Strange Pictures by Uketsu

 

Synopsis From Flap:

A pregnant woman's sketches on a seemingly innocuous blog conceal a chilling warning. 

A child's picture of his home contains a dark secret message.

A sketch by a murder victim in his final moments leads an amateur sleuth down a rabbit hole that will reveal a horrifying reality. 

Strange Pictures is Uketsu's first book, which I didn’t know when I read Strange Houses. On the face of it, they aren’t connected in any way, so the reading order doesn’t matter. That said, had I read Strange Pictures first, I'm not totally sure I would have picked up the second book—which would have been a shame, since I really enjoyed Strange Houses.

I'm not saying I didn’t like Strange Pictures; I'm just not sure I liked it enough to continue with the author's writing style—a judgment I'm not completely sure would have been fair. That’s the dilemma with translated work. Some of what I may not be fully connecting with could be due to tonal and cultural markers that are hard to translate from one language to another, especially when the two languages don’t share a common linguistic origin, like Japanese and English. Because of that, I try my damndest to go into a translated work with an open mind and an understanding that I may be missing something.

That said, I loved how twisted and interconnected the overarching story becomes as its many tributaries come together. What seems at first to be three separate stories, taking place on overlapping timelines that aren’t clear from the beginning, becomes a singular tale of murders most foul. In that, I think the author ingeniously wove this tapestry of a story—pictures and all.

What didn’t work for me was how exposition-heavy the storytelling became. At times, it felt like the author was walking me through every connection, explaining how the pieces fit rather than letting me discover it for myself. I don’t mind a bit of guidance, but I don’t want to feel guided. I wish there had been a lighter touch. And that’s where my dilemma lies: how much of that heavy-handedness comes from the author, and how much might be a byproduct of translation?

If you like twisted little mysteries, Strange Pictures is absolutely worth picking up. However, if you're only willing to try one of his two current books, I'd recommend you pick up Strange Houses instead.

Lavender House by Lev AC Rosen

 

Synopsis From The Dust Jacket:

Lavender House, 1952: the family seat of recently deceased matriarch Irene Lamontaine, head of the Lamontaine soap empire. This estate offers a unique freedom, where none of the residents or staff hide who they are. But to keep their secret, they've needed to keep others out. And now they're worried about keeping a murderer in. 

Irene's widow hires Evander Mills to uncover the truth behind her mysterious death. Andy, recently fired from the San Francisco police department after being caught in a raid on a gay bar, is happy to accept - his calendar is wide open. And his secret is the kind of secret the Lamontaines understand. 

Andy had never imagined a world like Lavender House. He's seduced by the safety and freedom found behind its gates, where a queer family lives honestly and openly. But that honesty doesn't extend to everything, and he quickly finds himself a pawn in a family game of old money, subterfuge, and jealousy - and Irene's death is only the beginning. 

The gates of Lavender House can't lock out the real world forever, and running a soap empire can be a dirty business. 

When I was in high school—in the early 1990s, for anyone interested—I would go to the public library in Skiatook, OK, and search for every single book I could find that featured a gay male character. At the time, I was desperate to read anything about who I might become as a gay man. I needed to know what my life could look like. You have to remember, we weren't on TV, and most movies with gay characters portrayed stereotypes of the worst kind. That’s not to say books were perfect in that regard. A lot of what I read was filled with self-hate and unhappy endings—and this was coming from gay authors. For the record, most classic gay lit is depressing. I'm glad I read those books, but for the most part, they aren’t ones I’d ever want to revisit.

The exceptions were the mystery books. In them, I found characters who were comfortable in their own skin and relatively well-adjusted. In Joseph Hansen’s Dave Brandstetter, Michael Nava’s Henry Rios, Richard Stevenson’s Donald Strachey, and the more "cozy" sleuths created by Mark Richard Zubro, I found characters who made me realize my future wasn’t all doom and gloom—a future where I could be happy.

The first time I dove into the world of Andy Mills, I knew I’d found another character who would have affected me the exact same way. But unlike the others, Andy is navigating a world where being gay could get you fired, committed to an asylum, or killed without anyone caring. He’s a character who has hit rock bottom and is struggling to recover—so when he finds Lavender House, he grabs on with both hands.

At Lavender House, he finds a group of people who can truly be themselves behind the gates of the estate, even if they play roles for the general public. Lavender House is a sanctuary, but like all insulated havens, a festering evil has started to blossom within its walls. Andy's job is to find and root out who planted the evil that ended in bloodshed.

I love an author who can craft a well-balanced mystery alongside characters that feel real and grounded. Andy has to be one of the most authentic characters I’ve come across in any genre. I absolutely adore this series, and it’s one I hope never ends. I want Andy to continue growing into his own skin and within the gay community. I want him to find happiness and fulfillment in life. I want to watch him fall in love and grow old. In the meantime, I’ll gladly read every twisty mystery he finds himself entangled in.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Patrick Jane

 

I'm nothing if not predictable. When it comes to TV shows, with a few exceptions, I stick to two broad genres: the supernatural and the mysterious. I can sit here and name dozens of TV shows—and even more characters—that I've fallen in love with over the years, getting lost in their stories as they play out on the silver screen.

Over the years, I've featured some heavyweight television sleuths like Jessica Fletcher, Perry Mason, and Thomas Magnum. All three are characters who helped shape my young mind as I was developing my interest in mysteries. As an adult, I've continued to devour mystery shows like the last of my Halloween candy.

Today, I'm going to (re)introduce you to Patrick Jane, the ex-psychic con man from The Mentalist. When we're first introduced to Patrick, his wife and daughter had been killed by a ruthless serial killer, and he's now using his skills while working with the CBI—the California Bureau of Investigation. He's a deeply damaged man who feels that his arrogance is the reason why his family was brutally murdered. 

