Drink the Tea

Drink the Tea by Thomas Kaufman 9780312607302

publication date: 2010
pages: 294
ISBN: 978-0-312-60730-2

In Drink the Tea, Thomas Kaufman attempted to present a detective story set in Washington, D.C. Generally, his attempt failed. I didn’t care about the mystery, the other parts of the plot, or the characters. Additionally, Kaufman’s writing was generally confusing or ineffective. I will say, his themes and motifs were engaging enough.

The plot followed P.I. Willis Gidney as he searched for his friend’s missing daughter. The plot also contained multiple flashbacks to Gidney’s own tragic childhood, as an orphan in the D.C. system. The plot found Gidney haranguing politicians, bugging government workers, shaking down criminals, lying to cops, scaring innocent civilians, and just generally annoying everyone. This bit of dialogue from the first chapter was a good representation of how irksome Gidney was throughout the entire book:

Steps Jackson leaned across the table and said, “I want you to find my daughter.”
I stared at him, my coffee cup halfway to my lips. “You’ve got a daughter?”
“Why would I ask you to find a daughter I don’t have?” A wave of irritation crossed his face.

Waves of irritation were constantly crossing my face as I was reading this book. Everything was so confusing, from the tiniest detail to entire plot points. Here was an example of a small detail that was confusing and just seemed like lazy writing, from a scene where Gidney was searching an apartment building:

The top floor was the same, until I reached the rear apartment. It looked like it had been lived in more recently, though I couldn’t say how recently. And, unlike the rest of the building, this apartment had been cleaned out, there was nothing in the corners, no trash, no papers. Only some torn black plastic trash bags.

OK. So. Was there trash in the apartment or wasn’t there? And if there was nothing in the apartment, what made Gidney think someone lived there? If the only thing that was in the apartment was trash bags, how in the hell could it look lived in?

Beyond the confusing nature of the writing, it was very stylized and clunky. Here was an example of the author being sarcastic about his own story:

Men and women draped themselves over wrought iron chairs, speaking the poetry of programming code. Two or three male customers were getting pretty steamed up about cryptology and freedom of speech. One of them got so angry that he actually sloshed coffee over the brim of his cup. Exciting times.

Although I thought the book was pretty bad, there were some things I liked about it. Washington, D.C. was generally presented in a specific and detailed way, as though it was a character in itself. And some of Kaufman’s writing was effective. I liked this passage that occurred after Gidney was arrested:

[The guard] said, “This way.”
Meaning, follow me, asshole, down this long, musty green hallway that smells like piss with these sickly green fluorescent lights that flicker and strobe and into this changeless dungeon a city block long where you can breathe the same air you breathed twenty years ago and see the same faces staring at you as you walk the hallway and have the same cell you had as a kid and step to the side as the door slides open and without a word walk inside this cell because this is your cell and you know it and maybe you’ll get out soon and maybe you won’t but one thing for sure, the sound of the cell door closing is the loudest, most final sound you’ll ever hear.

This was a detective story without an engaging mystery, surrounded in generally poor writing. Although there were some bright spots, I would not recommend Drink the Tea.

2/6: many problems

other reviews (somehow, people gave the book generally positive reviews):

Mysterious Reviews
Amazon
Goodreads

S.

S. by J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst9780316201643

publication date: 2013
pages: 456
ISBN: 978-0-316-20164-3

This book was a lot of fun. The physical book that the reader actually held in their hands was a first edition of the 1949 book Ship of Theseus by V.M. Straka. Within that Straka book, were notes in the margins, written by Jen, a college student, and Eric, a graduate student seeking his Ph.D. on Straka and his works. There were also several related papers stuck in the Straka book, like a copy of a telegram sent by Straka in 1924 and a postcard sent from Eric to Jen in 2012. All these different layers of narratives made for an intriguing book. There was also a lot of mystery within the Ship of Theseus story written by Straka, and surrounding Straka’s identity and death, and around Jen and Eric’s relationship and work.

