well, right, so, i have read some more novels. as usual this would be two (since my previous post of a similar (as in exact) nature, look you see), and not just one, nor as many as three or five, or seven even. but who is counting. apparently i am, hence me knowing when to do a post a bit like this one.
a word of warning, or caution, though. several words, as point of fact (or to appease the pedantic) both novels feature some rather heavy, dark and disturbing elements. whereas all efforts shall be made to be as careful as i can with wording, the contents of both novels are likely to cause some upset and distress for some readers. yes, sadistic pleasure and psychotic joy for others, but they have no need of warning.
that said (and the title of this post hints at such), one handles i brilliantly, and is one of the best books i have ever read. in respect of the other, poor, crass, one dimensional rubbish which nearly got thrown out before completion, and a strong contender for the worst novel i have ever endured, or to borrow a phrase from a very dear friend, punished myself with.
yes, above is the standard look at what i have most recently read. for a spoiler free overview of each, Cari Mora by Thomas Harris is one of the most engrossing, engaging and splendid reads i have ever had the fortune of experiencing. meanwhile Woman In The Water by Katerina Diamond was, without warning, the 6th (or so) novel in a "series", i had not read any of the others. i am rather glad that this is so, for no matter how good the initial premise is, this novel is just awful in every definition of the word and proved to be a test of will to complete it.
right. in sticking with tradition, a *** SPOILER WARNING *** is in place for just about everything below this paragraph. it is so that i shall take extreme care not to say to much on Cari Mora for i would have no wish to spoil the novel for anyone. not so much for the junk of Woman In The Water, where pretty much all will be given away, just to satisfy the curiosity of anyone tempted by how bad i mentioned it is.
provenance of my copy? the sticker is not misleading, i did indeed pay £4.50 for this from Morrisons, although they do not keep books by the cigarette counter. it was purchased immediately on sight. as soon as i picked it up, though, yes, it did cross my mind that maybe i should wait, as it would be likely Tesco would have it for less. they did, i found, and i could have gotten it off of them for £3.50. oh well. generally it would be fair (and indeed reasonable) to comment that impulse purchases seldom, if ever, rely on practical considerations for their coming into being, and i suppose the extra £1 paid is a fair evaluation of the excitement experienced by seeing a Thomas Harris novel available to we, the people.
some plot details? why not. in Florida there is a house which is dilapidated and rented for the odd film or television location shoot. within the house is estimated to be US$25 million in gold, hidden there by infamous drug cartel head Pablo Escobar. fiendishly hidden. the value of the property somehow or consequentially exceeds the value of the gold, so more creative ways are sought by those aware (at least partially) of the prize to get it. the only constant to the property is an appointed caretaker, Cari Mora, a Colombian immigrant on unstable legal ground and with a very troubled past.
this novel was a sheer joy, and a delight to read. much like the other works of Harris, the key to engaging reading being unlocked is not to overcomplicate or baffle with language. straightforward, if not simple. yes, i've held back as much as i can of the story, but it is the kind of one you'd love to relate to others, or discuss. well, i would.
looking at reviews after reading this leaves me surprised at the reaction. quite a few seem to think it is average at best. going into these reviews, a common trend seems to be to lash it for its length, be upset that Hannibal is not in it and for some reason believe the black comedy which prevails in all of his novels here is by accident rather than design.
undoubtedly, in this day and age, a key quality of this novel is that it is immensely (and strikingly) visual, with every aspect begging to be adapted into a movie. this, presumably, would be quite handy for Mr Harris, what with in bizarre circumstances the rights to Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling now belonging to two different companies, further royalties from that source seem limited. ideally, a peak James Cameron would make this into one of the best films ever, but alas of course he has retired from proper films, now just doing stuff with Smurfs and that.
make no mistake from comments above. as and when violence and other such brutality comes, it is all that you would expect from this particular author. again, in seeking to give as little away as possible, it remains that the notion, or idea, of such is often the more dangerous and affecting than the actual.
