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 vainly 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 this 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 recommended I try Wicked Prey, which only made things worse.
Other reviews: Mystery Maven, Judith Starkston, Buried By Books
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