by Rhys Bowen
Minotaur 2011

First sentence:
“I think I may be in a spot of trouble,” I said.
Worst sentence: I had had my fill of danger and was ready to admit that had I been a cat, I would have used at least eight of my nine lives.
Number of people murdered in the first three pages of this mystery novel: 50, by me, to overcome the boredom brought on by this book.
Number of people murdered in the first three pages of the actual story of this mystery novel, not by me: 0. But in my imagination, 4, including the flower girl, who was murdered, processed, and canned.

If I ever teach a class on fiction writing, I will teach a lesson on the best way to kill your reader from eyestrain as he searches for a story. Example A will be the first three pages of this book, in which the protagonist, Molly Murphy, sits and sews wedding garments for her wedding while she talks to her stepmother-to-be, who is also sewing, about the coming wedding.

Being that this is supposed to be a mystery, I waited and waited through three entire pages for the stepmother to pull out a switchblade, or for Javier, the long-lost Argentine cousin to show up with a coded message, or even just a dead body to fall from the sky (mysteriously). Maybe I read too many Hardy Boys books growing up (where dead bodies fall from the sky on almost every page—I’m serious, go back and read them—you won’t believe that shit) but I simply didn’t feel the least bit compelled to keep reading.

I picked up a few things, which wasn’t easy to do because my eyes kept trying to jump out of my face and run for help: Molly Murphy is a Manhattan detective with a quick temper (she said so), her brothers are freedom fighters in Ireland, and that’s all I could figure out. Perhaps had I read the other nine novels in this series, I would find this scene funny. Instead I just found it sad. So sad that I called the suicide helpline to complain. They were actually really sympathetic, but then they recommended I try Wicked Prey, which only made things worse.

Other reviews: Mystery Maven, Judith Starkston, Buried By Books

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