Lynn Horton Books

I read this when it was released in '09, but I sometimes like to return to the first book of a much-beloved series to see how the author introduced her characters and setting. I did just that with Still Life, before starting Penny's latest, Kingdom of the Blind.

Penny is a wonderful author, and it's interesting to see how she's developed her craft. Her prose now is richer (in my opinoin), her characters are more complex, and she's dealing with heavier subjects in a more nuanced way. In Still LIfe, she introduces us to the delightful Three Pines and the honorable Inspector Gamache. I enjoyed how Penny delineated her characters, making each one unique enough for the reader to keep them straight. In retrospect I see how she is laying the foundation for their idiosyncrasies to shine in later books.

I prefer her later works, but Still Life is a solid start to the series that so many readers—including myself—love. And as I read, I remembered the story and antagonist from a decade ago, which is a testimony to the staying power of Penny's skill.

Sometimes I read a historical mystery/suspense book as a mini-vacation, and Edinburgh Twilight fit that bill. I do need to note that the book contains a good bit of violence and sexual encounters (which almost edge it out of the "mini-vacation" category).

I most enjoyed the setting and a street urchin named Derek. The author does a good job of depicting Edinburgh without letting the city donimate the story. (In my opinion, Edinburgh can do that, especially in winter.)

But the book is "neither fish nor fowl" to me, and I can't figure out what's off-putting about it. Perhaps something about the author's style kept me at a distance throughout this story, as did the fact that I never felt as if the protagonist was fully fleshed out.

I'm thankful to be able to turn to Mick Herron when my reading brain needs refreshment. His Slough House series is a delight, full of bizarre ex-spies who've tanked their careers, and peppered with unexpected and creative plot twists. One of the most enjoyable aspects of Herron's work is that it's chock full of peculiar British humor and irreverence.

This isn't the espionage of Silva, or the thriller of Baldacci, or the amped-up hero of Child. The Slough House books are as British as a cuppa tea, and I look forward to reading the rest of the series.

I seldom write two-star reviews, but at about the 30-percent mark, this story just wasn't worth my time anymore. It's crass, slow-moving, and just an ugly read. Yuck.

It's interesting to see how the thriller genre has evolved in almost a decade.

At some point, I picked up a later book in this series. It was good enough for me to go back to the first, Slow Horses.

While not as vivid or hell-bent-for-leather as current releases by other thriller writers, Slow Horses has a more human element than most. (I'd say that Silva's work is the exception.) I very much appreciate the way Herron develops his characters, although I think he could've gotten by with fewer of them. Any time the regular characters number close to a dozen (or more), I tend to get confused. Figuring out which one is talking—his or her characteristics, their role—pulls me out of the story.

I also realize that writing about the thriller world involves a lot of profanity. But at some point, it becomes meaningless to me. I wonder if the author couldn't have conveyed his characters' feelings without resorting to the F bomb, perhaps finding a more original, realistic way to express frustation or surprise than resorting to the basic exclamation. A constant stream of profanity just gets tiresome, making me wonder about the intellect of the characters—most of whom have to be smart enough to survive a thriller story.

But these are minor complaints about a book that I read in one evening, and enjoyed. I look forward to seeing what Herron does with these characters in book 2.

(This book extols a distinctively Christian worldview. Forewarned is forearmed.)

I read this every year, in December/January. It focuses me, stripping away some of the materialism that's built up in my life in the previous twelve months. It reminds me of my priorities in dealing with other humans, encouraging me to be patient and kind. I first read this in 1997, during a Christmas break at my old ranch high (10,000-plus feet) in the Colorado Rockies. Even though I wasn't surrounded by Benedictine monks—as Norris is—but was immersed in young children with cases of cabin fever as the snow flew, The Cloister Walk was like a cozy sweater, warming and peaceful. And Norris' voice is as clear now, thirty years later, as it was then.

Obviously, a favorite.

4.5 stars

The thing I love most about Penny's books is the diverse humanity of her characters. Sprinkle them into her beautifully depicted settings, add a strong dose of suspense and mystery, and you have the perfect recipe for a fine read. And even though I've been married for thirty-one years, I have to admit that I have a crush on Gamache.

This is between a three- and four-star book for me. I’m bumping it up to four stars because much of what I struggled with is a simple matter of style. The Riddle of the Sands was written more than a hundred years ago, so the writing is more complex, and the dialogue denser, than today’s spy novels.

However, I enjoyed the characters, and Childers’ description of the shoreline and sailing is engrossing. If I were a sailor I probably would have enjoyed the book more.

When I look at The Riddle of the Sands as a precursor to le Carre and Fleming. I’m glad that I invested the time to read the book.

I love Jerusalem, so the title, which seems incongruous, intrigued me. The story is well written, although the protagonist—and it's a little hard to tell who that person is because of all the bouncing in the story—is an absolutely horrible, totally narcissistic human being. I kept reading in hopes that she'd eventually outgrow her character flaws. The family's love for each other borders on the dysfunctional and enabling.

