Blue Moon snark

This novel reads like Anita is secreting this pheromone that has everyone of the opposite gender... scratch that, EVERYONE hot to claim her for themselves.

What is she, a Pokemon?

Braigwen wrote:

This novel reads like Anita is secreting this pheromone that has everyone of the opposite gender... scratch that, EVERYONE hot to claim her for themselves.

What is she, a Pokemon?

Wow, bad mental image.

theweirdkind wrote:

Braigwen wrote:

This novel reads like Anita is secreting this pheromone that has everyone of the opposite gender... scratch that, EVERYONE hot to claim her for themselves.

What is she, a Pokemon?

Wow, bad mental image.

This whole book is one big bad mental image.

And this woman continues to sell millions and millions of books to millions of squeeing fans...

Obviously, I made a mistake in wanting to be an author. I wanted to write well-crafted fantasy and horror like Lovecraft and Tolkein and Steven Rasnic Tem.

Instead, I should have gone into writing theme porn. Thanks, Anita Blake, for showing me the error of my ways. I obviously need to get rid of all those principles and scruples I have, and just go for it.

You're a braver person than I, Penguin.

Rabid Badger wrote:

And this woman continues to sell millions and millions of books to millions of squeeing fans...

Obviously, I made a mistake in wanting to be an author. I wanted to write well-crafted fantasy and horror like Lovecraft and Tolkein and Steven Rasnic Tem.

Instead, I should have gone into writing theme porn. Thanks, Anita Blake, for showing me the error of my ways. I obviously need to get rid of all those principles and scruples I have, and just go for it.

You're a braver person than I, Penguin.

And now you know! And knowing is half the battle! Furry Porn!

I <3 you, Penguin. :D

I am too fucking sober for this.

I fucking hate Richard. I hate him so much that this intro paragraph of the next paragraph just sent me into a rage.

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Warm. He was so warm. He? My eyes were wide open, and sleep fell away like a crash of glass. I was left lying in bed with my heart pounding and a tanned arm flung across my stomach. I stared up that arm and found Richard on his stomach, hair flung over his face like a curtain. I was lying on my back, sheets down past my waist, trapped under Richard's arm.

I mean, it's not particularly bad. Overwrought for waking up safely in bed with your lover, yes, but not terrible. It just reminds me that 1) Richard exists 2) his stupid magic tan exists, 3) his otherwise Aryan superman body with blond hair always hangs/flings over his face like a curtain. He's just such a douche. I want to hit him with a silver-bumpered Toyota pickup, fire two barrels of silver buckshot into his crotch and cut him in half from taint to tresses with a silver-bladed chainsaw.


haaaaaate
haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate

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I had a very strong urge to pull the sheets up and cover my breasts. Okay, okay, Richard had seen the whole show last night, but this morning, I wanted to cover up. I was embarrassed. Not big, awful embarrassed, but little, confused embarrassed.

I swear to somebody this is the most annoying thing people insist on putting in after every fuck scene. Can't someone, anyone, just wake up for once and be all like, "Oh, time to get up" and put on their fucking pants without being cutesy-shy about being naked around the person they'd just got done having perfect sex with?

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I realized I was lying there with my arms tucked across my chest, as if I was hiding. Richard's arm looked very dark against the pale white skin of my stomach. Jean-Claude had remarked that my skin was almost as pale as his.

Oh Christ, here we go.

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I'd had enough moral problems with premarital sex with the undead. My one comfort had been that I was monogamous. Now I didn't even have that. Whoredom had finally arrived just as my Grandmother Blake had always warned. In a way, she was right. Once you have sex with anyone, sex becomes more of a possibility with others.

...are you fucking kidding me? Presenting Anita "Taylor Swift" Blake, ladies and gents.



Anita broke with her religious doctrine in college to fuck her fiance, who dumped her when his family decided her so-white-it-looks-vampiric ass was too Mexican. Since she didn't save it for marriage, she eventually turned to necrophilia, and now she's cheating on the corpse with a Nazi werewolf. This is the path of events she is talking about here.

Anita Blake: Don't have sex before marriage, or else you'll end up a corpsefucking whore.

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The drapes in the cabin hadn't been pulled completely. Morning sunlight fell through the white sheers and spilled over the bed. I'd never seen a man's body by morning light.

