King

Okay, this is literally the THIRD TIME I have tried to write this review. I am writing this on Caroline the Netbook, and this just proves once and for all why I cannot write on Caroline the Netbook. Because if the cursor happens to be outside of the writing box and I accidentally hit ‘backspace,’ the internets move to the last page I was on. And when I hit ‘forward’ after cursing heavily, the ‘saved draft’ is a blank window, because Caroline hates me. However, if I keep the cursor inside the writing box, I will be halfway through a paragraph, accidentally hit the touch pad with my thumb as I move to the space bar, and before I know it, I’m writing in the middle of the wrong paragraph or, worse, the paragraph I was writing disappears and I swear copiously again.

Some people would say, “Well, serves you right for naming your netbook after a flighty-yet-determined yearling vampire from The Vampire Diaries.” To which I say, SHUT UP.

And here’s why it’s so important that I actually write this review — because if this were for any other book, I’d be all, ‘fuck this shit, I have Fringe to watch and Futurama to record, lemme just throw a grade on this and be done with it.” But no — it is so important for me to write a real review, so I’m being very careful with my thumbs and hopefully the third time will be the charm.

Because here’s the situation: this is a first for That’s What She Read. This is the first time in the (short) history of the blog that I will have re-read a book that I’ve already reviewed. There were definitely books that I’ve reviewed that I’ve read before — some multiple times, even — but the reviews and the stories behind the books were always, for lack of a better phrase, “New to You.”

I had hinted during the Harry Potter re-read that I had wanted to re-read the Mary Russell series (by which I meant, ‘re-read The Beekeeper’s Apprentice and Monstrous Regiment of Women so I can actually read the next book, which I think is A Letter of Mary“), and I had looked back at my original review, and realized that there is no way that anyone could tell what that book was about from my review.

So. Let’s try this again, and let’s hope that Caroline doesn’t fuck me over (like she did Matt, but that’s a whole ‘nother story for a whole ‘nother blog).

Mary Russell is a precocious young orphan, who one day literally trips over the great Sherlock Holmes while reading a book during a walk on the Sussex Downs. After exchanging sarcastic insults, without being asked, Russell illustrates her sense of deduction:

“I said, if you want a new hive you’ll have to follow the blue spots, because the reds are sure to be Tom Warner’s.”

“I am not hard of hearing, although I am short of credulity. How do you come to know my interests?”

“I should have thought it obvious,” I said impatiently, though even at that age I was aware that such things were not obvious to the majority of people. “I see paint on your pocket-handkerchief, and traces on your fingers where you wiped it away. The only reason to mark bees that I can think of is to enable one to follow them to their hive. You are either interested in gathering honey or in the bees themselves, and it is not the time of year to harvest honey. Three months ago we had an unusual cold spell that killed many hives. Therefore I assume that you are tracking these in order to replenish your own stock.”

The face that looked down at me was no longer fishlike. In fact, it resembled amazingly a captive eagle I had once seen, perched in aloof splendour looking down the ridge of his nose at this lesser creature, cold disdain staring out from his hooded grey eyes.

“My God,” he said in a voice of mock wonder, “it can think.” [8]

After their initial interaction, Holmes takes Russell back to his Sussex cottage, which is still being taken care of by Mrs. Hudson. Holmes and Russell become friends, and until Russell goes off to Oxford, she stops by frequently and becomes Holmes’s apprentice, learning the arts of detection.

There are a couple of small cases they work on together: a neighbor fears her husband is partaking in espionage (it turns out, in a rare case of stereotyping, it actually was the butler who did it that time), and an inn owner has some hams stolen.

One summer, the young daughter of a visiting American senator is kidnapped. As a move of last resort, the kidnapped daughter’s mother asks for Sherlock Holmes’s involvement, despite his retirement. Russell, in essence, bullies Holmes into bringing her along. He didn’t want her to come, but eventually recognizes her worth in the partnership. Russell’s deductions and her quick thinking actually leads her to rescue the daughter from her kidnappers.

