Quick Brown/Cornwell Housekeeping

It happened.  I got inspired by the Kay Scarpetta countdown POST.  So I stepped into my library's used bookstore, and walked out with the first two–and only I presume–books in Cornwell's Win Garano series.  I’ve avoided them for so long, but saw At Risk [Book 1] and The Front [Book 2] ready and available for a fair $1.50.  I say fair also because, outside of Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta series, I read the first book in her Andy Brazil series and more or less got excited for the proceeding two entries.  (Owned and unread I should add.)  So we’ll see how this goes.  If anything, the books are so thin they should finally catch up my lagging reading challenge.

GOLD.  Here I am finishing book seven of Rita Mae Brown’s Mrs. Murphy series.  And now I've found a nice, hardback copy of book eight.  Pawing Through the Pastis begging for some attention.  Man, if I can take this one down, that’ll be three Rita Mae Brown books in a month.  I’m down for that.

Used bookstores are the best.  Let’s just say that as one.

Pickles & Scarpetta | Top 6 Favorite Kay Scarpetta Cases

Ever just look at your bookshelves, spot a series, and find yourself talking to yourself about your love for it?  For five or so minutes, you’re left using your memories to trace and calculate your way through the events that took place in each entry.  You’re throwing your thoughts back to each book’s conclusion and resolution.  You recall your favorite scenes, characters, and plots.  And most of all, you remember the sour ones.  And while you may be all caught up, and awaiting the author’s next release, you get the feeling that you can squeeze a re-read into your TBR just for the hell of it.  Well, that happened recently, as I stared up at my collection (which is very much current, thank you) of Patricia Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta series.

As some of you may or may not know, Patricia Cornwell is known for establishing the forensic thriller literary form with her 1990 debut, Post-mortem. As of now the series is twenty-two books deep, and it’s been a pickle of a ride between (I only started reading the series one hot July night in 2009). But what do I mean by “pickle”? Well, the bad, sketchy, and usually disconnected entries don't overtake the general good and enjoyment you gain.  I say that because there's a lot to say from reading through Scarpetta‘s many crime-stopping endeavors. However, while I have your attention, let’s talk about the pickles; I love to be honest about my feelings all around.

The "pickles"; books 12-17

While the series started in the first-person, via Scarpetta’s medical examiner lens, Cornwell switched to the third throughout books 12-17.  Already creating pushy, series arcing plots that would eventually back her into a corner; she took her readers out of the head of her famed hero and gave us a line of books probably best forgotten.  Well, to be clear, some were a little more memorable than others for their twisted villains alone. Nonetheless, from 2003’s Blow Fly to the final straw of 2009’s The Scarpetta Factor (the absolute worst in the series, and one I never finished), I almost gave up on the game. As I said in posts past, Scarpetta was like the aunt I wish I had.  So for me to have conversations with her from a wide, narrative berth was no fun. 

I didn’t necessarily want to prowl around in the killer’s head space (though sometimes interesting, they were mostly desperate necrotic musings). And, quite frankly, I didn’t want to do the same with the many strong, secondary characters in the series. Speaking of which, that would include Scarpetta’s F.B.I. husband [Benton], her techno-geek niece [Lucy], and her best friend and fellow detective [Marino]. Their roles have flipped and changed over the course of the series, but I was cool with hearing their many transgressions from a length.  And Lucy, being the most obnoxious of the listed trio, only seconded the villains per her chance at a narrative go.

Thankfully, in 2010, Cornwell changed back to first person and back into her series star’s head. And when I tell you that switch came right on time–I mean right on time. However, that doesn’t mean the series fully recovered from those few unrestrained books written in the third. Some of the post-third POV books were hit or miss, as it concerns containing a solidly maintained and operating plot (last year‘s Flesh and Blood wasn't that great at all). Even so, having Scarpetta back in the narrative seat makes a difference.  I love this series because Kay Scarpetta is intelligent, thoughtful, and works for the dead. Something we all have a fascination for, but can only seem to explore from a healthy distance.

Now in stating all that gush and fuss, I want to countdown to my six favorite Scarpetta cases!

My Inconvenient Truth About Flesh and Blood...

