Favorite Fictional Characters --- Tyler Kennedy "TK" Strand and Carlos Reyes

 

When I was growing up in the 1980s and early 1990s, I never dreamed there would be gay characters on scripted primetime TV who didn’t reflect dangerous or homophobic stereotypes. I certainly never imagined we would see characters living their lives like everyone else, without being burdened by shame or self-hatred.

And if you had told me when I was sixteen years old that a show about firefighters, paramedics, and police officers would feature two gay men who meet on the job, start dating, fall in love, and eventually get married, I would have done two things. First, I would have scoffed and called you a fool. Second — though I might not have said it out loud — I would have been praying for that show to exist in my present.

At sixteen, I desperately needed to know that my life wasn’t doomed simply because I was born gay. I needed to see myself reflected in society as someone who was not only accepted, but allowed to thrive. At sixteen, that was not the reality I was being shown.

It’s why characters like TK and Carlos matter so much. Our youth, and plenty of adults, need to see themselves reflected in media. They need to know there is hope, that their lives matter, and that they can become something more despite whatever bullying or abuse they may be facing now. Identity matters. Positive representation matters. TK and Carlos are perfect examples of what good representation looks like.

For those who have never seen 9-1-1: Lone Star, the show takes place in Austin, Texas. It follows the lives of firefighters and paramedics working out of Firehouse 126 after a devastating accident leaves only one firefighter alive.

TK Strand is the son of the new captain. Both of them move from Manhattan to Austin to help rebuild the 126 after the tragedy. He’s a little cocky, a little insecure — an odd combination, but one that somehow works — and he was probably my favorite character on the show. He has his demons, including a past addiction to drugs, but he loves fiercely and is deeply protective of his friends and family. I truly believe he met his soulmate in Carlos Reyes.

Carlos is a police officer and the son of a Texas Ranger. He has a strong sense of justice and one of the truest moral centers I’ve ever seen portrayed on TV. Like TK, he values family deeply and often puts the needs of his loved ones above his own. He also happens to have the patience of a saint — something I’ll likely never possess, no matter how hard I try.

Together, they are an unstoppable pair. They bring out each other’s strengths and compensate for each other’s weaknesses. Their relationship isn’t always smooth, but they work through their problems together and consistently emerge stronger and more unified than before. They have the kind of love that feels enduring — the kind you imagine lasting 161 years, like Lily and Herman Munster’s.

The Taking of Jake Livingston by Ryan Douglass

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

Living in two worlds is exhausting, and no one knows this better than sixteen-year-old Jake Livingston. His working-class, diverse neighborhood is a far cry from the world of St. Clair Prep where he is one of the only Black students, constantly at the mercy of racist teachers and peers who don't understand him. But when his neighbor—a survivor of a grisly school shooting—is murdered and the bloody initials of the now-dead shooter, Sawyer Doom, are left on the entryway wall of Jake's home. Jake is forced to confront another world he wishes he could escape—the world of the dead.

As a medium, Jake sees ghosts around him all the time. Most are harmless. Stuck in their death loops as they relive their deaths over and over again, they rarely interact with people. And while for most of his life Jake has avoided them, this time there is no running away. Sawyer was a troubled teen who shot and killed six kids at a local high school before taking his own life. Now he's a powerful, vengeful ghost, and he has plans for his afterlife—plans thay include Jake. When Sawyer begins stalking him, high school becomes a different kind of survival game—one Jake is not sure he can win. 

I’ve hemmed and hawed for far longer than I should have — I’m talking months — over how I wanted to start this review. Even now, as I’m typing, I feel like someone flipping through every streaming app they own, unable to settle on something to watch. I guess I’m just going to start typing and see what comes out. If I need to clean it up later, I will. It’s not like y’all will be able to tell the difference.

I absolutely love this book and think everyone who is even a little into YA should read it — if you’re comfortable with the themes it explores. The Taking of Jake Livingston ventures into very dark territory, and I’m not exaggerating when I say certain aspects of the narrative have stayed with me far longer than usual. That lingering weight is part of the reason I’ve had such a damned hard time writing this review. I think it’s impossible to talk about this book without discussing the gut punch that is Sawyer Doom, so I hope you’ll stick with me.

When I reviewed Come Knocking by Mike Bockoven, I discussed how the author had to strike a balance between showing us why the killer felt justified in doing something so barbaric and horrifying, without actually excusing or agreeing with him. That same balance had to be struck in The Taking of Jake Livingston by Ryan Douglass, and I think he handled it brilliantly — though perhaps with a bit more detail than I was expecting.