Through the seasons, he learns to forgive himself and to put the blame where it belongs—on Red John. He never quite loses his obsession with vengeance, but he softens—though I'm not sure that's the right word. It's more like he becomes less rigidly fragile. He reaches a point where he no longer seems like he's going to break.

I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that I’d match his observational skills against those of Sherlock Holmes—or even Sherlock Hemlock—any damn day of the week. If it weren't for the way Patrick has learned to manipulate his marks, I might have called such a challenge a tie. Instead, I’d have to give the edge to him. I think he's one of the smartest characters ever created, but more than that, he's one of the most compelx characters to ever grave a TV screen, and I absolutely adore every second spent with him.

The Old Dark House (1932)

 

Synopsis From Rotten Tomatoes:

Driving through a brutal thunderstorm in Wales, three travelers take refuge in an eerie house owned by the Femm family. Reluctantly admitted by Horace Femm (Ernest Thesiger), the three sit down to a strange dinner. Horace is neurotic; mute butler Morgan (Boris Karloff) is an alcoholic; and Horace's sister, Rebecca (Eva Moore), raves about chastity. When the storm brings in an industrialist and chorus girl Gladys DuCane Perkins (Lilian Bond), Morgan's lust and Rebecca's ire are ignited.

Do you have those movies that, no matter how many times you watch them, you keep coming back to? I hope you do—because returning to old favorites should feel like coming home, even if they're dark, gothic masterpieces directed by the great James Whale.

I've been a huge fan of Frankenstein—Whale's 1931 classic—for a long time. So when I first heard about The Old Dark House, I knew I had to see it. I actually bought it without ever watching it first. It had just been re-released on Blu-ray, so I ordered it from Barnes & Noble, and a few hours after bringing it home, I had it in the player. Within fifteen minutes, I was completely hooked on this weird little gothic gem.

The acting is peak 1930s camp, and I love every second of it. Karloff is perfect, obviously. Gloria Stuart—decades before Titanic—is stunning and sharp. Eva Moore? She should’ve played every witch in every movie, ever. And then there’s Melvyn Douglas, who just so happens to be one of my favorite forgotten actors. Honestly, how is he not mentioned in the same breath as Cary Grant or Jimmy Stewart? I’ve never seen him in a role I didn’t halfway fall in love with.

This movie is a total blast. It all takes place during one stormy night in a creepy old manor, and it’s packed with bizarre characters, buried secrets, and more atmosphere than the Titanic could handle. I’ve watched it at least fifteen times, and I’m sure I’ll be back at the Femm House a dozen more.

Murder Under Construction by Alex Henry

 

Synopsis From Goodreads:

Under the flight path, more than one secret is about to emerge…

On the brink of closing a high-profile terrorism investigation, DI Leon Peterson and his team are pulled off to investigate a cold case, a body found on a site for a new airport hotel. He knows this is political posturing, but it doesn’t make it easier to accept watching another DI muscle in on his team’s work.

For Leon, though, the decades-old cold case turns out to be closer to home in more than one way. His DS, Jasmine Todd, can’t understand his interest in the dead man, and Leon is not sure he wants to talk about his past. One thing he fears is that he may have a very personal connection to the deceased. Will the body finally give him the answers he’s waited for nearly forty years?

Even as some shocking revelations come to light, Leon can’t help being distracted by the terrorism case. He’s convinced the new DI in charge is chasing the wrong lead, and his conscience won’t let him leave it alone. No matter if it risks his career—and his life.

If you couldn’t tell from what I said about my reading habits over the last few years in my review of How to Solve Your Own Murder, I’ve been reading a lot of books that could be classified as romance—despite the vehicle the author chose to develop the romance. It could be a locked-room mystery, a tale of vampires or shifters, a story set on a ranch or at a rodeo, or, in the case of Murder Under Construction, a police procedural.

What I thoroughly enjoyed was how little the romance was the focus of the story. Instead, the author chose to center the mystery itself and Leon’s internal personal life to propel the narrative forward. I relished every second I spent with Leon as a character—getting to know his conflicted relationship with his family, right down to his grudging love of the two cats sharing his space. I enjoyed the way his mind works as he puzzles out the targets of the bombings or why there’s a decades-old dead body in a condemned pub.

It’s in Leon that this book truly shines, and why I’ll continue the series. The mysteries themselves are simple without being boring. I just wish there were a little more complexity involved, but I understand that with two separate investigations, neither was able to be fleshed out as much as I would have preferred. I plan on seeing how the second book goes before I start getting too picky about how the author handles the mystery element.

As for the romance itself, it doesn’t even begin until the last few pages. While I’m curious to see if it develops further, it won’t be what keeps me turning the next page. It feels like the romance will remain in the background, which I’m more than okay with. I’ll wait to see whether it unfolds more in the vein of the Dave Brandstetter or Evander Mills books, or if Leon’s love life will chart its own course forward.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Lance Sweets

 

When I started this feature back in July of 2009, I didn’t think I would still be writing a Favorite Fictional Character post in 2025. Granted, I’ve taken some years off, but I assumed I would eventually run out of characters to show some love to. I was absolutely wrong. I love reading. I love movies and TV shows. How could I ever run out of characters to highlight when I enjoy so much of what they appear in? For anyone interested, the first Favorite Fictional Character post was on Vanyel Ashkevron—my first true literary crush.

I recently binged Bones from start to finish, mainly because it was one of those shows I stopped watching during my years-long break from TV. I couldn’t even tell you why I stopped watching, but I did—so now I have a lot of shows I started back then but never finished. So far, I’ve binged every season of Grimm, Bones, and Supernatural, and I’m just getting started on The Mentalist. They’re all great shows with some dynamic characters, so be on the lookout for many of them in the future.