"It’s Dr. Kay Scarpetta’s birthday and she’s about to head to Miami for a vacation with her FBI profiler husband Benton Wesley when she notices seven pennies on a wall behind their Cambridge house. Is this a kids’ game? If so, why are all of the coins dated 1981 and so shiny it’s as if they’re newly minted? Then her cellphone rings, and Detective Pete Marino tells her there’s been a homicide five minutes away. A high school music teacher has been shot with shocking precision as he unloaded groceries from his car. No one heard or saw a thing. It’s as if God did it.

In this 22nd Scarpetta novel, the master forensic sleuth finds herself in the middle of a nightmarish pursuit of a serial sniper who seems to leave no evidence except fragments of copper. The shots are so perfect, they cause instant death and seem impossible, and the death scenes aren’t crime scenes because the killer was never within hundreds of yards of the victims. The victims seem to have nothing in common, and there is no pattern that might indicate where the Copperhead will strike next. First New Jersey, then Massachusetts, and then into the murky depths off the coast of South Florida, where Scarpetta dives a shipwreck, looking for answers that only she can discover and analyze. There she must face an unthinkable truth that points in the direction of her techno genius niece, Lucy, Scarpetta’s own flesh and blood."

~ Take from Goodreads

My inconvenient truth about Flesh and Blood is that I was so disinterested that 220 pages in (and a host of days held hostage to the drudgery of the book), I skipped to its end. Now I have to keep it real when I say that these Scarpetta books aren't anywhere near as thrilling as they once were.  So I more or less expected as much tedium out of Flesh and Blood. However, despite that sort of naked truth, I'm still into Kay Scarpetta.  She’s the aunt I wish I had, and a comfortable hat in the forensic literary form. Those are truths that has never changed–and never will. 

So nowadays it’s a matter of revisiting her year after year. I enjoy her pathologist and techno knowledge, alongside her perspicacious (can you tell I just wanted to use that word?) insight. I love when she goes between being a chef and a medical examiner; an aunt, wife and friend.  I can appreciate her often intimidating–yet grounded–role in her relationships with the other veteran characters and small-time cast members.  So simply put, I like her and look forward to another publication in the series.

However, sadly, this year it just didn't cut to stick around and play with dear Aunt Kay. If I thought last year's Dust was "dusty," Flesh and Blood drained me until I dejectedly decided to jump to its conclusion more than halfway through.

https://www.facebook.com/patricia.cornwell 

Besides the usual bad pacing, the real problem I had with Flesh and Blood was that I couldn't find value in its direction, nor find a means of empathizing with the round of victimizing events leading me through it. Not that every book has to have a foreseeable direction, but I would much rather be comfortable trusting that there is one instead of running into a stream of events that doesn’t appear even marginally connected. No, no. Not marginally, but more like believably connected. Therefore, one arbitrary occurrence or issue leading into another kind of bred mistrust in me during Flesh and Blood.

Gather ingredients consisting of copper pennies, snipers, terrorist, realtors, and insurance men that apparently look like something that stepped out of Goonies (or that weird s/he beast villain in Cornwell's Hornet's Nest book).  Toss in a victim who operates as a drug mule carrying cocaine wrapped in condoms in his stomach, and an incident involving a teenage girl drowning in some politician's pool.  And then sprinkle in law enforcement individuals having affairs, and the standard (often jealous and mean-spirited) personal concerns from the B-cast (particularly Lucy and Marino).  Wrap all of those and branching events for Scarpetta to spend a too many pages mulling and discussing with others (in contrast to scenes with movement), and you may feel as uninspired as I. And while so many of those events were surely connected somehow, I couldn't help but imagine someone throwing pasta against a wall and seeing what sticks. In the case of Flesh and Blood it's seeing what sticks, forcing it into a believable and plausible space.  Then hammering it into truth when there could've been an easier way, with a little more caress and ingenuity spent, on managing a sound plot.

Am I even making sense here?

So yeah. I cheated. I skipped to the end to give myself permission to put the book up and go elsewhere. And really, the ending wasn't all that great either–which right away killed my guilt for cheating. It involved Benton and Scarpetta scuba diving into some underwater wreckage.  For a moment I actually started to find interest in the story (but not enough to retrace), only to have the scenario cut short through a matter of paragraphs and a few pages. It cliff-hangs, then the resolution is spoken over in the proceeding epilogue. One, in which, is never unfolded to the reader first hand. Bummer because that underwater scene/confrontation had some serious potential.