Instead of giving us a “manifesto” at the end of the book, Douglass lets us into Sawyer’s head throughout the story, as he relives the relentless abuse and bullying he endured for years. Those sections are not comfortable to read. I felt for this young man — no one should have to live through what he did. I can’t imagine the pain and anger that must have flowed through that boy’s veins. Where Douglass surpasses Bockoven, in my opinion, is that by allowing us into Sawyer’s head — the head of an evil, vengeful ghost — he removes any ambiguity. Whatever sympathy we might begin with hardens into horror and hatred as Sawyer torments Jake. Douglass does not shy away from making him as hate-filled and monstrous as any character I’ve read in a long time. By the end of this book, you will loathe Sawyer as much as you adore Jake.

I dare anyone to read this novel and not take an instant liking to Jake. He faces his own bullying, and while it makes him withdrawn and awkward at times, he never turns that pain outward onto others. He’s too busy trying to survive his day-to-day life. How anyone could cope with that — on top of the ability to see dead people — is beyond me. The inner strength that would require is admirable, and I’m not sure I could handle it half as well as Jake does.

Though he’s forced to confront Sawyer, Jake — with the emotional support of his family and friends, including a possible new boyfriend — faces it head-on. He doesn’t come out unscathed, but he may have just found a new version of himself in the process.

At its heart, this is a story built on contrast — two young men faced with unimaginable pain. Both are bullied. Both are isolated. Both are shaped by cruelty. But only one chooses to rise above it. Only one chooses to protect rather than harm.

And it’s in that contrast that this story has stayed with me, lingering far longer than I ever expected.

Favorite Fictional Characters --- Lee Stetson and Amanda King

 

It’s probably fair to say I was more than a little nerdy as a kid. I was that kid who wanted to read through my great-grandma’s set of Encyclopaedia Britannica, then quiz the adults around me on what I had just read. I could get lost in a book or TV show to the point the rest of the world ceased to exist. Some of that was due to the dysfunctional way I was raised by my mom — a childhood that forced me to learn how to entertain myself. But I think I still would have been a Brainy Smurf–level nerd even if I had had a “normal” childhood.

I truly believe I was born gay — and a nerd. Even as an adult, I read anywhere between 350 to 500 books a year, and my Funko Pop! collection is just a little excessive. Even my taste in TV would have been a dead giveaway. Perry Mason and Murder, She Wrote were must-watch television, and so was Scarecrow and Mrs. King.

Anchored by the crush-worthy Bruce Boxleitner as suave secret agent Lee Stetson and Kate Jackson as divorced housewife Amanda King, Scarecrow and Mrs. King was the kind of show I wanted to be in when I grew up. Like a lot of us, I was fascinated by the idea of being a spy, and I devoured every episode I could. Yes, the missions they went on were a lot of fun to watch — but it was Lee and Amanda who truly captured my attention as a kid, a fondness that has carried over into my adulthood.

They aren’t the kind of couple who fall instantly in love. In fact, I’m pretty sure annoyance and exasperated amusement were the predominant emotions they initially felt for each other. But even then, the chemistry between them lit up the screen. There was something about their partnership that grabbed your attention as a viewer, even at my tender, impressionable age. The annoyance eventually turns into respect and admiration, but it’s when they both realize there’s a spark between them that they truly become a couple worthy of a happy ending.

For a kid who found comfort in books and television, Lee and Amanda weren’t just characters — they were proof that even unlikely partnerships can grow into something lasting. Maybe that’s why they still matter to me. Their slow-burn story taught a lonely, nerdy kid that love doesn’t always arrive in a flash; sometimes it builds quietly and steadily, until you realize it’s exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

Eight Perfect Murders by Peter Swanson

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

Years ago, bookseller and mystery aficionado Malcolm Kershaw compiled a list of the genre’s most unsolvable murders—which he titled “Eight Perfect Murders”—chosen from among the best of the best, including Agatha Christie’s A. B. C. Murders, Patricia Highsmith’s Strangers on a Train, and Ira Levin’s Death Trap. 

But no one is more surprised than Mal, now the owner of the Old Devils Bookstore in Boston, when an FBI agent comes knocking on his door one snowy day in February. She’s looking for information about a series of unsolved murders that look eerily similar to the killings on Mal’s old list. And the agent isn’t the only one interested in this bookseller who spends almost every night at home reading. The killer is out there, watching his every move—a diabolical threat who knows way too much about Mal’s personal history, especially the secrets he’s never told anyone, even his recently deceased wife.

To protect himself, Mal begins looking into possible suspects . . . and sees a killer in everyone around him. But Mal doesn’t count on the investigation leaving a trail of death in its wake. Suddenly, a series of shocking twists leaves more victims dead—and the noose around Mal’s neck grows so tight he might never escape.

