Ellie Haskell receives a message from friends of her deceased grandmother, saying the ghost has something to tell her. When she does go and see them, she learns far more than she expected to about her own family's past.
I feel like I cheated, reading this book second out of all the Ellie Haskell books. I'm guessing that the early death of Ellie's mother was mentioned more than once in the previous nine books, and only now is Dorothy Haskell getting around to explaining what happened. Ten books is a long time to wait, yet I sort of jumped the line here. Still, it was a great read.
The plot drew me in right from the start. Three old women say that Ellie's grandmother has a message for her, yet she's been dead for decades. As soon as Ellie arrives at their monstrous old home, the murder and mayhem begin. It's got all the fun hallmarks of the old castle mysteries: poison, family secrets, secret passageways, yet those tropes have been rewoven into a modern tale that is entirely enjoyable to read. The only part that was a little off was the Daddy Warbucksian ending, but from what I can tell of this series, each book does its faithful part in actually changing the characters' lives.
Oh, the characters were lovely. Aside from a tendency to confuse two of the "bridesmaids", I had no trouble visualizing each character. That made it all too easy to figure out who the killer was early on, unfortunately. But in this book, that wasn't so bad, as much of the plot revolved around mysterious family history, rather than it being entirely about murder.
The writing fell neatly between heavy and light, containing moments of humor as well as serious and tense episodes. The subplot involving Mrs. Malloy was nearly entirely separate in this book, but the tie-ins were perfect and necessary, and her plot as it fit into the larger one was excellently done.
4 of 5 stars.
3.03.2011
Review for The Spring Cleaning Murders, by Dorothy Cannell
Ellie Haskell tackles spring cleaning at Merlin's Court, her home, as well as solving the murders of several charwomen in her village.
I really enjoyed this book. The characters were vivid and entertaining, and the list of suspects was lively and full of secrets. The absence of slapstick and the nice interweaving of plotlines made for an excellent read.
The plot, at first, seemed straightforward, but there was plenty of obfuscation, and by the end, I was pleasantly confused. Mrs. Malloy's subplot was a great addition to the book.
I really enjoyed the characters. Ellie tells it like it is to the killer at the end, which struck me as something not seen often--we're somehow supposed to infer the character flaws for ourselves most of the time. However, there's something deeply and viscerally satisfying in seeing a spade called a spade.
The twins were especially darling as a counterpoint to the adult situations going on over their heads, as I have a son that age right now.
I had expected a lighter level of writing when the book claimed it was a comedy. It turned out better than I expected, and I really enjoyed the book.
5 of 5 stars!
I really enjoyed this book. The characters were vivid and entertaining, and the list of suspects was lively and full of secrets. The absence of slapstick and the nice interweaving of plotlines made for an excellent read.
The plot, at first, seemed straightforward, but there was plenty of obfuscation, and by the end, I was pleasantly confused. Mrs. Malloy's subplot was a great addition to the book.
I really enjoyed the characters. Ellie tells it like it is to the killer at the end, which struck me as something not seen often--we're somehow supposed to infer the character flaws for ourselves most of the time. However, there's something deeply and viscerally satisfying in seeing a spade called a spade.
The twins were especially darling as a counterpoint to the adult situations going on over their heads, as I have a son that age right now.
I had expected a lighter level of writing when the book claimed it was a comedy. It turned out better than I expected, and I really enjoyed the book.
5 of 5 stars!
Review for The Body on the Beach, by Simon Brett
A fun case of mixed up corpses, but I was disappointed in the "villain".
The novel starts off with the exceptionally proper Carole discovering a body washed up on the beach where she walks her dog. By the time she gets back home, washes the salt off the dog, cleans the kitchen, and reports the body, however, it's not there anymore for the police to find. And the next morning it's back...or is it?
The plot started off smashingly. Probably two different bodies, a bohemian neighbor with secrets of her own, and a lovely collection of interesting characters with their own issues and motives. Perhaps it was just that I've been into mysteries lately, but I saw through a few of the plot lines right away. I didn't see through the main one, though, and I confess that's because I was expecting something...bigger, in some way. The original motive, while prepared for well, seemed to have been executed horribly, for what struck me as a bizarre reason (does that mean I'm not killer material? I'm crushed). So many of the plot-enforced delays ended up being entirely avoidable that it seemed a wonder the bad guy even got started.