Oh, you look at that man's body by the morning light, you dirty, dirty whore!

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I'd never slept with a man and awakened beside him.

"Another first, AnaAnita"

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Oh, once with Stephen, but fully clothed with guns and bad guys about to come through the door isn't quite the same thing.

Who?

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I reached out towards Richard's arm, tentative. You'd think after what we did last night, I'd be braver, but I was almost afraid to touch him.

YOU ARE NOT FUCKING BRAVE FOR TOUCHING SOMEONE

YOU ARE ANITA FUCKING BLAKE, MOTHERFUCKING VAMPIRE HUNTER

FUCKING ACT LIKE IT

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"You seem tense," he said.
"You don't," I said.
He laughed, and the sound made me shiver and smile at the same time. It was a laugh I'd never heard from Richard. It was very masculine, very . . . something: possessive, satisfied maybe.

Considering I imagine Richard always sounding like a whining castrato, this business of a laugh of his being masculine and something she'd never heard from him before... actually feels like it's in character. Anyway, despite the fact that they're still in enemy territory and there's a corrupt police department with armed rednecks afoot, they take the time for some awkward spooning.

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He pushed my hair aside until he could nuzzle the back of my neck. It made me breakout in gooseflesh. I squirmed. "That tickles."
"Yes," he said, "it does." I could feel him growing larger against my body.
I laughed and rolled over on my back. "Why, Mr. Zeeman, you seem happy to see me."

GET A ROOM
I know you're already in one
I MEAN ONE OUTSIDE THE NARRATIVE
JUST
UGH

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"I'm glad you're disappointed, too," he said. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to get up out of bed, say it had all been a terrible mistake, and go back to Jean-Claude."
I covered my eyes with my hands, then made myself look at Richard while I said it.
He sat there looking too scrumptious for words, but I couldn't let it slide. If he was thinking this meant I'd dump Jean-Claude, I couldn't let it slide. But I wanted to. "What do you think last night meant, Richard?"

"Oh, I thought that fucking me to end the magic 'werewolves-rape-me-if-you-can spell' meant you were dumping the vampire and hooking up with me forever like we both know it should always be, Anita. Forever and ever and ever..."

Anyway, they try hashing some of this out, and it starts off reasonable enough, then Richard starts feeling sorry for himself some more.

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Naked didn't seem to bother Richard. Frankly, it was distracting to me. "I need a human girlfriend. I need someone who isn't a monster."
"A lot of humans would be happy to be your snuggle bunny, Richard."
"I found that out," he said, "but I didn't have sex with any of them."
"Why not?"
"Farther away from the full moon I have better control. The eyes don't go, let alone the hands. I can pass for human, but I'm not human. You know what I am, and even you almost couldn't accept it."

YOU USED TO DATE
SHE DUMPED YOU
I FUCKING GET IIIIIIIIIIIT

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He looked down at the bed, fingers playing along the edge of the sheet. His voice grew very soft. "My first year in the pack, one of the other new wolves had a human girlfriend. He crushed her pelvis while they were making love."

DEATH BY SNU SNU

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He looked at me suddenly, staring out at me through his hair. It was a gesture that Gabriel had been fond of, as if the hair were comforting or reminded them of fur.

Or maybe in a wangsty scene it looks extra emo.

Richard basically winds up suggesting that if Ana can have both him and Jean-Claude, he can go around screwing everything on two legs like he's been doing.

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"So you're going to keep auditioning lupas?"
"I don't know if I am or not, but I know if you sleep with Jean-Claude, I have the right to sleep with other people."
I couldn't exactly argue with him, but I wanted to. "You're still trying to get me to give up Jean-Claude."
"No," he said. "I'm just saying that if you're not monogamous to me, then why should I be monogamous to you?

Which sounds fair, except that's not what it's about at all. He is clearly trying to get her to give up Jean-Claude:

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"The real bitch is that I do love you enough to give up everyone else. I just don't know if I can share you with Jean-Claude. I just don't know if I can stand the thought of you in his bed. The thought of him being with you like that drives me . . ." He shook his head. "I'm going to take a shower. I've still got trolls to study."

