Author: Dennis Lehane (Page 1 of 2)

Gone, Baby, Gone (Kenzie & Gennaro #4)
by Dennis Lehane
Purchase on: Amazon
Add to: Goodreads

Synopsis:

The tough neighborhood of Dorchester is no place for the innocent or the weak. A territory defined by hard heads and even harder luck, its streets are littered with the detritus of broken families, hearts, dreams. Now, one of its youngest is missing. Private investigators Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro don't want the case. But after pleas from the child's aunt, they open an investigation that will ultimately risk everything—their relationship, their sanity, and even their lives—to find a little girl-lost.

 

Love like that? Hell. It seems so pure, it’s damn near criminal.

 

Soooo….I’ve missed my Angie and Patrick, I’m not guna lie. So when I got the empty feelings one usually gets after finishing a fantastic book and not knowing what to read, I started to get an ache that couldn’t be filled by anything other than a beautifully flawed and tortured detective and his snarky partner in crime. See, there are only 6 books and I decided to break them up so I didn’t lose them all at once….I’m so happy I did this now.

 

The silence of the dead says, Goodbye.
The silence of the missing says, Find me.

I don’t know what I could say that hasn’t already been said on my part, but I feel like this story deserves a review, ya know? It feels wrong that I wouldn’t give voice to one of my new favorite series that I occupy a lot of time daydreaming about. But, in many ways, it’s hard to review multiple stories pertaining to one series, and even harder when you hit one in the series that just….isn’t as good. Now, the funny thing here?? This book was still excellent. We still had my wonderful Patrick, asshole Angie (sorry, but she is a total snark-monster (which I love)), Bubba, and a deep mystery that keeps you enthralled until the final page…but I just didn’t feel during the mystery.

 

 

We were slippery creatures, our impulses ruled by a variety of forces, many of them incomprehensible even to ourselves.

 

Maybe that makes me a monster, maybe I am, indeed, in the minority on this one, and maybe I should have loved this way more than I did. But after the excellence of Darkness, Take My Hand and Sacred, this story fell flat for me. Less action, less investment on my part, and just a lack of depth I’m so very used to with these mysteries. Now, when I say I didn’t feel as much, I mean I didn’t have any leads as to who it was, I didn’t really freak out when something would happen (aside from that horrid house scene which was just…..nightmare inducing…) and I just…wanted a serial killer story or a deceptive siren woman to come back so I could be engrossed in a different way. All in all? I didn’t like the story line. Awesome ending…but the mystery fell flat for me, which is the total opposite of everyone on GR, it seems.
I moved over and she sat beside me. She took my face in her hands, but I couldn’t meet her eyes, was sure that seeing the warmth and the love in them would make me feel more soiled, for some reason, more unhinged.
She kissed my forehead and then my eyelids, the tears drying on my face, brought my head down to her shoulder, and kissed the back of my neck.

 

Patrick, despite the gravity of this case, is in a good place. He’s happy…he’s with the girl he’s been in love with since he was a kid and they are happily living with one another. But, and this is a big but (hehe), they have been through hell and back..and it shows. They only take little cases and they avoid matters like this. It’s not good for them-it weighs heavily on their minds and souls, and they’ve seen enough darkness to last them a lifetime. They just want to be happy. But what happens when a desperate Aunt won’t take no for an answer. What happens when the issue at hand hits you right in the gut..what happens when taking this case might lead to the ultimate sacrifice of your happiness?

 
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
“Nothing to say.” I cleared my throat, wrapped my arms around her abdomen and lower back. I could hear her heart beating. She felt so good, so beautiful, so everything that was right in the world. And I still felt like dying.”

 

I feel for them…I really do. Because I could never turn down that case. Ever. So, anyway. I don’t think there’s a whole lot more to say. It’s simple: This series is epic, the stories draw you in no matter the content, even if it’s not your favorite, and the characters leave you aching for them and desperate for more. I’m sad, really, I have to wait so long in between so I can find that ultimate enjoyment…but it’s for my own good and….sigh…fine…I will be strong.

 

At the end of an April day, after the sun has descended but before night has fallen, the city turns a hushed, unsettled gray. Another day has died, always more quickly than expected. Muted yellow or orange lights appear in window squares and shaft from car grilles, and the coming dark promises a deepening chill.

 

 

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I figured it would be fun to list my favorites in order until I find time to write a review:

Darkness, Take My Hand

Sacred

Gone, Baby, Gone

A Drink Before the War

It might come as a shock to y’all that this book is one of my least favorites…well, the story just didn’t compare.

Review to come.

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.

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

Alert the media.

Review to come.