The subplot involving the teenagers really seemed like it was just there to toss so many red herrings across my path. It worked, but when all was said and done, I didn't really have a feeling of satisfaction from solving that mystery. In part, it was tragic, but in another regard, it seemed overblown.
I liked most of the characters, and those I didn't were generally fleshed out enough to make me decide not to like them on their personality, rather than because they weren't fleshed out enough. The group of teenage boys felt a bit awkward as it pertained to the rest of the characters, but I think that was the point.
Carole and Jude both have POV scenes in this book (it is written in 3rd person, thank God), and I really enjoyed how the author managed to work in Jude's investigations without giving away her secretive past very much. Jude basically operated entirely in the present moment, and thanks to her neighbor Carole's English reticence, no major questions ever got asked, and so were not answered, leaving Jude smugly ensconced in her mystery.
I think she's a former spy, myself. :P
As previously mentioned, this mystery was written in 3rd person, which I always prefer to 1st person. So many of the cozy mysteries I read are 1st person POV, and while that usually works for the genre, it gets on my nerves. I really enjoyed this break, with its two disparate protagonists.
3 of 5 stars.
The novel starts off with the exceptionally proper Carole discovering a body washed up on the beach where she walks her dog. By the time she gets back home, washes the salt off the dog, cleans the kitchen, and reports the body, however, it's not there anymore for the police to find. And the next morning it's back...or is it?
The plot started off smashingly. Probably two different bodies, a bohemian neighbor with secrets of her own, and a lovely collection of interesting characters with their own issues and motives. Perhaps it was just that I've been into mysteries lately, but I saw through a few of the plot lines right away. I didn't see through the main one, though, and I confess that's because I was expecting something...bigger, in some way. The original motive, while prepared for well, seemed to have been executed horribly, for what struck me as a bizarre reason (does that mean I'm not killer material? I'm crushed). So many of the plot-enforced delays ended up being entirely avoidable that it seemed a wonder the bad guy even got started.
The subplot involving the teenagers really seemed like it was just there to toss so many red herrings across my path. It worked, but when all was said and done, I didn't really have a feeling of satisfaction from solving that mystery. In part, it was tragic, but in another regard, it seemed overblown.
I liked most of the characters, and those I didn't were generally fleshed out enough to make me decide not to like them on their personality, rather than because they weren't fleshed out enough. The group of teenage boys felt a bit awkward as it pertained to the rest of the characters, but I think that was the point.
Carole and Jude both have POV scenes in this book (it is written in 3rd person, thank God), and I really enjoyed how the author managed to work in Jude's investigations without giving away her secretive past very much. Jude basically operated entirely in the present moment, and thanks to her neighbor Carole's English reticence, no major questions ever got asked, and so were not answered, leaving Jude smugly ensconced in her mystery.
I think she's a former spy, myself. :P
As previously mentioned, this mystery was written in 3rd person, which I always prefer to 1st person. So many of the cozy mysteries I read are 1st person POV, and while that usually works for the genre, it gets on my nerves. I really enjoyed this break, with its two disparate protagonists.
3 of 5 stars.
2.07.2011
My Love/Hate Relationship With Romance
I'm not a Romance fan. But I enjoy Romantic subplots. Do I contradict myself? I don't think so.
Romance novels are required to have the Happily Ever After ending. You pick up a new Romance genre book, and without peeking, you may correctly assume that both the heroine and the hero survive until the end and become a permanent couple (or threesome, alien-creche-parents, legal partners, or whatever term applies to them). The genre is formulaic in this way; if you do not provide the reader with a HEA ending, it simply will not be classified (by readers!) as a Romance. And they'll complain and never read your books again.
So, without that HEA, what genre is it? That depends. My first guess would be Chick Lit, but it could also fall into Literary Romance or Women's Fiction. Stray too far (i.e. less than half your plot concerns the relationship), and your book could be Romantic Suspense, Romantic Fantasy, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Adventure, etc. You want to cash in on the vast Romance market, you need to put in that HEA.
