2020/78: You First -- J C Lillis

... it is generally delightful when an alligator makes an obscure 'Waiting for Godot' reference. [loc. 1870]

Jay and Lev have been together for thirteen years. Both have superpowers -- Jay can manipulate water, Lev can talk to animals (though only pests and nuisances) -- but it's Jay who's been working on improving his powers. And Jay who's just been awarded a medal for saving lives during a local flood. And Jay who's now being recruited for a high-powered super-hero job three thousand miles from home.

Lev feels that he's being left behind: but he's never wanted more than the 'the tiny, trivial, thrift-shop music box of a life' that he and Jay have built. He'd like to carry on performing, with Jay, their little magic show in the park. He tries to enhance his own powers, with the help of a mysterious mentor: but that doesn't work out quite as expected. And though the animals he talks to are as full of advice and admonishment as Jay's family and Lev's own mother, Lev isn't ready to simply fall in line with Jay's plans.

On the one hand, I really liked the world-building here: the super-powers visited upon a tiny fraction of the world's teenagers one day in 1960, and inherited by their children; the 'cliche' of naming powered children alliteratively (Jay Jantzen, Levon Ludlow, Audrey Avila); the nihilist chipmunks, philosophical cockroaches and hateful snakes. On the other hand, I found Lev an uncomfortable narrator, because his lack of confidence and constant anxiety were so clearly and vividly written, and so raw. And the tension between Lev and Jay, with attendant arguments and dishonesty, was really painful and upsetting to read.

There is a happy ending of sorts (HFN, in romance parlance) -- and, apparently, a sequel in the works, which I shall need to read in the hope of more resolution ... and also more alligators! -- but for all its lightheartedness and wit, this is an emotionally devastating novel which I wish I'd read at a happier and more stable time.

Or perhaps, thinking about it, at a time when I felt less constrained by the state of the world. After all, You First is, in part, a novel about choosing the life you want, the future you deserve ...

2020/77: Star Island -- Carl Hiaasen

Of all the stars who were crashing and burning, Cherry Pye seemed most likely to beat the others to the grave, and for that reason she’d become a focus of Bang Abbott’s morbid scrutiny. Although she was neither as global nor as gifted as Jackson, she was a wild, hot babe and would therefore, in his view, be worth plenty of money dead. [loc. 520]

After reading Bad Monkey, I had a craving for more Hiaasen, so purchased and read this. I found it disappointing, though: possibly just because it's a riff on empty celebrity culture rather than a murder mystery, possibly because some of the characters (Skink and Chemo) would be familiar to serious Hiaasen fans but weren't to me, and thus I missed out on the pleasure of meeting them again.

Cherry Pye is a carefully-moulded pop star with unsanitary habits (sex, drugs, booze, and other bad behaviour), a rapacious manager, and a paparazzi stalker with a crush. She is out of control and unreliable -- which is why she also has a stunt double, Ann de Lucia, who is paid to show up and be photographed and keep the Cherry Pye brand alive and kicking. Cherry, of course, knows nothing of Ann: they have never met. But Ann is easily mistaken for Cherry ...

Star Island was amusing in places, and Hiaasen's gift for riffing on detail remains enjoyable: but I really didn't click with this one at all. Which might, after all, just be that I disliked most of the protagonists, and found some of the misogyny (characters', not author's) slimy, nauseating and far too credible.

2020/76: Doctor Brite: Coroner in New Orleans -- Poppy Z Brite

"There’s no such thing as ‘out of character,’ Hank. There’s only realizing you don’t know someone as well as you thought you did. Including yourself.” [loc. 275]

I've very much enjoyed Brite's 'Liquor' series (Liquor, Prime, The Value of X, Second Line, Soul Kitchen) and, when looking for something with a similar feel to Hiaasen, this collection of Doc Brite stories -- featuring Brite's alter ego, the coroner of New Orleans -- attracted my attention.

