Lately when I read reviews and comments on book blogs, some lines from the Sondheim musical "Into the Woods" start going through my head: "You're so NICE...you're not good, you're not bad, you're just NICE..." Because a lot of bookish bloggers are increasingly unwilling to publish a bad review. There are a lot of reasons for this, and some of them are good ones. But I'm not going to join the crowd. Sometimes I read a book and I think afterwards that I wish I could have the time back that I wasted reading that one! Perhaps I should make this a weekly meme--thumbs down Thursday, or something. (Ok, I think that popped into my mind because of the recent musing over at Opiate of the Masses about starting memes like "Bodacious Tata Thursday.")
The book I read this week and didn't like is Janet Evanovich's Finger Lickin' Fifteen. It's too bad, because I liked all fourteen of the previous Stephanie Plum novels, and even one of the "between the numbers" novels she came out with, Plum Spooky. When I look back at my review of Fearless Fourteen, though, I see that I didn't like the writing or the relationship between Stephanie and Ranger or Morelli as much as in the previous ones. Mostly I was in the mood for the silliness about video game terms. Well, in fifteen the writing has literally descended to the level of fart jokes. The reason Stephanie can't choose between Ranger and Morelli is so contrived that it reminds me of the last season of an old tv show, Moonlighting, in which the sexual tension between the two main characters was such a vital ingredient in the show's success that the writers went to ludicrous lengths for weeks and weeks to keep the characters from getting together. Even Grandma Mazur, who was good for comic relief in the previous novels, isn't funny explaining why old women love exhibitionists and cooking with Lula.
Lula, also previously good comic relief, becomes more of a two-dimensional character in this book. You'd think that characters once fleshed out (generously, in Lula's case) couldn't go backwards, but that's exactly what Janet Evanovich has achieved in Finger Lickin' Fifteen. Even the junk food of the title is robbed of its fun in this one, as it's obviously something only the young can indulge in. I'm sorry, Ranger fans, but Ranger is old in this book--he's too old to eat junk and still look good. Morelli doesn't appear much, so I declare him the winner in the contest for Stephanie--at least he still seems fun.
No one who appears in Finger Lickin' Fifteen comes off well. The book is like a joke that's been told once too often. If you have to find out for yourself, go ahead, but you can believe what I'm telling you about this one because "I'm not good, I'm not nice, I'm just right."
I think being right about book reviews is more important than being nice. (Do you disagree? Tell me why in the comments!)
Showing posts with label Janet Evanovich. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Janet Evanovich. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
A Veritable Plethora of Monkeys
Earlier this week I wanted to go someplace with monkeys, and then I started reading the new car book I just received from Amy, mostly because of this positive review and, to my delight, I had landed in a story that has a veritable plethora of monkeys.
For a "between the numbers" Stephanie Plum novel, Plum Spooky (by Janet Evanovich) is the best of a mediocre lot. This one charmed me in spite of its attempt at woo-woo stuff with a character called Diesel who keeps telling Stephanie that people leave "cosmic debris" that he can track, and then laughs at her, saying "you don't really think there's cosmic dust, do you?"
Not only is Stephanie looking after Carl, the pet monkey of a woman she once met, she discovers an entire back yard full of monkeys in the course of her bounty hunter rounds. Carl is a charmer who understands everything that is said to him, eats the same food as Stephanie and Diesel, gives people the finger when appropriate, and makes annoying repetitive sounds in place of "are we there yet?" when a car trip starts to get long (Diesel solves that problem by buying him a handheld video game).
The end of the novel is where all the monkey jokes really started to pile up. At one point Morelli asks how Stephanie's day is going and she replies
"It's average. Stole a truck. Blew up a house. Brought seven monkeys home with me. And now I have a naked man in my shower."
"Yeah, same ol', same ol', Morelli said."
Just a few pages later, Stephanie has to call Ranger when the five monkeys inside the jeep she's borrowed from him lock her out: "He took a key out of his pocket and opened the car door. 'Do you want the two on the roof inside? Or do you want the five inside to get out of the car?'"
The final time Morelli asks Stephanie how her day has been, many people would think the joke has already gone too far. She replies that she
"blew up a fuel depot, stole twelve rockets and made off with them in a stolen van, got kidnapped by a maniac, and had dinner with a guy who farted fire."
"That would be funny, but I'm worried it's all true."
"It's been a long couple days."
But what would a novel like this be without excess? It's kind of like watching the Simpsons, only quieter, and you can take it wherever you go, as long as you can laugh quietly. Which I can't, actually, so I read it at home, where everyone but the new kitten is used to my laugh.
For a "between the numbers" Stephanie Plum novel, Plum Spooky (by Janet Evanovich) is the best of a mediocre lot. This one charmed me in spite of its attempt at woo-woo stuff with a character called Diesel who keeps telling Stephanie that people leave "cosmic debris" that he can track, and then laughs at her, saying "you don't really think there's cosmic dust, do you?"
Not only is Stephanie looking after Carl, the pet monkey of a woman she once met, she discovers an entire back yard full of monkeys in the course of her bounty hunter rounds. Carl is a charmer who understands everything that is said to him, eats the same food as Stephanie and Diesel, gives people the finger when appropriate, and makes annoying repetitive sounds in place of "are we there yet?" when a car trip starts to get long (Diesel solves that problem by buying him a handheld video game).
The end of the novel is where all the monkey jokes really started to pile up. At one point Morelli asks how Stephanie's day is going and she replies
"It's average. Stole a truck. Blew up a house. Brought seven monkeys home with me. And now I have a naked man in my shower."
"Yeah, same ol', same ol', Morelli said."