For me as a reader, it is the formulaic nature of the Romance genre that turns me off. It's the most restrictive genre I can think of. Romantic characters enter the plot at the beginning, various delaying/distracting stuff happens to them in the middle, and at the end, they always, ALWAYS, end up together. It's far more strict than even Mystery, in which you always know the crime(s) will be solved at the end. With mysteries, you don't automatically know who will be guilty of the crime, and every book is a new puzzle to solve. There's no such appeal in a Romance. You know who the romantic players are.
I suppose it's a combination of my own past romantic life, my love of the unknown, and my cynicism that makes me disinclined to read Romance. Many people who read this genre do so purely for the happy ending, the fantasy of the HEA. And I get that: I want happy endings in the books I read as well. But the shiny pink glowing happiness at the end of every Romance book ever just says to me, "If only you were as awesome as we were, then you might get some of this for yourself. But you're not. Poor you." And I must emphatically reject that notion, because I am neither more pitiful than nor less awesome than fictional characters. I'm not inclined to follow the lives of the rich and famous in the real world, so why would I want to read about fictional people with glorious, perfect hair and D-cups* getting exactly what they want? How does that make me feel better about myself in any way whatsoever? It seems like some bizarre literary addiction, in which I'd need to pick up another Romance right away lest I realize how sucky my life is in comparison to the fictional couple's.
All that said, let no one confuse my distaste for formulaic love with a hatred of the romantic in other genres. Romance in a plot is like an ingredient from a recipe. If it's all you have, all you get is flour, or lemon rind, or BBQ sauce. But add the other ingredients back in--suspense, mystery, historical drama, adventure, sci-fi--and you get a more balanced--and to me, palatable--recipe. Romantic subplots enliven a whole book. I've got three or four of them in my own adventure fantasy series, Legend of the Shanallar. Romance will play a distinct part in my upcoming Mystery series, Margarita Williams Geocaching Mysteries, too.
Romance should be a natural extension of the rest of characters' lives, as they interact and suffer hardships during the advancement of the plot, not something forced into corsets which artificially shape the body of the story. Or whatever they think will make them look hottest. Come on, Romance genre, whatever happened to loving yourself for who you are?
I know, Romance books sell like hotcakes, but I'm a waffle girl. Give me dimension, texture...and then give me that whipped cream. ;)
* Yes, I know what you're going to say. But you should know what my reply will be. :D
Romance novels are required to have the Happily Ever After ending. You pick up a new Romance genre book, and without peeking, you may correctly assume that both the heroine and the hero survive until the end and become a permanent couple (or threesome, alien-creche-parents, legal partners, or whatever term applies to them). The genre is formulaic in this way; if you do not provide the reader with a HEA ending, it simply will not be classified (by readers!) as a Romance. And they'll complain and never read your books again.
So, without that HEA, what genre is it? That depends. My first guess would be Chick Lit, but it could also fall into Literary Romance or Women's Fiction. Stray too far (i.e. less than half your plot concerns the relationship), and your book could be Romantic Suspense, Romantic Fantasy, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Adventure, etc. You want to cash in on the vast Romance market, you need to put in that HEA.
For me as a reader, it is the formulaic nature of the Romance genre that turns me off. It's the most restrictive genre I can think of. Romantic characters enter the plot at the beginning, various delaying/distracting stuff happens to them in the middle, and at the end, they always, ALWAYS, end up together. It's far more strict than even Mystery, in which you always know the crime(s) will be solved at the end. With mysteries, you don't automatically know who will be guilty of the crime, and every book is a new puzzle to solve. There's no such appeal in a Romance. You know who the romantic players are.
I suppose it's a combination of my own past romantic life, my love of the unknown, and my cynicism that makes me disinclined to read Romance. Many people who read this genre do so purely for the happy ending, the fantasy of the HEA. And I get that: I want happy endings in the books I read as well. But the shiny pink glowing happiness at the end of every Romance book ever just says to me, "If only you were as awesome as we were, then you might get some of this for yourself. But you're not. Poor you." And I must emphatically reject that notion, because I am neither more pitiful than nor less awesome than fictional characters. I'm not inclined to follow the lives of the rich and famous in the real world, so why would I want to read about fictional people with glorious, perfect hair and D-cups* getting exactly what they want? How does that make me feel better about myself in any way whatsoever? It seems like some bizarre literary addiction, in which I'd need to pick up another Romance right away lest I realize how sucky my life is in comparison to the fictional couple's.