"I could be monogamous with you if I liked your boyfriend. But I don't, so nyah. Anyway, I'm tired of this rational discussion of our relationship, I'm going to go study the fucking retarded thing this book is supposed to be about."

But it turns out that while they've been apart, Richard's been thinking about all of this, and went so far as to ask for Jean-Claude's permission to fuck Anita if she was willing awhile back. Which he gave, because if Jean-Claude tried to stop Richard (i.e. kill his ass) Anita would kill him, and if Richard tried to stop Jean-Claude... yeah, same thing.

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"So if I can stand it, and you want to do it, you date both of us. You share both of our beds." His hands balled into fists at his sides. "But if I can't have monogamy from you, you can't have it from me. Fair?"
I looked at him and gave the barest of nods. "It's fair, but I hate it. I hate it a lot."
Richard looked at me. "Good," he said and closed the door.

It really fucking is about getting her to dump Jean-Claude.

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A moment later, I heard water running. And I was left naked in his bed with everything I'd ever wanted offered to me on a silver platter. So why was I sitting there, hugging my knees to my chest and fighting not to cry?

Maybe because you're being badgered into a shitty relationship with two literal predators?

At least this one was short.

Yay! More!

Welcome back, Penguin. I'd forgotten how much I hated Anita Blake. Thanks for reminding me.

Man Anita sure has some shitty ideas about sex.

Reepicheep-chan wrote:

Man Anita sure has some shitty ideas about sex.

That's what's always bothered me about the series. She's supposed to be this hard-bitten, ass-kicking, take-no-prisoners woman, but her entire life seems to be defined by who she's sleeping with at the moment.

Someone told me once that she wasn't always like this, and the earlier books in the series were actually good. Can anyone testify to this, or is whoever told me it just that just full of it?

Rabid Badger wrote:

Someone told me once that she wasn't always like this, and the earlier books in the series were actually good. Can anyone testify to this, or is whoever told me it just that just full of it?

I swear on my balls Anita was waaaay better without any "romantic" relationships.

I have to say, Richard has a point. Why should he be only having sex with Anita while she has sex with everyone she likes (or doesn't like but they use their hotness/magic to show her how females can screw one another)?

Of course I'm bias because I've read two of the books and about half of them seem to be "He wants to have sex with someone ellllllsssseeeee *sobbing* Come my male harem and make me feel better!"

Really good snark on this. Almost makes it an enjoyable read

bleachedblackcat wrote:

I have to say, Richard has a point. Why should he be only having sex with Anita while she has sex with everyone she likes (or doesn't like but they use their hotness/magic to show her how females can screw one another)?

He does, at face value. It's unfair to expect him to be solely with her when she can have both him and Jean-Claude. However, Anita and Richard are supposed to be "Good Christians." He has just as many moral hangups against a polyamorous ("I'd been monogamous at least") relationship as she does, and his sexual behavior so far has been written off as "going wild post-breakup wangst wangst wangst." If he's really chasing women in a desperate attempt to fill the void left by Anita, he doesn't actually have any serious interest in anyone else. Note that also, he doesn't say there's someone he wants to be with WHILE he's with Anita. In what he's proposing, she gets Richard and Jean-Claude (knowing that at least at this point she'll be utterly committed to both of them), and in return, he gets to continue fucking everything with or without a pulse, since he's "auditioning Lupas."

This isn't what he actually wants to do. He really wants Anita. Exclusively. Monogamously. He's using her own jealousy as a rhetorical bludgeon to badger her into dumping Jean-Claude, knowing that she has to be in all kinds of crazy mental turmoil at the moment.

I mean I've been pretty unsympathetic to Anita in this snark, but a lot of that has come from the insane characteristic and plot contortions Hamilton has put her through to make this story "work." Taking a step back and looking at the big picture, Anita has:

