Andddddddddd….I’m back! New decade, new blog post, new goals!
Tell me booknerds, how were your holidays?? Mine was busy and went by way too fast. I don’t feel like I relaxed at all or was gifted anything to make me feel better about the amount of money I spent. I did, however, get drunk on Christmas Day for the first time in a decade. I stopped drinking-to-excess in college because I just do not like the feeling of being drunk and out of control…but somehow Christmas went off the rails for me.
You know how it goes: you’re making dinner so you pour a glass of wine. Cooking and wine go so well together that you’re not paying attention to how much alcohol you’re actually consuming. You’re getting wine-drunk so slowly that by the time you realize you officially passed the line of what’s acceptable in front of family two glasses ago, it’s too late. So you eat a bunch of crackers and cheese in a vain attempt to break down your blood-alcohol level, but you’ve had a bottle and a half just to yourself! It’s over! You’re drunk! And now your mother-in-law starts saying things like, “I’m still on my first glass!” in this passively judgmental way, and your youngest stepkid is saying: “You’re fun when you’re drunk,” to the entire dinner table and you’re trying not slur when you respond, “I’m not drunk, I’m just a little buzzed. Issssaa not a big deal,”
You’re definitely drunk, and later, you try to vomit very quietly so no one hears how bad it actually was.
Opening Hook: Putting a cold case in the microwave.
Main Character: When bad men do evil in sweater vests.
Plot Twisty-ness: The reader gets Punk’d.
It’s such a bummer to read a book by an author you hear nothing but praise for, only to walk away from that reading experience thinking your time has been thoroughly wasted. All I have in my head is like why? And like don’t? And like why again?
When I’m reading a new-to-me author, I seem to have a habit of choosing the one book that makes all the fans go, “That one’s not their best…THESE OTHER ONES THOUGH!!”
I’m not done with Macmillan just yet because I’m not a completely horrible person & also I think I spent real human dollars on another of her books and it’s currently sitting on my bookshelves… but this book is getting a big UGH from me.
Cody Swift has one of the hottest true crime podcasts around, Time to Tell. It focuses on his search for what really happened to his two childhood best friends twenty-years earlier when they were killed and the intellectually-disabled target of their bullying, Sidney Noyce, is convicted of their murders.
In the present day, Sidney Noyce (think Brendan Dassey, but slower,) has taken his own life in prison and then a new body is discovered at the same site the two boys’ were found decades before. Cody uses the renewed spotlight on the case to sell his podcast with the goal of finding the real killer.
I love the idea, but the execution is severely lacking for me as a reader.
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.
I wasn’t old enough in the early 90s to full enjoy it. The big bangs and long hair and neon spandex. Saved by the Bell, 90210 and Nirvana and Chris Farley SNL days. I was aware, but I wasn’t. I remember being in my cousin Bill’s room one day after school – he’s 10 years old than me – and he had the Nirvana smiley face on everything. I asked him “what’s this?” and he said, “it’s a thing for a band.” That might have been the first time I took in the concept of a band.
I was a teenager in the early 2000s. Things like Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake in full jean outfits, Blink-182 and “flared” jeans, trucker hats and unnecessary scarves were really what was going on when I fully came online as a person, for better or for worse. Early 2000s fashion is truly some of the very, very worst.
There are things about being a little girl in the 90s that have stuck with me and shaped me as a person, though. Clueless is still one of my favourite movies. I always wanted to grow up and own a white Jeep. Maybe some day still. Scream inspired my love of horror. And Silence of the Lambs inspired my love of crime fiction.
My love of true crime didn’t start until later when I turned on an episode of Dateline for the first time. Oh, you mean this is like the murder-mysteries I read except for real life?! Count me in!
Maybe that’s why I find myself drawn towards 90s true crime. It was happening, and I didn’t know it. My access to information was so much more limited. But now I can learn all about these things that were going on in the world while I was growing up. Plus the fashion, the pop culture – I feel connected to it.
So, for this week’s True Crime Tuesday, we’re going to go back to 1991. To a yogourt shop in Austin, Texas, where four girls died in a fire.
Honestly, NetGalley might be my undoing, mentally. I can see a breakdown on the horizon. Maybe I start writing on the walls about how many unread ARCs I have, while I talk to an invisible librarian, and my husband has to feed me ice chips.
I try to stop myself from going on there and requesting new titles, but it’s so hard. I need a 12 step program.
We’ll call this post Step 1.
If you want to play along, feel free. Basically, what I intend to do is round up all the new ARCs I’ve received at the beginning of every month, for a new month of reading. Easy!
Because I’ve been such a good girl about requesting books (up until a couple of days ago), this first post might be a little short, but books are books!
I know everyone else is saying this too but, I can’t believe it’s May already!
April flew passed me, and I didn’t even get all that much reading done, which totally sucks, but I’ve been up to my eyes in house stuff. I swear time is like a downhill snowball the older you get, and I’m not even old!
My husband and I are still trying to get this foyer mudroom finished. And I’m such an inpatient asshole that I also started painting my upstairs hallway. I’m not good at one step at a time, clearly. Also, also, I’ve spent a lot of money on paintings and lights and carpets and please someone STOP ME BEFORE I DESTROY MY BUDGET!
I took a vacation day from work on Monday and my sincerest hope is that we get something completely done this weekend so I can go back to reading.
I’m an unabashed book series lover. If a book is the first in a series, as opposed to a standalone, I’m 80% more likely to read it (I just pulled that percentage out of my ass, but it’s probably accurate.)
With that in mind, I have no idea how I’m going to whittle down my favourite series to just my top five, but at the very least an attempt will be made and I’m proud of myself for that.
Full disclosure, I have not read Michelle McNamara’s I’ll Be Gone in the Dark….yet. Rest assured I am on the very long waiting list for the audiobook.
Library copies: 1.
So, while I haven’t read the book, I have been following the story of her life, and those she left behind, since her untimely death at the age of 46. I knew a little bit about her because of my true crime interests, but I learned the most because of Patton Oswalt. I love him; love his comedy, love his political activism and his opinions. Just love him.
It’s my favourite day of the week! That’s a lie. My favourite day of the week is Saturday. But “True Crime Saturday” doesn’t have the same ring to it.
So, True Crime Tuesday it is! And it’s my second favourite day of the week! Okay, no, I’m lying again. My second favourite day is Friday.
You know what? Forget about favourites.
It’s Tuesday. Fact.
Listen, I started a detox diet yesterday and I’m fucking miserable. I have a little under 2 hours before I get to eat my lunch of salad and half a chicken breast. And even the thought of that makes me miserable still because it’s so goddamn boring. There’s really no guarantee that I’ll finish writing this post before I eat the keyboard.
Let’s see how I’m doing at the end of this.
This is not a killer I am familiar with, but I was immediately intrigued because he has decidedly the most ridiculous serial killer nickname ever. I needed to learn more. And so here we are. Presenting: The Weepy-Voiced Killer (seriously who came up with that?)