Author: Chelsea (Page 48 of 111)

BOOK REVIEW: Emmy & Oliver by Robin Benway

September 30, 2015 / Chelsea / 1 Comment

Emmy & Oliver by Robin Benway
Purchase on: Amazon
Add to: Goodreads

Synopsis:
Emmy’s best friend, Oliver, reappears after being kidnapped by his father ten years ago. Emmy hopes to pick up their relationship right where it left off. Are they destined to be together? Or has fate irreparably driven them apart?

Emmy just wants to be in charge of her own life.

She wants to stay out late, surf her favorite beach—go anywhere without her parents’ relentless worrying. But Emmy’s parents can’t seem to let her grow up—not since the day Oliver disappeared.

Oliver needs a moment to figure out his heart.

He’d thought, all these years, that his dad was the good guy. He never knew that it was his father who kidnapped him and kept him on the run. Discovering it, and finding himself returned to his old hometown, all at once, has his heart racing and his thoughts swirling.

Emmy and Oliver were going to be best friends forever, or maybe even more, before their futures were ripped apart. In Emmy’s soul, despite the space and time between them, their connection has never been severed. But is their story still written in the stars? Or are their hearts like the pieces of two different puzzles—impossible to fit together?

Readers who love Sarah Dessen will tear through these pages with hearts in throats as Emmy and Oliver struggle to face the messy, confusing consequences of Oliver’s father’s crime. Full of romance, coming-of-age emotion, and heartache, these two equally compelling characters create an unforgettable story.

I guess the more you start to love someone, the more you ache when they’re gone, and maybe it’s that middle ground that hurts the most, when you can see them and still not feel like you’re near enough. So close and yet so far.

Absolutely too cute for words. Deep, heartfelt, unforgettable.

Sometimes I could slap myself for being so shortsighted. And, just to warn you, I’ll probably even say that on tomorrow’s review….I just have this mental block that prevents me from taking a risk, taking chances that might help me find some of the best stories ever-and this is one I almost missed out on.

It’s pretty clear I poach all my ideas off Anna (well, 90% of them) and generally come out on top. I can tout and say it’s because I’m picky…well, hey, I really am…but a lot of my choices wouldn’t even exist without Anna saying, hey, check this one out. So, you know, this is my way of saying that, while I say I’m creative…I’m really not. And this book?? It was absolute perfection.
Sometimes there just aren’t enough words to fill the crack in your heart.

When I read the blurb for this, ~~I passed it up multiple times~~ I guess I didn’t realize just how…difficult??…a story like this could be. It seemed simple enough-Boy gets taken by his father. Mother is devastated. Emmy and her friends are scarred for life, always waiting for him to return. Boy returns when he’s 17. Emmy and Oliver fall in love. Simple…right? Wrong.
Oliver looked up at me, his face solemn and pained, and I realized with a terrible rush we weren’t playing anymore. “Colleen,” he said, “coming home feels like being kidnapped all over again.”

If you were a kid and everything you knew was flipped around, your world titled on its axis, how would you react? Well, we don’t technically know. He was gone, stolen away from all those he cherished and loved. One can assume that he was confused and missed his mother and friends, only to eventually fall into a rhythm with his dad and delve into to his new life. So…I guess this leaves you wondering-If you were stripped of your life, everything you knew-not just once, but twice-how would you fare?

And then Oliver blinked again and it was like a shutter went off in his own eyes so I could see the picture of the anger, the hurt, the embarrassment. It was a private viewing just for me, gone a second later when he blinked once more and his face smoothed back into its normal, passive shape.

And I think that’s the largest issue in this book-Finding your place, struggling to wrap your head around new people, leaving all you know behind..it’s actually so sad when you think about it. And I think that’s why I was so shocked-and yes, I was very shocked by the depth of this book. Even from page one, which hooked me instantly by the way, it seemed light and funny and sweet. And, even with the darkness that creeped into the story sometimes, there was no lack of heartfelt moments and hilarious banter. And hey! There was some cheese, I’ll admit it. Wonderful, yummy, happy velveeta cheese-But only the best kind of cheese.
“Those look painful,” Oliver commented, trying to avoid Caro digging her heel into his shoulder. “Why does everything you do look like it hurts?”
“Because!” Caro huffed with a final shove. “You guys want us to look natural and there’s nothing natural about looking natural.”
I could see the confusion cross Oliver’s face and stifled my own smile.
“Those shoes don’t look natural,” Oliver pointed out.
“Yes, but they’re three-inch heels, which make me look like I’m an average height of five five. See?” She explained. “Natural.”

Okay!! My favorite part-The relationship. Emmy was devastated by the disappearance of Oliver. She might have even taken it harder than most even realized. They were partners in crime, best friends…in like with one another. You know how kids are 😛 . So when he comes back with more height, a different head of hair, a new look to him, and a dark cloud hanging over his head…she realizes he’s not the little boy that left all those years ago.