1.) Been suddenly blindsided with the news that an ex she still cares for is in jail, accused of rape
2.) Has had to wallow through his sexual history to get a better understanding of the situation
3.) Has been constantly guilt-tripped, hurt, and generally treated poorly by said ex whenever they interact, which is after she came to help his sorry ass. She doesn't owe him anything besides maybe an apology over how she ended their relationship, but that's it. She doesn't deserve this.
4.) Has been stalked and harassed by the local police and their good ol' boy troops.
5.) Has been possessed by the spirit of a dead werewolf serial-killer rapist who made/pushed her to cast a "fuck me if you can" spell on the werewolves, who all had no choice but to try and catch her and rape her. The only way she could come out of that alive without killing werewolves was to find the least objectionable one to fuck. The sex she had with Richard? Okay, sure, she wound up giving in and even begging for him. But in context, even then, the consent is dubious at best. She would not have done this otherwise.
6.) Now here in the morning after, her head has got to be spinning from this development and how it effects her life, and her relationship with Jean-Claude. And Richard's all HURR DURR DURR I THOUGHT THIS MEANT YOU WERE GONNA DUMP HIM WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR RAPE SPELL MEANS WE'RE NOT GETTING MARRIED D: D: D:"

Speaking of rape... well, remember what Richard was accused of in the beginning of this book? Yeah, that subplot's going to come back in this chapter. Sort of.

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Of course I'm bias because I've read two of the books and about half of them seem to be "He wants to have sex with someone ellllllsssseeeee *sobbing* Come my male harem and make me feel better!"

Well, that's more or less what Richard is threatening to do right now.

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Really good snark on this. Almost makes it an enjoyable read

Heheheh, thanks. Anyway, here I go.

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I wanted to get dressed. I'd brought my suitcase over from my cabin for just that reason, but I needed a shower. I'd had too much fighting, too much sweating, too much blood, too much sex last night not to shower.

What, at no point during all that could you pause to wash up?

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In fact, if Richard had just admitted undying monogamy to me, I'd have joined him in the shower. But he hadn't, and I was confused.

Considering her water-licking fetish you'd think they would've done that already.

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"Police, open up."
Police? "I'm not dressed. Just a minute." I really hadn't packed a robe. But I also had a sudden bad feeling. If he just wanted us out of town, why come this early? Why wouldn't he give us time to pack and get out?

I dunno, Anita. Maybe it's because the girl who accused your boyfriend of raping her WAS MURDERED BY YOUR FRIENDS? Could that possibly have anything to do with it?

The entire Sheriff's Department bursts in as Anita calls her cop friend for a witness.

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He put the phone to his ear just long enough to hear Dolph, then hung it up. "A phone call won't save you this time, Blake."

Yeah, victims that go suddenly missing are usually bad news for the accused.

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Richard was on his stomach with Maiden's gun pressed to his back. Handcuffs went on. The scarred deputy pulled him to his knees, using his long, wet hair.

WE GOT HIM
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Also, I had to reread that sentence a few times before I realized the deputy pulled Richard to his knees with Richard's hair, not by somehow animating his own hair into some kind of lasso-tentacle.

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He spoke very carefully, as if afraid to yell, afraid that if he lost control of even his voice, it would be over. "I told you to get out of my town."

...oh. Hamilton has apparently managed to completely forget the whole "Richard is accused of rape and his alleged victim is missing and headless" thing.

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I kept my voice very soft, very unthreatening. "You gave me until sundown today, Wilkes. It's not even nine o'clock in the morning. What's the rush?"
"Are you going today?"
I opened my mouth to lie. Richard said, "No."

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"Thompson, we never patted Ms. Blake down for weapons."
Thompson smiled, a big, good-humored smile. "No, we did not, Sheriff."

Here we go again.

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Thompson said, "Don't struggle yet, lover. You ain't seen nothing to get excited about yet."
I didn't like the sound of that at all. He grabbed the sheet and tried to tear it out of my hands. I fought him. He stepped back from me, holding the sheet, and yanked. It was hard enough I stumbled, but I kept the sheet.
"Thompson," Wilkes said, "stop playing goddamn tug-of-war and do it."
Thompson slid his fingers down the front of the sheet and gave it all he had. It pulled me to my knees in an ungraceful heap, but I won. I kept the sheet. I was pissing him off, not my best idea, but I'm not good naked. I never feel nude. I feel naked.

Is it wrong that I'm incredibly bored by this?

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"Stay," Thompson said, "or I'll put handcuffs on you."

...why didn't they do that from the start?

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I did what he said. Richard could break a pair of handcuffs. I couldn't. As much as I loved Richard, I didn't want him to be the only person free in a room full of cops gone bad. If it really came down to having to fight our way out it would mean killing. To my knowledge, Richard had never killed a human being. He was squeamish enough about killing other shapeshifters.

