Reviews Written By: A3F1G6UH4Y39X2provided by Amazon.com |
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 | Escape from Mount Moriah: Memoirs of a Refugee Child's Triumph | |
 | "As Abraham's God may have intended, a father's child endures to honor a legacy lost." | 2008-05-02 |
| This book is a winner within its own niche of brilliance, almost like the universe was holding a sun spot open for this author's childhood chapters, for precisely his, "Memoirs of a Refugee Child's Triumph." The book felt almost like a child's book, but not like the sometimes silly stuff which is presented as children's literature. Instead, this book felt like it was meant for the children among us who were born adult, in the good sense of the word, born wise, born serious, born knowing there's much work to be done here; not work of the body, but work for the soul of humankind, which has been lost, ignored, pushed down, and choked. What most makes me want to read Engelhard's books, especially after The Bathsheba Deadline: An Original Novel (see my review), is the pleasant environment of his easy-flowing style, which percolates with a subtle sense of joy, possibly the result of his deep love of writing surging through every inspired or perfectly chosen word. The next appeal for reading this author's books is that I know I'll find truths in them I've looked for in print but have rarely found. The soul craves the freshness of finding something new, something regenerating, solidly hopeful in a quiet way which comes from facing ugliness without flinching, then moving forward again because there's still something of value ahead, something worth knowing. Nu, nu, nu (see the book's introductory essays for an explanation of that saying). I'm thankful that Jack Engelhard honored his resistance to attempting an overwhelming research project to write a different, redundant angle on this story. As he implied in his introduction, all the book needed was for his memories to be convinced he was dedicated, at that time, to collect them on paper. Having received two of Jack Engelhard's books together I couldn't decide which I wanted to read first. When I was ready to begin one of them, I thought I might decide by reading a few paragraphs of the opening story of each. By default, I began with MORIAH, thinking I'd stop after a page or two, then do the same with INDECENT PROPOSAL. But, I didn't quit reading MORIAH. By the following morning I had read the whole of that balsamic bible of a book. I loved it. I was impressed as much as I hoped I would be... When I first saw the book's cover, I had puzzled at the biblical scene. I didn't immediately recognize it as the Rembrandt representation of God's request of Abraham to offer his son on Mount Moriah. I appreciated having the factual details presented inside the cover as well as on it. I was intensely intrigued about that event being said to have led to the creation of the Jewish people. I wanted to know more. As I opened the covers of ESCAPE FROM MOUNT MORIAH, I was deeply curious about the childhood of a person who has come to write as Jack Engelhard has. As I read further into the flap copy and introductory remarks, I began anticipating reading something special, not just a book I would welcome getting lost in, living in as a refreshing contrast to my daily routines; but a book in which I would find something worth knowing, something new, different from the repeated density in the majority of books available to readers, maybe something of actual truth. The heart craves that, especially when it's rarely found. Usually, I'm not attracted to short story collections, even knowing they might be true, significant, and well-composed. But, I was immediately attached to the chapter titles and blurbs here, especially the appealing Jewish feel of them. The meaning and number of Chai was magnetic to me, as were the type styles. The book felt to me to be more of a bible than the established ones. -- Jack Engelhard may not have been the same type of prodigy as his father was (I have no doubt that his father, Noah ben Jacob, has gone to peace and is still there). -- Jack may not have assimilated every holy word and underlying truth in the Books of Moses, as his father had, but, with Jack's light touch, he has written his own holy words of truth, and has honored his father in the process. Jack wrote Noah as he was, as well as how he appeared to Jack in Jack's efforts to know him in both his dark/wounded and bright/spiritual exposures, and Jack related to his father to the best of his straight-on, eyes-focused nature. My favorite chapter was "A Telegram From Israel," conveying a holy moment confirming compassion, even though it kept Jack's father temporarily in the dark about his mother's death. Describing the moment of that sacred omen, Engelhard writes, "... from utter darkness came incredible radiance." The father's response to Jack's act of compassion was perfection, as was his father's conclusion about the coincidence of the experience of brilliance breaking through dark clouds. That situation made me wonder if God might have wanted Abraham to say "No" to His request of offering. I want to believe that Abraham's God was a loving one and would have made right either choice for that unique, splitting-of-universes decision. Possibly my second favorite chapter was Engelhard's holding to his words, "I resign," (the chapter's title) instead of damning himself with, "I quit." Or, was my next favorite the respect awarded to young Jack by the druggist, Mr. Roberts, following Jack's successful grappling with fears surged in "The Purple Gang" territory. The core of sadness for my empathy was in the uncle's reaction to love from a nephew in "Relatives from America," and the brutality trials Jack suffered in "The Fairmount Synagogue Choir." Jack Engelhard is the one who conveys emotion without emotion. (In his review of my Amazon Short, DARK DIAMOND TWILIGHT, Engelhard had said that of my writing style). After finishing MORIAH, I felt great admiration for Engelhard's father, and was devastated that Noah wasn't allowed to live his life as the highest, holy Rabbi he could have been. Yet, maybe he accomplished more, for his son, for himself, and for his world, through those dedicated times in the synagogues, in which he grew from a polite, quiet discounting of the officiating Rabbi's inaccuracies in reading scripture, into a bold countering of the corruption of truth. Maybe the reason Noah never found his equal with whom to argue into the truest interpretations of the holy books, was because he had no equal in that. He had only the truth of the meaning in, under, and above the words. I would bet that every Rabbi Noah encountered with his corrections never forgot what Noah had said. Maybe those Rabbis went forth percolating with the right vision from Noah, somehow radiating that cleansing of misconception into our future, the future of rightness to come. Through his books, Jack is continuing Noah ben Jacob's legacy of synagogue interruption, contributing his literary voice, which I believe has surpassed the golden choir boy (Jack's honed skill Vs the darling golden boy's luck). As I had read through each chapter, I noticed a flickering in the voice Engelhard used in MORIAH. He seemed to speak as the child he was, with flashes opening onto a voice of the present of his writing the book. One of my favorite uses of voice would be like that, the child writing about the child, except for those few cracks through time when the present heart slips back, sending wisdom gained through time, to heal the child that was, and still is. To the child in each of us, living eternally, Linda G. Shelnutt Shelnutt is the author of several books on Amazon Kindle and Amazon Shorts, including QUARTER MOON DUES. | ||
 | Quinoa Berries, 1 lb. | |
| "High Mountain Magic. Food of the Gods." | 2008-03-09 |
| Even though I write reviews mostly on my favorite types of escape novels, I was sparked by Amazon's enthusiasm, to take part in the grocery store and gourmet food expansions here. My first purchase (of products beyond books) included a grain called QUINOA (Keenwa. The product arrived in very good order and within perfect timing. In that maiden purchase I also added lavender and clove essential oils to my shopping cart, along with powdered cloves, and lavender tea. See my Listmania on Essential Oils (which indicates which items I've reviewed) for info on the values and uses of lavender and cloves, available from various vendors here. I consider Quinoa to be the most valuable food available on the planet, a food which meets my standards for luxury gourmet in flavor (and culinary versatility), in addition to being baseline healthy with full-spectrum nourishment. If I had to be limited to only 4 items or food groups (in addition to water, of course) to eat or drink, those would be Quinoa, Coffee, Dairy Products, and a variety of greens, spices, & nuts. Yeah, okay, dairy products; and greens, spices, & nuts may be considered more than 2 items, but, for me they're two categories. I'm not a vegetarian because I love meat, chicken, and fish, but if I'm working with limitations, I'm making do with the most basic of basics, while still having enough food items to concoct satisfying flavor (yeah, yeah, and nutrition, too, though according to my beliefs, "nutrition" dims and deteriorates, unless it's in the living presence of "yummy."). Quinoa, I believe, would take care of all (or at least many) basic nutritional needs. The way I simplify my use and preparation of Quinoa is to think of it either as rice or oatmeal, and then to "gourmet it" accordingly. -- As "rice" I add savory herbs like parsley, basil, marjoram, garlic, onions, etc. Actually, most types of herb concoctions or side foods which could be blended with pasta would also work with Quinoa. Think of what Lidia's Italian Table does with "noodle heaven"; then substitute Quinoa for pasta (I like pasta too, of course). -- As "oatmeal" I add sweet or rich ingredients like fruit (including raisin and date types), brown sugar, molasses, maple, creme, that type of thing. As far as cooking instructions, to me they're basically the same as rice: - Add water or liquid in a 2 to 1 ratio. 2 cups liquid ( water, broth, vegetable, or fruit juices) to 1 cup Quinoa. -- Instructions are given on the bag for boiling the water then adding the Quinoa, covering the pot, and simmering for 12-15 minutes. -- I've also successfully prepared Quinoa in the microwave. You can heat the water to boil in a bowl then add Quinoa, cover, and cook. Normally, a microwave cooks 4 times faster than "outside-the-waves" cooking, but, of course that time varies with larger amounts of food. For example, 1 potato cooks (on average) in 4 - 8 minutes, 2 potatoes require double that, or 8 -16 minutes. -- For a single serving cooked quickly in the microwave, I might use 1/4 cup Quinoa with 2/4 (½) cup liquid. I have actually simplified the process for myself by placing those single serving amounts (Quinoa and water in a bowl) in the microwave, and cooking it on high, maybe 3 minutes, till the liquid bubbles. Then I cover the bowl with a plate "lid"; zap it for another minute or half, then let it "steep" in the microwave, without opening it, for another few minutes. (Since microwave ovens and tastes for texture differ, you'll have to experiment with your own microwave processes to get results which work for you, or just use the sauce pan method described on the bag.) In the microwave, Quinoa seems to cook easier than rice. But, I also cook rice in the microwave in a similar method. I don't use minute rice, since my microwave method works easily and fairly quickly, and if I cook it in a serving bowl with a plate "lid" I can just place it on the table for family style "digging in." I love the nutty, barley flavor of Quinoa. Thankfully, so does my husband! In the past I've purchased Quinoa from Bob's Red Mill and White Mountain Farms in Colorado, in the San Juan mountain area (have always been satisfied with those sellers, when/if the products are available on Amazon). Having used many different Now Foods products, I'm very confident in ordering any item from them. And now Berry Farms has been added to my list of healthful, gourmet goods. Quinoa has an iteresting history, including the development of a saponin coating on the grain: -- The genetics in the Quinoa seeds, after eons and ages of growing, had developed the saponin coating as a very effective protection against insects and burrowing varment's, like worms or parasites. -- Knowing what saponin is and does, I began a habit of saving some of the water used to rinse Quinoa for watering my plants, or pouring on the ground where I might want to discourage insects. -- Once the saponin is removed, I'm not sure how long the "naked" grains will be able to protect themselves again parasitic invasions. Certainly, Quinoa (being a very strong, wise-old-grain with high integrity, for many reasons) would be able to do so longer than other similar, eons-younger food offerings. I'm not concerned about this, and will usually order either pre-washed grain or saponin coated, whichever is readily available. Quinoa grows only above a 7,000-foot-elevation and requires a certain growing climate, which can be found only in certain areas of the world. Some parts of the Rocky Mountains are one of those areas, not tested until fairly recently (in terms of the eons and ages associated with this ancient grain from the Incas). Interesting stories about Quinoa's long history are bountiful, but I won't get into those. A large assortment of books and pamphlets are available to read on it, and of course, many are offered here on Amazon. I remain ever thankful for magical foods (which are both gourmet and healthy in quality), especially in our era of being told by some authorities that we need to remove the life, magic, wholeness, and flavor out of most everything. For the sake of "health"? Here's an interesting question to ponder: Why and how, for a while (eons), did we lose Quinoa seeds, which had "lived" long enough to develop saponin. Why and how did we find them again? For an easy, exotic recipe using Quinoa, see my review of Virgin Coconut Oil (Certified Organic) 12 fl.oz Linda Shelnutt Author of several books, including: Molasses Moon | ||
 | Trouble in Paradise | |
| "Flamingo Blood Rains Thin in Paradise" | 2007-08-12 |
| TROUBLE IN PARADISE, # 2 in Parker's Jesse Stone series, is a quietly seething thriller with explosives to boom. In this type of deep plot action, here's how one chapter should end and the next one begin:
Chapter ending: >> When the police car was halfway across, the bridge began to ripple. The ripple turned into a heave. And, as the sound of the explosion came rolling into the real estate office, the bridge went up and the police car went with it, somersaulting slowly in among the pieces of the disintegrating bridge. One of its doors blew away and the hood tore off, and the car languidly turned over and planed onto the gray harbor and disappeared....<< Next chapter beginning: >> "Exploded?" Jesse said on the radio. "Twenty calls at least, "Molly said. "At least five people said there was a police car on the bridge when it went." << I'm thinking that the above quote would be all I'd need to read in a review, to decide to pick up this novel. As I read the above passage, arriving at it through a steady-speed-progress from the beginning of the book, my first question, after being impressed with the explosive clarity of Parker's syntax, was, "Did Jesse's two patrolmen survive that percussion and splash?" Of course I won't tell you what happened before or after the bridge appeared to take a short flight toward heaven then slammed into hell. Temperature-rising-subplots twined perfectly from Macklin's gang's preparatory machinations to Jesse's personal and professional life's percolation. Various relationship scenes provided entertaining psychological miasma for wading through balsamic sex-pot stews. Jenn was showing daily as a TV weather girl in Jesse's territory, working to keep him while dating openly on the side. Since that didn't keep her busy enough, she attacked Kay Hopkins, a well-heeled, town snob-lady who had caused Jesse grief. Kay's nose slipped from its upward slant as blood spewed from Jenn's landed fist. What does Jesse do with that? What caused that cowgirl episode was a previous scene which was even more entertaining than Jenn's fist action which landed her in jail. In that earlier scene, Jesse deftly dealt with a group of town snobs (including the Hopkins) and their lawyer. The situation opened in Jesse's office, appearing to be featuring Jesse's tail caught between a lid and a pot. Fear not. Jesse turned the rip-tide with finesse wrought hot. Loved it! As if those perks in a work of fiction weren't enough, TROUBLE IN PARADISE introduced a "Crow" bad guy, honor-coded-predator, who could be Hawk's dark twin. This Jesse # 2 had all I could hope for in an engrossing escape read, with an ending firing on all cylinders in Parker's redemption repertoire. (For a true short account featuring redemption and transitions to paradise, see This is Someone's Loved One: An Undertaker's View) (My review is up of # 1, NIGHT PASSAGE. I enjoy reading Parker's series in order, though I have skipped around at times. See my Spenser Listmania for sequences and blurbs.) Getting ready to order DEATH IN PARADISE, # 3 Jesse Stone, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Trouble in Paradise (Jesse Stone Novels (Paperback)) | |
| "Flamingo Blood Rains Thin in Paradise" | 2007-08-12 |
