Friday, April 26, 2013

Cerulean Sins--chapter 37

We're going to jump right into this, because this clearly should have been part of last chapter.

We find out German Blond's name, what he's wanted for, and it is, I shit you not, Aryan terrorism.

A blond german is wanted interntionally for aryan terrorism.

BTW I just googled that to find out how big a problem aryan terrorism is in the world, and I just found out it's a music group. Which I am not listening to ever. Anita continues on:

He’d been linked to espionage that specialized in helping paler people either stay in power or get power over people that were less pale.
And I have the feeling that Laurel K. Hamilton is about to try for depth. Which I would buy if this were any other author, and if that had not been smashed over our heads like a coffee tray. And then things just go to suck. I am not kidding. The prose gets bad, the descriptions evaporate, and the dialogue descends down to the level of My Little Pony.

I nodded, then picked up the one with the big dark-haired man in it. He was about to get into a car. There was a generic older building behind him, but I wasn’t a student of architecture, it told me nothing. The man was looking down as if watching his step off a curb, so I didn’t have a full front view even. “Maybe if I could see a front shot. Or did they send us all they had?”
 “They sent me all they had, or that’s what they said.”

 So Anita picks out two photos of people who bug her. This is good. No, I'm not kidding. That's something I understand. She doesn't know for sure that she knows these two guys, but she's not comfortable letting the thing drop. But it's all dryer than stale bread. And then she decides that the camera angle comes from the hip, which means the photo was taken by a super uber spy cam. Because, like, covert survelliance can't take shots from a normal angle. She then says that they ought to go fishing with the bad guys with these pictures.

You know those comprehension tests they give you sometimes? Where you have to take a bunch of random lines and see how they make the letter A? And how if you can't, that indicates major brain damage? This plot makes me feel like I've got that kind of damage. There's supposed to be a plot here, I can see all the pieces, but they don't actually make anything show up.

And then we take a break from the story so Anita can tell us all about the children's books she and Nathanial and Micah are reading to each other every night. Peter Pan and Charlotte's Web. Not even remotely kidding.

Detective O'Brien drags Anita's attention back to the actual book, and Anita realizes that the aryan supremicists could be targeting the wolf pack. Because it's a mess and it's all Richard's fault for not being a blood thirsty dictator and attempting this whole crazy "Democratsy" thing. But revealing this to the cops would, apparently, be bad, so Anita lies to the detective and says it could be related to Vampire politics, even though she just dismissed that during an internal monologue.

Yes. Good guys lying to good guys. What a great book this is.

That was sarcasm.

And then we drop into "all the mens hate us" when Detective O'Brien offers the "manpower" to protect Anita for a few hours, and Anita says "shouldn't that be 'person' power?"

Anita refuses protection and O'Brien asks why. Anita says not your buisness, O'Brien says "fine, no more investigation for you" and Anita gets pouty. But I'm starting to think that O'Brien is actuall a "good" guy because Anita isn't turning it into a pissing contest. For once.

Also? I really like her.

She smiled, but it was more a baring of teeth, a friendly snarl. “And you’re hiding something. If it comes back and bites this investigation on the ass, I’ll have your badge for it.”

The chapter ends with O'Brien throwing Anita out of her office.


  1. I want to comment, because you deserve validation for constantly putting up really hilarious snarks, but all I can think of is: these books. These fucking books.

    Thank you for taking the bullet.

  2. What Kore said. I'm still reading every spork, I at a loss for words.