Just a few pages later, Stephanie has to call Ranger when the five monkeys inside the jeep she's borrowed from him lock her out: "He took a key out of his pocket and opened the car door. 'Do you want the two on the roof inside? Or do you want the five inside to get out of the car?'"
The final time Morelli asks Stephanie how her day has been, many people would think the joke has already gone too far. She replies that she
"blew up a fuel depot, stole twelve rockets and made off with them in a stolen van, got kidnapped by a maniac, and had dinner with a guy who farted fire."
"That would be funny, but I'm worried it's all true."
"It's been a long couple days."
But what would a novel like this be without excess? It's kind of like watching the Simpsons, only quieter, and you can take it wherever you go, as long as you can laugh quietly. Which I can't, actually, so I read it at home, where everyone but the new kitten is used to my laugh.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Funny words
Walker and I are morning people. We're having a hard time adjusting to the theater life this week, with rehearsals for Peter Pan going until midnight. But the end is near--tonight is opening night. If the costumers can get Walker's Lost Boy pants to stay on (they're loose around the waist, and the decorative rope belt doesn't help) and if the pit orchestra I'm playing in can keep straight which parts we're playing and which we've x-ed out or put in vamps and repeats because the music the cast was given is SO DIFFERENT from the score and the individual instrumental parts (thank you, Samuel French Company), the show will be great.
All I've had time to read this week is the new Stephanie Plum novel, Janet Evanovich's Fearless Fourteen. It's just the thing for summer--fun, but no surprises. I don't think the writing was as good as in any of the previous 13. The tension between Stephanie picking Ranger or Joe Morelli was ratcheted down a level, and details like where the severed toes that are sent to Joe's house in the mail actually came from are missing (or else I missed them in my state of sleep deprivation). But it does have Lula making wedding plans, and incomprehensible video-game terms tossed around as if they're everyday conversation, which I find quite amusing:
"I'm going online as soon as I'm done with breakfast," she said. "I'm gonna lay waste to the griefer."
I looked over at my mother and she made a gesture like she was going to hang herself.
"What's a griefer?" I asked. I'd heard Zook use the term, but I didn't actually know what it meant. I also knew Moondog was a griefer, but I didn't know what a Moondog was, either.
"A griefer's a snert," Grandma said. "A cheese player. A twink."
I nodded. "That makes it all clear."
About as clear as Walker's comment that "King DeeDeeDee threw wattle-dees, and wattle-dees have the most chance of coming up, and wattle-doos have less chance of coming up. And Gordos are really, really rare." What this means, I don't know. But it SOUNDS hilarious.
The way I participate in conversations about video games is about the way someone who has misheard the lyrics to a song can talk about music. You know, that song by Glen Campbell "country boy, you've got your feet in the lake, but your mind is on the sea..." or "I believe in Delco....all the time...you sexy thing" ("I Believe in Miracles"). Haven't you ever done this? Despite the fact that my kids' generation is learning the music of my generation by playing Guitar Hero (I made the avatar throw down his guitar when I tried to play "Barracuda," but my kids can get through most of the songs), there's still lots of room for misunderstanding on the lyrics, at least until we get the sing-along version of Guitar Hero! Walker still hears "Give me the strength to face the laundry in the dark" when he hears the song "The Truth Beneath the Rose" by Within Temptation. And isn't that just more fun than the original line ("give me the strength to face the wrong that I have done")?
If you like misheard song lyrics, you've got to go to http://www.kissthisguy.com/funny.php
All I've had time to read this week is the new Stephanie Plum novel, Janet Evanovich's Fearless Fourteen. It's just the thing for summer--fun, but no surprises. I don't think the writing was as good as in any of the previous 13. The tension between Stephanie picking Ranger or Joe Morelli was ratcheted down a level, and details like where the severed toes that are sent to Joe's house in the mail actually came from are missing (or else I missed them in my state of sleep deprivation). But it does have Lula making wedding plans, and incomprehensible video-game terms tossed around as if they're everyday conversation, which I find quite amusing:
"I'm going online as soon as I'm done with breakfast," she said. "I'm gonna lay waste to the griefer."
I looked over at my mother and she made a gesture like she was going to hang herself.
"What's a griefer?" I asked. I'd heard Zook use the term, but I didn't actually know what it meant. I also knew Moondog was a griefer, but I didn't know what a Moondog was, either.
"A griefer's a snert," Grandma said. "A cheese player. A twink."
I nodded. "That makes it all clear."
About as clear as Walker's comment that "King DeeDeeDee threw wattle-dees, and wattle-dees have the most chance of coming up, and wattle-doos have less chance of coming up. And Gordos are really, really rare." What this means, I don't know. But it SOUNDS hilarious.
The way I participate in conversations about video games is about the way someone who has misheard the lyrics to a song can talk about music. You know, that song by Glen Campbell "country boy, you've got your feet in the lake, but your mind is on the sea..." or "I believe in Delco....all the time...you sexy thing" ("I Believe in Miracles"). Haven't you ever done this? Despite the fact that my kids' generation is learning the music of my generation by playing Guitar Hero (I made the avatar throw down his guitar when I tried to play "Barracuda," but my kids can get through most of the songs), there's still lots of room for misunderstanding on the lyrics, at least until we get the sing-along version of Guitar Hero! Walker still hears "Give me the strength to face the laundry in the dark" when he hears the song "The Truth Beneath the Rose" by Within Temptation. And isn't that just more fun than the original line ("give me the strength to face the wrong that I have done")?
If you like misheard song lyrics, you've got to go to http://www.kissthisguy.com/funny.php
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