| TROUBLE IN PARADISE, # 2 in Parker's Jesse Stone series, is a quietly seething thriller with explosives to boom. In this type of deep plot action, here's how one chapter should end and the next one begin: Chapter ending: >> When the police car was halfway across, the bridge began to ripple. The ripple turned into a heave. And, as the sound of the explosion came rolling into the real estate office, the bridge went up and the police car went with it, somersaulting slowly in among the pieces of the disintegrating bridge. One of its doors blew away and the hood tore off, and the car languidly turned over and planed onto the gray harbor and disappeared....<< Next chapter beginning: >> "Exploded?" Jesse said on the radio. "Twenty calls at least, "Molly said. "At least five people said there was a police car on the bridge when it went." << I'm thinking that the above quote would be all I'd need to read in a review, to decide to pick up this novel. As I read the above passage, arriving at it through a steady-speed-progress from the beginning of the book, my first question, after being impressed with the explosive clarity of Parker's syntax, was, "Did Jesse's two patrolmen survive that percussion and splash?" Of course I won't tell you what happened before or after the bridge appeared to take a short flight toward heaven then slammed into hell. Temperature-rising-subplots twined perfectly from Macklin's gang's preparatory machinations to Jesse's personal and professional life's percolation. Various relationship scenes provided entertaining psychological miasma for wading through balsamic sex-pot stews. Jenn was showing daily as a TV weather girl in Jesse's territory, working to keep him while dating openly on the side. Since that didn't keep her busy enough, she attacked Kay Hopkins, a well-heeled, town snob-lady who had caused Jesse grief. Kay's nose slipped from its upward slant as blood spewed from Jenn's landed fist. What does Jesse do with that? What caused that cowgirl episode was a previous scene which was even more entertaining than Jenn's fist action which landed her in jail. In that earlier scene, Jesse deftly dealt with a group of town snobs (including the Hopkins) and their lawyer. The situation opened in Jesse's office, appearing to be featuring Jesse's tail caught between a lid and a pot. Fear not. Jesse turned the rip-tide with finesse wrought hot. Loved it! As if those perks in a work of fiction weren't enough, TROUBLE IN PARADISE introduced a "Crow" bad guy, honor-coded-predator, who could be Hawk's dark twin. This Jesse # 2 had all I could hope for in an engrossing escape read, with an ending firing on all cylinders in Parker's redemption repertoire. (For a true short account featuring redemption and transitions to paradise, see This is Someone's Loved One: An Undertaker's View) (My review is up of # 1, NIGHT PASSAGE. I enjoy reading Parker's series in order, though I have skipped around at times. See my Spenser Listmania for sequences and blurbs.) Getting ready to order DEATH IN PARADISE, # 3 Jesse Stone, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Trouble in Paradise (Wheeler Large Print Book Series (Cloth)) | |
| "Flamingo Blood Rains Thin in Paradise" | 2007-08-12 |
| TROUBLE IN PARADISE, # 2 in Parker's Jesse Stone series, is a quietly seething thriller with explosives to boom. In this type of deep plot action, here's how one chapter should end and the next one begin: Chapter ending: >> When the police car was halfway across, the bridge began to ripple. The ripple turned into a heave. And, as the sound of the explosion came rolling into the real estate office, the bridge went up and the police car went with it, somersaulting slowly in among the pieces of the disintegrating bridge. One of its doors blew away and the hood tore off, and the car languidly turned over and planed onto the gray harbor and disappeared....<< Next chapter beginning: >> "Exploded?" Jesse said on the radio. "Twenty calls at least, "Molly said. "At least five people said there was a police car on the bridge when it went." << I'm thinking that the above quote would be all I'd need to read in a review, to decide to pick up this novel. As I read the above passage, arriving at it through a steady-speed-progress from the beginning of the book, my first question, after being impressed with the explosive clarity of Parker's syntax, was, "Did Jesse's two patrolmen survive that percussion and splash?" Of course I won't tell you what happened before or after the bridge appeared to take a short flight toward heaven then slammed into hell. Temperature-rising-subplots twined perfectly from Macklin's gang's preparatory machinations to Jesse's personal and professional life's percolation. Various relationship scenes provided entertaining psychological miasma for wading through balsamic sex-pot stews. Jenn was showing daily as a TV weather girl in Jesse's territory, working to keep him while dating openly on the side. Since that didn't keep her busy enough, she attacked Kay Hopkins, a well-heeled, town snob-lady who had caused Jesse grief. Kay's nose slipped from its upward slant as blood spewed from Jenn's landed fist. What does Jesse do with that? What caused that cowgirl episode was a previous scene which was even more entertaining than Jenn's fist action which landed her in jail. In that earlier scene, Jesse deftly dealt with a group of town snobs (including the Hopkins) and their lawyer. The situation opened in Jesse's office, appearing to be featuring Jesse's tail caught between a lid and a pot. Fear not. Jesse turned the rip-tide with finesse wrought hot. Loved it! As if those perks in a work of fiction weren't enough, TROUBLE IN PARADISE introduced a "Crow" bad guy, honor-coded-predator, who could be Hawk's dark twin. This Jesse # 2 had all I could hope for in an engrossing escape read, with an ending firing on all cylinders in Parker's redemption repertoire. (For a true short account featuring redemption and transitions to paradise, see This is Someone's Loved One: An Undertaker's View) (My review is up of # 1, NIGHT PASSAGE. I enjoy reading Parker's series in order, though I have skipped around at times. See my Spenser Listmania for sequences and blurbs.) Getting ready to order DEATH IN PARADISE, # 3 Jesse Stone, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Perish Twice | |
| "High Heels Hang Out. Three Limbs Crack. Reading Spice." | 2007-08-11 |
| Having sped through the first 4 chapters of PERISH TWICE, # 2 in Parker's Sunny Randall series, I forced a pause. I had intended to read only a couple paragraphs, as I usually do for a treat when receiving new books from Amazon. Finishing the first couple paragraphs, I said, "Just a couple more." I dodn't know where I forgot my promise. All I know was I didn't quit reading. Each time I paused, "... few more paragraphs." Periodically I surfaced to notice how the book was holding me captive. With that awareness percolating, I began itching to open a PC file for review notes, to avoid losing some of my thoughts about how Sunny's snarky voice and approach to problems relentlessly re-kidnaped my focus. Beginning chapter 5, I remembered the paperback back flap describing Sunny aiding three women, one business, one friendship, the other family. The family rescue was set up in the first 4 chapters. Sunny's sister Elizabeth had stopped by Sunny's loft, quickly snagging my attention with her puzzling, unappealing stupidity, in diametric contrast to Sunny, and as evidenced by Rosie's response to Elizabeth's self-centeredness reigning as the "Queen of doesn't get it" (quoting Elizabeth's Ivy League husband, Hal Reagan). It seemed like nothing in the universe could rescue Elizabeth from stuck prissiness... except, possibly, to get a nickname like "Bunny"? (Her new job as an divorced, single woman could be a high class call girl working for Xavier, specializing in handling Ivy League men.) I craved to keep reading until I came naturally to a point at which I actually wanted to take a break and do something else (lots of else's needed doing). Maybe if I paused to type a few first reading responses, I'd be okay with allowing a full fall into PERISH TWICE. Was I fighting perishing twice myself? First in fire, then in ice, per the Robert Frost poem prefacing the plot. To make sense out of that question, read Parker's dedication to Joan in this one, along with the opening lines from Frost. Was Sunny fire; Elizabeth ice? I was hoping that Sunny could pull a Spenser and save Elizabeth, even though the first few chapters made a logic-tight case against the ice thawing, and retaining anything of a self beyond an amorphous puddle of stagnant fluid. To think there would be two more female issues Sunny would be juggling in this plot knot. I was there. Okay, enough. Don't be Elizabeth. Get it. After writing this much of a first draft for a review, I got myself immediately back to reading. This book was too good to get out of, and too good to avoid pausing to explain why. What about the aid Sunny provided for friendship and business? What entertaining contrasts of female angst those provided to the corruption of Elizabeth's stagnation. Julie's marriage shakedown temporarily took away her professional aura as an MSW and sanctioned a space for a short journey into insanity. A hard core feminist hired Sunny to stop a stalker. The situation trilogy was woven together with the perfection of a master of the relationship game as it played out into murder and pleas of insanity, hot and cold. Sunny sweats to get the acts on track in a cool "Who done what to whom." And, of course, we get bonus hints on "why." Was Frost somehow prescient of mother earth juggling an Ice Age with a hot house to improve the human temperature? Is the big SHE using that puzzling contrast to help humans see she knows her job? But, is she a good mother, Sunny might want to know. How might enigmatic Tony Marcus have answered that, as he fanned the flames of a fascinating role in PERISH TWICE. At a prime plot point, Sunny sagely observed, "Tony didn't seem to want to hear my theories of love, anger, and ambivalence. In truth I didn't either." But, I was compelled to read them... laughing heartily here and there. I'm thanking God (Goddess?) that Robert B. Parker understands, to a large degree, what it's like to be a woman (even if he doesn't relish walking in high heels). Respectfully Submitted, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Perish Twice (Wheeler Large Print Press (large print paper)) | |
| "High Heels Hang Out. Three Limbs Crack. Reading Spice." | 2007-08-11 |
| Having sped through the first 4 chapters of PERISH TWICE, # 2 in Parker's Sunny Randall series, I forced a pause. I had intended to read only a couple paragraphs, as I usually do for a treat when receiving new books from Amazon. Finishing the first couple paragraphs, I said, "Just a couple more." I don't know where I forgot my promise. All I know was I didn't quit reading. Each time I paused, "... few more paragraphs." Periodically I surfaced to notice how the book was holding me captive. With that awareness percolating, I began itching to open a PC file for review notes, to avoid losing some of my thoughts about how Sunny's snarky voice and approach to problems relentlessly re-kidnaped my focus. Beginning chapter 5, I remembered the paperback back flap describing Sunny aiding three women, one business, one friendship, the other family. The family rescue was set up in the first 4 chapters. Sunny's sister Elizabeth had stopped by Sunny's loft, quickly snagging my attention with her puzzling, unappealing stupidity, in diametric contrast to Sunny, and as evidenced by Rosie's response to Elizabeth's self-centeredness reigning as the "Queen of doesn't get it" (quoting Elizabeth's Ivy League husband, Hal Reagan). It seemed like nothing in the universe could rescue Elizabeth from stuck prissiness... except, possibly, to get a nickname like "Bunny"? (Her new job as an divorced, single woman could be a high class call girl working for Xavier, specializing in handling Ivy League men.) I craved to keep reading until I came naturally to a point at which I actually wanted to take a break and do something else (lots of else's needed doing). Maybe if I paused to type a few first reading responses, I'd be okay with allowing a full fall into PERISH TWICE. Was I fighting perishing twice myself? First in fire, then in ice, per the Robert Frost poem prefacing the plot. To make sense out of that question, read Parker's dedication to Joan in this one, along with the opening lines from Frost. Was Sunny fire; Elizabeth ice? I was hoping that Sunny could pull a Spenser and save Elizabeth, even though the first few chapters made a logic-tight case against the ice thawing, and retaining anything of a self beyond an amorphous puddle of stagnant fluid. To think there would be two more female issues Sunny would be juggling in this plot knot. I was there. Okay, enough. Don't be Elizabeth. Get it. After writing this much of a first draft for a review, I got myself immediately back to reading. This book was too good to get out of, and too good to avoid pausing to explain why. What about the aid Sunny provided for friendship and business? What entertaining contrasts of female angst those provided to the corruption of Elizabeth's stagnation. Julie's marriage shakedown temporarily took away her professional aura as an MSW and sanctioned a space for a short journey into insanity. A hard core feminist hired Sunny to stop a stalker. The situation trilogy was woven together with the perfection of a master of the relationship game as it played out into murder and pleas of insanity, hot and cold. Sunny sweats to get the acts on track in a cool "Who done what to whom." And, of course, we get bonus hints on "why." Was Frost somehow prescient of mother earth juggling an Ice Age with a hot house to improve the human temperature? Is the big SHE using that puzzling contrast to help humans see she knows her job? But, is she a good mother, Sunny might want to know. How might enigmatic Tony Marcus have answered that, as he fanned the flames of a fascinating role in PERISH TWICE. At a prime plot point, Sunny sagely observed, "Tony didn't seem to want to hear my theories of love, anger, and ambivalence. In truth I didn't either." But, I was compelled to read them... laughing heartily here and there. I'm thanking God (Goddess?) that Robert B. Parker understands, to a large degree, what it's like to be a woman (even if he doesn't relish walking in high heels). Respectfully Submitted, Linda Shelnutt Author of several Kindle books and Amazon Shorts, including: Molasses Moon Myrtle's Ultimate Mystery Full Moon Rising (The Books of Gem) | ||
 | Family Honor | |
| ""You Wouldn't Understand," she said - Rachel Wallace. This novel is Spenser's Reply." | 2007-08-01 |
| FAMILY HONOR lived up to its title as the pilot for this delightful series which felt at first like Spenser was toning himself into a female roar heard round the literary arena, while extending his slant on gangster Vs cop family backgrounds (in which neither is all bad or all good) in this Juliet and Romeo romance. I hadn't thought I'd be able to get into a female private eye series by Parker, especially after having become addicted to his 34 Spenser novels. But FAMILY HONOR was a perfect appetizer with appealing percolation. I don't doubt that Parker can carry both his new series (see my review of NIGHT PASSAGE, Jesse Stone # 1). It didn't take more than a few chapters for Sunny to split off from the long-wrought, well-writ Spenser mystique and into her own, as a full character... maybe with Spenser speaking into her ear as an angel from an alternate reality, for a while. I enjoyed the slips connecting to Spenser, i.e., how Sunny might deal with a particular hairy situation if she were a 200 pound, male boxer. In humorous yet realistic contrast to Spenser and Hawk types, Parker dramatized what a small female can do to compensate for not being a testy, taut, towering gorilla-with-gonads, in a plot which will had me smiling. I'm excited about this series; I enjoyed the upbeat feeling of this first offering in it. I relished hearing Randall use Spenser's trademark words in dialogue, like "some more" and "eek." Reading the first few chapters of FAMILY HONOR I kept seeing Spenser in high heels, noting how uncomfortable they were, and wondering where/how to effectively house a big enough gun on a 115 lb, 5'4" body... as he seemed to be having great fun adapting to this recent female incarnation, shaking out the form and personality. Of course, that image alone got me grinning. By the time the intense ending called up, I was liking Sunny Randall every bit as much as Kinsey Millhone (Sue Grafton's P. I.). For this unique pilot, Parker designed a stylish, italicized prologue in third person observation of Sunny and Rosie, accomplishing an artistic, literary feel, giving a light-touch, sensitive contrast to chapter one opening into a first person narrative style with Sunny telling her own story in the classic private eye genre mode. The included cultural icons of cooking, dress, habits, and thinking were precisely on target with the copyright date of 1999, when the Great Chefs TV episodes were running hot and heavy, with their long-handled saute pans being shook (contents were no longer stirred on TV) above gas-lit burners on commercial grade stoves, featuring Spike, Sunny's gay, tough-guy chef friend. The plot here gave hints of EARLY AUTUMN (# 7 Spenser) and CEREMONY (# 9 Spenser) as Sunny took in a young teen, Millicent Patton, runaway, hooking daughter of her clients. Enlightening entertainment was easily obtained through Sunny's ways of dealing with and drawing out this young human lost in the sump and shrug of a lack of love. A few quirky questions came to mind as I began reading this novel: What might Rachel Wallace (# 6 SPENSER, Looking for Rachel Wallace) say about Spenser's (Parker's) ability to understand being female, if she were to read FAMILY HONOR. And what would she think about macho if she had read all 34 Spenser novels. Can novels help us understand that which we would have to stretch outside our bodies and into another form to get? I'd say they can, especially if penned by Parker. Rachel Wallace may have to give the gauntlet on this one. Spenser understands. Yet... can testosterone ever fully comprehend powerlessness... Maybe any person who has ever been depressed, grieved loss of a loved one, or desperately wanted something he couldn't have, for whatever reason, has the capacity to comprehend the initial feeling of hopelessness which sometimes comes at those times of leached strength and slow coming answers. We each have a spirit, though, which seems to believe that morning comes daily. Parker has made a good case that sunny weather can dog the footsteps of storms. Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Night Passage | |