Today, it's all about Dr. Lance Sweets from one of the greatest mystery shows of all time: Bones. Most people would start with either Seeley Booth or Temperance "Bones" Brennan—the two main characters of the show—but I'm going to start with who I think was the emotional heart of the series: Dr. Lance Sweets. Sweets, a psychologist (or "shrink," as he was most often called), made his first appearance in Season 3. And his impact was instant. He got to the root of Booth and Temperance's relationship within a few short minutes—although nothing would happen between them for a few more seasons. He was compassionate, empathetic, and seemed to truly understand what made the Jeffersonian team work.

As the seasons progressed, both his personal and professional relationships with the team grew, making him integral to their lives. As his role expanded, so did his character. We learned he was a talented musician and had a deep, abiding love for his girlfriend. His self-doubts and insecurities were exposed for us all to see—yet he rarely allowed them to affect either aspect of his life. He was strong and insecure. He was compassionate but had a firm sense of morality. He loved deeply and had an intellect to rival most others.

I will die on the hill that he was the most complex character on the show, and the series suffered after his departure. He’s a character I would love to get a drink with and discuss any damn subject that came up. He’s a character I truly enjoyed spending time with.

How to Solve Your Own Murder by Kristen Perrin

 

Synopsis From The Dust Jacket:

It’s 1965 and teenage Frances Adams is at an English country fair with her two best friends. But Frances’s night takes a hairpin turn when a fortune-teller makes a bone-chilling prediction: One day, Frances will be murdered. Frances spends a lifetime trying to solve a crime that hasn’t happened yet, compiling dirt on every person who crosses her path in an effort to prevent her own demise. For decades, no one takes Frances seriously, until nearly sixty years later, when Frances is found murdered.

In the present day, Annie Adams has been summoned to a meeting at the sprawling country estate of her wealthy and reclusive great-aunt Frances. But by the time Annie arrives in the quaint English village of Castle Knoll, Frances is already dead. Annie is determined to catch the killer, but thanks to Frances’s lifelong habit of digging up secrets and lies, it seems every endearing and eccentric villager might just have a motive for her murder.

A small part of the reason I was interested in starting up this blog again was to get myself out of my current reading pattern. My first reading love was mysteries, and that started at a young age. I devoured every Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Encyclopedia Brown book I could as a kid. By the time I was in the 5th grade, I was reading Agatha Christie books and anything else I could get my adolescent hands on. As I've gotten older, I've found myself slipping into other reading obsessions over the years, but I've always gone back to devouring every twisted murder mystery I could get my hands on. For the past few years, the only mysteries I've read are those marketed in the romance genre. Now, don't get me wrong—there are some fabulous authors in the field writing mysteries within the romance genre, and I've loved several books and series—but I feel myself getting stuck in a rut, and I want out of it.

I didn't have any particular reasoning in selecting How to Solve Your Own Murder as my first foray back into the "traditional" mystery experience. In reality, I simply picked a random one off my shelves. No matter how this book landed in my hands, I'm so ridiculously glad I started here. From almost the first page, I felt the same thrill I experienced with the first Agatha Christie novel I picked up, The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side. It's this buzz that settles beneath my skin, burrowing its way into every brain synapse, demanding I get lost within the puzzle unfolding on the page. I last felt this with Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz, and I'm so relieved to feel this way again.

Frances and Annie are two characters I simply enjoyed spending time with. Their voices are uniquely their own, but I could tell that these were two women who would have immensely enjoyed each other's company. In Frances, I found someone I need to know more about—I want to know how her brain works. In Annie, I found someone I want to spend more time with. I found her to be engaging in a way that kept me from wanting to put this book down. I can't wait to see more of both of them.

The mystery itself is as twisty as they come, and I loved every damn word of it. It was challenging enough that it kept me from figuring it out until the conclusion played out on the page, but as I look back at it, it's a fair mystery—I do think there are enough clues sprinkled about for some readers to figure it out on their own. Would it be hard? Absolutely. But I don't enjoy books that make it too easy. Unless it's a revisit with my favorite childhood detectives.

Lured (1947)

If you know me, even a little bit, you know that not only am I a sucker for classic movies, but I'm a fiend for those that just so happen to fall into the classic mystery/noir genre. I'm by no means an expert on the subject as I know there are hundreds of really good movies I've never even heard of, let alone watched. What I am, is a lover of these films. I've been know to binge 4-6 new to me movies in a day; I get so entranced by them. Thank everything holy for the streaming services that have brought so many of them back into the light of day. Kanopy, which I have through my public library membership, has an abundant catalog of them. If you have a library card, I would implore you to see if your public library partners with them. If you like movies, you will love this service. 

I was browsing in Kanopy the other day and came across a movie with the general description of a serial killer stalking the streets of London, luring and killing women through the use of personal ads. When an American dance hall girl figures out her friend is missing, she takes her concerns to Scotland Yard, and is quickly roped into going  undercover to catch the man who has already claimed the lives of too many innocent women. 

That description alone sold me on giving it a go. The fact that Lucille Ball plays the aforementioned dance hall girl and George Sanders is a nightclub owner who she gets involved with, was just icing on the proverbial cake. I don't need to state how brilliant Lucille Ball was in this, because that should be obvious. It actually makes me wish she had done more of this type of movie. Yeah, she was a born comedian but she had the chops for tense drama as well, and that shines in Lured. George Sanders was not a typical Hollywood heartthrob with the looks of a Cary Grant, but that man's screen presence and his voice more than made up for that. It was impossible not to fall for him, even when you know all along there's a chance he's the killer. 

