Except that sometimes I haven’t got the energy to play lady-or-the-tiger with my stack of Fine Literature and so what better to have a run at than something I’m already indifferent about? Something that I do not expect to rock me like a hurricane?What the Dead Know is ridiculously adequate. Sufficient? Satisfactory? Is there any word to express how much this fit the bill that doesn’t sound half-assed? It’s like craving SOMETHING and then lighting on a jar of pickles and realizing that PICKLES ARE EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT AND THESE ARE THE BEST PICKLES EVER IN LIFE except that you feel stupid getting so rapturous about pickles.Ok, so a woman hits-and-runs and then is pulled over and then claims to be one of a pair of missing sisters from some cold case file, and then a skeptical detective has to suss out whether she is said missing sister or crazy or just trying to dodge being pinned for the hit-and-run which, dude, there are less-complicated ways to do that. Boobs come to mind.
And those who are skilled in crime novels will probably figure it all out, but I didn’t. And those who are also literary crustaceans will enjoy Lippman’s occasional nerd-slip. And those who just want to read the damned story without getting tripped up by the writing, there are neither errors nor flourishes to catch at your ankles.
So! Plenty good then. Seven caterpillars.
Also, what do you read when you haven’t got the energy to roust out something amazing?