| "From Sea to Shining Sea With Stately Grace and a few Black Label "hic"s" | 2007-07-26 |
| Possibly as Parker intended, at first I felt sad to be reading a character without Spenser's philosophy of life and inner strength, though the read baited curiosity in all the right ways and places. The plot took off and continued with a smooth, deep, almost silent style. I enjoyed the easy way Parker showed Jesse's slips into memories of Jennifer (using a simple technique of ...) as he drove across the USA on Route 66, LA to Paradise, Massachusetts. Jesse Stone seemed like a young Spenser maneuvering through a few less bright choices than Spenser might have made, showing how Stone's choices dimmed his path. Thankfully, Stone wasn't totally stoned, hadn't abandoned his heart. He seemed to be living on a precipice of dynamically balanced shadow and light. I liked his quiet, stately strength and self-acceptance. His relationships in his new setting as Police Chief developed in easy, slow ways, and sometimes I saw kaleidoscopes of past books I've reviewed in the Spenser series, shifting bold bits of color chips into NIGHT PASSAGE, this pilot for the Jesse Stone series. I attempted to place Tom Selleck into the story as Jesse, which was easy to do, even though I haven't seen any of the movies (no TV connection on the mesa in rural Colorado where we've been living temporarily for 3 years). I enjoyed the way Jesse worked into solid relationships with men working for him, establishing respect with an easy flow. Reminding me of SCHOOL DAYS (# 33 Spenser, copyright 2005, which might have been an out-slip from this part of NIGHT PASSAGE), the exchange between Jesse and the teen girl, Michelle Merchant, was especially telling of his mind-set, and skills of connecting with the most stubborn of stuck. It was interesting to wonder if some scenes had Parker itching to step in Spenser to tell Jesse how to deal with various issues, especially his booze and relationships with Jenn and new women in his life. I enjoyed the inclusion of Spenser characters, Dr. St. Clare, Vinnie Morris, and Gino Fish. About 3/4 into the novel, when I stepped into chapter 56 with the dance at The Yacht Club, a nag which had been percolating surfaced fully. I had been conscious of it for several chapters, and when I reached The Yacht Club dance I realized how I might determine if the nag had truth in it. Even though this novel was as good as any in the Spenser series, I had begun to sense that the style difference from that series was so dramatic, and felt so youthful, beyond the fact that Jesse Stone is a younger, quieter character than Spenser... I had begun to sense that NIGHT PASSAGE may have been written close to 1970, five years prior to the Spenser pilot, THE GODWULF MANUSCRIPT: One of Parker's signatures has been to incorporate a variety of "cultural icons" which were running concurrent with his early-draft writing phases, including how people dressed (for success or lack of it), talked, and thought: When did we began recommending to get shrunk, when did feminism take a surge, etc. The most tasty and telling cultural icons in Parker's writing, though, are those describing what people are eating, how his characters nurture themselves, what they think about what's culinarily good or bad (when did coffee get a bad name; when did orange-bottomed-decaff-pots begin joining back-bottomed "regulars" in restaurants). All of the above icons were present, though not yet accounted for, in NIGHT PASSAGE. Most of them, from my memories, were at their heated, primed stages in the late 60's early 70's. But, what topped off my identification of that time period was the banquet table at The Yacht Club dance: When did crock pots become popular? When did we begin serving "Nuts and Bolts" at parties, that concoction of mixed cereals which we made from scratch, baking it after spraying with oil, sprinkling on salt and Kraft grated Parmesan cheese? When did we use Campbell's soup for many of our sauces or flavorings for casserole's and such? Think about this as you read the detailed description of that banquet table, because there's much more than noted above. On the other hand (in the other pot), possibly NIGHT PASSAGE was merely set in the time period indicated, yet was written near the copyright date of 1997? Either way, this is an excellent novel and a perfect start of a new series. I look forward to noting cultural cons and icons spicing the pages of subsequent novels in this series. Mostly, I look forward to savoring each (the stories and their icons). Are we what we eat, how we talk, dress, and think? If so, Robert B. Parker has captured us gloriously in the act of all of it, through my favorite series (now two) of novels in classic literature. No, I didn't say private eye genre. Parker uses that genre beautifully, but his books are true classics within the annals of cultural conversations. His novels have subtly stepped beyond any literary fence. Sacred Are The Signs of Our Times (maybe cows, too)? Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Cold Service | |
| "Rough diamonds gleam dark in the private eye night. Ebony's Eternal Evolution." | 2007-06-26 |
| For me, the most intriguing part of COLD SERVICE, # 32 Spenser was Hawk's ongoing concern that he not just believe, but that he know who shot him, prior to his executing his retribution ramble. That concern remained at the back of my mind, as the forefront culprits seemed too obvious, too conveniently in the bulls-eye, while other characters who seemed to be on Hawk's side may not have been. I continued feeling that this plot would employ a super twist of a surprise, that I should watch for undercurrents in swamps and sewers of the Ukranian mob games. Hawk's prominence here, working off his vendetta with Spenser's assistance, altered the mood of this offering beyond previous shifts in the baseline norm. Hawk came out of himself somewhat, yet he was even smoother and subtler, "looser" and quieter when slipping into the style-of-the-moment's speak or slink. Concerning Hawk leading the investigation and rap in this one, I might wonder if Spenser, Parker, or I enjoyed that spotlight on ebony more. As may have been Parker's intent, I've not been able to like any of the female characters temporarily linked up with Hawk. Unable to see his uniqueness, they came off as whining sour. Needing to have Hawk explained by Spenser and/or Susan, these women still didn't (from my perspective) seem to get it, though they paid lip service. None of them comprehended Spenser, either. I have difficulty believing Hawk would like anyone who didn't "get him" on a first glimpse, like Susan did. However, I exited this story hoping an ebony female cameo here might step into full black-gardenia-bloom in a future book. So, yeah, I had a hard time warming to the female surgeon, Cecile, though her role provided intrigue and effect. The resulting explanations Spenser gave about "getting Hawk" were enlightening, especially the expressed differences between Hawk's and Spenser's early years' set ups. Switching from set ups to scenes, I'll note that many shorts stepped out here with priceless panache, in which Spencer and Hawk ... Hawk and Spenser ... pursued the next and the next leads, to locations of people to interview for obtaining clues. In one, Hawk hung a man out a window high enough off the ground to surge terror into the dangling dude. In another, they stood in the rain on the door-stoop of Tony Marcus' wife, and clipped an amazing amount of information from her in a flowing dialogue, until she abruptly slammed the door in their faces. In the next chapter, the investigating team stepped out of the rain and through the door, then ignited a communication-gap powder-keg in the living room of Tony's daughter and her live-in dud. They left with a curse spewed at them, between those spewed between the couple who had been fueled into communication chaos. As the tension built with each following-clue-visit (and build it did), I grew increasingly curious about how this one would do the rap and wrap. Der, Da team done gone beyond guut. Chillingly beautiful and artistically exquisite describes the denouement scenes here. This subtle and sensitive story featuring Hawk held my favorite ending in the series. Chapter 60 read like a prayer for a vigil, in which the flame keepers, Spenser and Vinnie, wanted to step in so badly, the scent of that need was caught on each wisp of outgoing air. The chapter title could have been, "Attending The Thin Veil of Life's Breath." (In a few uncanny connections dramatizing dying eras and deteriorating areas, the concluding scenes' time-litany and mood mirrored another story, a nonfiction account in an Amazon Short, Dark Diamond Twilight: A True Story). Alternate styles contrasted a pair of endings in COLD SERVICE, male and female, finely featuring a relationship angst subplot. In the female warp and wrap, Hawk, Spenser, Cecile, and Susan dined over a collection of quotable lines on styles of ownership in romantic realms. In the male done deal, the vigil attendance concluded a chilling service of unexpected design. My favorite Spenser ending went here. Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Cold Service | |
| "Rough diamonds gleam dark in the private eye night. Ebony's Eternal Evolution." | 2007-06-26 |
| For me, the most intriguing part of COLD SERVICE, # 32 Spenser was Hawk's ongoing concern that he not just believe, but that he know who shot him, prior to his executing his retribution ramble. That concern remained at the back of my mind, as the forefront culprits seemed too obvious, too conveniently in the bulls-eye, while other characters who seemed to be on Hawk's side may not have been. I continued feeling that this plot would employ a super twist of a surprise, that I should watch for undercurrents in swamps and sewers of the Ukranian mob games. Hawk's prominence here, working off his vendetta with Spenser's assistance, altered the mood of this offering beyond previous shifts in the baseline norm. Hawk came out of himself somewhat, yet he was even smoother and subtler, "looser" and quieter when slipping into the style-of-the-moment's speak or slink. Concerning Hawk leading the investigation and rap in this one, I might wonder if Spenser, Parker, or I enjoyed that spotlight on ebony more. As may have been Parker's intent, I've not been able to like any of the female characters temporarily linked up with Hawk. Unable to see his uniqueness, they came off as whining sour. Needing to have Hawk explained by Spenser and/or Susan, these women still didn't (from my perspective) seem to get it, though they paid lip service. None of them comprehended Spenser, either. I have difficulty believing Hawk would like anyone who didn't "get him" on a first glimpse, like Susan did. However, I exited this story hoping an ebony female cameo here might step into full black-gardenia-bloom in a future book. So, yeah, I had a hard time warming to the female surgeon, Cecile, though her role provided intrigue and effect. The resulting explanations Spenser gave about "getting Hawk" were enlightening, especially the expressed differences between Hawk's and Spenser's early years' set ups. Switching from set ups to scenes, I'll note that many shorts stepped out here with priceless panache, in which Spencer and Hawk ... Hawk and Spenser ... pursued the next and the next leads, to locations of people to interview for obtaining clues. In one, Hawk hung a man out a window high enough off the ground to surge terror into the dangling dude. In another, they stood in the rain on the door-stoop of Tony Marcus' wife, and clipped an amazing amount of information from her in a flowing dialogue, until she abruptly slammed the door in their faces. In the next chapter, the investigating team stepped out of the rain and through the door, then ignited a communication-gap powder-keg in the living room of Tony's daughter and her live-in dud. They left with a curse spewed at them, between those spewed between the couple who had been fueled into communication chaos. As the tension built with each following-clue-visit (and build it did), I grew increasingly curious about how this one would do the rap and wrap. Der, Da team done gone beyond guut. Chillingly beautiful and artistically exquisite describes the denouement scenes here. This subtle and sensitive story featuring Hawk held my favorite ending in the series. Chapter 60 read like a prayer for a vigil, in which the flame keepers, Spenser and Vinnie, wanted to step in so badly, the scent of that need was caught on each wisp of outgoing air. The chapter title could have been, "Attending The Thin Veil of Life's Breath." (In a few uncanny connections dramatizing dying eras and deteriorating areas, the concluding scenes' time-litany and mood mirrored another story, a nonfiction account in an Amazon Short, Dark Diamond Twilight: A True Story). Alternate styles contrasted a pair of endings in COLD SERVICE, male and female, finely featuring a relationship angst subplot. In the female warp and wrap, Hawk, Spenser, Cecile, and Susan dined over a collection of quotable lines on styles of ownership in romantic realms. In the male done deal, the vigil attendance concluded a chilling service of unexpected design. My favorite Spenser ending went here. Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Widow's Walk | |
| "Do Dim Bulbs Mean Dim Sum? Thumbnail Conclusions of Style Evolution." | 2007-06-18 |
| Characters' repulsion to Mary Smith's bimbo mode provided effervescent entertainment. The widow's bulb was dimmed to such a degree, I was surprised she wasn't irritating to me. Instead, she was such a spot-on portrayal of similar women I've observed (especially with the "I really, really" speech pattern) that when she entered a discussion, chuckles emerged from too vivid recalls of "been there" with personal periodic dips into the low wattage of exhaustion. As Parker had intended, I was baited into the complex plot by continuing to question if Mary's "act" was an act, or face-value of her unadulterated self. For my tastes, Parker mastered several techniques of the novel and of P.I. genre expectations in WIDOW'S WALK, # 29 in this series. The plot was intriguingly complex, and multiple unusual arrangements (and murders) in this novel worked, with dues to realism paid on accounts. In particular, I enjoyed the empathetic scenes with Race Witherspoon in his art studio and gay bar connections (Nellie's in Bay Village). An overview of the evolution of Parker's writing style seemed to crystalize somewhat with the reading of WIDOW, as I began noticing a few cracks forming in a conclusion I'd been solidifying through reviews of 31 Spenser novels (see my Listmania). Surprisingly, this observation delighted me, because it meant that Parker's skill was more intriguingly complicated than I had thought. Of course I'm glad I caught the error in my "headings" prior to pontificating them here. My other reviews' observations still read accurately from my current conclusions, since each review focused on the immediate book, and sometimes a few around it in sequence. As I read onward in WIDOW, a light bulb swung into my path and bopped me between the eyes. "Oh!" (To use a British term from Christie's Miss Marple series.) As the bulb bopped, I saw that this series does not precisely evolve in progressive increments from a denser style narrated by a solitary P.I. into a lighter, sparser, team-playing home-stretch, as I had hypothesized when contrasting the earlier books to POTSHOT (the first novel I read in the series) and a few of the later offerings. Parker's talent is too rich and quirky for a simple, incremental, no-back-tracking progression. As soon as my previous reviews had identified a shift in the series style-continuum, I'd read the next offering and see that the "shift" had returned to an earlier mode, with a new flair or flavor. Sometimes the shift went from teaming with Hawk or Susan (which I thought had become a new approach), back to the solitary Spenser, lonely-street, melancholy P.I. of the earlier novels. The only accurate style-shifting synopsis might be to conclude that honing and paring of every asset in this series has been primely accomplished. A few chapters into WIDOW, I had paused to thumb through the book, checking the balance of pages of dialogue clips, to pages of longer paragraphs of solitary contemplations, descriptions of setting and weather, etc. That quick thumb gave a false conclusion that THIS was the line of demarcation for a dramatic increase in the jazzy "talking head" rhythm, and a decrease in action, and density of setting/narrative. Even though I reveled in the earlier density, I felt (still do) that Parker was one of the few authors able to rivet readers into abundances of sequential pages of dialogue, with the repartee having such a rich rhythm as to feel like plot motion as much as skull-cracking-action does. Yes, dialogue flared well in WIDOW. Yet, pared-down weather descriptions, scenery enhancements, and mood reports were woven whimsically around repartee. Thankfully, here is where I caught myself wrongly assuming that this would become forevermore the "New Deal." A variety of literary pizzazz and style panache has been sporadically alternated in this series, creating a collection of upwardly spiraling, "new and improved" machinations in no discernible pattern of progression, other than possibly from denser to more effervescent, though both styles work. As noted above, Parker appears to be alone in having the repartee ramble down with enough spark-padded-with-spit-of-sensual-observation to carry a novel without a plethora of heavy-action-backup (though action has continued to abide in good pace throughout the series). What caused the shifts in style in this series? Might Parker's editor have astutely isolated patterns of reader response which indicated a regular appeal or repel? About Parker's dialogue, other than the use of "he said/she said" (which delights me in seeming to be a rebellious signature), I've read mostly raves reported with rhapsodic rhetoric. Complaints have surfaced about other literary assets, and supposed liabilities. Praise has clashed with complaints, with both seeming to relate to personal preference. Possibly Parker, in the vein of many authors of fiction, rides with the series more than micro-designing or reining it. A few of Parker's early blog entries on Amazon briefly mention means of choosing of particular characters, themes, or styles. Whatever impacted this series as it moved through its courses, it is a prime offering in culturally significant literary contributions, all the more so in its guise of being formulaic, simple entertainment. Don't be slighted by a smooth flow of style and a degree of genre adherence ... or do be! Thumbs up to Parker's entertainingly erratic evolution of style, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Widow's Walk | |
