Okay, now that we know the readers are here, who's gotten to

[lagilman]

James Lee Burke? Because I've been rolling a question around in my head about Last Car to Elysian Fields and I want to see if anyone else wondered it, too...

namely, if maybe Burke wasn't having way too damn much fun with Max Coll, almost to the expense (but not quite) of his regulars.

And some other things, too. But that was the thought that followed me around for a week or so after I finished reading.


(y'know, on a related but offshoot thought, I really want Ellen Degeneres to start up a book club. She'd be the anti-Oprah. "All genre, all the time!" We thought Rosie might do it, but it was too close, too obviously an anti-Oprah move then, I guess. But Ellen would have fun with it, no?)


(and be warned, I'm currently reading chick-lit [for work-related reasons]. I don't think I'll want to discuss it here, but ya never know with me...)

Comments

[agamisu.livejournal.com]

Hmm, I was torn by the book. Currently gone back and reading some of the older stuff in breaks. Purple Cane Road and a couple of others. See what you mean about Coll though. JLB seemed to be playing a bit.

[lagilman]

Hah! *pounce* 'Torn' how? Emotionally, or opinion-wise? i can see both happening.


The first couple of chapters annoyed me, but once I got into it I was fascinated by the murky waters, and the 'gators sliding everyone underneath the surface, often crossing over each other, intent on their own games. And there's Robicheaux, death wish cuddled close to his heart, wading straight through even though he should damn well know better by now. I wanted to slap him for being so clueless (like it wasn't obvious Theo was one messed-up chick?) but he was hurting so badly he didn't even know he was bleeding most of the time.

And some of the passages were sheer poetry. It's not as tough as you might think to write a literary crime novel, but Burke's still impressive as hell.

Not to say I didn't find faults with it, and and why the hell hasn't someone put a bullet into Clete's head by now? But when you just let the pieces fall on you like slow rain, it drowns you in his talent

Oh, I'm interested what you thought of the blues background to it all. I know some of that history, including the legends of Angola, so I slipped into it naturally enough, but I suspect your take may have been different...?

[neadods.livejournal.com]

Ah, go ahead and talk about the chick lit. I just finished one of 'em for myself (Accidental Bride; amusing for 3/4 and then fizzled) and have several more in the TBRs. And that's not even counting the Regencies.

Be nice to discuss the genre with someone, and you're about the only one on my friends list who'll even admit to looking at it!

[lagilman]

The one I'm reading now is just out this month -- I got it early from the editor for Nefarious Freelancer Purposes. Chick lit lite, really. So far I'd say it's like a friendly pug dog puppy. Cute and yet horrifying, in a particularly fetchingly annoyingly way.

(this particular book and most of the genre overall, actually)

[agamisu.livejournal.com]

Yeah, Cletus needs a big bat sometimes. And true, she was just plainly obvious. The one thing that got me was huh? What's happened to Boots. Still haven't found it. Problem is now, I'm reading way back and noticing how much his lit style has improved. Still didn't surpass Bounce though.

[neadods.livejournal.com]

Cute and yet horrifying

That sums up Nanny Diaries in about three words.

I agree that most of the genre is... well, no, not fetchingly annoying, because that suggests that "fetching" is an attribute commonly found. And unfortunately in a lot of chick lit and chick flicks, I'm not crossing my fingers in hope that the heroine gets the hero, I'm sitting on my hands to keep from beating the bitch to death with a baseball bat.

But then, every now and then, there is that one glorious gem...

authorial decisions

[lagilman]

Yeah, the omission of Boots' ending is annoying, in that it's much easier to accept the way Dave's bleeding if we had seen the wound inflicted, rather than his going back and telling us throughout the book. And the moment with the storks (herons?) at the end would have been far more poignant if he'd let us live with the pain longer than just the one book. In fiction at least, these things should take their time.