For those keeping track, after all these books, and 183 pages of this one, the alpha male werewolf is still useless in a fight.

Anyway, there's more slapping around, more posturing, more intimidation. Blake continues to agree to get gone by the deadline Wilkes set as people gather outside. Richard finally works up the gall to agree to getting out by dark, and the cops start to leave.

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Thompson was the last to move towards the door. He said, "Lover's thing is almost as big as you are."
Nothing else he'd done had made me blush, but that did. I hated it but couldn't stop it.

After a night of dubious consent, some outright sexual assault and more threats of rape, this is what bothers her.

P.S. Richard has a massive penis, this must make up for all his deficiencies right

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I looked up into his open face. "Did they kill the other man? Did Verne's people kill Terry after they left?"
"I don't know, Anita." He hugged me again. "I don't know."
"I promised him he'd live if he told us what he knew."
He pulled back, holding my face in his hands. "You could have killed him during the fight last night and not blinked, but because you promised him safety, you're upset."

Richard thinks so highly of Anita that he is constantly surprised by any morals she has whatsoever, because she's a filthy murderdeathkiller

WHAT A PRIZE

The thrilling conclusion: ANITA GETS HER SHOWER. STAY TUNED FOR FURTHER EXCITEMENT

Penguin wrote:

Also, I had to reread that sentence a few times before I realized the deputy pulled Richard to his knees with Richard's hair, not by somehow animating his own hair into some kind of lasso-tentacle.

I was about to ask. How would you keep someone down with your hair??

Welp, Anita's had her shower, so it's time for the fashion parade.

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I put on white jogging socks, blue jeans, and a royal blue tank top. I'd put a short-sleeved dress shirt over the tank top to camouflage the Browning. The holster would chafe a little around the edges, but when it comes to summer wear for concealed carry, the options are not limitless. I'd have worn shorts if I hadn't planned on tramping through the woods after trolls and biologists. I was trading being cooler for protection from the underbrush.

This slow, methodical description of her choices in attire and beauty supplies doesn't stop there. I'll spare you.

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I heard Nathaniel's voice, high and clear: "I didn't know what else to do."

I'm not sure Nathaniel knows how to tie his own shoes.

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He looked like an adfor an upscale gym. "I was on guard, Anita, but they're cops. I didn't know what to do."

Whose fucking idea was that? The only thing Nathaniel has ever shown is that he needs to be guarded. He's utterly incapable of taking care of himself, let alone watching out for anyone else.

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"I suck as a bodyguard," he said.
This was sort of true, but I didn't want to say it to his face. There really wasn't much he could have done.

Maybe if instead of trying to make him feel better, she could agree it so that he might bring that up next time some idiot tries to put the mental incompetent in a position of responsibility?

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"If you'd been on duty, Shang-Da, what would you have done differently?" I kept hold of Nathaniel's arm while I asked it.
"They would not have gotten past me without your permission."
"Would you have fought them if they tried to handcuff you?"
He seemed to think about that for a second or two, then looked up at me. "I don't like being handcuffed."

It's becoming extremely clear that they shouldn't bother having guards at all.

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I pulled Nathaniel into a half-hug. "See, Nathaniel, there are bodyguards who would have given them an excuse to start shooting. Don't worry about it." But secretly, I planned on Nathaniel never doing guard duty alone again. I also planned on the same for Shang-Da. For very different reasons, I didn't trust either of them alone.

I wouldn't trust any single member of her pack alone. Not one. I can only think of a couple that don't strain themselves to eat breakfast without help, and they're all psychotic or have some other serious mental problems that make them useless.

Also, posting lone guards is incredibly stupid. Nobody notices if they go missing.

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Richard had put on a pair of jeans and blow-dried his hair, but that was it. He'd go an entire day wearing nothing but jeans or shorts, slipping on shoes only if he had to go outside. The shirt only appeared when he was going out. Richard is comfortable with his body. Of course, when you've got a body like his, why wouldn't you be?

So Anita goes to confront Verne over probably killing the one redneck.

