This was one big “MEH . . .” Some of it was the writing, a lot of it was the characters, and the nail in the coffin was the overall storyline.
I got a copy of this back in March 2013 and it has sat on my Kindle ever since, not for any particular reason, I just never got to it. I’m a little surprised I didn’t read it sooner since it’s a mystery/thriller about a book with bookstores and libraries involved and those, in general, are like catnip for me.
What I didn’t realize was that this was a series until I finally pulled it off my TBR list and saw that since I purchased this three more were published in the Delhi Lane Mystery series. Unfortunately, I won’t continue the series as this one was so lackluster for me.
When I bought the book I really thought I would enjoy it, but there were few reasons to. There were the occasional gems like these that made me laugh:
Why did we torture ourselves this way? Why not just get a job at Walmart or buy lottery tickets? The truth was, we were addicts. Addicted to the heft of a book under our fingers, the wonderful mystery of where it had been. And we were addicted to the hope that one of these days a book, a scrap of paper, a tattered pamphlet, would pay back our devotion by being worth more than we could have imagined. (Loc. 721)
But book people are a little crazy. Or a lot crazy. At a book sale, if someone yelled, ‘Fire!’ the dealers would have to be dragged out. Even as they were being pulled toward the exit, they would be grabbing at any good book they passed. (Loc. 1,185)
But for the most part, the book lacked polish, engaging characters and just couldn’t keep my interest. There were definitely WAY too many red herrings, none of which turned out to be any sort of other crime going on, and there was a one-off kiss that was like wait, WTF, why bother putting that in there if you’re not going to follow up on it. The same thing with the professor Delhi had dinner with, like don’t introduce all the love interests and then do nothing.
It seemed like Culbertson had read a few mystery thrillers, decided she wanted to gender swap everyone, and just move forward and it fell flat.
Recommendation: PASS. Not worth the time and I’m not sure the rest of the series would be engaged. The protagonist had a chip on her shoulder that felt like we had to hear about every chapter, the rest of the characters were one-dimensional, and there was an overwhelming number of unanswered questions, unexplained red herrings, and it just didn’t work for me. But, if you love books and read mysteries/thrillers like I read romances, then give it a go it may work for you.
Opening Line: “The day my life began to unravel—like the sweaters my mother tried to knit for us to save money—started much too early.”
Closing Line: “There was slight wrinkling to the other page, and just the faintest shadow of a golden-skinned boy bowing out of the world.” (Whited out to avoid spoilers, highlight to read.)
Additional Quotes from A Novel Death
“On my good days, I fit the book cataloguer’s description, ‘slightly foxed, but still desirable’—a few age creases, but nothing serious. On my bad days, when my light hair hangs lank instead of curling, and my eyes are circled like edited mistakes, I am ‘a reading copy only.'” (Loc. 194)
“This poem was in his usual style. Except that it was called ‘Separation,’ and the last line lamented, A man can’t dance with a wife who hides his shoes.” (Loc. 404)
“You’re like an elephant who sat on a tulip and then got up and complained that it was squashed.” (Loc. 423)
“But death is a funny thing. Although it is news that will never change, there is a fearsome urgency to letting people know once it has happened. In an odd way it seems unfair to let them continue to live their lives without knowing. Once you know, it is a lit match you have to pass along or risk getting burned yourself.” (Loc. 943)
“The past is sealed. The future holds annihilation. Being able to sit in the sunshine and breathe in the salty air on a summer afternoon was, in the end, all you had.” (Loc. 1,710)
“Life was a cheap trick, a fair promising penny candy to keep you from realizing what it actually was.” (Loc. 1,758)