Caught-Up in Death

It has finally happened–I'm caught up on J. D. Robb (except for two short stories) and am officially ready for Obsession in Death’s release on February 10th. (Which is six days away from where I'm standing.) Whoo-hoo! It’s been a thrill slamming these four books down these past two months. A truly fun and exciting treat/reunion. There were nights where I stood up to keep from falling asleep, as I chuck down 200 pages. In contrast, there was a time where I–pitifully–spent ten days with one book.  Which is not a good thing. I got Lay's Simply thick cut potato chips wedged in some books, as I snacked alongside Eve and crew. I silenced my Korean dramas with the MUTE button to funnel my concentration into some of the more gripping cases.  And I suppose I should mention how I was almost late for work one morning, having stayed up to read and awoke to follow-up with a few more pages.

Fun, indeed.

So the last four books are listed as: Calculated, Thankless, Concealed, and Festive in Death. If I had to rate them in order from best to worse, it'll be Concealed, Calculated, Festive, and Thankless. Nonetheless, you can visit my previous post on Calculated and Thankless to see what I thought of them.  From here I’m going into Concealed and Festive. Okay. Enough rambling.

Concealed in Death is book number 38 in Robb’s In Death series, and it ranks up there with one Eve Dallas’s creepiest cases. It started off simple enough. Eve’s billionaire husband–and series star–Roarke is interested in creating a haven for abandoned children/teens. He’s taken an interest in an old building that done such a thing almost twenty years previous.  Then, it was known as The Sanctuary. 

Nevertheless, a bit of demolition is required to fit Roarke’s taste for the building.  With the contractor present, Roarke wields a sledgehammer into a wall to get the process started. And what he uncovers is a pocket of space. Tucked in that space are the skeletal remains of two, wrapped in plastic. Roarke wastes no time contacting his wife, homicide Lieutenant Eve Dallas. And, upon her arrival, the skeletal remains of ten others are uncovered buried in further walls of the building.

This was probably one of the best In Death books since Treachery in Death. It’s books like this that make me roll my eyes at book snobs. You know, the individuals who look down on what they deem–snobbishly I should say–genre fiction. (Personally, I'd rather get rid of the “genre” and stick with Sue Grafton’s equivalent, “literary form.”) However, genre fiction, or mystery to be exact, explores social subjects and themes just as effectively as contemporary fiction. Though it's done under the duress of murder (which may be where all the snobby squealing comes from), that is only the vehicle to said themes and social conversations. 


Concealed in Death provided both murder and the conversation. Robb took readers on the individual stories of twelve (and then some) unfortunate teens who found themselves abandoned and/or abused by their families.  Subsequently, they're thrown into a shelter. Many of them gathered hard, abrasive defense mechanisms used to control those around them. Many harbored powerful, self-destructive rage. And many were so broken they were helpless and prey to a variety of influences. These teens manipulated, stole, and fought to relieve their sadness. And in the end, they were lured to their deaths by an individual just as destructive and broken.

Concealed in Death just goes on and on.  Whether it's the book's additional presence of mental illness and suicide; it opens conversation after conversation while telling a sad, troubling story that’s very much worth a discussion. It ranked right up there with the disheartening feeling I gathered after I closed Promises in Death six years ago.  Now, that's not to say that Concealed didn't have its flaws.  It certainly did.  However, just the conception of the case alone made it a winner to me.  Twelve skeletal remains hidden behind walls is chilling in itself.  Plus, I'm not one to nibble on flaws in books unless they're too big for me to swallow.

Which more or less brings me to book number 39, Festive in Death. A personal trainer named Trey Ziegler is discovered in his apartment. Murdered, of course. He was bashed over the head twice with one of his fantastic, high-flying fitness achievement trophies, before finding himself (well, his corpse of a self) stabbed in the chest with a kitchen knife attached to a note reading Santa Says You’ve Been Bad!!! Ho. Ho. Ho!  It would be somewhat easier for Eve if she found some sympathy for her playboy victim. Oh, yeah. The fact that he drugged his many sexual conquests takes part of her disgust. Nonetheless, this is her job; she must stand for the dead. So the search for his killer keeps going. From a fashion blogger, a native mistress, and Trey’s body-building rivals, the list of his potential killer goes on just as the variety of possible motives.  Was it a vengeance kill?  A passion kill?  Or maybe Trey was getting in the way of someone else's personal achievement? So, who killed Trey Ziegler and why?