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Richard's arms wrapped just a little tighter around my arms. I realized that if he squeezed, I wouldn't be able to point the gun. "I'm not going to shoot him, Richard. Chill, okay?"
"Couldn't I just be hugging you?" he asked, voice so close to my ear I could feel his breath.
"No," I said.

God damn you fucking piece of shit

So, Richard undermines Anita in front of the other pack's alpha and also prevents her from defending herself if the other guy gets any ideas. Fucking shithead.

Anyway, Verne admits that while he didn't kill the redneck, he gave the order.

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Richard's arms tightened around me. I felt him struggling to relax against me. He rubbed his chin against my wet hair, hands rubbing up and down my bare arms like you'd soothe a dog that you were afraid was going to bite someone.

CLEARLY THIS IS SOMEONE WHO LOVES AND RESPECTS YOU ANITA

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He gave a quick smile. "I don't know if I'm looking forward to you and Roxanne meeting or dreading it."
"Who's Roxanne?" I asked.
"His lupa," Richard said.
Verne stood. "Richard said you and Roxanne would like each other if you didn't kill each other first. I know what he meant now."

OH GREAT

BECAUSE WHAT THIS URINE-SOAKED TOME NEEDED WAS ANOTHER FUCKING PISSING CONTEST

Anyway Verne wants to make nice, so he offers Anita his neck as a sign of mutual trust. Kiss or bite gently, the harder you bite the neck, the less you trust someone. Anita spazzes out, sees Jean-Claudes eyes and and bites hard.

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Verne's eyes looked heavy-lidded. He drew in a large, shaking breath and laughed.
The low chuckle made my body react. "God, Jesus, girl, what the hell was that?"

A potentially-fatal faux pas?

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He hugged me against him, kissing my forehead. "Us being together has strengthened the marks. Jean-Claude thought it might."
I stared up at Richard. I was still having trouble focusing. "Are you saying that us having sex strengthened his hold on both of us?"

If that was true, why would he be so worried?

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I stared up at Richard. I was still having trouble focusing. "Are you saying that us having sex strengthened his hold on both of us?"
Richard seemed to think about that for a second or two. "It strengthened our hold on each other."

What.

WHAT.

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"You knew and you didn't tell me."
"Would it have made a difference last night?" he asked.

You know what, fuck it

Richard is a goddamn rapist

You murdered an innocent woman to protect a raping rapist who rapes people, Anita. He raped you, because there was no way you could consent, and because he does not care about informed consent. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the good guy love interest.

BUT THEN SUDDENLY EVERYONE IS OKAY

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"It wasn't vampire," Richard said, "it was power. Verne's power, mine, Anita's, and Jean-Claude's."
"Sort of a preternatural suicide cocktail," I said and giggled. I lay on the floor, hiding my face behind my hands and fighting an urge to roll in the afterglow.

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I felt Jean-Claude like a black hole sucking in all our warmth, all our life. And in that moment, I knew two things. One, that he'd known when Richard and I made love. That he'd felt it. Two, that as he ate from our lives, we ate of his darkness.

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I felt Jean-Claude's heartbeat earlier than it had ever beat in over four hundred years. I felt his gladness, his joy in it. At that moment, I hated him.

And now her excuse for breaking up with the bad guy love interest is made.

What the fuck? What in the ever loving fuck?

I;m so bored. So FUCKING Bored. LOL, that SP gif is my thoughts about the whole thread but I'm reading all of her shit books just to understand a snark.

This is my reaction to reading Blue Moon.

That seemed way more confusing than vampire fantasy schlick material needs to be :\

Reepicheep-chan wrote:

That seemed way more confusing than vampire fantasy schlick material needs to be :\

At this point, Reep, it's still technically not schlick stuff yet. You have to wait two books for that to really come into its own, or Narcissus in Chains. That has the appearance of the infamous shower rape scene, and Micah the walking penis. There's still sex in the books here, but it's supposedly not the plot of them. Supposedly.

Although you are right, it's way more complicated than it needs to be. I remember half of the books being Jean Claude going over some stupid ass vampire politic manners etiquette that suddenly pops up, and then Anita ignoring it anyway with either sex or violence, the first being met with a 'Oh, hah, she's so cute' and the second with 'Whoa, I guess she might be a bad ass, but we're going to forget about that later on for plot contrivance'.