Russell goes off to Oxford, and then the true mystery appears. Holmes randomly appears in her rooms, and she learns of a plot to kill Holmes, herself, and dear “Uncle John” Watson using a series of bombs. Holmes and Russell evade the bomber for a couple of days, then come perilously close to the receiving end of a bomb in their cab. Holmes then decides, with his brother Mycroft’s help, to escape the “heat” of London for a short time, in order to take some time to regroup and look at the evidence from afar. A theology scholar, Russell asks Holmes to take a case in Jerusalem. This case is later discussed in O Jerusalem, but I haven’t read that book yet.

When they return to London, they have enacted a plot to draw their villain into a trap: they will act as if they have separated and demonstrate outright aggression towards each other. Hopefully, believing Holmes to be declining without his dear friend Russell, the villain will make a move.

The case will end with a relation to the great Moriarty (and for more about my bitching about the canon!Moriarty, see here), and with a reconciliation between Russell and Holmes, as well as another appearance from the kidnapped daughter Russell rescued.

As I said in my previous entry, the language is rich and meaty. And I realized while reading it this time, that returning to this title is like curling up in bed on a cold afternoon in February under a cozy blanket with a warm cup of tea. It’s warm and welcoming and homey and cozy and home.

And now, the references I’m too much of an asshole to ignore:

In the rescue scene, Russell gives us this advice:

I unwound the rope from my waist (Always carry a length of rope; it’s the most useful thing in the world.) and tossed it at a branch that faced away from the house. [125]

I, of course, immediately went to these key scenes from one of my favorite movies [warning: mucho violence and profusive language]

Secondly, upon their return from Jerusalem, Russell and Holmes were already deep into their hatred of each other, and this is how Russell greets Mycroft and Watson:

“There he is, gentlemen, the great Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Savior of nations, the mind of the century, God’s gift to humanity. Gentlemen, I leave you to him.” [277]

So in a nice circle of events, this line made me snort out loud, because it brought to mind season one of Lost, where poor Shannon was telling someone about her brother Boone, and described him as “God’s friggin’ gift to humanity.” Now, if you’ve been following along with some other things I love, the actor who played Boone on Lost is now playing Damon on the new show of my heart, The Vampire Diaries. Which is another thing that just feels like home.

There’s not a lot of discussion around the friendship between Russell and Holmes — for many people (Watson, Mycroft, Lestrade Jr.), they take it as writ that they are apprentice and master, or later, partners. Russell does raise some questions around the propriety of her being an apprentice to a man who’s nearly forty years older than her, but the necessity of their partnership pushes any pesky gender considerations to the background. (Although the age and gender discussion does pop up again in the next title.)

Grade for The Beekeeper’s Apprentice: Still 6 stars

Fiction: “F is for Fugitive” by Sue Grafton

This was another title I chose for my vacation. I began reading this on-board my flight from Phoenix to Ontario, and finished it this evening while waiting for a table at the Irvine Cheesecake Factory. I would have finished it quicker if there wasn’t so much driving going on.

This entry takes place two months after the conclusion of E is for Evidence. Kinsey Millhone has been staying with her landlord, Henry, on a temporary basis, as her apartment is being rebuilt after it exploded in the last entry. (Oh crap, I totally gave away the ending to that one. Er, sorry folks. BUT IT SAYS SO ON THE BACK OF THE BOOK.) Looking for some space, Kinsey accepts a case that takes her from her home in Santa Teresa, California, and puts her in the middle of Floral Beach.

She is hired by Royce Fowler, the owner of the Tides motel (or something like that). His son, Bailey Fowler, was accused of murdering his girlfriend, Jean Timberlake, seventeen years ago. He pled guilty, but then escaped from the San Luis Obispo men’s penal colony a year into his sentence. He changed his name and built a life for himself, but then got caught on a stupid thing (so stupid it’s inconsequential to the plot), and now he’s back in jail. Royce believes him to be innocent, and hires Kinsey to find the real killer.

Her investigation takes her all over the town of Floral Beach – to the principal of the high school Jean went to, Dwight Shales; to the town doctor and Jean’s employer at the time of her death, Dr. Dunne — not to mention his psycho wife, Elva. Pearl and his wife, Daisy, the owners of the town bar. And the rest of Bailey’s family: Ori, his mother that’s dying of diabetes, and his sister, Ann, who is managing the motel, taking care of Ori, as well as taking care of her father, who has less than six months to live from pancreatic cancer.