| "Do Dim Bulbs Mean Dim Sum? Thumbnail Conclusions of Style Evolution." | 2007-06-18 |
| Characters' repulsion to Mary Smith's bimbo mode provided effervescent entertainment. The widow's bulb was dimmed to such a degree, I was surprised she wasn't irritating to me. Instead, she was such a spot-on portrayal of similar women I've observed (especially with the "I really, really" speech pattern) that when she entered a discussion, chuckles emerged from too vivid recalls of "been there" with personal periodic dips into the low wattage of exhaustion. As Parker had intended, I was baited into the complex plot by continuing to question if Mary's "act" was an act, or face-value of her unadulterated self. For my tastes, Parker mastered several techniques of the novel and of P.I. genre expectations in WIDOW'S WALK, # 29 in this series. The plot was intriguingly complex, and multiple unusual arrangements (and murders) in this novel worked, with dues to realism paid on accounts. In particular, I enjoyed the empathetic scenes with Race Witherspoon in his art studio and gay bar connections (Nellie's in Bay Village). An overview of the evolution of Parker's writing style seemed to crystalize somewhat with the reading of WIDOW, as I began noticing a few cracks forming in a conclusion I'd been solidifying through reviews of 31 Spenser novels (see my Listmania). Surprisingly, this observation delighted me, because it meant that Parker's skill was more intriguingly complicated than I had thought. Of course I'm glad I caught the error in my "headings" prior to pontificating them here. My other reviews' observations still read accurately from my current conclusions, since each review focused on the immediate book, and sometimes a few around it in sequence. As I read onward in WIDOW, a light bulb swung into my path and bopped me between the eyes. "Oh!" (To use a British term from Christie's Miss Marple series.) As the bulb bopped, I saw that this series does not precisely evolve in progressive increments from a denser style narrated by a solitary P.I. into a lighter, sparser, team-playing home-stretch, as I had hypothesized when contrasting the earlier books to POTSHOT (the first novel I read in the series) and a few of the later offerings. Parker's talent is too rich and quirky for a simple, incremental, no-back-tracking progression. As soon as my previous reviews had identified a shift in the series style-continuum, I'd read the next offering and see that the "shift" had returned to an earlier mode, with a new flair or flavor. Sometimes the shift went from teaming with Hawk or Susan (which I thought had become a new approach), back to the solitary Spenser, lonely-street, melancholy P.I. of the earlier novels. The only accurate style-shifting synopsis might be to conclude that honing and paring of every asset in this series has been primely accomplished. A few chapters into WIDOW, I had paused to thumb through the book, checking the balance of pages of dialogue clips, to pages of longer paragraphs of solitary contemplations, descriptions of setting and weather, etc. That quick thumb gave a false conclusion that THIS was the line of demarcation for a dramatic increase in the jazzy "talking head" rhythm, and a decrease in action, and density of setting/narrative. Even though I reveled in the earlier density, I felt (still do) that Parker was one of the few authors able to rivet readers into abundances of sequential pages of dialogue, with the repartee having such a rich rhythm as to feel like plot motion as much as skull-cracking-action does. Yes, dialogue flared well in WIDOW. Yet, pared-down weather descriptions, scenery enhancements, and mood reports were woven whimsically around repartee. Thankfully, here is where I caught myself wrongly assuming that this would become forevermore the "New Deal." A variety of literary pizzazz and style panache has been sporadically alternated in this series, creating a collection of upwardly spiraling, "new and improved" machinations in no discernible pattern of progression, other than possibly from denser to more effervescent, though both styles work. As noted above, Parker appears to be alone in having the repartee ramble down with enough spark-padded-with-spit-of-sensual-observation to carry a novel without a plethora of heavy-action-backup (though action has continued to abide in good pace throughout the series). What caused the shifts in style in this series? Might Parker's editor have astutely isolated patterns of reader response which indicated a regular appeal or repel? About Parker's dialogue, other than the use of "he said/she said" (which delights me in seeming to be a rebellious signature), I've read mostly raves reported with rhapsodic rhetoric. Complaints have surfaced about other literary assets, and supposed liabilities. Praise has clashed with complaints, with both seeming to relate to personal preference. Possibly Parker, in the vein of many authors of fiction, rides with the series more than micro-designing or reining it. A few of Parker's early blog entries on Amazon briefly mention means of choosing of particular characters, themes, or styles. Whatever impacted this series as it moved through its courses, it is a prime offering in culturally significant literary contributions, all the more so in its guise of being formulaic, simple entertainment. Don't be slighted by a smooth flow of style and a degree of genre adherence ... or do be! Thumbs up to Parker's entertainingly erratic evolution of style, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Widow's Walk by Robert B. Parker, ISBN 055352903X | |
| "Do Dim Bulbs Mean Dim Sum? Thumbnail Conclusions of Style Evolution." | 2007-06-18 |
| Characters' repulsion to Mary Smith's bimbo mode provided effervescent entertainment. The widow's bulb was dimmed to such a degree, I was surprised she wasn't irritating to me. Instead, she was such a spot-on portrayal of similar women I've observed (especially with the "I really, really" speech pattern) that when she entered a discussion, chuckles emerged from too vivid recalls of "been there" with personal periodic dips into the low wattage of exhaustion. As Parker had intended, I was baited into the complex plot by continuing to question if Mary's "act" was an act, or face-value of her unadulterated self.
For my tastes, Parker mastered several techniques of the novel and of P.I. genre expectations in WIDOW'S WALK, # 29 in this series. The plot was intriguingly complex, and multiple unusual arrangements (and murders) in this novel worked, with dues to realism paid on accounts. In particular, I enjoyed the empathetic scenes with Race Witherspoon in his art studio and gay bar connections (Nellie's in Bay Village). An overview of the evolution of Parker's writing style seemed to crystalize somewhat with the reading of WIDOW, as I began noticing a few cracks forming in a conclusion I'd been solidifying through reviews of 31 Spenser novels (see my Listmania). Surprisingly, this observation delighted me, because it meant that Parker's skill was more intriguingly complicated than I had thought. Of course I'm glad I caught the error in my "headings" prior to pontificating them here. My other reviews' observations still read accurately from my current conclusions, since each review focused on the immediate book, and sometimes a few around it in sequence. As I read onward in WIDOW, a light bulb swung into my path and bopped me between the eyes. "Oh!" (To use a British term from Christie's Miss Marple series.) As the bulb bopped, I saw that this series does not precisely evolve in progressive increments from a denser style narrated by a solitary P.I. into a lighter, sparser, team-playing home-stretch, as I had hypothesized when contrasting the earlier books to POTSHOT (the first novel I read in the series) and a few of the later offerings. Parker's talent is too rich and quirky for a simple, incremental, no-back-tracking progression. As soon as my previous reviews had identified a shift in the series style-continuum, I'd read the next offering and see that the "shift" had returned to an earlier mode, with a new flair or flavor. Sometimes the shift went from teaming with Hawk or Susan (which I thought had become a new approach), back to the solitary Spenser, lonely-street, melancholy P.I. of the earlier novels. The only accurate style-shifting synopsis might be to conclude that honing and paring of every asset in this series has been primely accomplished. A few chapters into WIDOW, I had paused to thumb through the book, checking the balance of pages of dialogue clips, to pages of longer paragraphs of solitary contemplations, descriptions of setting and weather, etc. That quick thumb gave a false conclusion that THIS was the line of demarcation for a dramatic increase in the jazzy "talking head" rhythm, and a decrease in action, and density of setting/narrative. Even though I reveled in the earlier density, I felt (still do) that Parker was one of the few authors able to rivet readers into abundances of sequential pages of dialogue, with the repartee having such a rich rhythm as to feel like plot motion as much as skull-cracking-action does. Yes, dialogue flared well in WIDOW. Yet, pared-down weather descriptions, scenery enhancements, and mood reports were woven whimsically around repartee. Thankfully, here is where I caught myself wrongly assuming that this would become forevermore the "New Deal." A variety of literary pizzazz and style panache has been sporadically alternated in this series, creating a collection of upwardly spiraling, "new and improved" machinations in no discernible pattern of progression, other than possibly from denser to more effervescent, though both styles work. As noted above, Parker appears to be alone in having the repartee ramble down with enough spark-padded-with-spit-of-sensual-observation to carry a novel without a plethora of heavy-action-backup (though action has continued to abide in good pace throughout the series). What caused the shifts in style in this series? Might Parker's editor have astutely isolated patterns of reader response which indicated a regular appeal or repel? About Parker's dialogue, other than the use of "he said/she said" (which delights me in seeming to be a rebellious signature), I've read mostly raves reported with rhapsodic rhetoric. Complaints have surfaced about other literary assets, and supposed liabilities. Praise has clashed with complaints, with both seeming to relate to personal preference. Possibly Parker, in the vein of many authors of fiction, rides with the series more than micro-designing or reining it. A few of Parker's early blog entries on Amazon briefly mention means of choosing of particular characters, themes, or styles. Whatever impacted this series as it moved through its courses, it is a prime offering in culturally significant literary contributions, all the more so in its guise of being formulaic, simple entertainment. Don't be slighted by a smooth flow of style and a degree of genre adherence ... or do be! Thumbs up to Parker's entertainingly erratic evolution of style, Linda Shelnutt Author of several Kindle books and Amazon Shorts, including: Molasses Moon | ||
 | Widow's Walk by Robert B. Parker, ISBN 0553714716 | |
| "Do Dim Bulbs Mean Dim Sum? Thumbnail Conclusions of Style Evolution." | 2007-06-18 |
| Characters' repulsion to Mary Smith's bimbo mode provided effervescent entertainment. The widow's bulb was dimmed to such a degree, I was surprised she wasn't irritating to me. Instead, she was such a spot-on portrayal of similar women I've observed (especially with the "I really, really" speech pattern) that when she entered a discussion, chuckles emerged from too vivid recalls of "been there" with personal periodic dips into the low wattage of exhaustion. As Parker had intended, I was baited into the complex plot by continuing to question if Mary's "act" was an act, or face-value of her unadulterated self. For my tastes, Parker mastered several techniques of the novel and of P.I. genre expectations in WIDOW'S WALK, # 29 in this series. The plot was intriguingly complex, and multiple unusual arrangements (and murders) in this novel worked, with dues to realism paid on accounts. In particular, I enjoyed the empathetic scenes with Race Witherspoon in his art studio and gay bar connections (Nellie's in Bay Village). An overview of the evolution of Parker's writing style seemed to crystalize somewhat with the reading of WIDOW, as I began noticing a few cracks forming in a conclusion I'd been solidifying through reviews of 31 Spenser novels (see my Listmania). Surprisingly, this observation delighted me, because it meant that Parker's skill was more intriguingly complicated than I had thought. Of course I'm glad I caught the error in my "headings" prior to pontificating them here. My other reviews' observations still read accurately from my current conclusions, since each review focused on the immediate book, and sometimes a few around it in sequence. As I read onward in WIDOW, a light bulb swung into my path and bopped me between the eyes. "Oh!" (To use a British term from Christie's Miss Marple series.) As the bulb bopped, I saw that this series does not precisely evolve in progressive increments from a denser style narrated by a solitary P.I. into a lighter, sparser, team-playing home-stretch, as I had hypothesized when contrasting the earlier books to POTSHOT (the first novel I read in the series) and a few of the later offerings. Parker's talent is too rich and quirky for a simple, incremental, no-back-tracking progression. As soon as my previous reviews had identified a shift in the series style-continuum, I'd read the next offering and see that the "shift" had returned to an earlier mode, with a new flair or flavor. Sometimes the shift went from teaming with Hawk or Susan (which I thought had become a new approach), back to the solitary Spenser, lonely-street, melancholy P.I. of the earlier novels. The only accurate style-shifting synopsis might be to conclude that honing and paring of every asset in this series has been primely accomplished. A few chapters into WIDOW, I had paused to thumb through the book, checking the balance of pages of dialogue clips, to pages of longer paragraphs of solitary contemplations, descriptions of setting and weather, etc. That quick thumb gave a false conclusion that THIS was the line of demarcation for a dramatic increase in the jazzy "talking head" rhythm, and a decrease in action, and density of setting/narrative. Even though I reveled in the earlier density, I felt (still do) that Parker was one of the few authors able to rivet readers into abundances of sequential pages of dialogue, with the repartee having such a rich rhythm as to feel like plot motion as much as skull-cracking-action does. Yes, dialogue flared well in WIDOW. Yet, pared-down weather descriptions, scenery enhancements, and mood reports were woven whimsically around repartee. Thankfully, here is where I caught myself wrongly assuming that this would become forevermore the "New Deal." A variety of literary pizzazz and style panache has been sporadically alternated in this series, creating a collection of upwardly spiraling, "new and improved" machinations in no discernible pattern of progression, other than possibly from denser to more effervescent, though both styles work. As noted above, Parker appears to be alone in having the repartee ramble down with enough spark-padded-with-spit-of-sensual-observation to carry a novel without a plethora of heavy-action-backup (though action has continued to abide in good pace throughout the series). What caused the shifts in style in this series? Might Parker's editor have astutely isolated patterns of reader response which indicated a regular appeal or repel? About Parker's dialogue, other than the use of "he said/she said" (which delights me in seeming to be a rebellious signature), I've read mostly raves reported with rhapsodic rhetoric. Complaints have surfaced about other literary assets, and supposed liabilities. Praise has clashed with complaints, with both seeming to relate to personal preference. Possibly Parker, in the vein of many authors of fiction, rides with the series more than micro-designing or reining it. A few of Parker's early blog entries on Amazon briefly mention means of choosing of particular characters, themes, or styles. Whatever impacted this series as it moved through its courses, it is a prime offering in culturally significant literary contributions, all the more so in its guise of being formulaic, simple entertainment. Don't be slighted by a smooth flow of style and a degree of genre adherence ... or do be! Thumbs up to Parker's entertainingly erratic evolution of style, Linda Shelnutt Author of several Kindle books and Amazon Shorts, including: Molasses Moon | ||
 | Hugger Mugger | |
| "Charming An Asp in A Southern Mansion" | 2007-06-11 |