“Oh, riiiiight,” I said, knocking myself in the head and grinning like an idiot. “I’m sorry, I totally forgot.”
“That’s okay,” he replied. “Just adds to my rebel image. New guy in school, mysterious past, being held back a grade.” He smiled at me. “Girls like it.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah.” He smiled wider. “That’s why I’m eating lunch with all these people.”
I laughed despite myself and then he laughed, too, a familiar sound that I hadn’t heard in years. His laugh was deeper now, but still Oliver’s, as unique as a double helix. Or a fingerprint.

Emmy starts to reach out to him, this kid who made national news and is now a social outcast because of it. Alone more often than not, he’s feeling angry, dejected, depressed that he is being thrown back into a life everyone remembers but him-all his old friends, the inside jokes, the memories they shared. But as Emmy begins to integrate him into her life, and her two best friends’ lives (they used to be a foursome), he starts to smile, laugh, joke, live…and he’s beginning to ache for the ten years they all lost.
“Quick question,” Oliver said as he scanned the horizon. “What is the shark population like around here?”
I blinked at him. “Are you being serious right now?”
“I don’t know.” He laughed nervously. “No. Yes. Maybe? Sharks?”
I sighed. “There are no sharks here.”
“Do you mean ‘here’ as in the ‘Pacific Ocean’ or…?”

I loved this cast of characters. They were so funny and realistic and you never felt like the conversations were fake or forced for the sake of being ‘hip’. This author made an authentic story with real conversations and real situations. I never once rolled my eyes or thought it was trying too hard. The friendships, the drama, the fights…they were so palpable I wanted to reach out and swirl my hand in their tangible depths. And, even more than that, I wanted to hug my poor little Oliver, who always felt lost and alone.
Tortured, lost, devastated, Oliver has never felt more alone. As he and Emmy become closer, we begin to see his playful side, his happy side-but he never quite knows what to do. His mom searched for him for years, and now she has him…in her new life. He doesn’t know where he fits and feels like he’s disrupting her-and everyone else’s-life. We see the emotional turmoil he goes through trying to find his place…and trying to sort through his lingering emotions of missing his dad, even when he knows he did something horribly wrong.
That’s when I first learned about true frustration, that wrenching ache when the thing that matters most to you barely makes a ripple in other people’s lives.

This story is one that took me completely by surprise. It’s not because I didn’t think it would be good-from page one you could tell it would be fabulous-but I didn’t realize just how many emotions I-or they-would feel. I started this book during a terrible week. And even at the worst of times, I’d pick this up and would immediately get butterflies, smile like a loon, and start laughing in the quiet of night-disturbing hubbs repeatedly. This book is wonderful, one to truly cherish and never forget. WHEN I get the hardback, I’m going to hug it close…and be all creepy and snuggle with it. Whoops. I only hope that others will give this fantastic book a chance. I swear it will make you feel as light as air.

*Note: I have to say something I missed on the review: Oliver was always supportive for Emmy…no matter what. And he never got mad at her. He was so adorable and supportive. Anyway. Forgot that. Whoops again.

BOOK REVIEW: Sacred (Kenzie & Gennaro #3) by Dennis Lehane

September 22, 2015 / Chelsea / 0 Comments

Sacred (Kenzie & Gennaro #3)
by Dennis Lehane
Purchase on: Amazon
Add to: Goodreads

Synopsis:
Dennis Lehane won a Shamus Award for A Drink Before the War, his first book about working-class Boston detectives Patrick Kenzie and Angie Gennaro. His second in the series, Darkness, Take My Hand, got the kind of high octane reviews that careers are made of. Now Lehane not only survives the dreaded third-book curse, he beats it to death with a stick.Sacred is a dark and dangerous updating of Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep, as dying billionaire Trevor Stone hires Kenzie and Gennaro to find his daughter, Desiree. Patrick's mentor, a wonderfully devious detective named Jay Becker, has already disappeared in St. Petersburg, Florida, while working the case, so the two head there to pick up a trail. Desiree, of course, is nothing like the sweet and simple beauty described by her father, and even Chandler would have been amazed by the plot twists that Lehane manages to keep coming.

Maybe honor was in its twilight. Maybe it had always been heading that way. Or worse, maybe it had always been an illusion.

Everyone is suspect. Everyone is suspect.
It was starting to become my mantra.

It goes without saying that I’m a picky little shit. I have rules upon rules, and I turn down rec after rec from friends because I am just that critical. It’s not because I don’t trust my friends…it’s more than that. Imagine knowing precisely what you want. And when you find it, your eyes light up and your heart goes into overdrive, and you feel lighter than air-You know that, without a doubt, this book will be perfect for you. And, I’ll tell ya, it’s a long, drawn out process for me. It is. So, when my friend said I’d love this, I tried it…but didn’t particularly fall for the first book.

Once again, my perspective of prior events was reshaping, transmogrifying, reinventing itself until I felt increasingly stupid for ever trusting my initial instincts.
This case, I swear.