I enjoyed the historical aspect of the story, however, and that saved the book for me.

I'm only thirteen years late reviewing this one, but I'd never picked it up until my book club chose it for our December meeting. We've been reading a lot of heavy stuff lately, and no one wanted to drag corruption and war and other chaos into our Christmas season, so At Home in Mitford it was.

I enjoyed the book. There's sweetness and wholesomness to it that fits perfectly with the holidays. Some people may be turned off by the beliefs of many of the characters, but at this point I'll take tolerant, practicing Christians over most stories on the nightly news.

The characters are well drawn, although I think that there are too many of them. By the last third of the book I was zigzagging around, trying to remember some of the lesser characters that kept popping up. The middle-aged romance was a nice touch, and handled respectfully. The story was engaging, and I particularly liked Karon's humor. I'll read more of her books.

Recommended.

First, a disclaimer. I've learned never to gobble one book after another by an author. It throws off my perspective as a reader, and I start to recognize passages where authors copy from themselves (Brad Thor), or a lack of progressive character development (Ms. Gentill's A Decline in Prophets). So—true confession—I read books 1 and 2 in this series back to back, and I'm sure that they would've been much better had I let time lapse between them. I own the series, so I'll spread the books out a little more in the future.

A Decline in Prophets is interesting. The story dabbles in Theosophy, and the characters are on an extended voyage while things settle down in Sydney after the escapades in book 1. Ms Gentill knows how to set a scene and a stage, and she writes in an engaging and interesting way about a place I've been, but about which I know little. She also captures the elegance and cabin distinctions on a Cunard ship very well, and I had to restrain myself from booking a cruise.

My issues with this book have to do with character development. Rowland is becoming increasingly bland and is beginning to appear weak to me, especially with regard to Edna. Edna is disinteresting because she's so ammoral and vapid, and doesn't seem to be growing out of her flaws. Let's be honest: her beauty and talent are great in her youth, but only one survives old age—if she's lucky. Two lesser characters (Milton and a fellow artist with a hypehnated name that escapes me right now) are becoming the stars of my show in Gentill's books. I hope that the author develops them into stronger characters in ensuing books of the series.

Generally recommended for lovers of historical mysteries.

A Few Right Thinking Men is very interesting, although if I'd known that the content was so political, I'd have saved the read for a less tumultuous time in the US. I read for diversion, and seldom to be reminded of the real world.

Ms. Gentill is a gifted author, and I enjoyed her Bohemian cast of characters. As a matter of fact, I look forward to getting to know them better. I appreciate that she's written a worldly, intelligent, compassionate female character who is less interested in societal conquest than in forging a career with her talent.

I've traveled Australia and particularly enjoyed Gentill's descriptions of the country and the independent, plain-speaking nature of her people. I'm largely ignorant of Australian history and politics, so found this portion of the book interesting. Again, though, the political divisiveness struck a bit too close to home and, in fact, became a bit of a burden. I skipped some of the more hostile passages toward the end.

I'll read more of Ms. Gentill's books, and recommend this one.

Horowitz sometimes hits his mark when stepping into the voice of another author, and he did so in House of Silk. The deft writing is so good that I felt as if I'd discovered a long-lost Conan Doyle story.

Recommended.

This is my first foray into McCarry's spy thrillers, and I enjoyed it more for the setting than for the character development. I'm unfamiliar with China—one of the few places about which I can say that—so the author's descriptions intrigued me. One of our children speaks Mandarin, so I've absorbed a few of his studies along the way, and McCarry's depictions are consistent with what I've learned from my son.

The settings alone are reason to read this book, as is the sense of place in terms of lifestyle, culture, and politics.

That being written, I found the character development to be a little thin on the ground. I'd like to have known more about the protagonist a little earlier in the book; he appeared just another self-absorbed young man with too much testosterone and too little ambition early on. While I suspected the antogonist about halfway through the book, a lot of the action and intrigue kept me reading even though several story points were left unasnwered and ambiguous.

But I'll read more McCarry because of his ability to create a fascinating setting.

In this historical fiction tale of two women generations apart, Quinn creates a gripping, sometimes funy story of betrayal, love, and espionage. I particularly enoyed the drunken, gritty, courageous portrayal of Eve Gardiner, and the slowly evolving relationship between she and CHarlie St. Clair (younger woman). Full of period details, and decriptions that made me feel as if I were back in France, this was a good read for a rainy weekend.

I always finish Zafon's books thinking that I missed a bunch of things—in a good way. His stories are complex, but his characters are so well developed that they just jump off the pages. There's no doubt that some of his storylines are a little . . . weird. But I learn about about the Spanish mentality from his books, and he has a great gift for creating a sense of the place. (In this case, Barcelona.) They say that fiction is the willing susension of disbelief, and Zafon's books are just that for me. His author-view so unique that I thoroughly enjoy his work.

I'd call The Angel's Game a coming-of-age thriller story, and a twisted romance. I recommend it if you're looking for something off the beaten path.