| This # 27 in the Spenser series gave another easy in, opening with the journalistic, capital-letter "I" luxuriating in the prime narrative style for the private eye genre. In this First Person pose of panache, Spenser was lounging in his office chair, feet propped on the window sill, contemplating baseball. A potential client and his daughter interrupted the reverie by entering Spenser's domain, oozing varieties of slow southern charm. The father was one of Parker's perfect portrayals of the putrid-personal-quality of unfounded uppity (charm tarnished there). The daughter appeared to have the warmth of "Y'all come down he'ah" so well heeled, Spenser began believing it was the genuine asset. Or, could a gorgeous young southern lady fool Spenser's radar-for-phoney, in a plot in which someone might have an opportunity to act in Clark Gable's role, concluding HUGGER MUGGER with the well used line from GONE WITH THE WIND, "Frankly, my lady, I don't give a ..." I was surprised to discover from the opening scene that Hugger Mugger was the name of a highly prized race horse, but not surprised to discover that Spenser would be heading south to dig into down-home hospitality simultaneous to digging into dirty laundry and dark racing schemes. As usual, Parker perfected another geographic, sub-cultural ambiance, and had Spenser working up a sweat, worming his private-eye Boston-ways into a heatedly brewing situation. I noticed Hawk's absence in this plot, but not until what was there had solidified my willing residence. I can see that what Parker was developing in Spenser and the series at the "Time of Hugger" wouldn't have been possible with Hawk's ebony perk included. The ending in this one gave a couple delightfully subtle twists to revered old movies and recurring literary themes, in which one of the culprit's karma was paid with a panache of eyes, teeth, and irony... and another culprit got away with something in an unanticipated out-the-door scene. Having reviewed all except the last few books in the Spenser series, I'm beginning to wonder if HUGGER MUGGER may have been the last of the breed of leisurely walks through other city ambiance complete with regular, detailed, and yummy weather reports? If so, it's going on my "relish the setting detail" list. POTSHOT (which was the first book in this series I read) had action and took place in Arizona, but the plot walk was not leisurely. (See my Listmania for Spenser entries in order, with blurbs.) I've not read The Robert B. Parker Companion, but possibly it gives more detailed insight to some of the questions I and others have raised in reviews of this series. Continuing to me to be the most awesome fact to me in on qualities and evolution of this series is that it can be read for pure entertainment, or with focused observation and appreciation of its layers of depth, in theme dramatized, and literary style applied. Of course, when a reader is seeking unadulterated entertainment he may be slightly disappointed at times when a book in the series slips off what might have been anticipated as a relished rut or beaten path, though most readers, myself included, seem to enjoy Parker's style sequencing and evolution in this series as absolutely accurate. On the other hand, if a reader becomes involved in the series as a fascinating study, most content and style shifts will be felt as refreshment and intrigue, cherished collections of red flags to observe gleefully through a magnifying glass. Spenser's charm remains and regenerates, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Sudden Mischief | |
| "The Accidental Therapist. Spenser's Sigmund Sofa Shines Susan's Spirit. Self-Actualization Be Done." | 2007-05-31 |
| SUDDEN MISCHIEF, # 25 in the Spenser series, provided another prime work up on the Man/Woman relationship scene, dealing with ex-hubby scars, Susan's turtle-snap moods, and a new-and-improved conversational skill from Dr. Sigmund Spenser. I'm roaring onward toward the end of the series with continued amazement at how many miasmas of human angst Parker has been able to muck into, for Spenser to clarify and deodorize; and how many relationship scenes and character cards he can lay bare on any table, with Spades called true. Opening what I might term "The Pandora in The Relationship," a scene between Spenser and Susan slipped suddenly from the most comfy of cozy, with humor set and staged on-a-roll ... to sour milk, paused peace, and stomach knots. I felt that hit along with Spenser, possibly more than any other emotional toll taken in the series (except when Susan left in VALEDICTION, # 11 in the series). The way Spenser worked with and through the situation was a perfect expression of ... not of psychological actualization ... but of the wisdom of a dynamically-operating human maturity. This scene and Spenser's "self-talk" in understanding the dense drama underlying Susan's behavior took the reader ozone holes beyond the trite advice to "roll with the punches." I particularly enjoyed the few glove punches of tribute to X-Files here, in the slight, playful change in the style of humor between Hawk and Spenser, and in the Lone Gunman computer geek. SUDDEN MISCHIEF was another example of the cultural evolutionary intrigue contained in this triple-decade-running series. In this one and in a few previous recent offerings readers were also given hints of the beginning of The-Waitress-Hurry-Rush-Syndrome, which appeared to have begun in the nineties. In SUDDEN MISCHIEF Spenser stepped up to the tallest measure of being Susan's hero, savior, Knight-in-Shining Armor, and her Shrink. Acting as her shrink, Spenser's jangled the jargon from the popular surge of psycho-self-help books which carried "come-communicate" concepts from the 70's and 80's into the 90's. Spenser's part of every dialogue with every character seemed to have suddenly altered in MISCHIEF in a manner which felt somewhat but not totally, tongue-in-cheek. The alteration came through the famous style of the Shrink's SILENCE, the true listening mode ... of no response ... to stretches of out-loud contemplations from whomever happened to be the partner in repartee (or payer of shrink-wrap fees). I enjoyed the fact that the dialogues often took place over meals or in interesting restaurants, so that when Spenser worked the no response deal, he replaced the saved mouth motion with warm, moist bites of fresh, spongy bread, and savored the yeasty flavor. Usually his comment in that venue went something like, "I took a bite of .... It was good." Spenser did the shrink silence with as much perfection as he has done all else. Even so, one of the reasons for success of his perfection was his ability to see (and note) his and Susan's flaws here. And, Susan's self-actualization scene in chapter 48 was truly incredible in Parker's perfection of process of her coming to that catharsis, with Spenser providing support in an awesomely effective way of stand-aside-but-be-ready. As noted above, it appeared to me that the humor had changed slightly in this one, with appetizer overtures in recent previous offerings as well. Some of the conversational fun-poking definitely seemed to have taken on a warmly entertaining edge of the X-Files, Fox Mulder type. The combo of these subtle changes continued to herald the "Signs of the Times," reinforcing my sense of one of the major values in this series being its feathered function as a cultural-evolution-landmark for the 70's, 80's, 90's, and 00's. Sometimes series authors have espoused a wish that they could get out of the limitations of a genre and write something "significant." Parker has repeatedly and unfailingly honored his series genre, while packing his products with the ultimate in literary significance. Possibly the greatest gift in this accomplishment is that readers can choose to see this significance (and be awed by it). Or, they can merely let go of cares and worries, and be entertained by pure escape fiction. I wonder if RBP was born on the precise point of an Annular Solar Eclipse, to have continually generated and successfully manifested so much primal, pivotal creativity. Or maybe ... like today ... Robert B. Parker was born during a Blue Moon peaking full in the company of Jupiter and Vesta (the asteroid). All I know about that is that he was born in 1947 (or 48?), a Baby Boomer like many of us. Another man, born in 1928, wasn't a Baby Boomer, nor an author, yet he reminds me of Parker, in the sense of the above described type of continued creative generation and manifestation. See the Amazon Short, I Worked: A True Story Immensely thankful for fascinating feats such as these, Linda G. Shelnutt | ||
 | Small Vices | |
| "Satanic Voice of The Gray Blues. A Good Man is the child to nurture. He saves us from Evil physical and deadly." | 2007-05-23 |
| This may be the pinnacle (or nadir) Spenser novel dramatizing an ultimate personification of Evil. An investigation of that concept seems to be Spenser's underlying and ongoing pursuit. SMALL VICES, # 24 Spenser, deals with the primary issues of Life, as individuals within the human species are struggling to get through it, comprehend it, and relish it (as often as possible), in the transition into The Third Millennium. Hawk's analysis of a dichotomy of desires between Spenser and Susan deserves a Grand Prize for capturing the core of conflict here. Of course any fan of the series would know that Hawk's conclusion would be drawn in a couple short statements including the perfect phrases in blue. It was amazing how refreshing it could be to have precise differences stated in such dry, clear terms. A scene with an apparent Shirley Temple type child took the show for humor, even though no one could one-up The Highest Dark Child of The Species (who was neither young nor female, in this case). The Gray Man was possibly Parker's most complexly captivating character. The battles between Good and Evil in SMALL VICES were of the best I've read in Literature. FYI, an equal (yet different) exposure of the essence of Evil Incarnate was in the film, Suspect Zero (Widescreen Edition) (See my review), in which the dank presence reduced itself to boneless worm jelly. The difference is that Parker's evil character was given solid strength and deadly substance (in varied shades of gray). Dealing with the issues of types of parenting and the heartbreaking, absolute lack of it in all types of ghettos, a cop named Jackson voiced the lack of awareness of "Do Gooders" without a clue about how impoverished families live. A small sample of Jackson's "right on" diatribe: "Like there's a bunch of white Anglo kids in the inner city, walking around looking for the f...ing malt shop. So I say, you people simply have got to stop talking `bout f...ing inner city when you mean black." In reality, a quintessential Malt Shop did exist in a small town in Colorado, a light in a desert of dark styles of poverty, with a single Mom who was a parent, see the Amazon Short, Coal & Coca-Cola. As is the case with each Spenser novel, many excellent quotes could be listed from this # 24 in the series. I couldn't help but notice a change in mood here, in the dedication (quoted below) to Joan, Parker's wife. Of course I wondered how Parker evaluated and passed through the road forks in his life, in contrast to what Spenser chose in SMALL VICES, in the issues brought forth between Spenser and Susan. It's obvious that the Parkers are parents with full presence, and that they love their children. This # 24 in series is worth reading for Spenser's takes on these issues alone. In contrast to the always flowery dedications to Joan in Parker's novels, the dedication in SMALL VICES read: >> For Joan: You may have been a headache, but you've never been a bore. << A scene of Hawk washing his hands in Spenser's office was very telling of the above quote: >> He (Hawk) dried himself on a white towel that hung beside the sink. The towel said "Holiday Inn" on it, in green letters. It was one of my (Spenser's) favorites. I had picked it up in Jackson, Mississippi once, when I was driving back from Texas, with Pear the Wonder Dog. Whenever Susan came in she replaced the Holiday Inn towel with a small pink one that had a pale pink fringe, and a pink and green rosebud embroidered in one corner. As soon as she left, I put out the Holiday Inn towel again. << During a conversation with Susan, Spenser narrated to himself: >> The way I loved her never varied. But how I liked her could go up and down, and it went down most when she was being professional. << After the long days and months were done here, Spenser and Susan were again at one: >> "I'm not criticizing you, in all of this," Susan said. "I know you're not." I said. "The confusion of guilt and innocence just looks a little starker in this case and it interests you." I believe that Spenser's comment there explains one of the reasons many readers, including me, retain a high degree of curiosity in how this series separates good and bad guys, good and bad acts. Stand-up-and-cheer support surfaced in SMALL VICES from various bad guys, in ways and in dialogues which added warmth, and continued discriminations between what's admirable and what's disgusting in examples of our species. Once again, the author prevailed and the tale fell deep and rose high, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Thin Air | |
| "Catharsis, Cathexis, What's Next-us? Purgative Pushes to Personality Paradise" | 2007-05-16 |
| When a great writer dramatizes trapped helplessness, I'm ready to eject. I almost squirmed out of reading # 22 in the Spenser series. But, this being the 27th novel I would have read in this 34 book series, I pushed like a Navy Seal through the first couple italicized segments of the kidnaping and ensuing situation, using the "hang in there" ropes provided by the characters' depth of commitment in returning Lisa St. Claire to the safety she had earned hard, by Frank Belson's side as his wife. I began clutching to hope for Frank to keep faith that Lisa wouldn't have left him willingly. I'm glad Parker didn't push the potential of dark tragedy of a soul drop like that. He worked the question just enough to rush the realism, then allow it to simmer under the diligence of "Keep the faith, baby." I won't go into detail about why Frank turned over the search to Spenser, and why Spenser went to Chollo instead of Hawk, for the first time in a rescue partnership. And, yeah, I'm asking, "What was Hawk doing in Burma?" In THIN AIR Pearl had progressed to standing on the dining table during meals, and Susan gave a humanity renewing surprise over a Mexican dinner more suitable in volume to Spenser. Dialogue scenes were evenly effervescent, with just the right amount of fizz to counter the interjections of ongoing Italicized segments. I was intrigued with the subtle shifts in patterns-of-psychosis of Lisa and her captor, as each seemed to be enduring an individual "cathexis" ... New word, probably brought into psychological jargon through the same sewer-line-purge-tank as "catharsis" ... Look up the original meaning of that one! "Cathexis" was brought into the plot by Madeline St. Claire, the current plot's previous psychiatrist for Lisa, as a sample of Lisa's uneven vocabulary expansion through reading a plethora of self-help books (too many, too indiscriminately, according to Madeline). Lisa's attempts to retain a recently seated kernel of healthy self served as an effective drama for exposing the visceral levels of retention-and-resurgence of psychological growth. Dictionary entry for Nexus: 1 - a connection. 2 - a connected group or series. 3 - the central and most important point. -ORIGIN Latin, from nectere 'bind'. A bad nexus would ultimately require a cathexis. Get yours here! Throughout the plot, I was led by the nose with curiosity about how and if Frank and Lisa would be reunited, hopefully at that central and most important point, which I was guessing would be a clean type of Love (considering Spenser's Romantic soul). Also found another key passage in THIN AIR, which exposed another appeal of this series: >> "You big with the bad guys, Spenser. You got Santiago helping you, Mr. Del Rio helping you, now this guy Broz, that I don't know, he's helping you. You sure you are a good guy?" "No," I said. I'm not sure." << A nice collection of profound quotes could be lifted out of THIN AIR, from Spenser's ruminations discriminating the good in bad guys. Another collection of artistic quotes could be lifted from Spenser's observations of physical settings, weather machinations, and environmental pathos. I'll speak this softly and with conviction, "This is Good Literature." After finishing this novel, I saw not only why Parker brought Chollo in as Spenser's partner instead of Hawk: The nationality fit the situation. I also saw Parker, a WASP macho male, chef and sensitive guy, as a literary ambassador for the menage of sub-cultural minorities which came to the fore through Media Massages and marked-up messages, from the mid 1970's to the present time. Purposely or not, Parker evolved and designed Spenser for the job of providing missing links between good and evil, and connecting lines of cultural differences, allowing polarities to cathexis, gradually purifying their "acts." We ain't there yet, but Spenser's a good scout. This was primely-done detective fiction, with trailing ridges of psychological plummets and literary finesse carefully eased out of Spenser's closet ... Pandora's Box? ... Soap Box? Whatever. THIN AIR was an emotionally weighty yet magical entry in this series, a fuzzy-wuzzy-wabbit pulled out of a deep and dark, very hard hat. Get it. Breathe, one, two, three. Who is Alice in Wonderland? Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Paper Doll | |
| "Color Crayons & Paper Dolls. Tigers Beware." | 2007-04-28 |