I'm not going to spoil anything about the story's twists and turns, but I would strongly recommend you discover them for yourselves. This was a delightful caper that's guaranteed to thrill even the most die hard mystery fans. For an extra treat, be on the lookout for a deliciously over the top performance by Boris Karloff.

Strange Houses by Uketsu

Unatural layouts, trap doors, and windowless rooms - a sinister conspiracy is concealed within a house's warped and unsettling floor plans. 

I'm an impulse buyer. When I go grocery shopping, I'll end up with fifteen things I never planned on getting. I've tried an abundant amount of chip and Oreo flavors this way. As I've aged, I've tried to get those impulses under control to limited success. With bigger items, say a coat that looks like a watercolor of a birch forest, I'll walk away to ponder things over for a day or two. For the record, I wear that coat a lot. 

It should come as no surprise that my lack of impulse control isn't constrained to the grocery store, put me in a

book store and all the samplings start looking like the newest flavor of Lays. It's why I'm trying my damndest to stay out book stores as much as I can. Long story short, I saw Strange Houses by Uketsu on a cute little side table in the east side Barnes & Noble and knew instantly that I needed to take it home. 

Don't get me wrong, when I see a blurb touting how sensational a book is, I'm always a little skeptical. Nevertheless this little guy came home with me and I loved every second of it. I wasn't sure what to expect, but what I got was a fiendishly clever murder mystery that had me second guessing myself a couple of times. 

Our narrator is approached by a friend who while shopping for a new home for his young family comes across a house that despite its attributes, left him feeling off. With the help of a draftsman friend, our narrator dives into the mystery of the house and the sinister reason behind its design. 

There isn't a lot I want to divulge regarding the nature of the mystery or the way it plays out, mainly because I think it's best for readers to discover it for themselves. What I will say is I enjoyed the heck out of the journey and I'm really looking forward to reading more of this author. 

Favorite Fictional Character --- Inspector Gadget

Growing up in the 1980s allowed me to wallow in the greatest cartoons of all time. Thats not to say there weren't some great cartoons prior to and after the 1980s, but that decade is the Renaissance of televison cartoons. If you have been following this blog for any length of time, at least before my extended hiatus, you know that I'm a huge cartoon nerd. If you were to bowse  through past Favorite Fictional Character posts, you would see numerous cartoon characters. I'm addicted to them, and I remember 80s cartoons that nobody else I know does. Not that Im bragging.

With today's pick I'm cheating a little. The pilot of Inspector Gadget aired on 12/04/1982, but the series itself didn't air until September of the following year. But since I've already decided on the character for 1983, and I needed one for 1982, Inspector Gadget it is.

Anyone familiar with the show knows that Inspector Gadget, no other name is ever given, is a bumbling cyborg police inspector who talks and acts like Maxwell Smart. Despite the fact that he can summon a helicopter blade from his head, stretch his arms and legs about as long as he needs them to be, and can pretty much summon any object from his body that he can ever possibly need, he is pretty much a waste of his bionic enhancements. Hell, if it wasn't for Penny and Brain, his niece and dog respectively, he probably would have been killed in the pilot episode. Much like Maxwell Smart, he means well and tries his hardest, so you can't help but like him. You just don't want to have him as backup in the event something goes wrong. And whether I was laughing at him, or with him, he never failed to entertain.

Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

Alan Conway is a bestselling crime writer. His editor, Susan Ryeland, has worked with him for years, and she's intimately familiar with his detective, Atticus Pünd, who solves mysteries disturbing sleepy English villages. Alan's traditional formula pays homage to queens of classic British crime such as Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers. It's proved hugely successful. So successful that Susan must continue to put up with his troubling behavior if she wants to keep her job.

When Susan recieves Alan's latest manuscript, in which Atticus Pünd investigates a murder at Pye Hall, and English manor house, she has no reason to think it will be any different from the others. There will be dead bodies, a cast of intriguing suspects, and plenty of red herrings and clues. But the more Susan reads, the more she realizes that there's another story hidden in the pages of the manuscript-one of ambition, jealousy, and greed-and that soon it will lead to murder.

I don't remember when I received my first love letter. Truthfully, I don't even remember who gave it to me. Despite my failing memory, I remember how it made me feel. That tingly, warm sensation I felt deep in my gut before it washed over my entire body, leaving me feeling giddy and on top of the world. It's the same way I've felt the two times I've found myself falling in love. It's a heady experience that left me feeling invincible, that I could do anything and be everything the other person needed. If I was a Golden Age mystery author, or even one of their fictional creations come to life, Magpie Murders would have left me feeling the exact same way. This is a love letter to a genre, and an era, that Mr. Horowitz so obviously loves.

There is precious little I can divulge in regards to the story or characters you will meet in the pages of this tome,  simply because I don't want to spoil even a second of your own experience once you get started on this. This is one of those books, Gillespie and I by Jane Harris being a perfect example, that I will simply implore you to read it. If you need me to beg, I will. I'll even consider bribery, depending on your price. Tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it. I swear on everything I hold precious in life that you won't be disappointed. This is a pastiche that puts all others to shame.

I just need to figure out a good enough bribe to get Mr. Horowitz to actually write a few Atticus Pünd books, because that section of Magpie Murders is unadulterated perfection.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Thomas Magnum

Looking back on it, 1980 seems to be a critical year in U.S. and world history. Ronald Reagan is elected as the 40th President of the United States, Iran and Iraq engage in a war that will last eight years, Yasser Arafat is elected to lead the Palestinians, Rhodesia becomes Zimbabwe and is once again under majority back rule, Indira Gandhi rises to power in India, Post-It Notes hit the market, millions tuned in to see who shot J.R., and John Lennon is gunned down in the street. It was a turbulent beginning to a decade that would see massive cultural and political change on a global level. It would also usher in a decade rich in music, movies, and television.

