Tag: Mystery (Page 9 of 19)

BOOK REVIEW – The Monstrumologist (The Monstrumologist #1) by Rick Yancey

October 2, 2015 / Anna

The Monstrumologist (The Monstrumologist #1)
by Rick Yancey
Purchase on: Amazon, iBooks
Add to: Goodreads

Synopsis:
These are the secrets I have kept. This is the trust I never betrayed. But he is dead now and has been for more than forty years, the one who gave me his trust, the one for whom I kept these secrets. The one who saved me . . . and the one who cursed me.

So starts the diary of Will Henry, orphaned assistant to Dr. Pellinore Warthrop, a man with a most unusual specialty: monstrumology, the study of monsters. In his time with the doctor, Will has met many a mysterious late-night visitor, and seen things he never imagined were real. But when a grave robber comes calling in the middle of the night with a gruesome find, he brings with him their most deadly case yet.

A gothic tour de force that explores the darkest heart of man and monster and asks the question: When does man become the very thing he hunts?

If this book was a landscape, it would be the Sahara desert : perhaps beautiful from a distance, but so fucking dry that I wouldn’t want to stay there more than 1 hour. I stopped at 67%, because there’s just so much boredom I can take.

► Lack of … interest. What’s the point of this? Oh, here’s a monster. Look, his teeth are in his belly. This is a *insert Latin name to appear clever*. How wonderful. Now, you can eat your porridge, but just so you know, these creatures are invading New Jerusalem. What do you mean you don’t care? SNAP TO, READER! SNAP TO!

I’m sorry but I can’t.

Nothing fucking happens! I don’t care if it’s gross, I mean, I do have an history of disgust with maggots but in all honesty that’s not at all what bothered me here. No. What annoyed the crap out of me is the fact that the plot felt way too simple to interest me, the whole thing punctuated with so many useless and slooooooow scenes that I struggled to keep my eyes open.

Not to mention that far from awakening my interest, the Latin names and other classics references felt somewhat pretentious to me, because they seemed completely out of phase with the simple plot.

► Lack of … depth in the characterization. Look, I love darkness. I love morally ambiguous characters. You know I do. Yet if I do like wondering what characters really think and analyzing their actions, in my opinion I haven’t near enough material here to work with : everyone keeps telling me that Warthorpe is complex and multi-layered, but HUH? Really, HUH? To me he’s one dimensional and pretty boring, and don’t get me started about the stiff and repetitive dialogues which consistently failed to convince me.

Moreover, young Will Henry lacked a voice in my opinion. I know what you’re thinking, “what’s her problem? It’s Will’s POV!” except, yes it is but no it’s not. The narrator isn’t 12 years-old Will Henry, but the events are told years after they originally took place. As it is, I know how old Will Henry interprets them, and if his thoughts aren’t (always) uninteresting, by no means do I have any insight about what he was thinking when he was younger. Come on. No 12 years-old would express an opinion in such a way. None.

To me, Warthorpe is pretty dry in his selfish manners and Will Henry acts like a spineless puppy. Please don’t hate me, but I really didn’t see anything else so far.

► Lack of … emotions. I don’t mind the lack of romance, and several of my favorite books don’t contain one bit of it. This being said, I need to feel at least ONE emotion – I know, I’m annoying.

What brings me to… the absence of fear. Scary, The Monstrumologist? Monsters don’t scare me. Humans scare me on a daily basis – when I watch the news, when I read, when I talk to random people. Stupidity scares me to death. Clowns do scare me, but only because Stephen King screwed up my childhood. Monsters? Nope. Grossed-out? Maybe, but never scared. This book should have made my heart pound – sadly, it never did.

Anyway – blablabla, I didn’t get it, blablabla, I don’t care is all. So, okay, It’s well-written. Okay. GOOD. Sadly I don’t give a damn if I’m bored to death (it did escape the 1-star rating thanks to it, though).

*shrug*

I’m in the minority though, so don’t let my review prevent you from reading it^^

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: 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.

BOOK REVIEW: Wayward (Wayward Pines #2) by Blake Crouch

September 3, 2015 / Chelsea / 0 Comments

Wayward (Wayward Pines #2)
by Blake Crouch
Purchase on: Amazon
Add to: Goodreads

Synopsis:
I'll follow Anna's lead here- Don't read blurb

“Hell is coming to you.”

I have so much to say….but don’t I always??? I want to write an amazing, detailed, long review, but that wouldn’t do this series any good, I think. I believe that, while I would LOVE to go on and on and on about all the amazingness that is this series, it would stunt the curiosity I piqued in everyone with my first review of the beginning book. So, I’ll keep it short and sweet with just a few points to make things curiouser and couriouser for everyone that chooses to read this:

All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts.

Ethan: Ethan grew so much in this story. In book one, we didn’t know a lot about him, and we didn’t know what kind of guy he really was-What he was made of, if you will. We knew of his tryst, of his adoration for his wife. We knew he was stubborn beyond words…and that his determination, if nothing else, would keep him alive. So, essentially, in this one, we begin to see even more of his cleverness and quick wit, setting in stone his intelligence and willingness to make things right…and the helplessness….don’t forget his reluctance and helplessness. They go hand in hand with this story. Let’s see what he’s made of.

“Do you hear that?” Ethan asked.
“Hear what?”
For five seconds, Ethan was silent on the line. “That’s the sound of me not giving a fuck.”

Atmosphere: The atmosphere, while still eerie, is blown to bits in this one after the big ‘reveal’ of book one. I can’t say it’s as creepy as it was in the first installment, but there was still an underhanded malice that made you question where things were going and how things could possibly get better for the town’s residents. And since I am obsessed with my dear Ethan…this was a big appeal to me, the worrying.

For every perfect little town, there’s something ugly underneath. No dream without the nightmare.

The Writing: Gahd, do I love Crouch’s writing. It’s virtually impossible not to become wholly immersed in this story with his writing style. In book one, sure, I could understand people not loving or being a bit put off about the amazing fragmented sentences (which I loved, if you can’t tell), but I never had a problem with them. In this story, I was so sucked in that I didn’t even notice it-I even picked up a new book because it was released yesterday (9/1) and thought, ‘Wait, this isn’t how you write!’ So, as you can see, I am in love with his writing.
A shiv straight into Ethan’s gut would’ve felt better.
He lost his breath.
Saw the world suddenly through a blur of tears.

Imagery: Beautiful. Vivid. Startling. What more can you ask for?
A millennium without air or light pollution made for pitch-black skies.
The stars didn’t just appear anymore.
They exploded.
Diamonds on black velvet.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

So, as you can see, I’m obsessed. So that’s how I will end this: Read it, don’t read it-that’s your call. But I, my friends, am knee deep, up shit creek, whatever phrase you wana use, in love with this series.

YESTERDAY IS HISTORY.

Obsessed.

TOMORROW IS A MYSTERY.

Obsessed.

TODAY IS A GIFT.

Did I mention I’m obsessed?