It was good, sure. I loved the main characters, of course. But the story itself? I found it lacking-Not because it wasn’t well-written…it was. But, the things they had to investigate bored me a tad and I wasn’t fully engrossed in the story-I didn’t get the obsession, is my point. It was a typical first book with intros type deal. So, without further adieu (Meaning I asked first if the second was better, shut up) I tried the second book.
“Mr. Stone, you said you’d heard we had the two qualities you were looking for most.”
“Yes.”
“One was honesty. What’s the other?”
“I heard you were relentless,” he said as he stepped into the study. “Utterly relentless.”

A stalker/serial-killer story, deep, meaningful relationships between Patrick, Angie, and their friends growing, and the atmosphere becoming darker, eerier, creepier…I was like a moth to a flame. So, it goes without saying that I was super excited for book three. But, and don’t judge me, I am seriously addicted to the serial killer books and was a little put out that wasn’t in this story. I know, admit me to a hospital now. But it really and truly says something when the story isn’t centered around what I want…but becomes everything I could ever need.
I turned to Angie. “How you doing?”
“My wrists hurt and so does my head.”
“Otherwise?”
“I’m generally in a foul mood.”
I looked back into the light. “We’re in a foul mood.”
“I’d assume so.”
“Fuck you,” I said.

Plot: While not as cutthroat as book two, I was still 100% satisfied. Angie and Patrick don’t want to take any cases-they are laying low following the devastating events following the serial killer’s reign of terror. The darkness was eating at them, so they decided it was time to figure out what was important. And that’s all fine and good…until someone approaches them in a way they can’t refuse. Now, even though this case seemed mild, it became almost my favorite. Now, no, wait up, not over my serial killer fetish-Don’t fret. This case allowed for Angie and Patrick to explore their relationship and dig deeper and focus on, yes I know I’ve said it, what’s important. I just think that the details of this case helped to highlight the best parts of what make Angie and Patrick, well…Angie and Patrick. I got to see why everyone loved them not only separately, but together, and I loved it. There isn’t much I can say that I disliked about this story.

“I’d say that’s a clue,” I said.
“Big or small?”
“Depends whether you measure by width or length.”
I got a good dope-slap for that on the way out the door.

The Mystery: I touched base on it above, but I just wanted to zero in on the fact that it wasn’t as simple or mundane as I had first imagined. It was underhanded, crazy, and wholly addicting…I couldn’t put this book down to save my life…and this shocked me.
When the door closed behind them, I said, “Heel, Walter. Roll over, Walter.”
“Poor Walter,” Angie said as we reached the elevator bank.
“Poor Walter. Please. Could you have been any more breathy by the way?”
“Breathy?”
“‘Sex months,'” I said in my best Marilyn Monroe voice.
“I didn’t say ‘sex.’ I said ‘six.’ And I wasn’t that breathy.”
“Whatever you say, Norma Jean.”

The Characters: I adored Patrick before, but I fell even harder for him in this one-his humor, his wit, his personality…He was absolutely intoxicating. And, even more than that, I fell in love with Angie in this one, too. She hasn’t been a favorite of mine just yet, but I always liked her. But, in this one, she shined just like Patrick. Each page put a smile on my face (Well, except for the murder investigation, hmm?) and a ray of sunshine through my heart. Even Bubba had me smiling ear-to-ear, and Nelson, no matter how small their part.
Angie was where most of me began and all of me ended.

Overall? This is a definite contender for favorite of the series. It’s hard to explain, but I loved books two and three for totally different reasons. And, if I had to choose, yeah, I guess I would read this one more on an ‘over and over’ basis, if only to smile from ear to ear at Patrick and Angie’s antics. While 2 is probably my favorite for the plot (darkness, helplessness, never quite putting my finger on whodunnit, and the bone-chilling revelations that made me shiver long after each eerie scene), book three is my favorite for the characters. They shine and they do what they do best, and not once was I bored. That’s saying something for such long books.
“It bugs you.”
“A bit. It doesn’t feel right.”
She leaned back in her chair. “We in the trade call that feeling a ‘hunch.'”
I bent over my notes, pen in hand. “How do you spell that? With an ‘h,’ right?”

So, you know, shocking right? I am in love with yet another series. And damn it all to hell, I’m not finding anything else I want to read in-between. Ain’t that just the bitch of it? So, anyway, whenever I move onto book four, I will put my big girl pants on…because from what I hear? Shit’s about to get real messy…and sad. Very, very sad. I’m ready, book!
I looked up at the sky, such a rich dark shade of blue it seemed artificial. That was something else I’d been noticing down here: This state-so ripe and lush and colorful-seemed fake in comparison with its uglier counterparts up north.

There’s something ugly about the flawless.

*************************

Well…no sense lying about it…I’ve officially went into fangirl mode.

Alert the media.

Review to come.