And that's basically what I was left with as a whole: spoiled potential with the gratification of spending a little time with Kay Scarpetta.  Here's to next year's attempt!  I made a list of what I'd like to see, but decided to hold back for now.

Silence... of the Lambs

I am still working on the right words to express how I felt after recently reading Thomas Harris’s The Silence of the Lambs. I am quick to say that I enjoyed it, no doubt. It kind of threw me back to those early days of dark Kay Scarpetta thrillers surrounding subjects of disturbed killers, forensic-filled tête-à-tête, and visits to Quantico for some good old-fashioned F.B.I. training. That’s my immediate thought anyway, knowing that this book pre-dates Patricia Cornwell’s series by a few good years within the late 80s rolling into the 90s. Nevertheless, that was the tone that kind of waved over my reading experience, while won by Harris’s own lure into twisted psychological darkness, guided by his bright protagonist, Clarice Starling.  

If you don't know what The Silence of the Lambs is about, I'll quickly attempt to summarize it just for flavor. A serial killer with the nickname Buffalo Bill spends his days and nights tramping around the country for a particular type of woman to metamorphosize his inner desire.  With at least six kills underneath his belt, he remains unsuccessful in his ruinous venture.  So Buffalo Bill keeps going.  The F.B.I. has yet to determine his precise motive, even as they uncover the filet and scared remnants of his victims scattered patternlessly (or so it seems) across the country.  Establishing his motive could lead to the F.B.I. anticipating Buffalo Bill's next move; therefore, it's a delicate form of investigation, that seems to require a simmered approach to this particular killer's apprehension. 

So who does the Chief of the Bureau’s Behavioral Science, Jack Crawford, call upon to help find an edge in this investigation? A young trainee (second in her class) named Clarice Starling.  Crawford’s assignment for Clarice boils down to an interview with a gifted psychiatrist—and macabre, cannibalistic killer—named Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Tucked deep within the bowels of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane resides Lecter, locked away for eight years preceding his crimes featured in another one of Harris's books.  In a pair of intimate interview sessions, Clarice sits to gather the criminally intelligent insight and enigmatic clues behind Buffalo Bill‘s motivation--via Lecter's stealthy conversational webs. In turn, through the examination of Lecter’s razor-sharp psychiatry, Clarice (but mostly the reader) learns the meaning behind the silencing of the lambs.

March Mystery Reading Madness

March Mystery Reading Madness is here, as corny as it sounds.  This month I’m not planning on buying any books!  Even as I lurk through my Amazon Wishlist, tempted to finally order Villian by Shuichi Yoshida and Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin.  And damnit I really am about ready to read Haruki Murakami's 1Q84.  But nope.  Not gonna go there!  However, what I intend to do is read the books I already have on my shelf, and it appears that I have an abundance of mystery series that I’ve either started or have yet to dive into.  These books have been on my shelf for years, some upsetting me with each glance.  Somewhere along the lines of my reading journey I’ve been distracted from either proceeding with either of these series or starting them up.  Now is the time--I‘ve decided.  Sure, my income taxes are on their way.  And it looks nice and inviting for a Barnes & Nobles spending spree.  But we’ll save that money to buy new books in April… maybe.

So on to catching up with my favorite genre.  As always, I’ll share the books I intend to read each month and as I finish them, write a post/review concerning my experience.  I have yet to decided which book/series I want to commander first, so I’ll just list them randomly at this point.  Okay, wait.  Let me backpedal a bit and be honest in stating that Sujata Massey’s third book in her Rei Shimura mystery series was the first book I grabbed.  So we’ll start there.  And as always if you are familiar with either of these series and want to share your experience reading them, I invite you to please comment and get the discussion ball rolling.

Rei Shimura Mysteries by Sujata Massey

For some reason I forgot that I have The Pearl Diver (the 7th book in the series), therefore, it’s not in the picture.  Nevertheless, the first three books read as follows: The Salaryman’s Wife, Zen Attitude, and The Flower Master.  As stated, I stopped the series at the second book and am currently reclaiming Rei Shimura with the third title, The Flower Master.  I stopped reading this series about three years ago for a simple reason: the second book [Zen Attitude] was a complete and utter disappoint, whereas the first book [The Salaryman’s Wife] was wonderful.  Let me backtrack and explain how I discovered this series.  I was doing my usual research, looking for mystery series that featured a female lead of Asian descent.  