There’s not that much I want to say about Festive in Death. I thought it was kind of standard. It wasn't all that exciting–especially after the gripping atmosphere Concealed gave me.  However, it was an enjoyable glide with Eve and the cast. See, the thing about Festive was Robb never really flipped any switches to me. I read it thinking to myself “wouldn't it be interesting if Trey’s killer was his gay lover”. Conversely, “what if Trey’s hiding someone else’s homoerotic voyeurisms.” Or even, “wow, I wish the character who seems naive and dumb was actually a blood-thirsty vengeful bitch.” Anything but the status quo would’ve done. And while it did twist a little in the end, it wasn't all that grand.  Plainly put, the book was too damn safe for me.

The true treat of Festive was probably the long scenes dedicated to Eve and Roarke’s life with family and friends. Seeing that this was a Christmas-themed book, it only made sense. Now, I'm not one to really invest too much in Eve and Roarke’s relationships with others. It’s true. To me, the books move so slow and are so stagnant in the relationship area that I don't feel like I really miss much.  Let me explain... 

Early in the series there was an arc where the dating couple, Peabody (Eve’s partner) and McNab (New York’s electronic division officer), were having a tiff.  He caught her being kissed by another individual and it deconstructed/reconstructed everything between them for a couple of books.  It was an issue that was there.  It came present, explored and experience without having been watered down or glossed over.  Another example comes when the resident psychologist, Dr. Mira, and Eve were on rocky terms during another arc in the series.  Their tiff had to do with an ethical disagreement involving a case. So other than that, nothing really sticks out to me concerning characters and their relationships with others. Perhaps I'm just blind to it, because I've read reviews where others are excited for growth in certain relationships where all I see is the same. Even with Eve and Roarke, I hardly see much of this “growth” people keep talking about. Basically, what I'm saying is that nothing breaks down to be built back up between these characters.  At least nothing serious, detrimental, or dynamic-changing.

I'm not as invested in the character relationships as other readers, but when it happens, I do notice piquing changes.  And I also want to add that I believe part of this issues comes with how everyone's world almost always orbits back around to Eve and Roarke.

Nonetheless, with all of that said, I will say that I did enjoy the parts in Festive not focused on the murder case.  (Honestly, I'm kind of shocked that I did enjoy them.) After all, a Christmas party is usually a good time. And in saying that, I still wish Robb would do something with the gay medical examiner Ty Clipper. So annoying how all these straight couples get to have all the fun. Even the coupling between a licensed male prostitute and a doctor (though I like them in general).

Well, that’s it. Enough rambling. I’m moving on to Obsession. Check with me there!

Balzac Said What?

"In this enchanting tale about the magic of reading and the wonder of romantic awakening, two hapless city boys are exiled to the remote mountain village for re-education during China's infamous Cultural Revolution.  There they meet the daughter of the local tailor and discover a hidden stash of Western classics in Chinese translation.  As they flirt with the seamstress and secretly devour these banned works, they find transit from their grim surroundings to worlds they never imagined."

~ Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress

There’s a lot to say, and then there’s not too much I can say about Dai Sijie’s Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress.  I mostly found it an ethereal, magical, coming-of-age, young-romance Chinese not-so-love story.  It’s short and sweet.  Flavored and gripping in its telling.  

Balzac takes place during China’s Cultural Revolution, a time where all things Western or foreign was prohibited in place of all things Mao (like that handy The Little Red Book).  Subsequently, many young Chinese were relocated from the cities (populated and occupied with educational prospects) and forced into the mountainous areas/villages for re-indoctrination.  After all, what better way to uphold Mao's principles than to throw the intelligent Chinese youth into the countryside as coal-miners and farmhands?  Anyway, it’s here that we meet the two Chinese teens sharing their story of political migration, and their desperation for love and knowledge.

It gets a little confusing toward the end as the narrative abruptly shifts into the heads of the various other characters.  However, I didn't find it a total disruption, because by that point I was pretty much solid with the simplicity of the story.  So in saying all that, Balzac isn't Ha Jin, Jung Chang, or Yiyun Li.  It's a fascinating and spellbinding read, but it only went so far in depth and conflict.  I left away feeling it was a glimpse, a slice-of-life (but certainly more) moment of what it was like to be a Chinese teen during the Cultural Revolution.  And all the political maladjustment that went into living in that era.