| Push a Pin into the perfection balloon. What is marriage ... what are styles of domesticity ... to a wealthy WASP, to a liberated couple like Spenser and Susan, to a good-guy gay cop, to a State Senator, to an aging wealthy southerner. The concluding scene in DOUBLE DEUCE, # 19 in the Spenser series, catered a surprising twist to Susan and Spenser's attempts at traditional homemaking. That close was as refreshing to the double S as a storm-brought rainbow. The choice carried in DD's final chapter surfaced in silent style into the thematic structure of PAPER DOLL, # 20 in the Spenser series. To Loudon Tripp seeking the private eye to find his wife's killer, Spenser answered the "small problem" of his having been dismissed from the police force: "I am trustworthy, loyal, and helpful, but I struggle with obedient." Who was Olivia Nelson? She was Loudon Tripp's murdered wife. Was she Harriet to Ozzie, or did she have a small problem. Spenser's gum shoe stuck in southern muck as he researched the past of a double identity with no indemnity. While thus stuck, the P.I. endured a dual whap to his knee caps by a fake constable. The gum was seared off by BAD-knight-Quirk to the rescue (YEA!), in a scene to write about to a homemaker or a troubleshooter, maybe even a troublemaker, whichever would apply, or lie right. In the early 90's what did we cook, what did we say, what did we wear, what books did we read. See here. Hear ye. (...) Readers have commented that they feel this series is anti-gay. One might not hold that opinion after reading PAPER DOLL, in which Lee Ferrell was introduced and featured with compassionate clarity, as a young gay cop working for Quirk. As would be expected, the repartee scenes between Ferrell and Spenser popped. The corn, no pron, was light, fresh, sensitive and free (relatively). In Alton, South Carolina, 1948 a child was born, bearing a tale and a trail of a "sister" of doom. Was there room at the Inn? Spenser stayed there, and learned the song, "one way ... or the other." The opening scene of chapter sixteen provided a collection of guffaws from the way Spenser dealt with an auto paused to tail his travels. If that passage doesn't do that, it's possible you've lost your Proof of Existence Papers. Would you then be a paper doll? I'd rather be me. Since the breakout of loveable dogs in DOUBLE DEUCE, Parker had been warmly elevating the dog's life, and I relish it that introduction to the series, but don't know if I'm ready to be one, if I have a choice! In addition to dogs, another Spenser "signature" was continued and repeated from DOUBLE DEUCE, that of how a character holds a whiskey glass. Note an example of that on page 237 of the mass market paperback. Might this signature be a continued tribute to Erin Macklin (who held her whiskey glass "with both hands")? Also note how Lee Ferrell held his glass in a few spots in this one. That, possibly more than Spenser's "adoption" of the gay cop, was telling of Ferrel's status, as it developed through an amber-filled glass. The conclusion of the murder in this one was a switch. For me, it worked, stretching contemplation space in the part of my brain which ruminates Parker's tweaking of what makes a good guy/gal good and a bad guy/gal bad. Parker gave a perfect clue to the murderer, but I didn't get it until the plot told me. "The words hung in the room, drifting like the dust of ruination." That wasn't the clue, nor was it the preface to comeuppance for the killer. It was just a line I quite liked. As always, there were several. Holding books with both hands, Linda Shelnutt | ||
| Paper Doll | |
| "Color Crayons Paper Dolls. Tigers Beware." | 2007-04-28 |
| Push a Pin into the perfection balloon. What is marriage ... what are styles of domesticity ... to a wealthy WASP, to a liberated couple like Spenser and Susan, to a good-guy gay cop, to a State Senator, to an aging wealthy southerner.br /br /The concluding scene in DOUBLE DEUCE, # 19 in the Spenser series, catered a surprising twist to Susan and Spenser's attempts at traditional homemaking. That close was as refreshing to the double S as a storm-brought rainbow. The choice carried in DD's final chapter surfaced in silent style into the thematic structure of PAPER DOLL, # 20 in the Spenser series.br /br /To Loudon Tripp seeking the private eye to find his wife's killer, Spenser answered the "small problem" of his having been dismissed from the police force:br /br /"I am trustworthy, loyal, and helpful, but I struggle with obedient."br /br /Who was Olivia Nelson?br /br /She was Loudon Tripp's murdered wife. Was she Harriet to Ozzie, or did she have a small problem. br /br /Spenser's gum shoe stuck in southern muck as he researched the past of a double identity with no indemnity. While thus stuck, the P.I. endured a dual whap to his knee caps by a fake constable. The gum was seared off by BAD-knight-Quirk to the rescue (YEA!), in a scene to write about to a homemaker or a troubleshooter, maybe even a troublemaker, whichever would apply, or lie right.br /br /In the early 90's what did we cook, what did we say, what did we wear, what books did we read. See here. Hear ye. (...)br /br /Readers have commented that they feel this series is anti-gay. One might not hold that opinion after reading PAPER DOLL, in which Lee Ferrell was introduced and featured with compassionate clarity, as a young gay cop working for Quirk. As would be expected, the repartee scenes between Ferrell and Spenser popped. The corn, no pron, was light, fresh, sensitive and free (relatively).br /br /In Alton, South Carolina, 1948 a child was born, bearing a tale and a trail of a "sister" of doom. Was there room at the Inn? Spenser stayed there, and learned the song, "one way ... or the other."br /br /The opening scene of chapter sixteen provided a collection of guffaws from the way Spenser dealt with an auto paused to tail his travels. If that passage doesn't do that, it's possible you've lost your Proof of Existence Papers. Would you then be a paper doll? I'd rather be me. Since the breakout of loveable dogs in DOUBLE DEUCE, Parker had been warmly elevating the dog's life, and I relish it that introduction to the series, but don't know if I'm ready to be one, if I have a choice!br /br /In addition to dogs, another Spenser "signature" was continued and repeated from DOUBLE DEUCE, that of how a character holds a whiskey glass. Note an example of that on page 237 of the mass market paperback. Might this signature be a continued tribute to Erin Macklin (who held her whiskey glass "with both hands")? Also note how Lee Ferrell held his glass in a few spots in this one. That, possibly more than Spenser's "adoption" of the gay cop, was telling of Ferrel's status, as it developed through an amber-filled glass.br /br /The conclusion of the murder in this one was a switch. For me, it worked, stretching contemplation space in the part of my brain which ruminates Parker's tweaking of what makes a good guy/gal good and a bad guy/gal bad.br /br /Parker gave a perfect clue to the murderer, but I didn't get it until the plot told me.br /br /"The words hung in the room, drifting like the dust of ruination."br /br /That wasn't the clue, nor was it the preface to comeuppance for the killer. It was just a line I quite liked. As always, there were several.br /br /Holding books with both hands,br /Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Double Deuce | |
| "Casting Pearls Before Swine to find a Pearl in the Oyster. Reverse Right. Leave Left." | 2007-04-24 |
| As a calculated contrast to life in the gang-infested DOUBLE DEUCE housing complex, scenes of daily doings in Susan's home provided prime parlay between Spenser and his lady, resulting in poignant posing in the DD bailiwick broken up by hearty humor in the SS Titanic. What a cartoon-funny difference (no black-tongued-grins from "THE WAR OF THE ROSES" there) Parker painted between Susan's fronted femaleness and Spenser's gangling guy-ness. As Parker obviously planned, the light-hearted clashes in SS roommate rambles became an "Accidental Family" foil to the heartbreaking reality-overwhelm of the gang members' no-relief lifestyle boring holes of terror into their "straight" neighbors. In DOUBLE DEUCE Parker created another classic "pair" of new female characters, providing them with reverse personalities and reverse first letters in their names: "E. M." was for Erin Macklin who drank her whiskey easy as she held the glass with both hands (contemplate why Parker repeated more than thrice how Macklin held her amber-filled glass, with the caring gesture of duel palms). "M. E." was for Marge Eagen, who pumped and primped her preen until Spenser crimped her lack of style. (For an opposite styled Marge character, a genuine, real-life article of bull dog class, see Coal & Coca-Cola) As a Parker fan would anticipate, the scenes in which these two women seared the social brine with Spenser were intriguing, engrossing, and effortlessly entertaining. Hawk was featured in his best ebony sheen in DOUBLE DEUCE, as his image, which had preceded him into gangland territory, was developed through interactions with the gang members, all of which were fascinating, and felt to be on target with the tang and sizzle of those subcultures. Another side of Hawk's image was uncovered here, through his intimate study of black-lady Jackie, and her jigsaw-ed break-down of Hawk's heart hung low to capture her song. The continuation of Pearl-the-wonder-dog's character (she was introduced with pizzazz in PASTIME, # 18 Spenser) provided a welcome warm spot in this plot. I couldn't help but wonder if Parker might use the heart-healing-dog to get through to the gangs, as he used the 3 mongrels rescued in STARDUST (used them to help coax Jill's soul to return for another round of participation in life). In the first part of Chapter 37 an exquisite scene of an easy-dance-step, multi-manoeuver training seminar set itself up around mangy machinations (no hair lost on the dog) of Susan, Spenser, pancakes, and Pearl: >> I (Spenser) left my pancakes and went to the bedroom and put on a shirt (training from Susan). When I came back Pearl was still sitting gazing at my plate, but the plate was empty and clean. I looked at her. She looked back clear eyed and guilt free, alert for another opportunity. >> "Ah yes," I said, "a hunting dog." << Contemplate that in reference to Hawk's name, which clarified in DOUBLE DEUCE's chapter 37, especially in reference to Jackie's complaints that she couldn't "get to him." Having endured decades mired within a nurtured angst of ethical determinations, as humans trod toward the core of the Apple from "The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil" ... might they sometimes long for a temporary release from the moral gauntlet; might they long for a cease of constantly pushed cerebral convolutions defining every dot quantum on the eternal line between Right and Wrong ... might they wish for a few moments to experience the easy, non-complex mind, set into the nature of a hunting dog, or a Hawk ... might they sometimes long to be: "Clear eyed and guilt free"? In addition to primal concepts, prime setting descriptions were applied here, as only Parker could accomplish, in bringing to pose on paper the essence of ghetto life. Get a dog's life? The concluding scene in DOUBLE DEUCE catered a surprising twist to Susan and Spenser's attempts at traditional homemaking. The close was as refreshing to the double S as a storm-brought rainbow. The choice carried in DD's final chapter surfaced in silent style into the thematic structure of PAPER DOLL, # 20 in the Spenser series. A prolific author successfully carries a ranging style through time and time and time, until the heart says, "Take to the sky on the wings of a hawk." Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Double Deuce | |
| "Casting Pearls Before Swine to find a Pearl in the Oyster. Reverse Right. Leave Left." | 2007-04-24 |
| As a calculated contrast to life in the gang-infested DOUBLE DEUCE housing complex, scenes of daily doings in Susan's home provided prime parlay between Spenser and his lady, resulting in poignant posing in the DD bailiwick broken up by hearty humor in the SS Titanic. What a cartoon-funny difference (no black-tongued-grins from "THE WAR OF THE ROSES" there) Parker painted between Susan's fronted femaleness and Spenser's gangling guy-ness. As Parker obviously planned, the light-hearted clashes in SS roommate rambles became an "Accidental Family" foil to the heartbreaking reality-overwhelm of the gang members' no-relief lifestyle boring holes of terror into their "straight" neighbors. In DOUBLE DEUCE Parker created another classic "pair" of new female characters, providing them with reverse personalities and reverse first letters in their names: "E. M." was for Erin Macklin who drank her whiskey easy as she held the glass with both hands (contemplate why Parker repeated more than thrice how Macklin held her amber-filled glass, with the caring gesture of duel palms). "M. E." was for Marge Eagen, who pumped and primped her preen until Spenser crimped her lack of style. (For an opposite styled Marge character, a genuine, real-life article of bull dog class, see Coal & Coca-Cola) As a Parker fan would anticipate, the scenes in which these two women seared the social brine with Spenser were intriguing, engrossing, and effortlessly entertaining. Hawk was featured in his best ebony sheen in DOUBLE DEUCE, as his image, which had preceded him into gangland territory, was developed through interactions with the gang members, all of which were fascinating, and felt to be on target with the tang and sizzle of those subcultures. Another side of Hawk's image was uncovered here, through his intimate study of black-lady Jackie, and her jigsaw-ed break-down of Hawk's heart hung low to capture her song. The continuation of Pearl-the-wonder-dog's character (she was introduced with pizzazz in PASTIME, # 18 Spenser) provided a welcome warm spot in this plot. I couldn't help but wonder if Parker might use the heart-healing-dog to get through to the gangs, as he used the 3 mongrels rescued in STARDUST (used them to help coax Jill's soul to return for another round of participation in life). In the first part of Chapter 37 an exquisite scene of an easy-dance-step, multi-manoeuver training seminar set itself up around mangy machinations (no hair lost on the dog) of Susan, Spenser, pancakes, and Pearl: >> I (Spenser) left my pancakes and went to the bedroom and put on a shirt (training from Susan). When I came back Pearl was still sitting gazing at my plate, but the plate was empty and clean. I looked at her. She looked back clear eyed and guilt free, alert for another opportunity. >> "Ah yes," I said, "a hunting dog." << Contemplate that in reference to Hawk's name, which clarified in DOUBLE DEUCE's chapter 37, especially in reference to Jackie's complaints that she couldn't "get to him." Having endured decades mired within a nurtured angst of ethical determinations, as humans trod toward the core of the Apple from "The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil" ... might they sometimes long for a temporary release from the moral gauntlet; might they long for a cease of constantly pushed cerebral convolutions defining every dot quantum on the eternal line between Right and Wrong ... might they wish for a few moments to experience the easy, non-complex mind, set into the nature of a hunting dog, or a Hawk ... might they sometimes long to be: "Clear eyed and guilt free"? In addition to primal concepts, prime setting descriptions were applied here, as only Parker could accomplish, in bringing to pose on paper the essence of ghetto life. Get a dog's life? The concluding scene in DOUBLE DEUCE catered a surprising twist to Susan and Spenser's attempts at traditional homemaking. The close was as refreshing to the double S as a storm-brought rainbow. The choice carried in DD's final chapter surfaced in silent style into the thematic structure of PAPER DOLL, # 20 in the Spenser series. A prolific author successfully carries a ranging style through time and time and time, until the heart says, "Take to the sky on the wings of a hawk." Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Stardust | |
| "Gold Dust Rising from Ashes of Coal Dust" | 2007-04-17 |