Evidence suggests that I've already read most, if not all, of these stories in The Devil You Know, but none of them rang a bell. On the other hand, there've been a lot of books under the bridge in the last 14 years ...

The stories are varied in narrative viewpoint, theme (cannibalism, resurrection, a passage to Hell) and tone, but they share an interest in food and restaurants, and in the culture and ambience of New Orleans. 'Doc Brite' the character comes across as surprisingly prim and somewhat withdrawn, which makes the first-person narrations all the more interesting. I especially liked 'Marisol', a cheery tale of vengeance, and 'O Death Where is Thy Spatula', about paying the price: and experienced a wave of nostalgia for the Liquor books -- inexplicably unavailable in English-language ebook editions. Brite's writing here is atmospheric, lush without being overwritten, and with a calm dry wit that complements the extravagance of the plots.

2020/75: Bad Monkey -- Carl Hiaasen

Sergeant Mendez denied all wrongdoing but was quietly reassigned to the K-9 division. Soon thereafter he was bitten in the groin by a Belgian shepherd trainee named Kong, and he required three operations, culminating in a scrotal graft from a Brahma steer. [p. 13]

The perfect beach read, which I consumed on my first beach trip of 2020. Hiaasen at his best is laugh-out-loud funny, cheerfully satirical, and capable of combining disparate characters (including, in this instance, a capuchin monkey alleged to have starred in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies) and ornate plot complications (such as a lovingly-created occult shrine) with evocative Florida / Caribbean locations and hilariously detailed asides.

Andrew Yancy, on suspension from Key West police due to an incident involving a handheld vacuum cleaner and his soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend's husband, is redeployed as a restaurant inspector. (Note to self: never ever eat anything in a Florida restaurant, ever.) He becomes involved in the case of a severed human arm, indicative of the demise of Nick Stripling, entrepreneur and fraudster. Stripling's daughter thinks he was murdered: Yancy's contact at the morgue thinks the arm may not actually be the sole relic of a tragic boating accident, as is initially assumed. Meanwhile, an amiable chap named Neville is trying to prevent his home being destroyed by corrupt development, and engages the services of the local voodoo practitioner -- who takes a fancy to Neville's monkey, Driggs.

I will not detail the convolutions of the plot, except to say that everything ties together very satisfactorily and justice triumphs. An extremely enjoyable read, though I was a little uncomfortable with the dialect presentation of Bahamian dialogue: “He was in de movies wit Johnny Depp. It’s no lie.” “Cap’n Jack Sparrow? You fulla crap. Your boy played de bod monkey?” [p. 121] Do I class this as racist? (There are other black characters whose speech isn't rendered thus.) Classist? maybe ...

I do wonder if there are female writers exploring similar crime/thriller/satire territory. Suggestions welcome!

2020/74: Body in the Woods -- Sarah Lotz

The rot in the garden is getting worse. There are now small pockets of mulchy, foul-smelling earth in amongst the beds, as if the land is softly rotting from the inside. Iain says the mould on the steps is perfectly natural (despite the fact that we’re having a dry summer). I’ve tried washing it off with the power-hose, but within hours it’s back. [loc. 721]

Another Newcon Press novella; a quick and not wholly satisfactory read. Claire and her husband, the mostly-absent Iain, have moved from London to the countryside, where Claire is doing up a cottage adjoining their house for the AirBnb market. One rainy night, Claire hears someone outside the house: it turns out to be her old friend Dean, who had taken her drunken vow to help him hide a body rather more literally than she intended.

That's the beginning of the story. In a series of flashbacks we see how Claire's friendship with Dean -- and with Dean's wife Mae -- has evolved over the years. Dean and Mae supported Claire when she was a single mother enduring a series of breakups with ghastly men: their son Zack and Claire's son Jake are close friends. And now Claire has helped Dean bury a body: but whose?

