The Enemy by Lee Child

I can't really put my finger on why I didn't like this book as much as all the other Jack Reacher novels. From the moment I heard that Child was going back into Reacher's past with a prequel novel set during his military days, I was totally jazzed to read it. But the novel itself left me cold. I think this goes back to the Joss Whedon lesson: give them what they need, not what they want. I wanted to know more about Reacher's past, I wanted to see where he came from. But it turns out, the mystery is better than the reality. I like him better with the military behind him, and I like him better without knowing too much about his momma. I like it better when he's living in the margins. The only exception was that I loved having his brother be part of the action. :: sniff :: The biggest problem may be that Child is too successful in regressing his character. The Jack Reacher in this book is not the same guy as the one we meet later. All sorts of stuff hasn't happened to him yet. He's not quite as competent, not quite as hard, not quite as compelling. He's got all the right ingredients, but he's not done yet. It may be that if I met this Jack Reacher first I would love him the best, but that's not the direction it went. Despite these criticisms, I still highly recommend this book to anyone with a soft spot for deadly, competent alpha males. Because even though this isn't as great as it could have been, it's still better than almost everything out there.

Devil in the Details by Jennifer Traig

Finally, something else good comes from memoir-surfing on amazon. I admit, I was drawn in by the clever title and snappy cover. Score one for the promo department. That the book was as enjoyable as the title was an unexpected and pleasant surprise. The author manages to straddle a very thin line of workable storytelling about mental illness, never straying too far into either comedy or tragedy, but bringing both elements to bear to tell her story. She underscores the unique truth about obsessive-compulsive disorder - those afflicted with it are perfectly aware how insane the behavior is, but still feel powerless to stop it. Traig never strays too far into tear-jerking sentimentality, but there are still parts that make me ache in sympathy for what she and her family endured. Kudos to all of them for coping as they did, and to Traig for capturing it all so beautifully. Highly recommended.

Mystic River by Dennis Lehane

Dennis Lehane is one of my favorite authors, so the fact that this book has been out for over four years without my reading it is a little strange. I also somehow managed to dodge the movie for the last eighteen months, despite the good reviews, the blockbuster status, the Oscars, and the cast of actors I largely admire. So I finally get around to reading this book, and I'm liking it as much as I expected. I'm about halfway through. And then this morning, while trolling through the Memories of an acquaintance's LiveJournal looking for a particular BTVS fanfic drabble I read last year, I ran afoul of a cut tag and got TOTALLY SPOILED FOR THE ENDING. GAH! I didn't even have a chance to go "Oh, she's talking about Mystic River here, I should look away or I might get spoiled." Oh no, the information just leapt off the page at me before I even registered the topic. You'd think that maybe it wouldn't matter after all this time, but it does. You'd think that if I really cared about being unspoiled, perhaps I could have read the book or seen the movie before now, but you'd be wrong. Man, if I'd just waited a couple more days.... But no matter. I am now putting aside the book for probably another 3-4 years: however long it will take me to forget whodunit or at least to no longer care.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

I hated this book and sort of liked it at the same time. Why am I having such a terrible time finding enjoyable fiction lately? I plucked this off the shelf randomly last week while re-organizing and purging my collection. I'm not entirely sure where it came from. It was definitely given to me, but I'm not sure from whom: family member or employee. I think it was family member - it's just random enough to be from my father's older sister. Anyway, the story was engaging enough to keep me coming back for more, which at this point is no mean feat. But it's got one element I absolutely loath: a heavy coating of "Rich people... aren't they disgusting and morally bankrupt?" over a bedrock foundation of "Rich people... aren't they faaaaabulous?" My class consciousness is decidedly lower-middle. Growing up, my father owned his own blue collar business and didn't own a tie. My mother stayed at home with the children. We lived in the upper midwest, and the household emphasis was on hard work over education. Suspicion of people with money is part of my birthright. I carry unwelcome aspirations for wealth, which I cannot seem to outgrow despite the absence of prospects for growing it, but I have a powerful reflexive dislike of anyone whose family has it. For this reason, I found it impossible to feel sympathy or even empathy for any of the characters, even narrator Richard who lies about his family's economic situation to gain entry to the faaaaabulous crowd. First, I don't believe he could carry it off - he's not that bright. Second, there's no way he'd be able to stop himself from killing all of them outright because omigod they are the most.obnoxious.people.ever. I have to say it: I hate them, and everything they stand for. Don't I sound like a self-righteous midwesterner now? I kept waiting for Richard to have a bolt-of-lightning epiphany about how wretched his friends were, but it never came. The characters each self-destruct in their own way, but they also did it completely without insight into their hideousness. I really wanted that particular knife to twist. There's one annoying thing about the book's construction that I also have to get off my chestm, though it may seem like a nitpick. The novel is over 500 pages long with a teeny tiny typeface, yet there are only eight chapter breaks. Eight. Scene changes are frequent, which mitigated it somewhat, but I still had a terrible time getting my bearings again whenever I picked it back up. Despite the unsatisfying elements, let's not forget that at least there was enough good to keep me turnng pages. I really wanted to know where the story would end, and some days that's enough.