| What might burn to what purification and perfection, within the ashes of impoverished beginnings ... Again, a Spenser novel kept my focus away from the snow-packed, icy curves of a Rocky Mountain corridor over the Continental Divide on Colorado State highway 50, edging the high, steep cliffs over Monarch Pass. If any feat would recommend the ability of a novel to hold a reader captive, that should. The fascination in this # 17 in the series seemed to pivot around a flickering disgust Vs appeal of the Star of the plot, Jill Joyce, as those dark/bright flashes played through Jill's evolving relationships with Spenser, Susan, and residual characters, who mostly viewed "Jillie" as a "high-octane pain in the ..." (quoting one the book's descriptive terms of her). Parker worked an amazing double-sided realism into the plot, contrasting Jill's spoiled, impatient, sour personality; to her youthful vulnerabilities, her having not one true friend, and her carrying the weight of the job title's specific and actual demands. With drunk, druggie, an nympho added to the liabilities in this Star's aura, the scales slipped south, and provided Spenser with a challenge he couldn't refuse. I may have left out a couple descriptive terms of the down side of Jill Joyce's personality, but guessing what they might be would be a snap. STARDUST is a classic character study, and an excellent example of fine writing, especially given Parker's vivid, delightfully sardonic descriptions of various settings, descriptions based on weather conditions and wealth divergence, contrasting Boston and surrounding areas with the San Diego and LA extended environments. During the writing of my previous review on PLAYMATES, # 16 in this series, I began noticing an edge of embarrassment about my ongoing compulsion to write reviews on each novel in the Spenser series. Therefore, I seem to be pushed at the moment by a nag from my Left Brain to explain personal and professional motivations in feeding the continued pursuit of this "study." Actually, that's precisely what my dedication to reviewing this series has become, a study. I feel blessed to be able to observe three decades (and counting) of cultural evolution through Parker's liberal notations of styles of dress, tastes in food, ways of thinking, repartee dance-steps, etc. Yet, I'm making note of much more than that. I'm observing the steady, methodical, dedicated evolution of an author's voice, talent, perspective, and ethical philosophy ... over thirty years of annual production in a sequential offering repeating characters, locale, and genre. I'm observing "current" events unfolding within Parker's plots. I'm noticing subtle publisher presence and reader preference as that backdrop appears to play into Parker's choices of subject, theme, and style variances in each novel in this chain adding links upon links of evolving ethical considerations. My interest was maintained well in STARDUST as my curiosity grew about how Spenser could save this child, who was screeching in repulsively offensive ways, for someone to take care of her, someone, anyone to care about anything in her, qualities beyond beauty, which might lie more deeply and lastingly in Jill's soul... someone to care about more than her capacity to draw in dollars. As a prostitute to overwhelming demands on her presence and physical perfection, given nothing truly refueling of self in return; Jill reminded me of Spenser's April Kyle, clearly showing that money, fame, success, and adulation are able to starve the life out of a young heart needing TLC, compassion, and a savior. As has become Parker's relished signature, several scenes of dialogue exchanges in STARDUST were highly satisfying. One of the cheer inducements I regularly enjoy in a Spenser novel is his ever-growing-repertoire of ways to burst odorous balloons of pompous buffoons who overrate their importance by metaphoric measures of mountains of compost heaps. (See Marty Riggs in this one, especially the scene in chapter 29 with Quirk, regarding Jill having been misplaced. And, for a story about mountains of coal dust and a young Mom starring in a bull-dog win, see Coal & Coca-cola) And then, we had here the entrance of Victor del Rio and gang-of-two, Chollo and Bobby Horse. Yep, another fascinating bad, bad, bad dude ... with a couple honorable qualities, who related well with Spenser in scene after engrossing scene. My favorite scene in STARDUST, though, was the one noted above, with Riggs, Quirk, a collection of big wigs at Zenith, and Spenser. Quirk gives Riggs a prime-spot-comeuppance to either kill or die for. Parts of that chapter I had to read aloud to my husband. After I had read a couple paragraphs, then asked a few minutes later if he wanted to hear more, his positive pose slid immediately into an ear-toward-my-direction. The last line in this one could serve as the beginnings of purification of poverty, if not an outright activation of alchemy. What is Hope, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Playmates | |
| "When the Day is Done and The Game is Won. Is The Playmate There for Dinner and Rum?" | 2007-03-23 |
| The sass quotient went off the charts in the opening of PLAYMATES, as Spenser lunched in luxury with a big shot trustee on the board of Taft University, then faced off with the cool cats at the college newspaper office (giving a classic line for the heart of journalism), then connected with the hot shot coach of the basketball team, which was allegedly shaving points somewhere in the ranks. Each time Spenser met a new person or persons I smirked in anticipation of how they'd respond to him and how he'd prod tender spots. Of course, whenever Spenser met someone worthy of him I all but leaped out of my chair and clicked my heels. The return to the university scene reflected back to some of the themes and setting auras in THE GODWULF MANUSCRIPT, the pilot to the Spenser series. Parker's writing style seemed to take a reminiscent walk in PLAYMETES, as he described physical scenes with the crisp depth and detail of his first few novels which opened the series in the seventies. In a sense, PLAYMATES seemed to be a pleasant pivotal point for the trilogy of Spenser, Parker, and his readers, as many of the prior ingredients-with-pull in books 1 - 15 were surged and stirred into this pot of philosophical, literary gold. I see why/how C. MCCALLISTER was able to write his exquisite review from the reading perspective he described. It would be worth your while to read that review; and while I'm at it maybe I should mention that quite a following of perceptive reviewers have faithfully tracked this series with pens prosing in posh syntax style. Read `em and weep if you don't have a private collection of each of the 34-and-counting books in this series. When I ordered PLAYMATES from Amazon, for some reason, I was more curious than normal about the title, how it would fit into the plot. I was still wondering about the title, after having read to the last page of this novel's ingeniously unusual type of impossible solutions and resolutions, which went on to become one of the signatures of Parker's denouement genius. MCCALLISTER described this signature precisely, in a succinct sentence or two, though he didn't call it a signature, since PLAYMATES was the first novel he had read in this series, which gave his reluctant capture even more weight in the astuteness category . With a bit of contemplation after completing the last page of PLAYMATES with a smile, I could see who the pair of playmates were, and why Parker's use of that word would capture anyone with a sensitive soul protected by a gruff, sassy, or classic exterior. After having read the first 16 Spenser novels now, with a peppering of some of the later books into the mix, I was reminded pleasantly why I continue to crave Spenser's sass and genuine class, starting from the first few paragraphs I read in one of the later books in this series. If you want to know which one that was, which caused me to pause within THE ACCIDENTAL READER clause and cause, feel free to read my reviews from the base of my Listmania, which lists all books in the series and indicates which ones over which I've blathered. I contemplated closing this review by listing the ingredients (from previous plots) which I noted above as having been surged and stirred into PLAYMATES. Then I thought, "Maybe not. Better to let that list become bait for further study of this series, including a soul dip into its prime review collection." You might slip on a hint of allergy remains here and there, but let the "faithful" leading the show pull you out. Of course, in addition to Amazon's Customer Reviewers, some of the best big name journalists also pose posh and perceptive on Spenser, who seems to bring out the sass and spark in a massive collection of readers. Live long and well, Parker. When you leave, your trail will endear and endure, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Playmates by Robert B. Parker, ISBN 0425192873 | |
| "When the Day is Done and The Game is Won. Is The Playmate There for Dinner and Rum?" | 2007-03-23 |
| The sass quotient went off the charts in the opening of PLAYMATES, as Spenser lunched in luxury with a big shot trustee on the board of Taft University, then faced off with the cool cats at the college newspaper office (giving a classic line for the heart of journalism), then connected with the hot shot coach of the basketball team, which was allegedly shaving points somewhere in the ranks. Each time Spenser met a new person or persons I smirked in anticipation of how they'd respond to him and how he'd prod tender spots. Of course, whenever Spenser met someone worthy of him I all but leaped out of my chair and clicked my heels. The return to the university scene reflected back to some of the themes and setting auras in THE GODWULF MANUSCRIPT, the pilot to the Spenser series. Parker's writing style seemed to take a reminiscent walk in PLAYMETES, as he described physical scenes with the crisp depth and detail of his first few novels which opened the series in the seventies. In a sense, PLAYMATES seemed to be a pleasant pivotal point for the trilogy of Spenser, Parker, and his readers, as many of the prior ingredients-with-pull in books 1 - 15 were surged and stirred into this pot of philosophical, literary gold. I see why/how C. MCCALLISTER was able to write his exquisite review from the reading perspective he described. It would be worth your while to read that review; and while I'm at it maybe I should mention that quite a following of perceptive reviewers have faithfully tracked this series with pens prosing in posh syntax style. Read `em and weep if you don't have a private collection of each of the 34-and-counting books in this series. When I ordered PLAYMATES from Amazon, for some reason, I was more curious than normal about the title, how it would fit into the plot. I was still wondering about the title, after having read to the last page of this novel's ingeniously unusual type of impossible solutions and resolutions, which went on to become one of the signatures of Parker's denouement genius. MCCALLISTER described this signature precisely, in a succinct sentence or two, though he didn't call it a signature, since PLAYMATES was the first novel he had read in this series, which gave his reluctant capture even more weight in the astuteness category . With a bit of contemplation after completing the last page of PLAYMATES with a smile, I could see who the pair of playmates were, and why Parker's use of that word would capture anyone with a sensitive soul protected by a gruff, sassy, or classic exterior. After having read the first 16 Spenser novels now, with a peppering of some of the later books into the mix, I was reminded pleasantly why I continue to crave Spenser's sass and genuine class, starting from the first few paragraphs I read in one of the later books in this series. If you want to know which one that was, which caused me to pause within THE ACCIDENTAL READER clause and cause, feel free to read my reviews from the base of my Listmania, which lists all books in the series and indicates which ones over which I've blathered. I contemplated closing this review by listing the ingredients (from previous plots) which I noted above as having been surged and stirred into PLAYMATES. Then I thought, "Maybe not. Better to let that list become bait for further study of this series, including a soul dip into its prime review collection." You might slip on a hint of allergy remains here and there, but let the "faithful" leading the show pull you out. Of course, in addition to Amazon's Customer Reviewers, some of the best big name journalists also pose posh and perceptive on Spenser, who seems to bring out the sass and spark in a massive collection of readers. Live long and well, Parker. When you leave, your trail will endear and endure, Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | McNally's Bluff | |
| "Where's the Bluff? In Church on Sunday?" | 2007-03-16 |
| An ethereal quality which I quite enjoyed bled through into parts of this # 6 novel in Vincent Lardo's Archy collection (# 13 in the whole series). In certain luxuriously drawn scenes, I could almost sense light pouring holes through the pages, similarly to images which have been portrayed in movies like the Harry Potter series, and The Never Ending Story. In McNally's BLUFF, Lardo had honed his author skills so well, he seemed to be literally producing magic in how certain scenes lifted off the pages and danced before, around, and within me. One scene in particular, which was infused with this type of "living light," was of the short yacht excursion to which Archy and Georgy were invited by Carolyn Taylor, and which included her boy toy, Billy, and Connie and Alex. While reading BLUFF I was able to conceptualize another of the core differences I've been sensing (on an edge of unconsciousness) between Sanders and Lardo. Lawrence Sander seemed to naturally view life through a philosophical perspective; Vincent Lardo seems to look at human machinations through a sociological lens. Each seasoned author etched those leanings, consciously or not, into their thematic content, plot structure, and designs of Archy's motivations, curiosities, and basic drives through life. Sanders was automatically focused on the meaning of life itself, and how to get the most out of the experience as an individual. Lardo seems to automatically center on the interconnections among human beings, especially as they're separated socially or politically into clusters, cliques, or classes. I don't know if these two authors fully realized how they were driven by this type of targeted viewpoint, when they were in process with a plot. Probably few of us do. Yet, I believe we're each driven by unique needs to know, by unique curiosities, which we each possess at core, at the center, the target of our essence-of-being, and of moving forward. In SECRET, Sanders had Archy state that we're all hedonists at heart, though few of us admit it. In essence, through his McNally series, Sanders uses Archy to dramatize that unique, individual desire to know what gives personal pleasure, what gives a sense of satisfaction, why it does so, and how to enhance that need to "suck the marrow out of life." In BLUFF, Lardo's Archy seems to imply that we (as human beings) tend to compare ourselves to others at higher levels in social class structure, and that we need to belong, to be accepted within the cream of social strata. Yet, at the same time we've been liberally taught to revile luxury, opulence, privilege and class. These contrasts bring to mind the thematic essence of Ayn Rand's novels, FOUNTAINHEAD and ATLAS SHRUGGED. Are we naturally oriented, as a species, to self or to others; and which is the prime/ethical way of being. In myself, I have felt the natural needs of both Archies. I am very much an individual, and have released some of the culturally induced taint of feeling evil in having chosen to allow myself to center in a personal focus. Yet, I also crave to connect with and relate to others, fairly, sometimes intimately in friendship (to mutual benefit), and rightly. I'm wondering if this might be why, along with many others, I've been so fascinated with this series, especially given the comparisons and contrasts of the dual authorship. In an overall balance I'm more of a philosopher/psychologist, than a sociologist, and I know that's one of the reasons I enjoy the Spenser series. To me, Parker seems more like Sanders than Lardo, in his art, yet, like Lardo, Parker works with (and entertains through) sociological issues, too. Seeing this perspective contrast between the Sanders and Lardo Archies, the fact begins to clarify for me, of the two personas' varied needs to control (or not) others and their environments. If a person's focus is based comfortably in oneself, there's less or no need to control others. Whereas, if one is based in needs for social interaction, and for acceptance and approval from outside oneself, the need to control becomes natural, sometimes vital for emotional (and physical) survival. Though Ayn Rand does so, I do not want to conclude yet that one or the other type of personality structure is ethically right or wrong, morally good or evil. Maybe the correct fact is that we're each naturally different in these types of slants, and in different phases of maturity. I will admit, though, that the less I feel a need to control, the better I like life and myself. An angry face of a gorgeous tiger was featured on the book jacket design on the hardcover of McNally's BLUFF (# 13 in this series). At first the symbolism in that design had me puzzled, as I attempted to connect it to the plot. I had wondered why a maze hadn't been used as the graphic symbol... until I contrasted the appealingly brassy red-and-gold colors, and tiger in the bulls-eye on BLUFF's jacket, to the ritzy but somber black-and-gold book jacket on the hardback of McNally's SECRET (the pilot to the series). That cover design comparison gave me a double-bulls-eye "ah ha!" into the slightly different focus of Sanders and Lardo in their offerings in this series. With McNally's BLUFF, which appears to be the final book in the series, the McNally family's carnival history "secret" is coming full circle... I didn't want to see that circus circle closing, or stepping fully out of the closet in all its gore and glory. If I saw that too clearly, I might have to accept an underlying significance that # 13 is truly the end of this series. No! If that is so, however, McNally's BLUFF accomplished that honor of closing this series with amazing grace and literary panache! In view of this speculation, I needed to read BLUFF on one of my slowest savor speeds. As I did so, I gradually came to love the perfection of that jacket on the hardcover. Actually, the paperback design is appealingly interesting, too, given the above perspective. When I was more than half-way through the book, I noticed that the most current paperback design was very different; it applied an ebony background with a maze hedge stylized with a target in its center. Possibly due to the brain's need to "connect dots" that center symbol flashed my focus to the target used for Susan Silverman's practice with a fire arm in CRIMSON ROSE, # 15 in Robert B. Parker's Spenser series, which I reviewed recently. For some reason I continue seeing links between Spenser's world and Archy's, and what a stretch that is! I wrote about that brain spark in my review of McNally's SECRET. McNally's Secret Crimson Joy The Godwulf Manuscript Though this may be my last McNally novel to review, I can offset that loss by looking forward to the several Spenser novels I haven't yet read. That thought takes me to my novels; my first thought (actually it felt like a craving) after having finished writing each of them was, "I wish I could read this novel fresh, without having written it." Thus, it is with added thanks that I have more Spenser novels to experience from that fresh first time of reading. And, that pleasant awareness brings to focus for me the contrast of the author paths involved in the creation and endurance of Spenser and Archy McNally. I believe both situations have brought "amazing" (a prominent word in BLUFF) cultural insights to the history of literature and the mysteries of life. I love a good story, a good mystery, from almost any angle of approach. What amazing gifts we have available in all of the above. Maybe that's the "bluff": That it's all real and it's all a bluff. Long live the spiritual sanctuary of the novel. It almost, sometimes, seems to qualify as a church. Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | McNally's Bluff | |