So Anita goes out to look for these troll things with Richard and company with some staying behind to pack up. Apparently lycanthropes pack so many clothes that it requires a detachment just to handle them, which... actually is in-character for what we've seen of this preternatural fashion show.

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We would pack and leave. In fact, we were supposed to call the sheriff when we were ready to leave. Wilkes had kindly offered us an escort out of town-before dark. After dark, I think the offer was a bullet and a hole somewhere.

None of which is necessary because they have everything they need to throw him right back in jail, and everyone else if need be. But this book left common sense in the dust in the first chapter.

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I'd have felt the presence of that much preternatural energy, but Richard made it look easy. It wasn't being a werewolf. It was being Mr. Outdoorsman. His hiking boots were nicely broken in. His T-shirt was blue green with a picture of a sea cow, a manatee, swimming on front and back.

Because this is what I think of when I picture "rugged outdoorsman."

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Turns out that he gave Anita one just like it when they were together and he's disappointed she didn't pack it because her world MUST revolve around him, right?

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I wasn't much into the Bobbsey Twin look for couples. Besides, I was still angry with him in a vague sort of way. I should not have been the only one of the three of us who didn't know what it would mean for Richard and me to have sex. I should have been told that it would bind us all closer.

Yeah, you don't want to be too angry for keeping that from her, which apparently was part of him "trying very hard for it not to be" rape. Piece of shit.

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Of course, it was hard to be mad at him when the T-shirt clung to his body like a thin, second skin. His thick hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. Every time he passed through a bar of sunlight, his hair glowed with streaks of copper and gold. It was hard to be angry when the sight of him made my chest tight.

But it's okay because he's so preeeeeeeeetty in his goddamn stupid t-shirt

Which is somehow still less stupid than Shang-Da dressing for a formal occasion:

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Shang-Da, on the other hand, was not a woodsman. He moved through the woods almost daintily, as if afraid of stepping in something. His black dress slacks and fresh white shirt seemed to catch on things that didn't bother either Richard or me.

Shang-Da sucks so bad at being a werewolf that Anita moves through the woods better than him. Good to know. So they hear someone crying:

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Richard stopped just ahead of us. "Do you hear that?" he asked softly.
Shang-Da said, "Someone crying. A woman."
I didn't hear a damn thing.
Richard nodded. "Maybe a woman."

...and Richard takes off after the noise. No snark here, this is the setup for something later. Anyway he's all supernaturally runny-jumpy and Anita follows him perfectly.

Quote :

Shang-Da was at my back. He stepped close enough for me to smell his faint,
expensive aftershave. He whispered, "How did you do that, human?"
I glanced at him. "What?"
"Run."
I knew that run meant more to the lukoi than the word said.

"I'm the Mary Sue, you idiot."

Anyway, they find the crying person huddled in a ball.

Quote :

Richard knelt in the leaves beside her. He touched her arm before he said anything, and she screamed, eyes flying wide. There was a moment of utter panic on her face, then she threw herself against his chest, wrapped her arms around him, and fell into a fresh bout of sobbing.
He stroked her hair, murmuring, "Carrie, Carrie, it's all right. It's all right."

Theatricality aside, he seriously couldn't recognize her as anything other than "maybe a woman"? Damn man, you can't let Shang-Da one-up you, you'd be a less than perfect rapist boyfriend!

Quote :

The crying eased. She lay cuddled in his lap, held in his arms. They'd dated. I tried to feel jealous, but I couldn't manage it. Her distress was too extreme.

Actually, it's because she's "tiny, smaller than I was" and not blonde, so she's absolutely non-threatening to Anita's dominance. Anita's still an asshole.

Quote :

Her cheek rested against Richard's chest, so all she had to do was roll her eyes upward to look at him. "You're his Anita?" She made it a question.

Yes. Literally. Through magic bullshit and deception.

Nice to know that even when they were apart and he was dating other people, she was still "his Anita."

Quote :

I didn't like staring down at this woman who was obviously in pain and thinking about my own problems. I didn't like the fact that I was a little afraid of her. I mean, I was human, and he'd had sex with me. I hated that this was what I was thinking before anything. Hated it a lot.

At least she's a self-aware asshole. Too bad she'll never do anything with that awareness.