BOOK REVIEW: Faking Normal (Faking Normal #1) by Courtney C. Stevens

September 17, 2015 / Chelsea / 0 Comments

Faking Normal (Faking Normal #1)
by Courtney C. Stevens
Purchase on: Amazon, iBooks
Add to: Goodreads

Synopsis:
An edgy, realistic, and utterly captivating novel from an exciting new voice in teen fiction.

Alexi Littrell hasn't told anyone what happened to her over the summer. Ashamed and embarrassed, she hides in her closet and compulsively scratches the back of her neck, trying to make the outside hurt more than the inside does.

When Bodee Lennox, the quiet and awkward boy next door, comes to live with the Littrells, Alexi discovers an unlikely friend in "the Kool-Aid Kid," who has secrets of his own. As they lean on each other for support, Alexi gives him the strength to deal with his past, and Bodee helps her find the courage to finally face the truth.

A searing, poignant book, Faking Normal is the extraordinary debut novel from an exciting new author-Courtney C. Stevens.

Now there are tears in my eyes. “I’ll make you a promise, Bodee. Long as you’re with my family, you won’t run out of Kool-Aid.”

He blinks up at me. “And I promise you, I’ll stop whoever’s hurting you.

This book was perfection. I didn’t know what I wanted, but somehow this book always went exactly in that right direction-it went where I didn’t even realize I wanted to go, and that, to me, is amazing. Just wow. Perfectly perfect– It’s not often I find myself grinning like a deranged loon in the dark back drop of our bedroom after the lights go out.

I mean, lots of books make me happy, everyone knows that, but it’s rare to feel such strong, giddy feels that you can’t contain a smile too big for your face. Those moments are unheard of, fleeting, almost non-existent. And I guess it’s even more surprising because of the content of this novel. It wasn’t light or fluffy or full of rainbows (well, I lie, Bodee’s hair was a myriad of colors throughout the book), yet it made me feel happy all throughout. And I think that’s the making of a true author-turning something horrible into something hopeful.

Me: a girl who was raped. Him: a boy whose dad killed his mom.
Us: a girl and boy who survive.

Last Friday I was on the search for a book that would help me get through the moments where I haven’t had time to read my lengthier novels lately. I already had decided I was taking a break from the series I was on, seeing as I was ruining the epicness of it, and wanted something that was more like what I had been obsessed about throughout the summer. I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous, but, I’ve been in the mood for books that aren’t….quite….right. Like, for instance, my absolute favorites this year have been all over the board like I Hunt Killers to realistic drama such as Some Girls Are all the way to realistic fiction centered around mental health (I know, it sounds so bad spelled out like that) like this book here, or My Heart and Other Black Holes. Things like that. And don’t even get me started on my dystopian and fantasy favs this year-we’ll be here all day. Anyway, I knew I needed a good book…I just didn’t know what.

If only I could make the outside hurt more than the inside.

I was scrolling through the feed and saw someone reading this-it was a book I had passed up a year ago, or who knows how long, and all of a sudden I was curious. My tastes have changed quite a bit, even from September 2014-September 2015. It’s so funny to me how you just know what you love and then all of a sudden you are reading completely different things and rolling your eyes at what you used to love. I am so fickle. But, as it is, I am obsessed with this new and interesting genre (for me it’s new) and don’t see myself giving it up too easily. It almost always touches me deeply in ways I never imagined possible, and there is always so much heart. These books have depth that is so hard to find these days..and I can’t get enough of them.

A wad of crime scene tape, meant for the trash. Left behind.
My mind wraps the same yellow tape around the pool in our backyard.
What if I had called the police? What if everyone knew a crime had been committed? Everything would be different. Everything is different-even without the yellow tape.

I didn’t know if I’d love this or not…but I had a good feeling, you know? It popped up on my feed and it just felt right. This is the story of a girl who has a secret. A girl who, despite her front, is broken. She goes through day to day life, smiling and nodding and acting as if nothing in the world is wrong….when, in reality, everything is. Something happened to her over the summer, something that irrevocably changed her life forever, aging her beyond her years. She longs to be normal, to not want to continually cause herself harm to repress the horrible recounts of that fateful night…but, really, she just wants to move on and
forget.

Once I’m behind two closed doors, I curl into a ball and suck in the familiar smell of the closet carpet. When I can’t make myself smaller, I cry and pound my fist on the floor. There’s an art to crying without a sound, and I’m a master.

If you don’t like books where the main character causes harm to themselves or where rape is a factor in the story, this won’t be for you. I’ve never had to deal with these issues, nor have I ever met anyone who does, but I felt the pain, the deep hurt, our MC felt on every single page-That fear of other men and the self loathing that came with the doubt of her resolve-or lack thereof-in the matter. She blames herself for not saying no and for letting it happen….but what she doesn’t realize is it’s not her fault, it was never her fault, and it never will be her fault. And I guess I’ll never know if the author handled it correctly, but, to me, it all seemed right.

Something is hiding in my childhood. Something off.