All that said, let no one confuse my distaste for formulaic love with a hatred of the romantic in other genres. Romance in a plot is like an ingredient from a recipe. If it's all you have, all you get is flour, or lemon rind, or BBQ sauce. But add the other ingredients back in--suspense, mystery, historical drama, adventure, sci-fi--and you get a more balanced--and to me, palatable--recipe. Romantic subplots enliven a whole book. I've got three or four of them in my own adventure fantasy series, Legend of the Shanallar. Romance will play a distinct part in my upcoming Mystery series, Margarita Williams Geocaching Mysteries, too.
Romance should be a natural extension of the rest of characters' lives, as they interact and suffer hardships during the advancement of the plot, not something forced into corsets which artificially shape the body of the story. Or whatever they think will make them look hottest. Come on, Romance genre, whatever happened to loving yourself for who you are?
I know, Romance books sell like hotcakes, but I'm a waffle girl. Give me dimension, texture...and then give me that whipped cream. ;)
* Yes, I know what you're going to say. But you should know what my reply will be. :D
2.04.2011
Love, Mutants, and the Ephemerality of Life
For me, it's spiders with wings.
Everyone seems to have some horrible combination of creatures, events, diseases, etc., that, if it were to happen, would surely push them over the edge of sanity. This is probably the stuff of SyFy Original Movie scripts, but on some deep, primal level, these fears show us that we know our mortality. Know it and probably hate it. Or at least hate its approach in mutated form.
How about mosquitoes and dysentery? Or the common cold and pancreatic cancer? Now we're moving into 12 Monkeys territory.
It's been noted time and again that the things we fear the most aren't always those most likely to happen. Terrorist attacks are far less likely to kill you than your average heart attack. Too bad we can't work up a morbid fear of hamburgers and soda pop.
Aside from our own mortality, we often fear change. We like things to be comfortable, or at least familiar, for the most part. Drastic changes can bring fears both legitimate and unfounded: the pure fear of the unknown has plagued our species since long before Hamlet realized he couldn't actually commit suicide, despite his otherwise depressed-emo lifestyle.
Yet, it is precisely the fact that life changes, that life ends, which gives it such meaning to us mere mortals. If we all lived forever and had nothing bad ever happen to us, could we appreciate, truly, the windfalls that come our way? Could we enjoy a day of sun as much if it hadn't just poured rain the week before? Could we love as fully in the moment if we had never lost a dear one? That bittersweet mix of emotion as we look into the eyes of our children, a combination of pure love, fear of inevitable hurts, and sheer joy at their existence--that is what it means to be alive.
I've experienced that, and been the richer for it. So bring on the flying mutant spiders.
Everyone seems to have some horrible combination of creatures, events, diseases, etc., that, if it were to happen, would surely push them over the edge of sanity. This is probably the stuff of SyFy Original Movie scripts, but on some deep, primal level, these fears show us that we know our mortality. Know it and probably hate it. Or at least hate its approach in mutated form.
How about mosquitoes and dysentery? Or the common cold and pancreatic cancer? Now we're moving into 12 Monkeys territory.
It's been noted time and again that the things we fear the most aren't always those most likely to happen. Terrorist attacks are far less likely to kill you than your average heart attack. Too bad we can't work up a morbid fear of hamburgers and soda pop.
Aside from our own mortality, we often fear change. We like things to be comfortable, or at least familiar, for the most part. Drastic changes can bring fears both legitimate and unfounded: the pure fear of the unknown has plagued our species since long before Hamlet realized he couldn't actually commit suicide, despite his otherwise depressed-emo lifestyle.
Yet, it is precisely the fact that life changes, that life ends, which gives it such meaning to us mere mortals. If we all lived forever and had nothing bad ever happen to us, could we appreciate, truly, the windfalls that come our way? Could we enjoy a day of sun as much if it hadn't just poured rain the week before? Could we love as fully in the moment if we had never lost a dear one? That bittersweet mix of emotion as we look into the eyes of our children, a combination of pure love, fear of inevitable hurts, and sheer joy at their existence--that is what it means to be alive.
I've experienced that, and been the richer for it. So bring on the flying mutant spiders.
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