Malcolm is another of those characters I relish spending time with. This was my third visit to the Old Devils Bookstore, and like the first two times, I found myself wanting to settle into a comfortable chair with one of my favorite mysteries, the shop cat Nero purring away in my lap, and spend the day visiting with Mal as he works between customers. He has an aura about him that I find oddly comforting, and I can easily imagine us becoming fast friends. The fact that he’s about as unreliable as any narrator can be just makes me love him more.

I’m a sucker for unreliable narrators, and Mal does not disappoint. Spending extended time with him lets you know the man has secrets. You may not know what those secrets are — or just how painful they might be — but it’s clear that everything is not right in his world.

I’m not sure how much of my love for this book comes from my genuine fondness for Mal or from the way Peter Swanson weaves a deep love and respect for the Golden Age of classic mysteries into a tale of faulty memories, buried secrets, and a few “perfect” murders thrown in for good measure. Either way, it’s a story anchored by a character I thoroughly enjoy — one I’m sure I’ll be visiting again and again in the years to come.

Challenges: Calendar of Crime, Cloak and Dagger 

Happy Valentine's Day!

 To everyone celebrating Valentine's Day today, I wish you a heart filled with joy and love. 

Favorite Fictional Character --- Herman and Lily Munster

 

There is something rather wholesome—and timely—about a family who looks and acts differently than anyone else around them, yet still considers themselves the perfect American family. The notion that a family doesn’t need to look like yours in order to have value should be the norm, and for the couple who head the Munster family, it absolutely is.

Sadly, for their neighbors, those differences stand out—something that feels all too familiar given the state of things right now. But that’s another post. This one is about celebrating Herman and Lily Munster in all their romantic perfection.

First of all, I have to congratulate Herman and Lily Munster for being married for 161 years. That level of commitment is something I can only dream of. I admire and respect a couple who willingly put in the work to make such a long-term relationship not only function, but truly thrive. It’s impossible to be around them and not see the utter joy and comfort they find in one another.

Herman, who happens to work at a funeral home of all places, lives for his family, and it shows—not only in every look and touch, but in the way he strives to give them the best possible life. Lily is the heart and soul of their family. She runs the home—and her husband, to a degree. Together, they are everything any of us could imagine a true partnership being.

I wish them another 161 happy years together.

Theme Music by T. Marie Vandelly

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket: 

For the lucky among us, life is what you make of it, but for Dixie Wheeler, the theme music for her story was chosen by another long ago, on the day her father butchered her mother and brothers and then slashed a knife across his own throat. Only one-year-old Dixie was left alive, infamously known as Baby Blue for the song left playing in the aftermath of the slaughter.

Twenty-five years later, Dixie is still desperate for a connection to the family she can’t remember, so when her childhood home goes up for sale, Dixie sets aside all reason and moves in. But as the ghosts of her family seemingly begin to take up residence in the home that was once theirs, Dixie starts to question her own sanity and wonders if the evil force menacing her is that of her father, or a demon of her own making.

In order to make sense of her present, Dixie becomes determined to unravel the truth of her past and seeks out the detective who originally investigated the murders. But the more she learns, the more she opens up the uncomfortable possibility that the sins of her father may belong to another. As bodies begin to pile up around her, Dixie must find a way to expose the lunacy behind her family’s massacre in order to save her few loved ones who are still alive—and whatever scrap of sanity she has left. 

How could anyone read that synopsis and not want to dive right in? Granted, it’s one of those synopses that might be just a tad long, but no matter how many times I read it, I can’t decide which lines I would cut. It’s a synopsis designed to make you want to read the book — and read it I did.

Dixie is one of those characters who, no matter how much she annoyed me at times, I still found myself caring for. I think it’s fair to say she makes horrible decisions. I mean, who moves into the house where their family was slaughtered? Well, Trevor did it in Drawing Blood by Poppy Z. Brite, one of my favorite books of all time — but that’s literally another story, so pretend I didn’t say anything about it. Dixie not only moves into this house, she ends her relationship to do it, and then starts decorating the house to make it look the way it did when her family was butchered. I think sanity is the least of her worries.

Dixie’s descent into an almost fugue-like state of madness is so gorgeously written that at no point was I able to look away or pretend that what I was reading was anything other than the story of a woman slowly coming apart, obsessing over her family’s horrific deaths. She was so lost in the minutiae of what happened that she — like me — didn’t really see the truth before it slammed into her face. I can only hope that now that she’s discovered the truth and faced it head-on, she’ll truly heal and be able to put the past, and her family, behind her.