Keeping this monumental secret is taking a huge toll on her. She doesn’t smile without it being forced, her neck is in shreds (secretly), and she walks through the halls with no sense of purpose, just going through the motions. I didn’t know what role her friends would really play in this-they seemed almost like the type to cause problems, in the beginning-but as the story progressed, you could see how much they cared for her, how they would do anything to keep her happy, and how they noticed….but didn’t know how deeply her hurt went. They have their flaws, but what person doesn’t?

The rape has devastated places in me that even Bodee’s magic can’t fix. If he were to put his heart in my hand, he might never find it again. And I’m not cruel enough to let him break while he tries to heal the impossible.

And I think it goes without saying that I loved a boy in this story, hmm? His name is Bodee, and he was perfect-literally. He was perfect. I have not one complaint with this caring boy-He was beautiful, inside and out. But, he has his own personal tragedy-his mother was murdered by his father, and it weighs on him every single day. At the start of the book, we open with Bodee’s mother’s funeral. Lexi’s parents, being good friends of his mother, offer to let him stay at their house since he really doesn’t have anywhere else to go, making Bodee and Lexi closer than they ever could have imagined.

”She’ll take Collie back, so….be careful.”
“Thanks, Lex, but my sights aren’t on Heather.”
“You have sights?”
“Every guy with a heartbeat has sights,” he says.
“Who’s in yours?” My heartbeat betrays my calm voice, and this close, I know Bodee can feel it spike.
“Well, now”-he flashes me the coy grin that I love and rarely see-“you have your secrets, and I have mine.”

I think what I liked most about their relationship, though, was how they both did their best to try and help the other heal. And, even more than that, Bodee was an outcast at school-‘Kool-Aid Kid’, as they call him, and had no friends-it was utterly heart-breaking and soul -wrenching seeing him explore his new found friendship with Lexi-and Heather and Liz, by default. Even more than that, though, I loved seeing his protectiveness of Lexi-his best (and sometimes only) friend. It was absolutely adorable. I wanted to reach in the book and steal him for myself, hug him until all his pain went away….but now I’m getting creepy, and that just won’t do. So…moving on.
”Alexi…I know…I don’t know you well enough to ask, but….could you, I mean, would you maybe…help me with something on the way to your house?”
The starts and stops, the painstaking precision of words, and the sheer length of time it takes him to ask make it clear that this boy never asks anyone for help.
Bring out the dull knitting needles, stabbing my heart, again.

They aren’t perfect-far from it-but they are trying to move forward with their lives-Or, in Lexi’s case, to forget-and are doing it together. Two souls who lost themselves along the way…guiding each other back to the light. I know a lot of people hate the ‘love cures all’ trope, but I don’t know that that was the case here. I think it was more of a guidance and healing type venture, and it was utterly heart-warming to see how they grew, each giving the other strength where they couldn’t gather it themselves. I fell in love with them together as well as when they were apart…their story is one I can say I won’t forget quickly, like I do with a lot of books. I really and truly fell in love with them-permanently.

If a heart can smile, mine does.
“Bodee, thanks,” I say, though I know he doesn’t need it. “I’m sorry you lost her.”
“At least I found you,” he says.

I think it goes without saying, though, that there was plenty I had a problem with. Well, one thing, really: Kayla, her sister. What a bitch. I’m sorry, but no sister should ever come at their sibling like that. It was disgusting, vile, and completely uncalled for. I must admit, though, I liked what the sour taste added to the story-I’m not sure why. Maybe I liked the diversity. Maybe I liked that things were that much more complicated, or maybe it’s because I got to see Bodee, the knight in shining armor….either way, I loved it.

Bodee Lennox is never really anything. I’ll bet most kids in our class didn’t know his name before the murder. And yet his face is not expressionless the way I once thought. That slight twitch of lips, a little half grin, says more than Heather does in a week. But the full-teeth smile, the one I saw today at his house, is like a work of Tolstoy.

And then finally, the Captain Lyrics angle. I loved this. Not necessarily the lyrics, per se, but the idea of who was behind it. Yeah yeah, there’s really only two or three people it could be, but don’t you love a little side of mystery to go along with your story? I mean, a predictable mystery, but, mystery nonetheless-knowing you know who it is but still wanting to play along anyway…it was too cute. Gah I already want to re-read this!

Faking normal is a skill I learned seventy-seven days ago, but tonight it’s going to require everything I have.

So, anyway, that’s all. There was a ton I wanted to say even though I really didn’t know how to say it. I think my long intros have a lot to do with me stalling and trying to find the right ways to express how much I really and truly loved something. I’m not perfect, my review isn’t perfect, but I loved this book and I wanted to do it up right for Bodee and Lexi. I hope you all can find something you like about this review that will make you want to give this one a try. And if not…oh well, I tried.

…5 hours of tortuous wait until I could finally read
…4 interruptions once I started
…3 (million) giggles and sighs
…2 hours of lost sleep I’ll never get back so I could finish this at any cost
…1 brilliant story…and a very happy Chelsea.

