Main Character: Way too focussed on the tingles in her hoo-ha
Plot Twisty-ness: A disconnected jumping of the shark
This book was super frustrating for me because it has the bones of something that could have been really, really good. But the execution was off; the focus was not on the right things so choices in the plot felt clunky, and out of place.
Set in New Orleans, I was desperately seeking to be overwhelmed with that atmosphere. To feel the weather, to hear the culture, to have the architectural city streets at the forefront of the scene creation. But it never came. The author brought in some Voodoo elements, but it didn’t fit with the rest of the book. Either go full New Orleans – dark and magical and historic – a Skeleton Key tone. Or follow the erotic, police procedural lane that 75% of the book was in – a Double Jeopardy tone. The two didn’t mesh well.
Honestly, I would have totally preferred a dark and magical New Orleans thriller, with voodoo and a sexually deviant serial killer. Like I said, the bones were there and it should have hit the gas in that lane instead of coasting in and out of the lines.
It just never came together the way it should. It didn’t feel like it knew what it wanted to be, hence the “clunky”.
I like the idea of this tag because I function from honesty always….but also because it reminds me of being on MySpace in the early 2000s. #emo
If you are familiar with my reviews or general things I write around here, it’s not going to come as a surprise to you that I can be very straightforward with my opinions and thoughts. And in the spirit of my honest principle (different from the pleasure principle) I’m going to be straight with you: This tag is lonnnggggg.
And it will only be interesting to you, if you a) want to know more about me to better stalk me via the internet, or b) think I’m funny and want to see what crazy shit comes out of my mouth.
I’ll try to keep my answers short and bitter sweet so it doesn’t take you as long to read as it did for me to write it.
Summer officially started last week! Do you feel it – the unbearable heat? Do you hear it – the sound of mosquitos eating me alive. Aw, summer.
The stepkid – hereby referred to as “15” for the purposes of my blog – had her last exam and is leaving on Saturday for an extended visitation with Crazy Pants, the bio-mom.
…and to me that means FREEDOM!
*slowly starts to paint face blue*
I whine sometimes, but being a stepmom is really not that bad compared to some of the horror stories I’ve heard in my support group. (It’s still a hard thing to do, hence the support group.) But, the kid is pretty clean and polite and doesn’t think I’m an evil twat, so I think I’m doing okay.
I will say, I’m glad the older one moved out because teenage 👏 boys 👏 are 👏 fucking 👏 gross👏. My clean/organized neurosis couldn’t take it anymore.
It’s all progress and winning in my life right now…you know, except for the stuff that isn’t. But, I have a good feeling about this summer *knocks on wood.*
Some people can’t wait for summer because it means the beach and amusement parks and camping and whatever the hell else extroverted, outdoorsy people do. I can’t wait for summer because it means quiet and a warm breeze coming through my bedroom window while I sit around in no pants (apparently you have to wear pants around stepchildren) reading the summer’s hottest books.
And what might those books be you ask? Well, I’m happy to tell you.
Here is my list of the new mystery & thriller books coming your way this summer. Get your TBR ready!
I’ve yet to read a YA mystery-thriller that really works for me. I’m looking for logic. And if there can’t be logic, I’m looking for it to not take itself so seriously.
I picked up this book because April Henry is one of my youngest stepkid’s favourite authors. I have been asked, for what seems like years, to read her books. Which is super sweet that the kid wants to share that with me, but at the same time, I’m really bad at pretending to care about something.
But I’m going to have to act like I liked this as not to disappoint and emotionally scar this young person in my full-time care. I don’t want to be dismissive.
So at home: I LOVED THIS AND I CAN TOTALLY SEE WHY YOU LOVE THIS AUTHOR AND WANTED TO SHARE IT WITH ME.
But, here, which is technically my private space (that is also accessible to anyone with an internet connection), I did not like this.
Not because it’s bad. But because I’m the wrong audience for it. My brain is way too rational. I require a book to make honest-to-life-sense, unless it’s purposefully setting itself up to be campy.
The Girl I Used to Be takes itself too seriously.
And I hate to say this, but I think my age stops me from being able to buy whatever shit an author wants to throw at me. Don’t worry about this illogical inconsistency, just enjoy. I CAN’T.
I’m telling you right now, this book is the motherfucking shit.
Not even an exaggeration, honey.
And it’s the shit for one reason. Yes, it’s got murder. Yes, it’s got sex. Yes, it’s got a psycho serial killer. Yes, it’s hitting that fine line in the level of detail. Yes, it reads like real life honesty. Yes, it’s got gore. Yes, it takes place in C to the A to the N to the A to the D to the A…
Hold on, did I spell that right? *goes back to check* Yep.