It was hard to choose a character from this year, simply because it was chock full of good choices. I ended up choosing Thomas Magnum from Magnum, P.I. not only because I wanted to be him, minus the women falling at his feet, but because he represents the first half of the decade so well.

Played by the rakish Tom Selleck, Magnum is a private eye that for whatever reason lives on the Hawaiian estate of Robin Masters, a bestselling sensationalist author. If I remember right Magnum did some work for him, and as a result is allowed to live on the estate while pursuing other clients, as long as he is avaliable when he's needed.  He drives the guy's Ferrari, drinks his alcohol, and gives Higgins, the caretaker, a hard time. I can't say that he's a typical P.I., at least not the ones I'm used to in books, but he was never boring and oozed charisma out of his pores. Looking back on it, I think he looks like a sleazy porn star, but that was hot back then.

Oh, I forgot to mention that the coolest thing he ever did was team up with Jessica Fletcher on one of her trips to the island. They were brilliant together.

Timing by Mary Calmes

Synopsis From Publisher:

Stefan Joss just can't win. Not only does he have to go to Texas in the middle of the summer to be the man of honor in his best friend Charlotte’s wedding, but he’s expected to negotiate a million-dollar business deal at the same time. Worst of all, he’s thrown for a loop when he arrives to see the one man Charlotte promised wouldn’t be there: her brother, Rand Holloway.

Stefan and Rand have been mortal enemies since the day they met, so Stefan is shocked when a temporary cease-fire sees the usual hostility replaced by instant chemistry. Though leery of the unexpected feelings, Stefan is swayed by a sincere revelation from Rand, and he decides to give Rand a chance.

But their budding romance is threatened when Stefan’s business deal goes wrong: the owner of the last ranch he needs to secure for the company is murdered. Stefan’s in for the surprise of his life as he finds himself in danger as well.

I do have to quickly mention that I'm not a huge fan of the cover, and it has since been re-released with a new own, but this is the cover I own, so I'm sticking with it. Truthfully, the cover could be a big black square, a blob of orange and purple paisley, or a picture of a root canal, and I would still read this book over and over again.

Mary Calmes is one of those authors that should be a household name, and if she wasn't writing m/m romance novels, she probably would be. She's that damn good. I've read, and reread multiple times, every book she has had published, and there isn't a weak one in the bunch. There is a soft lyrical quality to her writing, where not one single word is wasted or unneeded. But where she excel is in her characters. In Stefan and Rand, she achieved perfection.

Don't get me wrong, they aren't perfect, they have their flaws and annoying personality traits. There are things about them that would drive me up a wall, if not into the funny house, but that's okay. Their perfection lies the fact that they are some of the most concrete, four dimensional characters I have ever had the privilege of knowing. I'm including the side characters in this when I say the beauty of her characters is how "real" they feel. One of my biggest pet peeves is when a character acts in such a manner that feels unnatural to who they are. Even when it's a small issue, something so miniscule other readers may not even notice, it's enough to pull me out of a story. I've never had that issue with her books. Stefan, Rand, and all the rest, even when they surprise me, never act in a way that betrays who they are.

I adore Stefan and Rand. The tensions that surrounds them in the beginning is tangible, and it only builds as they truly get to know each other. They are the kind of people I would love to be friends with, but am under no illusions I'm worthy enough of their notice. Their relationship is organic, and beautiful to watch. It's the kind of story movies are made of, but since that won't be happening anytime soon, I'll just keep rereading their story instead, which does include two more books after this. Now I just need to find a man that talks the way Rand does.

And since I know you were curious, this is the new cover with Rand in all his glory.

Cause to Kill by Blake Pierce

Synopsis From Publisher: 

Homicide Detective Avery Black has been through hell. Once a top criminal defense attorney, she fell from grace when she managed to get a brilliant Harvard professor off—only to watch him kill again. She lost her husband and her daughter, and her life fell apart around her.

Trying to redeem herself, Avery has turned to the other side of the law. Working her way up the ranks, she has reached Homicide Detective, to the scorn of her fellow officers, who still remember what she did, and who will always hate her.

Yet even they cannot deny Avery’s brilliant mind, and when a disturbing serial killer strikes fear into the heart of Boston, killing girls from elite colleges, it is Avery that they turn to. It is Avery’s chance to prove herself, to finally find the redemption she craves. And yet, as she is soon to find out, Avery has come up against a killer as brilliant and daring as she.

I'm not normally a fan of self published books. I actually tend to stay as far away from them as I can, but when this one popped up on my radar, I was intrigued by the synopsis, and absolutely in love with the cover. It was free, so I had nothing to lose. Once I downloaded it, it sat on my Nook for a week or two, then with nothing else to do, I opened it up, and I was a goner from that point forward.

In many ways Avery is the stereotypical fictional homicide detective. She is married to the job, to the extreme detriment of her family. She has a a painful and traumatic childhood, chock-full of despair and secrets. She is a deeply flawed character, driven to prove herself better than those around her, and determined to leave her past behind. But despite all the stereotypical attributes, she is complex in nature and three dimensional in scope. Truthfully, at this point in time, I'm not even sure I like her all that much, but I'm not so sure I need to. She can hold her own with some of the best fictional detectives out there, and she is the detective that this story requires.

The supporting characters are just as important to the overall feel of the book. Some of a little more developed than others, but I'm sure that they, along with Avery, will continue to grow as the series goes forward.  