Unbagged: Zazzle iPhone Speaker

What's up, guys!  I'm doing video after video it seems.  Here I do an unbagging of another Zazzle item I recently acquired out of my Zazzle store.  It's my way of sharing to others what these items are like once received as well as trying them out for myself.  And I really needed a new speaker!

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The product details per Zazzle's site are as follows:

Dimensions: 2.375"L x 4.5"W x 0.75"D; 3.5 ounces

Powered by 2 AAA batteries and USB cord (included)

Works with ANY standard 3.5 mm. headphone jack audio product

Designer Tip: To ensure the highest quality print, please note this product’s customizable design area measures 2.3" x 4.4". For best results please add 1/10"

January Wrap-Up Videos

In case you missed it, here's my reading wrap-up videos for January.  I titled this set "Killers and Eastern Sorrow" because, well, that's what the month came to reading-wise.

Bleak Surrender

This may be a Southern thing, but remember when you'd play limbo and chant “how low can you go?“ Okay, well the same applies to Chang-Rae Lee’s The Surrendered. How low and how bleak can this novel go in its tapestry of pain and suffering? Now, just because I would describe the novel as low and bleak doesn't negate how amazing (if sometimes trope-cheating) the book actually was. Really, I loved it; any book that keeps me anxious until the very end is a winner. Nonetheless, as stated, there were some problems along the way.  However, a few of those problems are so precise that should I even attempt to shed light on them I would spoil the story. I don't want to do that. I absolutely can't, as it'll make some of those “problem” areas all the more dissatisfying.

Therefore, I'll give you just a little bit of what I liked and didn't like about The Surrendered. 

While The Surrendered opens up during the Korean War (1950-1953), it’s a post-war novel. “The misery of life after war times” is the surface overture of the novel, as three protagonists guide you along their desolation through securely interlacing stories.

SEE THE CHARACTERS FIRST

The first character is an orphaned Korean teen named June Han Singer. Her journey escaping North Korea during the war opens up the novel. Struck by tragedy after tragedy, she is forced to forge her own path after the loss of her family. She’s all that’s left of the Singers. 

June's story jaunts into the future, particularly in 1986 where we find June in her late forties living in New York. Here, she’s an antiques dealer, clearing away the remains of her estate (apartment, business, etc.) to seek out her long-missing son, Nicholas. One year Nicholas went overseas and never returned home. However, through a stream of letters and postcards, June has managed to keep in contact with her son. Troubled by guilt for her lack of involvement in his childhood (except for her lying about his father, I didn't see June as a distant mother to her son), June decides to hire a private investigator to help her locate Nicholas; suspected somewhere in Rome. However, that’s not all. June is dying of stomach cancer, which brings urgency to her cause. (I found this line of plot as sort of the backbone of the novel.)

Then there’s June’s savior, Hector Brennan. Hector once worked as a GI in the Korean War. Explosive and easily agitated, Hector was released from his military duties after frequent entanglements with his superiors. The fun part is that we get to jump back into his past, his childhood. As a teen, Hector spent much of his time watching over his veteran father, who spent his time in bars drunk and searching for fights. Aside from watching of his troubled father, Hector also spent time exploring his sexuality with various neighborhood girls as well as the wives of military soldiers. One day, this exploration comes with a price. Nevertheless, after his discharge, Hector is seen wandering around Korea until his discovers young, starving June. Hesitate by her experience, June eventually takes Hector’s invitation to follow him to a local orphanage where he finds himself work as a resident handyman.

I could imagine Sylvie like this

The last protagonist, and probably the brightest of the three, is a missionary wife and daughter named Sylvie Tanner. With her own disastrous–and I mean disastrous–past trying to control and pull her back into its darkness, Sylvie’s struggles lead her to the same orphanage June and Hector arrives at. Working alongside her missionary husband, Sylvie finds herself beloved by the children at the orphanage. So much so that they all wish she'd adopt them before her journey leads her elsewhere. However, while all that innocence softens her inner, controlling demons, it’s the presence of June and Hector who inadvertently pokes at it. The two fight for Sylvie’s love, comfort and affection. Each desperate to silence their inner turmoil through the other.