Claire's gradual disintegration is mirrored in the rot and chaos she perceives around her. She alienates her only local friend, the reliable (and aphasic) Sam; she becomes obsessed with rumours about the farmer who lives alone up the hill, whose wife went missing. She repeatedly tries to get Dean to tell her the truth about the dead body he brought to her: but it becomes obvious that not only is Dean being dishonest with his explanations, but honesty hasn't ever been a defining trait of his. The body wasn't, isn't, the only burden he's bestowed on Claire over the years.

The end of this novella is really the only ending that would work, but it felt somehow ... inconclusive: unsatisfying. But it works.

2020/71-73: SPECTR Series 3: Stalker of Shadows, Bringer of Night, Seeker of Truth -- Jordan L Hawk

“You are more important to me than hunting.”
John couldn’t help but chuckle, even though he knew Gray was perfectly sincere. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“It is,” Gray agreed. [Stalker of Shadows, loc 759]

I started Stalker of Shadows and was laughing out loud within a few pages: because yes, obviously Caleb, on relocating to New Orleans, would become a vampire-tour guide. (See that hyphen?) And obviously Gray would regard vampire stories as 'mortal nonsense'.

Exorcist John Starkweather (still suffering from the aftermath of the series 2 finale) has ended up, with Caleb and Gray, in New Orleans. His remit is allegedly to keep an eye out for major paranormal issues, but realistically he's just there to ensure that Caleb and Gray don't ditch SPECTR in favour of doing their own thing, whatever that might be.

John quickly discovers that he has more problems than keeping his lovers happy. There is something powerful gathering in the wilderness to the east of the city -- and an attack on a long-estranged family member forces John to confront memories of his teenage years. But somehow he can't make sense of those memories any more. Does he even know his own name?

I steamed through these three novellas in a single day, and now I have to wait for ages to get the conclusion of the story. I'm happy that John finally has a story arc that focuses on his history, rather than his relationship with Caleb and Gray: he's become more interesting to me.

Also, yay Zahira!

2020/70: SPECTR: The Complete Second Series -- Jordan L Hawk

“In all those years, he must have had mortals who served him. Perhaps he calls them something else?”
“I never cared about mortals until I had a living body. Unless they were possessed. Then I ate them.” [loc. 5003]

There are five short books in this omnibus edition, but I barely noticed the joins.

The second series of SPECTR picks up some months after the end of Series One. John and Caleb (and Gray) are working for SPECTR, but Gray is chafing at the restrictions -- such as caring more about saving possessed mortals than eating the demons possessing them -- and Caleb is uncomfortably aware that he represents nothing more than a very valuable Gray-container to SPECTR. To complicate matters, John's boss Kaniyar has been promoted, and he and Caleb now report to District Chief Barillo, a micromanager who's out of his depth and who strongly disapproves of John's liaison (professional and personal) with a 'faust', or demon-possessed individual. On the plus side, there's a new member of their team, Zahira Noorzai, who thinks Gray is 'amazing'.

Luckily Caleb is not without resources. He finds a support group for people with mild paranormal abilities (though obviously he can't tell them about his co-pilot), and then -- even better -- encounters another drakul, as powerful as Gray, and his charming host Yuri. Maybe it's time for Caleb and Gray to learn a bit more about the demon-infested world and their place in it.

Like series 1, this was a quick read that built steadily to a pyrotechnic finale but didn't sacrifice characterisation, humour or style. There's plenty of tension, a genuine sense of development, and even more diversity than in the first series. There's a lot about gender in this series: there's also a mature and sensitive examination of the interplay between trust and love. John, Caleb and Gray negotiate the dynamics of their poly relationship, and the complex web of loyalties and affection, imperfectly but satisfactorily.

And I was extremely happy that, amid the somewhat stylised hyperviolence, the big bad was defeated by a mortal woman with a heartfelt grudge.

Onto season 3 except oh wait, it isn't complete yet ...
... never mind, I'll read in installments.