As for the mystery itself, I was pulled in right away. To be perfectly frank, not only do I normally pass on self published books, I'm rarely sucked in by serial killer narratives. I've always considered them to be a little cliché, and to a large extent unoriginal. I don't know if it's the imaginative motive behind the killings, the tension level that the author so expertly maintained throughout the entire story, or the complexities of Avery’s character that hooked me from the start, but I was enthralled from the get go. The few quibbles I had with the overall story were few, and they never interrupted my willing suspension of disbelief. This was a tension filled, expertly crafted mystery that has me rethinking some of my more snobbish tendencies.

Had She but Known by Charlotte MacLeod

Synopsis From Publisher: 

In the decades since her death in 1958, master storyteller Mary Roberts Rinehart has often been compared to Agatha Christie. But while Rinehart was once a household name, today she is largely forgotten. The woman who first proclaimed “the butler did it” was writing for publication years before Christie’s work saw the light of day. She also practiced nursing, became a war correspondent, and wrote a novel—The Bat—that inspired Bob Kane’s creation of Batman.

Born in Allegheny City, Pennsylvania, before it was absorbed into Pittsburgh, and raised in a close-knit Presbyterian family, Mary Roberts was at once a girl of her time—dutiful, God-fearing, loyal—and a quietly rebellious spirit. For every hour she spent cooking, cleaning, or sewing at her mother’s behest while her “frail” younger sister had fun, Mary eked out her own moments of planning, dreaming, and writing. But becoming an author wasn’t on her radar . . . yet.

Bestselling mystery writer Charlotte MacLeod grew up on Rinehart’s artfully crafted novels, such as the enormously successful The Circular Staircase—“cozies” before the concept existed. After years of seeing Christie celebrated and Rinehart overlooked, MacLeod realized that it was time to delve into how this seemingly ordinary woman became a sensation whose work would grace print, stage, and screen. From Rinehart’s grueling training as a nurse and her wartime interviews with a young Winston Churchill and Queen Mary to her involvement with the Blackfoot Indians and her work as doctor’s wife, mother of three, playwright, serialist, and novelist, this is the unforgettable story of America’s Grande Dame of Mystery.   

I don't think it will come as a surprise that when a friend of mine pointed out a cheap copy of this book, that I jumped at the chance to read a biography of Mary Roberts Rinehart. For those of you who don't know, next to Agatha Christie, Mary Roberts Rinehart is my second favorite mystery writer of all time. I never heard of her until Yvette of in so many words... did a review of The Circular Staircase. While reading her review, the plot sounded really familiar to me, and I quickly learned that one of my favorite movies, The Bat starring Vincent Price and Agnes Moorehead, was actually based off of a Rinehart novel. Actually, the movie is an adaptation of the The Bat, which was a novelization of a play of the same name, which was actually based off of The Circular Staircase. After that little discovery, I was hooked. I've since read and reviewed twenty-three of her books, and while I like some more than others, I would take them all over a lot of the "cozy" stuff being written today.

When I first started to delve into Had She But Known, which by the way is named after a major plot device used by Rinehart, I wasn't sure I was going to like it. The affection and admiration Charlotte MacLeod had for her subject was obvious from the start, almost too obvious. I understand that, for the most part, if someone is going to take the time to write a biography of someone else, that they are going to have to respect the subject, otherwise the writing would be a horrible experience. However, there should also be distance and objectivity between the writer and the subject, otherwise it can cloud the information coming across. If I can't trust you to be objective, how can I trust the information being given?  Her admiration comes across too much, especially in the beginning, and just could have done without her commenting on the worth of individual Rinehart books. The language got too flowery and flattering at times, but thankfully I plowed through and I ended up loving the book.

What saved it for me was my own love for the subject. This is a writer whose work I enjoy so much, how could I not love exploring her life in far more detail than I ever had before. And what I discovered only heightened that admiration. From the way she handled herself as an overseas war correspondent during WWI, to the scrappy determination to do whatever it took to take care of her husband and three sons, I discovered a woman worthy of the admiration and respect Charlotte MacLeod so obviously heaped on her. It was interesting to read how some of my favorite novels came about, even the ones MacLeod didn't share my views of. It's hard to believe the speed at which some of these had been written, given the complexities of the plots.

Mary Roberts Rinehart became a household name in her day. From her exploits with Theodore Roosevelt, to her advocating for Indigenous tribes, to becoming one of the highest paid authors of her time, she did everything with a style all her own, and I wish that she somehow regains the popularity she enjoyed so long ago.

Malice at the Palace by Rhys Bowen

Synopsis From Back Cover:

Caught between my high birth and empty purse, I am relieved to receive a new assignment from the queen. The king's youngest son, George, is to wed Princess Marina of Greece, and I shall be her companion, showing her the best of London - and dispelling any rumors about George's libertine history.

George is known for his many affairs with women as well as men - including the great songwriter Noel Coward. But things truly get complicated when one of his supposed mistresses is murdered.

The queen wants the whole murder hushed. But as the case unfolds - and my beau, Darcy, turns up in the most unlikely of places, as always- our investigation brings us precariously  close to the Prince himself.

It's with a heavy heart that I'm writing this review. I love Lady Georgiana. I've highlighted her in a Favorite Fictional Character post, and I truly want her to be happy with Darcy, but as of tonight, I'm doomed to never find out if that wish comes true. Malice at the Palace may be the ninth book in an ongoing series, but it's my last.

The one note side characters that have been annoying me for a while, actually improved in this book, but not by much. Queenie still needs to disappear for good, but Belinda won back some of my sympathy. Georgie's common grandfather, and her aristocratic brother and sister-in-law all made reappearances, and I was happy to see them.  They haven't been around much, so they hadn't been getting on my nerves. Darcy is still as dashing and charming as ever, and everytime he's on the scene, I grow just a tad bit jealous of Georgie for hooking him. Sadly, this isn't enough for me to continue with the series. Overall, her charcters are one note caricatures, and no improvement in this area is enough to make up for my real issue with this series.