| "Where's the Bluff? In Church on Sunday?" | 2007-03-16 |
| An ethereal quality which I quite enjoyed bled through into parts of this # 6 novel in Vincent Lardo's Archy collection (# 13 in the whole series). In certain luxuriously drawn scenes, I could almost sense light pouring holes through the pages, similarly to images which have been portrayed in movies like the Harry Potter series, and The Never Ending Story. In McNally's BLUFF, Lardo had honed his author skills so well, he seemed to be literally producing magic in how certain scenes lifted off the pages and danced before, around, and within me. One scene in particular, which was infused with this type of "living light," was of the short yacht excursion to which Archy and Georgy were invited by Carolyn Taylor, and which included her boy toy, Billy, and Connie and Alex. While reading BLUFF I was able to conceptualize another of the core differences I've been sensing (on an edge of unconsciousness) between Sanders and Lardo. Lawrence Sander seemed to naturally view life through a philosophical perspective; Vincent Lardo seems to look at human machinations through a sociological lens. Each seasoned author etched those leanings, consciously or not, into their thematic content, plot structure, and designs of Archy's motivations, curiosities, and basic drives through life. Sanders was automatically focused on the meaning of life itself, and how to get the most out of the experience as an individual. Lardo seems to automatically center on the interconnections among human beings, especially as they're separated socially or politically into clusters, cliques, or classes. I don't know if these two authors fully realized how they were driven by this type of targeted viewpoint, when they were in process with a plot. Probably few of us do. Yet, I believe we're each driven by unique needs to know, by unique curiosities, which we each possess at core, at the center, the target of our essence-of-being, and of moving forward. In SECRET, Sanders had Archy state that we're all hedonists at heart, though few of us admit it. In essence, through his McNally series, Sanders uses Archy to dramatize that unique, individual desire to know what gives personal pleasure, what gives a sense of satisfaction, why it does so, and how to enhance that need to "suck the marrow out of life." In BLUFF, Lardo's Archy seems to imply that we (as human beings) tend to compare ourselves to others at higher levels in social class structure, and that we need to belong, to be accepted within the cream of social strata. Yet, at the same time we've been liberally taught to revile luxury, opulence, privilege and class. These contrasts bring to mind the thematic essence of Ayn Rand's novels, FOUNTAINHEAD and ATLAS SHRUGGED. Are we naturally oriented, as a species, to self or to others; and which is the prime/ethical way of being. In myself, I have felt the natural needs of both Archies. I am very much an individual, and have released some of the culturally induced taint of feeling evil in having chosen to allow myself to center in a personal focus. Yet, I also crave to connect with and relate to others, fairly, sometimes intimately in friendship (to mutual benefit), and rightly. I'm wondering if this might be why, along with many others, I've been so fascinated with this series, especially given the comparisons and contrasts of the dual authorship. In an overall balance I'm more of a philosopher/psychologist, than a sociologist, and I know that's one of the reasons I enjoy the Spenser series. To me, Parker seems more like Sanders than Lardo, in his art, yet, like Lardo, Parker works with (and entertains through) sociological issues, too. Seeing this perspective contrast between the Sanders and Lardo Archies, the fact begins to clarify for me, of the two personas' varied needs to control (or not) others and their environments. If a person's focus is based comfortably in oneself, there's less or no need to control others. Whereas, if one is based in needs for social interaction, and for acceptance and approval from outside oneself, the need to control becomes natural, sometimes vital for emotional (and physical) survival. Though Ayn Rand does so, I do not want to conclude yet that one or the other type of personality structure is ethically right or wrong, morally good or evil. Maybe the correct fact is that we're each naturally different in these types of slants, and in different phases of maturity. I will admit, though, that the less I feel a need to control, the better I like life and myself. An angry face of a gorgeous tiger was featured on the book jacket design on the hardcover of McNally's BLUFF (# 13 in this series). At first the symbolism in that design had me puzzled, as I attempted to connect it to the plot. I had wondered why a maze hadn't been used as the graphic symbol... until I contrasted the appealingly brassy red-and-gold colors, and tiger in the bulls-eye on BLUFF's jacket, to the ritzy but somber black-and-gold book jacket on the hardback of McNally's SECRET (the pilot to the series). That cover design comparison gave me a double-bulls-eye "ah ha!" into the slightly different focus of Sanders and Lardo in their offerings in this series. With McNally's BLUFF, which appears to be the final book in the series, the McNally family's carnival history "secret" is coming full circle... I didn't want to see that circus circle closing, or stepping fully out of the closet in all its gore and glory. If I saw that too clearly, I might have to accept an underlying significance that # 13 is truly the end of this series. No! If that is so, however, McNally's BLUFF accomplished that honor of closing this series with amazing grace and literary panache! In view of this speculation, I needed to read BLUFF on one of my slowest savor speeds. As I did so, I gradually came to love the perfection of that jacket on the hardcover. Actually, the paperback design is appealingly interesting, too, given the above perspective. When I was more than half-way through the book, I noticed that the most current paperback design was very different; it applied an ebony background with a maze hedge stylized with a target in its center. Possibly due to the brain's need to "connect dots" that center symbol flashed my focus to the target used for Susan Silverman's practice with a fire arm in CRIMSON ROSE, # 15 in Robert B. Parker's Spenser series, which I reviewed recently. For some reason I continue seeing links between Spenser's world and Archy's, and what a stretch that is! I wrote about that brain spark in my review of McNally's SECRET. McNally's Secret Crimson Joy The Godwulf Manuscript Though this may be my last McNally novel to review, I can offset that loss by looking forward to the several Spenser novels I haven't yet read. That thought takes me to my novels; my first thought (actually it felt like a craving) after having finished writing each of them was, "I wish I could read this novel fresh, without having written it." Thus, it is with added thanks that I have more Spenser novels to experience from that fresh first time of reading. And, that pleasant awareness brings to focus for me the contrast of the author paths involved in the creation and endurance of Spenser and Archy McNally. I believe both situations have brought "amazing" (a prominent word in BLUFF) cultural insights to the history of literature and the mysteries of life. I love a good story, a good mystery, from almost any angle of approach. What amazing gifts we have available in all of the above. Maybe that's the "bluff": That it's all real and it's all a bluff. Long live the spiritual sanctuary of the novel. It almost, sometimes, seems to qualify as a church. Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | Crimson Joy | |
| "Red and Green Do Not Always Mean Christmas." | 2007-03-10 |
| This time the reader was grabbed by the neck and held for a while as CRIMSON JOY opened onto an in progress investigation of a fresh murder scene of the Red Rose killer's "signature." From there the plot ran relentlessly into the seamless consequences and serious carnivals of media, political, and social "consciousness" pushes polluting professional pursuits of a serial killer. Parker had precisely pegged the gestalt of this "scene" and its take-off sidelines, with this # 15 in the Spenser series featuring the king pin of Boston homicide detectives, Lieutenant Quirk. Serving as his posse were Sergeant Belson, Spenser, Susan, and Hawk. Presented on page 67 of the current mass market paperback, was one of the most cleanly accurate dialogues I've read of the position and essential attitude of a professional police person in charge of such a situation. Quirk, the good-guy cop (those types do exist), was confronted by representatives of the worst examples of human self-enhancement posed as social consciousness, from a shark-frenzied media, higher-echelon police presence, racial political-punk, religious frock, and feminist frizz ("The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly," exist in each of those Rings). And the mad-cap chase was on. Realistically, though, with Parker unable to present it any other way, this type of investigation gets nowhere fast, through grueling, non-stop, prime effort of dedicated noses sniffing dirt, and grinding stones. (I worked for a couple months in 1985 in Portland, Oregon and Tacoma, Washington, with a couple private detectives trying to pick up the Green River Killer's trail. I'm still not sure what trail we were following, but it didn't give a successful conclusion at that time, fast, slow, or otherwise. Ann Rule recently published a flawlessly professional book, GREEN RIVER, RUNNING RED, about that horrifying nightmare's various trails and conclusions.) So, the chase was on, in CRIMSON JOY. The actual investigation (in this Spenser novel) had begun effectively and efficiently a day or two prior to the rush (even though getting nowhere fast is the result for a frustratingly long time for heroic pursuers in this reality "show") and would continue relentlessly, in spite of being watched by a carnival of the calculated concern of users of the situation. Observing through Spenser's eyes those humans who pose primely (and primly) in pseudo-self-righteousness while they're using a serial killing arena to further professional, social, or personal causes; I was wondering (as directed by Parker's crisply chosen words) where the evil of rankest stench stewed. Was it in the killer, in his background, or in the foreground of the words: "We're watching you, Quirk, to be sure you do your job to the specifications of our suck-power interests." As anyone who has read even a few pages of a Spenser novel would know, he has a nose to sniff the goods on anything, even in innocent seeding phases of personal rot. Hold your noses, folks, and dive in. Before taking the riveting descent, however, be aware of your time, place, and reading pose. You might not be leaving that setting before you crack the book's spine in the middle. Not to worry about time as much as muscle strain. The reading speed could be near double your norm for a Spenser novel, and the sinew tension should be set and held by the third line. This plot is cold, as it should be. It's not over shocked; yet it's true to base reality, as it should be. Having read and reviewed the first 14 and a few of the later Spenser novels, I would expect no less from this author honoring through prime literature, sub-cultural significance in three pivotal decades of human evolution. CRIMSON JOY is another insightful winner in the Spenser annals, not only flawlessly featuring all the above, but also allowing Spenser and Susan's relationship to culture-out cleanly in the heat of overlap of their personal and professional lives, as they slosh as a team in the middle of this carnival's sewers. It's interesting to me, from our current temporal perspective, to note the original copyright date of each Spenser novel. I then note the fact that a book is usually conceived and written a year or two prior to the copyright date, around situations which had begun brewing a year or so prior to a novel's conception. Most often, in the case of an established, successful author, that manuscript would have been published around a year after the copyright date. Of course, in this Third Millennium these time frames are in flux, getting wherever faster. Linda Shelnutt | ||
 | McNally's Dare | |
| "Don't Say Money Doesn't. Larry, Vince, Archy. What or Who You Know. And Where. No How." | 2007-03-02 |
| Vincent Lardo was definitely gilding his wings in DARE (# 12 in the series), and they glided mighty fine, glowing in heady sunlight. He appeared to be attempting what I was saying (in my previous review of McNally's ALIBI, # 11) I wanted to avoid; yet he held my interest and maintained entertainment satisfaction. By first honoring (through at least 3 Archy novels, DILLEMA, FOLLY, and CHANCE) and honestly imitating the spirit and style which Sanders had begun, Lardo had (to me) more than earned the right to veer off Sander's patterns and ploys with this series. I had been concerned that I wouldn't be able to stay with Lardo if he did that too soon or too dramatically. He clearly dared to veer, here, and I was impressed. At first, the TENNIS EVERYONE! gala in the opening chapter felt like GATSBY redone in an Archy slant, exposing the ennui and utter superficiality of the repetitively empty, "grand" doings of the very wealthy, accompanied by the utter terror of not being invited, by those aspiring to remain in good standing in the social strata of Palm Beach. Do I have a natural interest in social class issues? The truth? Not really. People are what they are. I am what I am. I've proudly earned everything I have, and have no desire to cling to anyone's skirts, especially not if they're of designer quality, with the resultant price tag. Wouldn't want to seem (seam?) unseemly. I'm okay (for now) with the comfy "rags" I wear and wear, until the holes become too obvious or too breezy. Yet, Lardo made this social climber scene interesting to me. As a coup of a bonus to that, he designed the situation into a light literary artistry, without the drama descending into depressing drudgery. I was surprised to realize I had immediately become curious about who Jeff Rodgers and Lance Talbot were and how they were connected. Ironically, considering the outcome (in a complexly satisfying ending), I wanted to know who the real Lance Talbot was, and what his story was, as contrasted the real Jeff Rodgers. I realized that Lardo might be making a statement of disdain of class pretension's chilling abuse to the "less fortunate" young people serving the Palm Beach "snobs," but whatever. The more I read in this novel, the more it felt very different from any of the previous 11 novels in the series (see my Listmania and reviews). It almost felt to me as if it had been written in a geographic location very potent to the author, though not in Palm Beach. Its atmosphere felt like the Hamptons, as that area has been described by those who live there (thank you again, "HeyJudy," Top 1000 Amazon Reviewer, for insights on your home grounds) or have visited, and especially as described in Cleo Coyle's latest coffeehouse mystery, MURDER MOST FROTHY (See my Listmania and review). In that novel this special area was vividly described, not merely as a cultural phenomenon but as having an unusually ethereal feel in the sunlight and climate. The way Coyle described it made me think of a sort of heaven on earth. Strange. Yet, the exclusivity of the tremendous heights of wealth of both old and new money in the Hamptons, as described by many authors who have used that area as a location for a novel, seems to have somehow diminished the prime or pristine physical atmosphere. On the other hand, in the cold light of reality, might the exclusivity have also preserved something of value in that ethereal glow? I truly don't know. Cocoons are necessary for caterpillars to metamorphose into butterflies. I may never have the opportunity to actually step foot into any of The Hamptons, but I feel as though I have, through reading McNally's DARE (with the preparation of MURDER MOST FROTHY). Yet, (I kept reminding myself) the novel's plot took place in Palm Beach. Did Vincent Lardo somehow transfer the atmosphere of his Hamptons home to his plot in DARE? Did he write the plot while living so solidly and joyfully in the Hamptons that he unintentionally transposed one geography onto the other? Whatever happened, I enjoyed the privilege of Lardo's Transportation Device. Final last words are that I'm still trying to understand, more precisely, how/why DARE felt so different in so many ways from the previous 11 novels. It's like a third Archy rose out of the ashes of the first and second versions (Sanders' then Lardo's). Archy has 2 new cozy cohorts, Georgy and Denny, and his relationships with his regulars have changed (especially with his father); he received (it seemed to me) more teasing and more flack, and he etched out more underlying respect. To me, it felt like a 37-year-old man was just stepping into an early, youthful manhood. It felt like he was stepping into the Palm Beach social arena, for the first time seeing it, feeling the potency of the open doors of high echelon money, fame, and status, which had always been open to him, but, he hadn't understood the import of the position to which his father and grandfather had contributed their strongest talent and clearest blood. Of course I felt the parallel to the situations of the two authors of this series as well. Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis? As it appears, Linda Shelnutt | ||
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