The different narratives within the book gave me a choice as to how I could read it. I thought the best way I would be able to judge the Ship of Theseus text and the Jen and Eric annotations was to read each story separately. So I read Ship of Theseus and it’s footnotes first, without looking at Eric and Jen’s notes or the material stuck in the book. Then, after I read to the end of the text, I read the later notes and material.

J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst obviously spent time creating this book, and the effort paid off. The different voices of Eric, Jen, Straka, Straka’s editor, and other characters were all varied and interesting. There were several clues and codes within the book that the reader could investigate and untangle. Also, the added material within the book, like letters, photos, and newspaper clippings was all detailed and well-done. Probably the most exciting part in the book for me was when I turned a page to find a hand-written map drafted on a napkin. As I was unfolding the map, I felt like I really was going on an adventure.

I was impressed by the distinctiveness of the different character voices. For example, here was a passage from Ship of Theseus about its main character, S:

It’s not so much the killing that exhausts S. as it is the planning and rowing and trusting and traveling and stalking and killing and escaping and rowing and sewing and sailing and writing and sailing and writing and sailing and writing and planning and rowing and trusting, all the while knowing that Vévoda is hunting him, too. . . .

And here’s a typical passage in the margins between Eric and Jen:

[Eric]: Sometimes I wonder: how much of this am I doing just to get back @ Moody? And Ilsa, too?
[Jen]: You’re doing exactly what you would have been doing. You’re just a little more intense about it.
[Eric]: Apparently I’m allowing you to make rash decisions (which admittedly, benefit me indirectly).
[Jen]: You’re not “allowing” me to do anything.

Although I enjoyed the book, parts of it could be annoying. For example, it’s very nature made it self-indulgent. Doug Dorst was able to write a book and then write notes in the margins commenting on how interesting and well-written the book was. Also, the Ship of Theseus narrative was sometimes excessively stylized.

Overall, it was a fun, intriguing book that left several mysteries unsolved for those readers who want to solve puzzles on their own.

4/6: worth reading

other reviews:

The Guardian
Hypable
The Telegraph

Jackaby

Jackaby by William Ritter9781616203535

publication date: 2014
pages: 209
ISBN: 978-1-61620-353-5

William Ritter took several successful formulas – a Sherlock-esque antisocial detective, a supernatural mystery, a steam punky female narrator – and spliced them together to form Jackaby.

The book followed Abigail Rook as she arrived in New Fiddleham, New England, in 1892. Abigail stumbled upon Jackaby, an eccentric detective of the occult, and began work for him as his assistant. The two quickly (unnervingly quickly) encountered a murder that needed solving. Abigail and Jackaby worked together, along with a police officer, a banshee, and a ghost, to solve the case.

In general, I found the whole book to be quite tedious. Jackaby was almost a straight rip-off of Sherlock Holmes, except he argued for the metaphysical and not against it. As an example, here was Jackaby convincing a police officer to take them further into a crime scene, which I’m pretty sure I’ve seen in every Sherlock ever:

“Wait,” said Charlie, following. “I told the inspector [Marlowe] I would take you out of the building.”

“And so you shall,” Jackaby called over his shoulder. “Expertly, I imagine, and to the letter of the instruction. However, I don’t recall Marlowe giving any specific directions about time, nor about the route we take, so let’s have a quick chat with someone odd, first, shall we? I do love odd. Ah, here we are!”

I also solved the case 1/3 through the book and figured out the red herring about 2/3 of the way through. That’s not me bragging, because I’m not the type to “figure out” books while I read them. That’s me showing how transparent the plot was.

The writing was also tiresome. Ritter attempted to falsely insert drama and interest. Here was a small example, as both Abigail and Jackaby were walking from Jackaby’s office to the post office to work on the case:

My stomach was growling audibly as Jackaby paid the vendor for two steamy meat pies. . . .

“So, what we know thus far,” Jackaby said suddenly, as if the ongoing conversation in his head had bubbled over and simply poured out his mouth, “is our culprit left poor Mr. Bragg with a wicked chest wound and a grieving girlfriend, and he made off with a good deal of the fellow’s blood. . . .”