I am absolutely done with the author's homophobic attitude. She treats gay and bisexual men as jokes. For nine frickin books I've been patiently dealing with it for Georgie's sake. I prayed that her treatment of them would improve, but it's only gotten worse. Every single gay or bisexual man is portrayed as either someone to pity, someone to scorn, the butt of a joke, a manipulator looking for a wife to hide his gayness behind, a money hungry twink, and now a full fledged murderer.  The poor guy is being blackmailed, so he decides to kill his oppressor, not that I blame him, but come on already. Naturally when Georgie stumbles upon the solution, he tries to take her out, but is summarily pushed down the stairs to his death, by ghosts of all things. I liked the guy, he was an interesting character, and we knew nothing about his sexuality until the end.  He didn't deserve the treatment he got.

The authors attitude almost seems pathological and deliberate in nature. Over the course of nine books, there is not a single gay or bisexual male character that breaks the mold I mentioned before. The author seems obsessed with gay and bisexual men, as they appear in every one of the nine books. But why are none of them not somehow portrayed in the manner I listed earlier. Of course I could be over thinking this. Maybe it's simply that she can't write characters, outside of Georgie and Darcy, that are more complicated than a paperdoll. Her other side characters are one dimensional stereotypes, so why should gay and bisexual men be any different.

Either way, I'm over it. I'm going to miss Georgie and Darcy, and I'm sad I'll never see them married.

Red Hook by Gabriel Cohen

Synopsis From Publisher:

Unlike the other members of the elite Brooklyn South Homicide Task Force, Detective Jack Leightner prefers his murders baffling. He likes to lose himself in tough cases, and he just caught a murder that will consume him like no other: an unidentified body, bound execution style, on the banks of the Gowanus Canal.

Leightner is finishing his first look at the corpse when he discovers a knife wound and loses his lunch. He has seen a thousand dead bodies, but nothing brings back bad memories like death by knife.

The victim was a hardworking Dominican man with a family, a job, and no ties to the underworld. Investigating this murder will Auckland Leightner back into Red Hook, the neighborhood of his youth - now a labyrinth of empty docks and crumbling housing projects. It's a tough case, but not half as hard as going home.

I'm half way convinced that in order to be a fictional homicide detective, you are not allowed to be a well adjusted, happy person. You have to have painful secrets in your past you refuse to talk about. You have to be distant and socially awkward with your family. You have to have no skills in love, and live a stoic life revolving around your career. As a mystery fan, it makes great reading, but I'm always feeling bad for these characters.

I, through a twist of fate, reviewed the second book in this series, The Graving Dock, back in 2011. I fell in love with Jack back then, but for whatever reason it's taken me this long to get the first book reviewed. It was interesting to see how truly damaged Jack is in the beginning, and how far he had come in The Graving Dock. He is carrying a horrible secret about how his younger brother was killed when they were kids. He has a painfully uncomfortable relationship with his grown son. He has a woman he sees, and I mean has sex with, but from what I can tell they don't actually like each other. He is not a happy man, and he's drowning it with alcohol. I think he is a man of his generation.

In Red Hook, the author not only introduced one of my favorite homicide detectives, he proves his skill in creating a world for Jack to shine in. The city of New York, the borough of Brooklyn, and the Red Hook neighborhood are living, visceral characters unto themselves. Jack would not exist if it wasn't for where he lives. This would not be a character that could be shifted to Chicago or St. Louis. The setting runs through Jack's veins, and he would cease to exist otherwise. The author writes in such a way that I thoroughly enjoy as a reader. He brings the location to life. As a reader, you are able to walk the streets with the characters, seeing the landscape through their eyes.

He crafts the mystery the same way.  It's tactile and tangible. He allows the reader to experience the horror and pain through Jack. He builds the suspense, all the while instilling the need to solve the case in our gut, just as strongly as it resides in Jack's. It's something I don't experience in a lot of mystery fiction, but when I do it stays with me. Don't get me wrong, I'm always curious to see the outcome of a case, but I rarely feel a need for solve it myself.

Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann

Part of the Synopsis from the Dust Jacket:

In the 1920s, the richest people per capita in the world were members of the Osage Indian nation in Oklahoma.  After oil was discovered beneath their land, they rode in chauffeured automobiles, built mansions, and sent their children to study in Europe. 

Then, one by one, the Osage began to be killed off.  The family of an Osage woman, Mollie Buckhart, became a prime target.  Her relatives were shot and poisoned. And it was just the beginning, as more and more members of the tribe began to die under suspicious circumstances. 

In this last remnant of the Wild West - where oilmen such as J.P. Getty made their fortunes and where desperadoes such as Al Spencer, the "Phantom Terror," roamed - many of those who dared to investigate the killings were themselves murdered.  As the death toll climbed to more than twenty-four, the relatively new FBI took over.  It was one of the organization's first major homicide cases but the bureau badly bungled the investigation.  In desperation, the young director, J. Edgar Hoover, turned to a former Texas Ranger named Tom White to unravel the mystery.  White put together an undercover team, including an American Indian agent in the bureau.  Together with the Osage they began to expose one of the most chilling conspiracies in American history. 

Officially, around twenty-four members of the Osage tribe were murdered for their oil. Unofficially, the estimates I've seen start in the sixties, and climb from there. They were murdered by their friends, in-laws, spouses, and community leaders.  Their lives were stolen by the very people they were supposed to trust and look to for help. The depravity inflicted upon the human soul that this book narrates is mind boggling in it's scope, and heart wrenching in the way people were betrayed by those they loved. Just when I think I've heard the cruelest examples of the way humans treat each other, I'm exposed to a story that makes the shows my roommate watches on the ID Channel, seem like child's play.  It is almost impossible for me to express the full depth of emotion I felt as I read this tale of greed so base, that Charles Ponzi is a nobody in comparison to these men.