I never understood life could be so dramatically sectioned, but it can. And is. There is only after. And before.

BOOK REVIEW: Darkness, Take My Hand (Kenzie & Gennaro #2) by Dennis Lehane

September 15, 2015 / Chelsea / 0 Comments

Darkness, Take My Hand (Kenzie & Gennaro #2)
by Dennis Lehane
Purchase on: Amazon, iBooks
Add to: Goodreads

Synopsis:
The master of the new "noir," Dennis Lehane magnificently evokes the dignity and savagery of working-class Boston in this terrifying tale of darkness and redemption.

Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro's latest client is a prominent Boston psychiatrist running scared from a vengeful Irish mob. The private investigators know something about cold-blooded retribution. Born and bred on the mean streets of blue-collar Dorchester, they've seen the darkness that lives in the hearts of the unfortunate. But an evil for which even they are unprepared is about to strike as secrets long-dormant erupt, setting off a chain of violent murders that will stain everything--including the truth.

“Eviscerate them, Patrick. Kill them all.”

I can’t say that I went into this book series knowing what I was going to be reading. I also can’t say that it was what I would expect it to be. Thought provoking, beautiful writing is a high point in this series, and I’m ashamed to admit I was shocked that that was the case. From page one of book one, I have been enamored with the depth of these stories and the amazing writing that pulls you in whether you want to be sucked in or not….but maybe my largest praise goes to how Lehane gets base emotions out of me that rarely are touched in crime/thriller novels: Protectiveness, heart-break….fear.
I felt something clench in the center of my chest and then just as suddenly unclench and fill with a gust of chilled air which seemed to hollow out my insides like the flick of a spade.

Yeah, I’ll admit it: This book, no matter what I tell people, scared the living shit out of me. And, the funny thing is, Anna warned me. See, this story was centered around a serial killer. Now…I don’t know about you, but I am obsessed with this plot in books and was ecstatic to find out that the second story was not only an investigation….but a stalker-serial killer type story…ummm yes please? It’s no secret I am in love with these intense, pulse-pounding books. And I thought I had it handled….but I was wrong.
“He can’t kill us both. No one’s that good. If he gets to you before me”-she leaned back a bit so her eyes could meet mine-“I’ll paint this house with his blood. Every last inch of it.”

Anna said that this one got deep in your head, that she had nightmares where someone was following her…and I thought, eh, I don’t think it’s that creepy. But, keep in mind, I was reading in such small increments during the week (damn my week day curse!!) and in the daytime that I had no clue-none. And just as I told her this, my perception changed. I got into bed and something miraculous happened-I actually had time to read!!!!! But with the lights off, the tv flickering in the background, and a stalker watching through the window (in the book, but hey, I swear it was me-I SWEAR….even though the blinds were drawn…), my world was obliterated.
patrick,
don’tforgettolockup.

My breath hitched as I read, every flicker of the tv was a shock to my system, and I couldn’t help looking over the side of the bed and into the closet-repeatedly. And it’s so simple. SO, SO simple. And the worst thing in the world is when you are finally scared again by a book (for me lol)…It’s like all these stories you’ve repressed into the recesses of your memory come back in a massive montage of horror, cruising past my periphery at the speed of light. I keep seeing all these books popping up in my head that I had long since forgotten-and I wanted to keep it that way. It’s all in my subconscious-I just find it so odd how the brain works. Mine is more fucked up than most, though, mind you.
I guess my impulse had something to do with growing older, with looking back and seeing very few innocent violences committed against the young, in knowing that every tiny pain scars and chips away at what is pure and infinitely breakable in a child.
Or maybe I was just in a bad mood.

It’s so funny that once you draw out that base fear, all your worst terrors come to life…all of a sudden you can’t breathe and you can’t sleep and the covers have to be covering every inch of your body and you can’t lay on your side or let your hand go past the side ledge of the bed or-oh yeah, that’s just me lol. The human mind is a crazy thing. And that’s the ability of an amazing author. They have the ability to write a story that slips under you skin, seeps deep into your pores, to make their story the one that stays in your mind long after you’ve finished reading for the day or night….it’s a lingering touch you can’t seem to shake-and that’s just how I felt. I, inexplicably, couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been touched by something wholly evil and vile.

“It’ll eat us eventually,” Angie said. “The violence.”
“I always thought we were stronger than it.”
“You were wrong. It infests you after a while.”
“You talking about me or you?”
“Both of us.”

But that’s enough about how bat shit crazy I am….I wana talk about the characters, now. But I’m guna do it in reverse, I think. Bubba is first up. I don’t know if it’s because a couple of my friends are in love with him so it brought out all the best thoughts of him or if I’d have came to the same conclusion myself, but, no matter the cause, he cracks me up.