yes, absolutely get this book and enjoy, if you can stomach the dark and the depraved. disassociate all thoughts of what the novelist has done before, enjoy for what it is. i very much did. rather like his other novels, this is one i can see myself one day doing that rare thing with, which is to read it again.
provenance? certainly Tesco, noticing the lack of a sticker. i would like to think, perhaps hope, that this was when they had novels for £2.50. but, in fairness, the plot and premise did sound good on the back, so if i paid either £3 or £3.50 for it then i did so in remarkably good faith.
and so to that plot. your attention (or intention) is drawn once more to my note that i propose to hide nothing here, for to do so would make it exceedingly difficult, or a bit tricky, to discuss just why this is so bad. then again, it is entirely possible i will get bored of writing about it, or left feeling exhausted and drained from recalling it all, and just abandon whatever limited point i try to make. how much time is appropriate, i wonder, to give to something that was cheap, a waste of time and easily described as something to avoid?
so, from what i recall, a bloke copper (who is dating his lady copper colleague) is driving home, and is drawn to a crowd of ladies. it turns out they are looking down on what they think might be a body, what their kids alerted them to. the copper investigates, and finds what he thinks is a dead lady, but turns out to be alive. later on, another body, of a bloke and is dead, is found further down the way.
now that i think about it, i really can't be bothered with much detail. the author certainly had no such interest, either. basically lady found won't say anything, disappears, trace her home, suspect domestic abuse, bloke copper much against this, engineers to break into house, chins lady's husband, lady's husband construction tycoon and unspecified and never explained big time unchallenged gangster head, lady's husband orchestrates a (most) serious and brutal sexual assault on bloke copper, people stab themselves in the heart rather than speak about big time construction tycoon gangster lady husband, turns out that orchestrating (very) serious sexual assaults on men is something this bloke has done for years, try to dig dirt on him, find something, nasty chap and wife story inexplicably turns into the plot twist of Chinatown, very nasty man gets killed, bloke copper has a list of suspects who worked for nasty man that might have assaulted him, resigns from coppers, very clear that in the next book off he shall go to find them and presumably seek revenge.
obviously there are any number of serious, dark, heavy, brutal and disturbing subjects in this, and i use the word via dictionary definition alone, novel. alas, none of them are handled in any way that one could consider insightful, observational, carefully or intelligently. when i say the novel is one dimensional, there is precisely zero character development, no character insight, nothing. if one allows for a "suspension of disbelief" when reading fiction, then that has to be measured against how realistic the writer wishes us to perceive that which they write. in terms of this, the "big bad" of the novel is absolutely farcical. as, too, is the depiction of the police. and the idea that just one "mr big time gangster tycoon of construction" would rule all criminal activity unchallenged. with everyone he has ever attacked or assaulted over the course of some ten years responding exactly as he intended, with not one approach to the law, or other means of vengeance. bad, bad, very bad.
this is, as i said, either book four, five or six in a series. it is really, really f*****g annoying to pick up a novel which gives no warning that it is even in such a series, let alone which part. and i do enjoy such series novels, but when i am warned that this is what i have, and that i am reading in a relatively correct order. also, the title of the novel, and the description on the back, bear just about the vaguest possible reference to the actual novel itself, and is mostly misleading. with the writing here being below the standard i would reasonably expect of a formulatic, colour by numbers Mills & Boon text, i am amazed the series has gotten numerically up to anywhere over volume two, but there you go. if it is so that i must find something positive to say, the only thing i can think of is that generally the sentence structure in Woman In The Water is a lot more coherent than what i do here, but surely such would be entry level stuff for paid for published works. and well structured sentences which don't actually say anything are not worth too much.
right, well, that's that. once again i am not sure writing all of this has added much of value (if any at all) to the world, or you the reader, but it is done now. and my thanks as always, once again, for taking the time to read.
more reading shall be done and, depending on how i fare in the invisible war against the new plague, which rages still at time of writing, more comments are likely to follow.
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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