See, while I love my Kinsey Millhone and Kay Scarpetta, I wanted to read mysteries featuring women of color.  Rei Shimura popped up rather quickly, despite her popular counterparts.  I was ecstatic; Rei is Japanese-American and the mysteries take place in Japan.  Additionally, she’s an antiques dealer before an amateur sleuth.  The first book won me over probably because of the setting and character lead.  Massey was giving me what I wanted, so I wasn’t disappointed, just enthralled.  However, the second book was extremely weak.  Besides the nods to Japanese culture and language, the mystery element seemed detached.  I hardly even remember the book.  Only something about a girl who did martial arts at a temple and Rei stuck in the rain hiding from the book’s assailant (correct me if I’m wrong).  There was just no punch.  Nevertheless, I had ordered the third book thinking the previous was a fluke.  Just never got to it till now.  And something tells me The Flower Master is going to soar, dedicating me to the rest of Rei’s journey. 

V. I. Warshawski Series by Sara Paretsky

Sara Paretsky and Sue Grafton go hand-in-hand, and are probably the most admired, as well as popular, writers of the American hard-boiled P.I. female lead in the mystery genre.  Actually, the two are just great freakin’ writers altogether.  Let’s forget all of that “female” and “diversity” mess.  Still, while I have taken on a whole other level of obsession and commitment to Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone Alphabet Series, I found myself over the years having only read the first book in Sara Paretsky’s V. I. Warshawski series, based in Chicago.  That hasn't stopped me from buying several of the books in reading advance; I knew that one day I was going to take the same obsessional shine to Warshawski as I did Kinsey many moons (and cases) ago.  I wish I could sit here and analyze exactly why I passed on Paretsky after reading the first book in her series, Indemnity Only.  Especially considering I loved it!  I should also add that it took me over a year to read said first book after I'd purchased it.  Nonetheless, there wasn’t anything in particular that I could find to explain my lack of un-abandoned enthusiasm for the series.  I could attribute a subconscious need for only one female hard-boiled P.I. series to dedicate my time to.  Or maybe I was intimidated by Warshawski, considering she had an edge consisting of a saw blade, as opposed to Millhone’s sort-of-but-not-in-fact kid-gloves approach to solving mysteries.  I really have nothing to draw upon to explain my wrench away from the Warshawski--I liked her just fine.  However, I knew I would one day pick up this series and stick with it.  Besides, like Kinsey, Warshawski’s adventures are still relevant and continuing after 30 years.  This translate to a hive of more mysteries following a female P.I. to gorge myself on.  So this month, it’s back to the gray streets of Chicago with private investigator V. I. Warshawski.

Small, small note.  I have seen the movie version (simply titled V. I. Warshawski) of the second book in the series, Deadlock.  I think that has paused me from reading the actual book, causing me to spend months (which turned to years) deciding whether I wanted to skip the book after seeing the movie first.  However, as we know, I'm not one to favor skipping books in a series.  Therefore, the progress halted.  Till now.

Aurora Teagarden Mysteries by Charlaine Harris

Charlaine Harris established herself as a cozy mystery writer and still remains so.  Can we all agree on that?  So way before her infamous Sookie Stackhouse Series (sometimes considered Southern Vampire Series), cozy mystery writing was her genre--her writing backbone.  Now that Sookie has ended, she’s starting a new trilogy of books beginning this May that will further her ability to tie cozy writing with paranormal elements.  So I’m led to believe judging by some of the talk surrounding her new series.  In any regard, that new book is titled Midnight Crossroad and I can not wait to read and talk about it here.  Advance copies are welcomed. (^_^)

Having said all of that, I am a fan of Charlaine Harris.  There are a few here or theres that I didn’t too much care for in a certain number of her books, mostly revolving around her portrayal of certain groups.  However, that hasn’t stopped me from diving into her catalog of mystery series and stand-alone books.  And once again I feel the need to strongly recommend her Lily Bard mystery series, provided that I think it's light years ahead of even Sookie Stackhouse novels.  Honestly speaking, the only thing I choose not to commit to is reading Harris’s short stories, as there are way too many spread about throughout different anthologies.  An omnibus would suffice, however.