Being the object of another’s hate is relative. If the person who hates you is an advertising exec whose Infiniti you cut off in traffic, you’re probably not going to worry much. If Bubba hates you, though, putting a couple of continents between the two of you is not a bad idea.

Loyal? Check. Friendly? Check-well, only to Angie and Patrick. Crazy? Check-Check. Need a deadly piece of artillery? He can help you. Need to take someone out? He’d love to. So, all in all, I’d say Bubba is pretty badass….and crazy, don’t forget crazy.
Well, I was sick of their violence and their hate and my own codes of decency, which may have cost people their lives in the last month. Sick to fucking death of it all.

And then Angie. Ahhh Angie. I certainly loved her way more in this one, I have to admit-and I even loved the developments of Phil, too. But I can’t linger on him. Now, while I did love Angie in this one, I still can’t see why Patrick is head over heels for her-or so the story boasts from time to time. I’m still waiting on that, really. Why? I mean, near the end, I saw it, but all throughout the book and last book? Nah. But what they do have, that I believe, is a beautiful friendship, and that’s what this story is about-love, loyalty, and keeping those you cherish most close-Doing everything in your power to keep them safe. And I love that-for now.
When I was a boy, I loved my father, and he just kept hurting me. He wouldn’t stop. No matter how much I wept, no matter how much I pleaded, no matter how hard I tried to figure out what he wanted, what I could do to be worthy of his love instead of victim of his rage.

Drum roll please?? Patrick. Ahhhh Patrick. He finally got me in this one!!! Allllll the feels! From his tortured glimpses into his terribly sad past, the abuse from the hand of his father, and his desperation to keep all those he loves safe, Patrick touched me deeply. I even got some ‘broken voice’ parts….umm favorite!!! And I loved-in the beginning, that is-that he was in another relationship in this one. I think it helped keep him happy, sane. It was an adorable touch (you’ll see why) and added to the intensity near the end-in more ways than one. But, and you’ll find this out as well, what happens when you have more people you love? There are more targets to take out. Just sayin’. Yeah yeah…I know. Broken record.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like this.
When I tried to speak, my voice was shaky and hoarse and the words were strangled in my throat. My eyes felt wet and my heart felt as if it were bleeding.

So, anywho, those are my crazy thoughts. I truly wish I could go back in time and slap myself-why in the ever loving you-know-what did I start this one on a Monday???? I’m notorious for ruining the best books because I read them during the week when they deserve time and attention….and I basically spit on them by saying, yeah, you’re not good enough for a weekend read! But that’s not it-I just could’t wait to start book two! These people get under your skin, and even if you get a teensy bit bored, you never realize how great they truly are until you’re separated-But I just couldn’t wait, and I payed dearly for it. It’s a blessing and a curse, being so obsessed with books. Luckily, though, I got my head out of my ass for the last 40% and finished all at once. So, what I’m saying is, read it…but give it the time it deserves. I didn’t…but I’m dumb like that.

“How do you live with yourself, Patrick?”

**********************************

Oh dear, oh dear. I do so love a serial killer thriller with a tortured male lead…

And this was spectaculaaaarrr.

Eeps! Review to come!

BOOK REVIEW: A Drink Before the War (Kenzie Gennaro #1) by Dennis Lehane

September 10, 2015 / Chelsea / 0 Comments

A Drink Before the War (Kenzie & Gennaro #1)
by Dennis Lehane
Purchase on: Amazon, iBooks
Add to: Goodreads

Synopsis:
Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro are tough private investigators who know the blue-collar neighbourhoods and ghettos of Boston's Dorchester section as only natives can. Working out of an old church belfry, Kenzie and Gennaro take on a seemingly simple assignment for a prominent politician: to uncover the whereabouts of Jenna Angeline, a black cleaning woman who has allegedly stolen confidential Statehouse documents. But finding Jenna proves easy compared to staying alive. The investigation escalates, implicating members of Jenna's family and rival gang leaders, while uncovering extortion, assassination and child prostitution extending from bombed-out ghetto streets to the highest levels of state government. With slick, hip dialogue and a lyrical narrative pocked by explosions of violence, A Drink Before the War confronts a city in which institutionalized bigotry and corruption are often the norm, and the true nature of 'racial incidents' is rarely clear. Dennis Lehane's remarkable debut is at once a pulsating crime thriller and a mirror of our world, one in which the worst human horrors are found closest to home, and the most vicious obscenities are committed in the name of love.

Once that ugliness has been forced into you, it becomes part of your blood, dilutes it, races through your heart and back out again, staining everything as it goes. The ugliness never goes away, never comes out, no matter what you do. Anyone who thinks otherwise is naive.