But listen to me readers and lovers, without Detective Angie Pallorino as a lead character we would be sitting at a three-star rating That’s just the truth.
Was there anything astonishing about the storyline? Not really. It’s interesting, but at the end of the day, it’s a police procedural. Extra points for taking place in Canada and getting my patriotic self a little hyped about that, because I’m always reading books that take place in the UK or the US – and quite honestly I’ve had just about enough of the United States at this CRAZY Trump Juncture – but, I’m pretty sure serial killers obsessed with religious bullshit has been done to death.
This is the perfect tag for me at this moment because I’m definitely having a bit of an emotional meltdown over the fact that it’s almost July. It’s almost like I’m missing time. It went so fast!!
But honestly, books have been so important to me this year because of the state of the world. That’s 100% a fact and I don’t think I’m the only one feeling that way.
Every day is something new. Every day Donald Trump makes it worse. I’m surprised I haven’t pulled out all my hair, that I can make it to work every day instead of just rocking in a corner drooling on myself. Today a co-worker said to me, “Like I get the whole pride parade thing, but what about me? Why am I not celebrated?”
Guys, it took every last ounce of self control I had to not throat punch her, just dead centre in her larynx. I’m so ON EDGE ALL THE TIME.
My official response was: “Because being straight is not discriminated against. Look up Stonewall if you want to know the history. But, it would be like the 1% having a Rich Pride Parade. It’s not necessary. We’re already privileged. It’s bad taste. You want a parade? Join a women’s march.”
That was an hour ago and I am still stewing over it and I still want to throat punch someone.
Now, I know it’s not Tuesday, but if you read my post from last week about Blake Leibel, the trust fund douche who murdered his girlfriend just weeks after she gave birth to their daughter, then you have been waiting with bated breath for an update on the trial.
Or you’ve been waiting with normal breath, no irregular breathing pattern at all. That seems more likely.
Breaking News: about 12 hours ago, the jury came back with its decision.
So it’s officially time for True Crime Tuesday – Thursday Update…or something like that. It would be better if I had some kind of flashing graphics for it.
Christ on a cracker, I can’t believe June is almost over.
That’s half of 2018…gone! Poof! January seemed to take fifty years to get through, but the rest of the year so far has flown by in the blink of an eye. It’s kind of depressing.
Do you have any idea how many times I’ve started and stopped a diet? How much intention I had to read X amount of books or get done X amount of things done in my house? Time just keeps on rolling no matter if we’re paying attention or not.
Still, I think this is the first time in a while where I’ve started to feel a little bit content in my life’s current status. And with summer just around the corner, I’m feeling pretty optimistic. There’s going to be peace and quiet and reading. I also have a few events to look forward to. First up: Foo Fighters in July. Then Dinosaur Jr and the Just For Laughs festival in September. For August I’m thinking of redoing my basement family room. New furniture, new flooring, new paint. Just in time for a comfy Christmas.
We’ll see how productive I’m feeling. There’s also the option to simply relax and read, taking a break from errands and responsibilities.
With that in mind, let’s get into a little bit of WWW Wednesday. What’s current, what’s coming up and what’s just finished?
I have an unhealthy obsession totally normal interest in true crime. I love mystery-crime fiction. And I’m not comfortable just resting on my laurels and staying in the now, I want to know the history of the things I love. I want to have a developed appreciation for those that came before me and helped contribute to making these genres as accessible as they are, and as artistic as they’ve become.
I also want to be that girl who reads classic novels and has a nighttime face routine and wakes up early to take her dog for a walk.
But if my reading experience with In Cold Blood has taught me anything it’s that I’m none of those things and classic novels are boring as shit. I got out of bed this morning fifteen minutes before I needed to leave. And I don’t give a fuck.
Okay…maybe that’s a bit dramatic. I give a tiny baby of a fuck. And not all classic novels suck. #NotAllClassicNovels.
Honestly, I’m super disappointed that I didn’t like this. I feel like I should have. It’s almost a rite of passage to read this book if you’re in the murderino scene. It’s so popular and has all those keywords on the cover… “spell-binding”, “masterpiece.”
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? This book is giving me an extensional crisis.
In Cold Blood was written over a period of seven years and published in 1966. It was not the first true crime novel ever written, but it is the first to bring the true crime genre to mainstream culture. Capote created the blueprint. He’s a trailblazer.