Silent in the Grave by Deanna Raybourn
May. 21st, 2011 10:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)

My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I don’t even fuckin’ – this job. I knew it would take all my time and energy and sleep and endurance. I didn’t know it would also take all of my brain, so there is no more brain for books, and I end up almost kinda liking things like this.
This is a “fluffy” but “dark” mystery-romance set in the “Victorian Era.” The hero is a multilingual sleuth with shady connections, a drug habit, and a violin – a Sherlock Holmes knockoff, not to put too fine a point on it.
Very knocked. Very off.
The heroine is a mess of characterization – she’s supposed to be a widow emerging from sedate respectability into adventures and self-fulfillment, but she’s mostly just inconsistent and wincingly stupid. She has wildly anachronistic ideas of gender, class, sexuality, and race (she’s eccentric, you see!), but then turns around and, awkward, blames a rape victim for being victimized. Which I guess just makes her a twenty-first century transplant, and probably an authorial mirror to boot.
But man. Great commute read.
Fuckin’ job.
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Date: 2011-05-21 03:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-24 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-22 05:16 am (UTC)There's always Patricia C. Wrede or Anne of Green Gables, for easy commute reads that don't cause victim-blaming asides. Also, Lonesome Dove is a remarkably awesome book despite the miniseries. Then you can cross every street thinking "better cross this river while the crossin's good!"