A JAUNTING STRUCTURE

So as you can tell by now, the structure of The Surrendered jaunts back and forth in time and space, guiding each of the characters' journey through nuggets and clues given early within their stories. From there, either those answers are answered through a jaunting look into the past or future. As for the setting itself, the novel jumps mainly between Korea and America during the late 1950s and 1980s (some chapters are even earlier than both). The leaping back and forth in time and space was something I did like about The Surrendered. I can understand why some readers might not appreciate the non-linear way the story is told, but I loved it. I liked it mainly because–as mentioned–it nuggets and cliff-hangs you along. And it surprises you as well. An event summarized in sparse, inscrutable detail will suddenly come to a conclusive edge only a few chapters later. Frustrating sometimes when you stop and beg the author to give you more details, but a delight when you find out that Lee didn't just leave you hanging.

Additionally, I liked the jaunting and jumping because somehow it worked with my engagement with the book. I was forced to maintain and track the unfolding of its story. I didn't tag along sheepishly. I was a part of it, much like a mystery novel where the reader has to engage and maintain elements dispersed throughout the book to find satisfaction in its conclusion.  I came into The Surrendered looking for a great story, and I really did receive it.  Even if down to the way Lee told the story.

THE CHEATING PART

However, I think that what really became my issue was how Lee kind of over-pushed the bleakness through the various deaths of secondary characters. So much so that I found some deaths scenes a little too forced, a little too orchestrated and would've appeared challenging if these characters’ fate would’ve been opposite to the one they were given.  Removing the many troubled, but brighter characters took away some of hope.  It also left these characters in a someone prop-like status used to further the inner ugliness of the main characters.  Additionally, it made matters inescapable how this novel would never “see the light.” It also made me, as the reader, question some of the intent of the book. Should we never believe in silver linings? Should we never have faith there is always good somewhere down the road long after the punishment of war? I just don't know with this one. All I can say is that some characters’ death took me out of the novel for a moment, and into a writer’s uncertain objective.  (What should I do with this character to increase the hardcore drama?  Oh, yeah.  Kill him!  He'll be another notch in the misery.)

The Surrendered was a gripping read no doubt. It was the book I found myself most invested in this month. I'm torn between the bleakness and the engaging execution of the story.  And while the more I read the more I realized the character's weren't necessarily going to "brighten up", it still didn't change how valid their stories were.
I think that’s enough talking about this book. We could go on all day, but I highly recommend The Surrendered.  Although I wasn't feeling Lee's debut, Native Speaker, I have to say that The Surrendered has definitely compelled me to try his debut again.  Or better yet, just go nuts on Amazon and order all of his books.

Die Again?

It has finally happened. Since 2012’s Last to Die (which was a letdown), Tess Gerritsen has finally released book eleven (technically twelve if you count The Bone Garden) in her Rizzoli and Isles series, Die Again. Finally the crime-fighting duo is back!  And just for the record, I don't watch the TV show.  I saw the first episode, realized how Angie Harmon didn't even come close to how I envision Jane Rizzoli (help me Jesus was that too much for me), and decided I didn't want to spoil my personal perspective of the series and characters.  Additionally, I dislike the show's theme song.  I know.  How petty.  But I just can't get with its Celtic melody.  Something about it kills the Rizzoli and Isles universe's edge.

So I'm done being petty and, considering I haven't written much about Tess Gerritsen since starting this blog, I'll give a little background as to how I discovered the series.  Which was really quite simple, as it merged out of reading Patricia Cornwell's Kay Scarpetta series.  I wanted to read more on medical examiners and forensic pathology; while the pathologist of the duo, Isles, didn't show up until the second book, her name brought me to the series.  And yes, I fell hard for Jane after the first book.  Then WHAM: two women solving crimes.  One is a temperamental detective.  One is a distant medical examiner.  I identified with both adjectives, so how could I resist?  Furthermore, I just love reading about intelligence characters and authors with a knack for teaching me a thing or two about a life I'd probably never get a chance to live.  And seeing that Gerritsen is a doctor, I kind of trust her shit.

Needless to say, I've kept up ever since.  And I'm always, always proud to say that my favorite book in the series is Body Double (book #4).  I threw my schoolwork aside to read that book in a single night.  That's how serious the situation became.  There are a few other Gerritsen books outside of her Rizzoli and Isles series that I also recommend.  Two being Harvest and Gravity.  Both will turn into one-night reads.  Trust.

So yeah.  I'm pretty familiar with Tess Gerritsen.  Now on to Die Again.