So having explored Sookie, Lily, and up to three books in her Harper Connelly series, why have I not spent time with Aurora Teagarden?  I’ve been asking myself that since 2010 when I bought the first four books in the series.  Year after year allowed them to collect dust on my shelf.  I think I tried the first book, Real Murders, till about page 10 and passed on the rest.  No rhyme or reason, just a subconscious desire to dedicate myself to the series at the right time.  Now is that time.  Time to relish myself on another one of Harris’s small town mysteries, under the voice of her amateur sleuth being that of a diffident librarian tracking down killers.  This should hold me over till May when Harris’s new series makes it debut.

Lydia Chin & Bill Smith Series by S. J. Rozan

S. J. Rozan drew me in with her first book, China Trade, led by Chinese-American P. I., Lydia Chin.  And Rozan subsequently drew me out with Chin's somewhat a-typical leading partner, Bill Smith.  Unfortunately, that is exactly what prevented me from proceeding into the second book, Concourse.  Rozan’s sudden switch to Bill’s POV from Lydia’s was totally unexpected.  See, China Trade made for an excellent read that won me completely over, mainly because it was under the perspective of Lydia Chin, a young, somewhat developing private detective.  Additionally, we got a glimpse into Lydia’s family and their traditional nuances as a Chinese-American family.  I suppose it is interesting to have a hard-boiled series, taking place in New York's Chinatown, that follows a team duo that swaps directing their cases.  From my understanding, this shift of perspective may be bi-bookly.  

Since I loved Lydia, I managed to hold on to the three books I bought to indulge myself into the series.  I’ve held on to those books, determined to one day make it through them by getting pass the second book that’s underneath Bill Smith’s first person POV.  I can’t recall the exact impact of Smith’s role in China Trade just yet, but perhaps after reading Concourse I’ll become more welcoming to his presence carrying future books as I move forward.  In any case, I refuse to bend and completely disown S. J. Rozan’s series.  Lydia Chin is just too damn rare and valuable.

"Honorable Mentions"

These next three books are somewhat a set of “Honorable Mentions” to my cause to read my collection of mysteries in the month of March.  They are listed as:

1.  Wish You Were Here by Rita Mae Brown

2.  Death's Favorite Child by Frankie Y. Bailey

3.  Takeover by Lisa Black

Should I completely succeed, these are the books I’m moving into.  However, instead of writing about them, I’m going to let the accompany video do all the talking.  Should I get to them, there will definitely be posting about each one.  At this point, they truly deserve one.  Sorry for taking so long, books!

Read any of these?  Passionate about mysteries and women leads as much as I am?  Please share your thoughts and recommendations!

Cornwell's Dust

It took me longer than I expected, but I finally wrapped up reading Patricia Cornwell’s latest Kay Scarpetta novel, Dust.  Did I love it?  Yes.  It was okay.  Meh.  I thought it was a bump up from The Bone Bed (2012); however, not as arresting as Cornwell attempt in Red Mist (2011) or even Port Mortuary (2010).  Dust did capture my attention enough to push through it, but it didn't stir me like the books I just mentioned.  I believe what threw me off more than anything, or was more noticeable in this entry to the series than ever before, was the goddamn stoical pacing of the book/plot/mystery.  

I have to gush about why I love Patricia Cornwell and kept reading her even when she spent six books serving me cold material, after leaving her readers out of the exclusivity of Scarpetta‘s first person narrative.  I am a loyal reader so I think I can say that about that awful third person, omniscient narrative she took on through books 12-17 in the series.  However, I digress.  Some years ago I wanted to know and education myself a little more on forensic science.  At one time I dreamed of writing something similar.  I knew I could never touch it like the experts, but I wanted to be in the know all the same.  I found a lot of non-fiction books during that period (particularly Bill Bass‘s books on forensic anthropology), but I needed something with story, and of course a female lead to guide me through it.  While I heard of Cornwell, and stocked plenty of her books back in my Borders days, I never read her.  Then I was recommended Cornwell’s The Body Farm (1994) and it sat on my shelf for damn near a year before one summer I finally picked it up.  Let’s just say the doors blew off the hinges.  Suddenly I was reading one book a day in the Kay Scarpetta series.  Even denying school work just to escape into another of Kay Scarpetta's forensic mysteries.  I was addicted from then forward and I never gave up on Scarpetta, Benton, Marino, and Lucy--Cornwell's cast.  Even when Cornwell's characters were getting understandably butchered (yes, I understood why people hated them) by reviews and readers, I kept reading.  I never gave up.  Never, never, never.  Until The Scarpetta Factor (2009) came out.  That book was HO-RI-BLE!  To this day I’ve never managed to finish it.  