This wasn't one or two men so blinded by money, that they left their morals at the door. This was an entire community, an entire county, hell bent on taking what they could, damn the methods used. Politicians and lawmen, the ones not actually contracting the killings themselves, did the covering up and lost evidence. Doctors faked autopsies. Inquests were filled with the men responsible for the deaths.

Since Congress had decided that the Osage were not capable of taking care of their own money, white business men were assigned as executors.  Many of those men ended up with dead charges, in many cases more than one dead charge, allowing themselves to "inherit" the oil rights.  The white men who did actually try to investigate, ended up dead themselves.  One man was actually killed in Washington, D.C.

The part that really turns my stomach, other than men marrying and impregnating women solely to kill them later, is the way in which systemic racism allowed this to happen to begin with. It was congressional actions, built out of prejudice and disdain for indigenous Americans, that laid the framework these men took advantage of.  If congress had not taken many of the actions they did, I'm almost convinced this could have all been prevented.  

And the part that just saddens me, is that I went to high school in Osage county.  I lived in Osage county for four years, and I never heard a peep about this.  It wasn't taught in state history, it wasn't talked about by the residents of the town I lived in.  I never heard of this tragedy until I was listening to NPR in the car earlier this year.  How can something of this magnitude not be taught in our schools?  What happened in Osage county should serve as an example of what transpires when racism and greed are combined.

And yes I know, so far I haven't written much of a review, and I'm okay with that.  You guys already know that I'm a sucker for well written narrative nonfiction, and Killers of the Flower Moon is a prime example of it.  I'm sure you can already guess that I would do my damndest to convince all of you to get your hands on this book.  That I would want you to share it with your friends and family.  I would implore all of you to never let what happened in Osage county be brushed aside into obscurity again.

Queen of Hearts by Rhys Bowen

Synopsis From Back Cover:

My mother, the glamorous and much-married actress, is hearing wedding bells once again - which is why she must hop across the pond for a quickie divorce in Reno. To offer my moral support, and since all expenses are paid by her new hubby-to-be, Max, I agree to make the voyage with her.

Crossing the Atlantic, with adventure in the air, and wealthy men aboard, mother meets movie mogul Cy Goldman, who J sits on casting her in his next picture. Meanwhile, I find myself caught up in the investigation os a suspected jewel Thief. Lucky for me, the lead investigator happens to be my dashing beautiful, Darcy!

Mother's movie and Darcy's larceny leads everyone to Cy's Hollywood home, where the likes of Charlie Chaplin hanging about and there's enough romantic intrigue to fill a double feature. But we hardly get a chance to work out the Sleeping arrangements before Cy turns up dead. As if there wasn't enough drama already...

I finally finished Queen of Hearts by Rhys Bowen, and I'm still loving Georgie after eight books. I'm still wanting her and Darcy to make it official. I'm still enjoying the situations she finds herself in. I'm still enjoying the way the author crafts her mysteries, though this one isn't the strongest. And I'm still enjoying the series enough that I'm going to continue with  it.

What I'm getting tired of, are some of the reoccurring side characters. Georgie's mother, and her friend Belinda, are beginning to become one dimensional characters who don't ever seem to change. They are flat caricatures of money loving, sex craved women who are only out for themselves. The only time they seem to want Georgie around, is when it's beneficial in some way. Her maid Queenie, is just down right annoying at this point in time. Any comic relief she was good for, stopped working a few books ago. This go around she leaves for a while, and when she did, I was relieved to see her go. When she came back, it felt as if I had another kidney stone get stuck.

And I'm still frustrated with how the author treats gay men in her books. I get this series takes place between the two world wars, but enough already. Her gay male charcters are all either manipulative users looking for beards, or idiotic buffoons who are after money and sex. It's stereotyping at its laziest. Which I think is the crux of every issue I've had with this series. Outside of Georgie, and to a smaller degree Darcy, the reoccuring characters are straight out of central casting, and they never develop further. It's not enough to ruin my overall enjoyment yet, but I can see it doing so eventually.

The Phantom of Manhattan by Frederick Forsyth

Part Of The Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

It is 1906, and few in the teeming metropolis of New York City have heard of, let alone seen, the hugely wealthy man who controls so many of their lives. Few, too, would have heard of the extraordinary events that took place at the Paris Opera house more than twenty years before-a story as dramatic as any of the operas themselves: a tale of Love and murder and passion, the heartbreaking legend of the Phantom of the Opera.

I'll admit to having loved this book at one point in the time. Designed to be a sequel to Andrew Loyd Webber's musical, The Phantom of the Opera, it tells a rather convoluted tale of greed, family secrets, and unrequited loved. It captured my imagination from the beginning, but it's been at least 12 years since I'd read it. When I picked it back up the other day, while I wasn't as enchanted as before, it still managed to pull me in with it's operatic version of soap opera goodness.

The Phantom, now known as Erik Muheheim, escaped Paris with the help of Madame Giry, and has managed to raise from rags to riches in New York City. He has built a business empire to be envied, but never lost his love and fascination with Opera. His denial of a box seat at The Metropolitan Opera house, forces him to build a grander rival, and that sets the stage for the rest of the book. Christine is hired to sing, and when she shows up with her young son, the secrets come out in the open, and nobody will live the life they planned on from that point on.

The Phantom of Manhattan mixes old and new characters, seamlessly weaving them with secrets, love affairs, and enough tragedy to create a tale Susan Lucci could have sunk her teeth into.