Ritter was obviously trying to create tension by having what Jackaby did be “sudden,” but I honestly do not know how Jackaby could have started that conversation any less suddenly. Was he supposed to say: “Alright, I’m going to talk about the case now, it’s coming up, just about to talk about it. Are you ready? Here we go. . .”

The unoriginal characters, thin plot, and simplistic writing meant that I had almost no emotional investment in the book.

The book wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Ritter did have some imaginative beasties and fantastical creatures. And there was one part of the book that I actively liked, when Abigail and Jackaby were questioning a woman:

[Hatun said,] “Oh no. been keeping to myself, kept my shawl on all tight all night, didn’t want anyone finding me after what I saw.”

“You were hiding in your shawl?” I asked.

Hatun gave the pale blue knit shawl around her shoulders an affectionate tug. “Only street folk can see me in this, beggars and homeless, like. Never had much cause to watch out for them – they’re good souls, the most of ‘em. For everyone else – well, it doesn’t make me invisible or nothing, just impossible to notice.” She smiled proudly.

Jackaby and I exchanged glances.

“Erm, I found you,” said my colleague.

Hatun gave him a knowing wink. “You don’t exactly follow the rules when it comes to finding things, though, now do you, Detective?”

I thought that passage was an effective commentary on how we can overlook the homeless and downtrodden.

If someone was intensely interested in this genre, I would recommend this book, because it followed the mold closely. For the rest of us, I thought the book had:

2/6: many problems

Other reviews of the book:

Nerdist
teenreads
Cuddle Buggery

Déjà Dead

Déjà Dead by Kathy Reichs9780671011369

publication date: 1997
pages: 612
ISBN: 978-1-5011-2211-8

The main character of Déjà Dead, Temperance Brennan, was perhaps more famous in her iteration as a character on the TV show Bones. According to author Kathy Reichs, the Temperance Brennan in the books was not the same as in the TV show, although both were based on Reichs herself.

In Déjà Dead, Temperance was an American working in Montreal, Canada, as a forensic anthropologist for the police force. As a forensic anthropologist, she mainly investigated dead bodies sent to the police – especially bodies decomposed to the point where only the bones remained. At the start of the book, Brennan investigated a body found in a garbage bag that spawned a search for a killer. Along the way, Temperance encountered the recalcitrant and obnoxious Detective Claudel. She also juggled a wayward adolescent daughter and a flighty best friend.

The book certainly took its focus on dead bodies and gore very seriously. Almost every page contained a passage like this (I literally opened the book at random to a page with this passage):

Fifteen yards from the corpse I no longer need a guide. Blending with the loamy scent of woods and sunlight I detected the unmistakable smell of death. The odor of decomposing flesh is like no other, and it hung there in the warm afternoon air, faint but undeniable. Step by step, the sweet, fetid stench grew stronger, building in intensity like the whine of a locust, until it ceased blending, and overpowered all other smells. The aromas of moss and humus and pine and sky deferred to the rankness of rotting flesh.

Although I often read books at lunch, I tried that with this book a few times but the graphic descriptions of the subject matter meant I preferred to eat with nothingness than with Déjà Dead.

Not only could this book be graphic, it could also be very bleak. Brennan sometimes had an especially bleak view of the humanity surrounding her. For example, this was her description of a group of prostitutes she encountered:

Then there were those who’d managed to grow old. Only the truly canny and exceptionally strong had prospered and gotten out. The ill and weak were dead. The strong-bodied but weak-willed endured. They saw the future, and accepted it. They would die in the streets because they knew nothing else. Or because they loved or feared some man enough to peddle ass to buy his dope. Or because they needed food to eat and a place to sleep.

Although the book was graphic and bleak at times, it was a pretty fast read. The last third, especially, was suspenseful and compelling.

I am generally not a fan of the crime thriller, but for those who are, the fierce heroine and forensic aspects of Déjà Dead make for an interesting addition to the genre.

3/6: more good than bad

Other reviews of Déjà Dead: 

The Guardian
ScienceThrillers.com
Book Reporter