So I was ready to call it quits until Cornwell did the smart thing (yeah, I said it) and returned to first person narrative in the proceeding book to The Scarpetta Factor, Port Mortuary.  See, the whole point of me loving the series was because I liked Scarpetta‘s voice.  I trusted her intelligence and felt associated with her and her world through her.  She was my connection, even when I spent six books teetering to the side.  I got my grounding fiction and my forensics lesson all in one drop, so to speak.  So what drove me to finish Dust even though I thought it was dusty and dry itself?  Scarpetta’s voice.  That was probably the singular thing that kept me in locomotion.  While some think she is self-absorbed and abrasive, I seem to somehow never notice it as I remain tapped into her well of information and dedication to bring about justice.  Her diagnosing gruesome situations, examining forensic details, and using simple deduction to solve cases just seems to hold my attention.  Even if I’m slogging through a book with some bad pacing.

Dust takes place in a single day, with the exception of a flashback scene from Scarpetta’s earlier years and a Five-Days-Later final chapter that closes off the book’s case in Florida.  Nonetheless, the book starts with Massachusetts Chief Medical Examiner, Kay Scarpetta, ill at home in bed after tending to the bodies of victims related to a large-scale spectacle killing.  Cornwell used an actual, recent national tragedy to postmark the reason behind Scarpetta’s burst of stress-induced flu.  Many readers/reviewers argue that Cornwell exploited this tragedy in her book; I’ll do like Cornwell did and not mention the tragedy by name.  Nevertheless, to me she really only spent two or three small moments in Scarpetta’s musings on the incident.  That was all.  Nothing forwardly advertised.  I understood what Cornwell was attempting to do and did not find it exploitative.

The prime vehicle driving any Scarpetta forensic thriller is a body.  In Dust one shows up as the former Gail Shipman, a computer engineer amidst a $100 million dollar lawsuit which very much reflected Cornwell‘s recently personal courtroom activities.  Gail was last seen exiting a bar before landing dead-cold in the middle of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s Brigg Fields, draped in a white cloth.  With the local police department on the case, Scarpetta is pulled in by her historically-steep off and on friend/associate, Detective Pete Marino.  This interaction comes in the form of a 4am phone call that awakens a sick Scarpetta on page one.  However, Scarpetta never actually attends to the body of Gail till page 100.  Which makes you wonder what happened in 100 pages?  Besides Scarpetta and Marino finally leaving her home 62 pages into the book?

I have the answer: nothing really significant but painfully uneventful set-up surrounding the case.

There’s a stream of ruminations and verbal putt-putting between Marino and Scarpetta.  There’s that flashback chapter that I still haven’t made sense of its purpose.  I anticipated a series of flashbacks throughout the book, each meant to provide a revelation of some sort.  But no.  It was that singular flashback that I can’t recall presenting me anything toward the plot.  What it did do was stress more on how much of a flake Marino is consistently painted out to be by the author.  Now we do get small hints surrounding the story behind Gail’s murder, hints that eventually lead to the FBI’s role in this investigation as well as Scarpetta’s FBI profiler husband, Benton, and super smart techno niece, Lucy.  But that’s just it; those 100 pages are filled with rumbling thoughts, hints, and conversations.

And that's pretty much the pacing of the book.  You're introduced to a new location/scene and for about 100 pages or so the characters stand around and ruminate on the crime, victims, modus operandi, and potential suspects.  I've gotten used to how multi-layered and contrive (sometimes unbelievable) the mystery aspects are in some books within the series.  Sometimes many of the elements that make up the psychopathic killer and his means of murder are so stretched out that I'm mostly left confused up to his/her final unveiling.  However, it doesn't help that there is no action or hard movement leading to a story's end.  No clever suspect interviews or trips to unknown places--considering Scarpetta once donned diving gear to work an underwater crime scene.  Just details and dialogue on the details mostly makes up Dust.

Yet that voice of Scarpetta sharing those details kept me going.  It kept me loving the slogging pacing which really translated to "simply spending time with one of my favorite book characters."  Things like this is so hard to explain.  But I would imagine that I'm not the only Scarpetta fan who was both bored with most of the book, yet in love with the whole damn thing.