Sooooo it turns out Carrie is so distressed by a crime scene she's just been to where something bit a hiker. Or something. She's not sure, apparently it had "primate jaw structure" and the cops wanted to know if it was trolls. State patrol, for some reason, not the locals. It's almost starting to read like a mystery, which would be nice to have at some point in this supposed mystery novel, even if it is in the last third of the book or so. Richard doesn't want to go alone.

Quote :

Funny how he wasn't offering to come with me himself. He was going to stay here and comfort Dr. Onslow. Fine. I was a big girl.

LIES. Literally and figuratively Anita, you're a pretty small person. They bicker about whether or not Shang-Da goes with her. Anita finishes this chapter by going off alone and monologuing about being jealous of Richard, love, Jean-Claude and BLAH DE FUCKING BLAH WE'VE ALREADY READ 300 TIMES ON EVERY GODDAMN PAGE FAUGHOADSHGLKHSGGHLAHGLAHL

Quote :

I tried to feel jealous, but I couldn't manage it. Her distress was too extreme.

Wait, she's trying to feel jealous? So she enjoys it then?

Time for Anita to try to be tough again!

Quote :

I read the trooper's nameplate. "Michaels, is it?"
He nodded, and again his eyes weren't looking at me. He wasn't acting like a cop. He was acting scared. Cops don't spook easily. Give them a few years on the job, and they perfect jaded indifference: been there, done that, wasn't impressed, didn't bother to get a T-shirt. Michaels had sergeant bars on his uniform. You didn't get sergeant stripes in the state troopers by getting shook at every crime scene.

This is all very wordy exposition for "the crime scene is gross."

Quote :

"Nothing, Sergeant, nothing. Thanks." I kept my license out because I was almost sure to be stopped again without a police escort. A woman was throwing up by a small pine tree. She and the man holding her forehead wore Emergency Medical Services uniforms. It's a bad sign when the EMS techs are throwing up. A very bad sign.

If you haven't figured it out yet, the crime scene is super gross. Anyway, she runs into Wilkes' crew there, and Maiden.

Quote :

"You might want to prepare yourself, Blake. It's . . . bad."
"I'll be all right," I said.
He shook his head, looked at the ground. When he looked back up, his eyes were empty, cold cop eyes. "Maybe you will, Blake, maybe you will. But I won't be."

THE CRIME SCENE IS GROSS

Quote :

"I don't know if I can take it, Captain Henderson. There's always the chance that the next horror will be something so awful, I'll never recover. Something that stains my mind and sends me screaming. But so far, so good. So, take me to see the grisly remains. The foreplay is getting tiresome."

It's pretty bad when your protagonist has to tell her own author to get to the fucking point.

And yet, that's it. That's the entirety of this little chapter. Anita goes to the crime scene and all the words are basically spent trying to sell the notion that the crime scene is super gross.

EDIT: And in the next chapter I get super confused and then realize the accuser's still alive. But not.

On one specific point, I'm going to go with LKH here. An author should try to explain just how terrible a crime scene can be. Using the physical reactions of others (and Anita) is probably a good way to do it.

When I was still working for the consulting firm, I had photos attached to a police report in one of the cases. Let me tell you, there are some physical reactions. This is why I've liked the description that keeps appearing, "my eyes refused to make sense of it." Because when I was looking at these photos, I couldn't tell what the hell I was seeing, even though the body was relatively intact. And then I realized the dude had a HOOK IN HIS HEAD and the lumpy bits in the sea of blood around him were CHUNKS OF FLESH, and then I wished I'd never figured it out.

However, yeah, it's definitely dragged on too long in any number of scenes, including this one. I think it would have been more effective if there had been fewer

I'm not saying that murder scenes aren't incredibly gross. I'm saying that it's completely fucking ridiculous that Hamilton spent a whole chapter, albeit a short one, going on and on about everyone ELSE'S reactions to it, without even getting to the damn point. A whole chapter of "tell" without any "show." Just telling us about reactions, the reactions of strangers, mind at that, so we don't have anything but her wordiness to indicate whether we should even care. That EMT could be brand new, for example. She's already gone out of her way to show the local law enforcement as do-nothing yokels and corrupt, violent, but not homicidal assholes.

There can be no forgiveness.