There have been so many books I’ve read and fallen in love with, lately. I’d love to say I’m just that good at picking out books and taking extraordinary leaps to try new and exciting genres and different authors…but that’s rarely the case. Yes, I have gotten so picky nowadays that I don’t generally find many stinkers…but I don’t usually take many risks. But I guess that’s what I can count on one of my best friends and co-bloggers for-In the last year, I can attribute about, hmm, 80% of my favorite/absolute favorites to an adventurous alien named Anna. She takes risks I never would have had the guts to go through with, ie I Hunt Killers, This is Not a Test, Pines, etc. As you can see, she is my proverbial guinea pig, if you will.
I looked at the grenades. Didn’t have a clue what to do with them. I had the feeling that if I left the house, they’d roll off the bed, take out the entire building. I picked them up, gingerly, and put them in the fridge. Anyone broke in to steal my beer, they’d know I meant business.

My point in saying all this, if you haven’t guessed, is that she has helped me find some amazing books that I never would have tried. And with this gift, I have began to really expand my horizons, to really open my eyes wider to greater, grander stories. Do you realize how nice it is, how very very nice, to not be pigeon-holed to one genre? I LITERALLY go through moods and mercurial spurts for months on end where I don’t know what the fuck I’ll be in the mood to read. Meaning, it could be three months of fantasy, and then, inexplicably, all of a sudden I just HAVE to try a contemporary, or a dystopian (when done right, still my favorite), or a paranormal or whatever I feel like, really. I never have a clue, month-to-month, day-to-day, what I will want to read. That’s why, when in the mood, I hurry to devour the very genre I’m obsessed with because I have no clue-literally none-when I will be in the mood for it again.

Vanity and dishonesty may be vices, but they’re also the first forms of protection I ever knew.

As it is-I’m obsessed with tortured boys and thrillers right now. It kind of goes hand in hand that I’m so obsessed with this genre, though. What’s not to love about peril, mystery, and young men who are ambiguous in character and tortured within? Whoops. Did I say that out loud….Yes, okay, I’m a sick little weirdo-get over it! You know this, if you read any of my reviews. I love flawed characters that long for a better life, for the girl they can’t have, etc. etc. I don’t know, call me crazy, but I just can’t seem to get enough of these types of books.
I’d been a punching bag for my father for eighteen years, and I’d never hit back. I kept believing, kept telling myself, it’ll change; he’ll get better. It’s hard to close the door on optimistic expectations when you love someone.

I guess, even if just briefly, I need to talk about the book and it’s characters right? Patrick…boy have I heard a lot about this Patrick ;). He and Angie, his partner….okay. Never mind. ~~I don’t know how to do this!!~~

I ran my hands through my hair, felt the grit and oil from the last day, smelled the trash and waste on my fingers. At that moment, I truly hated the world and everything in it.

They get cases. They investigate crimes. They turn the people in when they find them (to their clients). Patrick has been in love with Angie since the third grade. Angie is married to an asshole. Patrick doesn’t like the asshole….so he puts him in his place, every now and then, in sensible ways with sensible objects….sensibly.

L.A. burns, and so many other cities smolder, waiting for the hose that will flood gasoline over the coals, and we listen to politicians who fuel our hate and our narrow views and tell us it’s simply a matter of getting back to basics while they sit in their beachfront properties and listen to the surf so they won’t have to hear the screams of the drowning.

In this story, they are hired by real top-of-the-class types who have lost some documents after the maid up and left with them. What was supposed to be a simple case turns out to be deeper, scarier, more deathly than they ever could have imagined. And it is only opening them up to what I’m sure will be a very exciting series.
My gun is, as Angie would say, “not a fuck-around thing.” It’s a .44 magnum automatic-an “automag,” they call it gleefully in Soldier of Fortune and like publications-and I didn’t purchase it out of penis envy or Eastwood envy or because I wanted to own the goddamned biggest gun on the block. I bought it for one simple reason: I’m a lousy shot.

Bahaha this is all I thought about-

I wish I had gotten more time to read this because I know I ruined many parts because I was so tired. I would pick up the book, totally excited, and then only get 10% done when I would start to nod off-seriously, my puppy is psycho. And I’m not so stupid as to think this book was boring-it wasn’t. I would just be getting somewhere, something happening, and then BAM-my eyes started to close. Ugh. ARGHHH! So aggravating. So, a 3.5, I think, is fair. I can’t say for sure it wouldn’t have been higher or lower…but, from what I read, I liked that I felt deeply…and everyone knows I go based on feelings. I got good vibes from this one.
I looked at Angie again. I wasn’t worried about her; I was considering what would happen to my business if my partner shot the dicks off a barful of people in Lansington. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think we’d be able to keep that office in the church.

All in all a wonderful addition to add to my list of ever-growing Anna wins. I only hope the series continues to grow on me. I hear great things about this wonderful cast of complex and flawed characters, making me excited to dig deeper into their world. I’m 10% into book two, and I already have a 5 star sitting pretty and ready to go…I figure it couldn’t get any lower, right?? RIGHT?! Sigh. Guess I’ll see!
Angie once said, “Maybe that’s what love is-counting the bandages until someone says, ‘Enough.'”

Maybe so.

****************

Didn’t even read the blurb.

Don’t need to because Anna said….Patrick.