Yeah, it’s a cheery town all right.

Kinsey asks many questions, but doesn’t get much help from the townfolk. People there are perfectly happy to keep blaming Bailey for Jean’s death, especially since he pled the first time around. Not to mention that his friend, Tap, busts into the courtroom during his arraignment and busts him out of there (but not before dying).

Of course, Kinsey does find her answers. And what I like about the Kinsey Millhone mysteries is that you can read the book and think you know ‘who-dun-it,’ but it’s not until the last chapter that the final piece falls into place and the whole thing makes sense. There are other mysteries that I read where I can guess the killer before the detective; and that’s no fun.

But what was truly fun for me about this book was the fact that I picked this one out at random to take with me on vacation — I certainly didn’t mean to pick the one title that took place during towns I stayed in.

For those not in the know: Kinsey’s hometown of Santa Teresa is a thinly veiled version of Santa Barbara. In the first chapter, Kinsey explains that Floral Beach is about an hour and a half further up the coast from Santa Barbara, and from further descriptions, I’m led to believe that it’s just above San Luis Obispo.

Well, I stayed in a tiny town called Morro Bay last night, and drove through San Luis Obispo on my way south today. And let me tell you – Morro Bay’s about ten minutes away from San Luis, and all told, it was a good hour and a half before I hit Santa Barbara. I can’t think of another tiny town that Floral Beach could pass for. I mean, Morro Bay’s a tiny town, right on the water, with tons of ramshackle, seaside inns (you know the kind I mean). It was very cute, and I enjoyed my time there.

And it was tons of fun for me to drive throuh San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, and Lompoc. Santa Barbara because, as I said, it’s the non-fictional version of Santa Teresa (and also Sunnydale, for those keeping track – and don’t get me started on how if Torrance High School had been right on the PCH I totally would have turned off and taken pictures), but all I knew about Lompoc and San Luis Obispo prior to my trip (somewhat, not really) was that they were the homes of the California Federal Penitentiary and the Men’s Penal Colony, respectively.

See? I took that to prove I was there.

You don’t want to know how geeky I was when I drove past Ventura while “We Used to Be Friends” played on the CD I was listening to. (SUPER geeky.)

Grade for F is for Fugitive: 3 stars

Fiction: “Hot Money” by Dick Francis

Hot Money has always been one of my favorite titles from Dick Francis’s library. I was about twenty pages in when I boarded my flight out to Phoenix, and I finished it ten minutes after boarding my flight to Ontario. And that’s with taking a couple of naps in-between.

This novel’s plot involves the Pembroke family. The patriarch, Malcolm Pembroke, has been married five times and practically each marraige resulted in children. The narrator is Malcolm’s middle son, Ian, the only son of Wife #2, Joyce. Ian and Malcolm have not spoken for three years at the book’s opening, due to a large argument around Wife #5, Moira. Ian did not like Moira and thought she was marrying Malcolm only for his money. Malcolm was blind with love (and, possibly, the prospect of a wife thirty years younger than himself), and didn’t want to hear his son’s opinion, so he slapped him upside the head and refused to acknowledge his existence.

Out of the blue one day, Malcolm calls Ian and asks to meet him at the Newcastle yearling sales. (This book’s relationship to the racing world is that Ian is an amateur jockey.) On a whim, Malcolm buys the most expensive yearling on sale, right out from under the noses of, like, five other high bidders. Oh, I should probably mention that Malcolm is a gold arbitrageur: he buys and sells gold so cannily he is worth close to hundreds of millions of dollars.

So why did Malcolm call Ian? Well, Moira’s been murdered, and while Malcolm (and Ian) have alibis, now Malcolm is experiencing attacks on his own life. Including almost being run down after leaving Newcastle with Ian.

Over the course of the novel, Malcolm and Ian work together to repair the rift between them, and as they search for the murderer amongst their family, they come to know each other better.

Grade for Hot Money: 3.5 stars