OK, three good books in a row. I now live in fear of some kind of bad book retaliation.
The second good book in three short days: The Drummer by Anthony Neil Smith.
The obvious and most asinine thing I could say is that this book rocked. It's true despite the bad pun.
The drummer is Merle Johnson a.k.a. Calvin Christopher a.k.a. Leave Me the Fuck Alone. I need to write a full review and hesitate to do so now as:
1.) I haven't had enough caffeine or sleep
2.) I don't want to spill any Neilish plot twists
3.) I haven't the brain to string anything intelligent together except afore written obvious thing.
It can be said that this break the crime fiction old while still holding its precepts dear.
The third book is Province Town Follies, Bangkok Blues by Randall Peffer. This book, which I read until my eyes hurt at past three this morning, was fantastic. Like Neil's, it breaks the tried and true structure of crime fiction and is still utterly crime fiction. I hope to actually become cognizant enough to do a write-up which defies the idiocy of this post.
More books lay in wait in my pile of review books. I am in fear of them. After three great books, what could fate have in store for me within this stack of innocent looking books? Tune in tomorrow as "Jen Celebrates a Lucky Streak" or "Jen Pulls Hair from Her Head and That of Strangers Crossing her Path."
Next up on my plate today, teetering down the stairs to the lobby to buy $.75 cans of diet Coke to feed my addiction.