I stayed up late last night finishing the world’s dumbest book. I don’t know where I got it — Mom or Priscilla. It’s a Patricia Cornwell who I haven’t read in a very long time — I think the last one I read was The Body Farm. The book I read last night was Black Notice. Sometimes I’ll read a scene in a book and say, “only a man would write this” because it’s some sort of fantasy scenario where the woman is beautiful and great in bed can meet all the man’s needs, whatever the situation but at the same time, doesn’t want anything from him. I’m not explaining this very well but I’m in a hurry so oh, well.
This PC book was like a woman’s fantasy because the protagonist is this cold, humorless woman who is a brilliant medical examiner and in the middle of the book at this completely random moment she initiates sex with this gorgeous successful and younger man who immediately rips at her clothes and tells her how hot he is for her and after sex he is apparently in love with her and wants to hold her hand and take her out to dinner. I swear I re-read these pages a couple of times, thinking I had missed something. Like this would ever happen. The whole book was doo-doo — I don’t know why I had to finish it except there was this werewolf thing going on and I wanted to know what it was all about. Also, this brilliant doctor’s name is Kay Scarpetta and as I said earlier, I’ve read a couple other books with her and in virtually every one, the bad guy showed up at the end, in her house and attacked her but she was saved at the last minute by convenient appearances by other characters. So last night, I’m reading the last few pages and here comes the bad guy knocking on the door and here is the world’s most brilliant medical examiner answering the door. I’m going, “Kay, what are you thinking? Even *I* know it’s the bad guy.” I don’t recommend it unless you are on a beach with an umbrella drink in your hands and nothing else to read.