The narrative format throughout Die Again is the same as her previous books in the Rizzoli and Isles series.  Gerritsen’s narrative jumps from different perspectives, times and settings. In Die Again, she places the series’ stars in the present investigation state of solving the gruesome murder of a taxidermist named Leon Gott. Like the big-game hunter he once was, Gott is found in a position similar to his animal conquests, hanging upside down in his garage and gutted like a forest duiker.  With a few clues and connections, the ladies back their way through his history to un-bury the truth behind his murder.  Sometimes at the slight displeasure of one another's company.  It’s an unusually gruesome murder/case, but I found it plays into the book's primal overture of finding ourselves psychologically helpless and gutted by our fears. To the point where we're paralyzed by them. (You'll probably get it once you read the book.)

Nonetheless, so where does this case lead series’ star Rizzoli and Isles? Well, here comes Gerritsen’s B-story.

Six years ago a group of multinational (from Japan to America) tourists disappeared on a safari deep in Botswana. And while you would think a herd of lions took over their camp and snatched them all into the African bush, there was actually a killer among the group picking them off one by one during the night. Naturally, this raised suspicions within the group, and as the tension and murders continued, one lone survivor named Millie flew into the African bush to escape. She survived two weeks before arriving half dead at a gaming lodge tucked into the African Delta.  And really, after reading the first book in Suzanne Arruda's African safari-themed mystery series, I have to say that Gerritsen's complete take came nowhere near as uneventful and boring.  Meaning, when Gerritsen uses words and language to put you in Botswana you were there–storywise and all.  

As for the killer, well, he’s still out there hunting from the African bush of Botswana to one of the oldest cities in the U.S., Boston.  Which all sounds like a sweep and an outliner's nightmare, but, as always, Gerritsen made it all coalesce.  With a shiny–if not far-fetched–glow.  

So yeah.  Die Again was a thrill, but at the end I thought to myself "it was good, but she was reaching high on this one."  

I think that mostly came with how I didn't really get her villain.  Apart from how the limited suspects led me to him more than partway through the book, I just wasn't compelled by his presence.  His argument.  And the rush ending didn't help matters.  So in that sense, the villain seemed wooden to me.  Even while his deathly deeds and modus operandi were documented (mainly through the eyes of others) and summarized, I didn't get enough of his personal angle.  To me, the killer's point is just as important as the good guy's.  This kind of made me wish Gerritsen shared chapters focused on the killer's psychology as well as Millie's story of survival.  And the ending of Die Again let me down in this aspect.  I would've appreciated a full fleshing out.  (Think the A&E reality show, The Killer Speaks.)


Even so, Gerritsen has mentioned before that her books contain women climbing out of horrific situations, and it's been an on-going staple to her storytelling.  Without a doubt, this is the strength of the series.  Therefore, I did find myself touched by Millie's story.  Not so much toward the end where she becomes a jittery mess (though completely understandable), but I was definitely in her corner through her narrative.  Additionally, I felt for the fate of a few of the supporting characters.  The "what could've been" at the end of the book was moving.

Die Again is another fantastic Rizzoli and Isles thriller.  It's gripping where it needs to be.  Wonderfully thematic if you pay close attention.  And overall fun riding once again with Rizzoli's mouth running and Isles complimenting her with her own theories.  They're friends.  They support one another in their common goal.  Sometimes that support is tested, but you know it's unbreakable.  

If you're not familiar with the series, I suggest you start with the first book, The Surgeon.  

Chronicling Robb

I know, I know. Enough with the J. D. Robb already. Even so, I’m feeling good as I semi-chronicle my return to the series, so bright and early within the year. And in doing so, I have to share that I finally got the two latest releases.  Concealed in Death (Book #38) and Festive in Death (Book #39) just arrived in the mail! 

Concealed is about the skeletal remains of twelve, hidden in the walls of an old building. A building that once was a homeless shelter for teens. Festive in Death is about a narcissistic personal trainer who finds himself stabbed by one of his many adoring women.  Eve has to put aside her dislike of said trainer in order to do her job and catch his killer.


I can say that both seem like a romping good time. But you just never know, really. Especially with In Death books. Nonetheless, I'm excited for two more Eve Dallas cases before Obsession is released on February 10th (just in time for my birthday). After then, I'll have to leave this series along until book #41, Devotion in Death, is released on September 1st.

So here’s to more progress in one of my favorite series. Though–as mentioned in my last post–they sometimes get on my nerves.  What relationship doesn't, though?


Be on the lookout for my thoughts.  If you've read Concealed or Festive, please share yours.