Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
SBD: Delivering the Goods
From the start, the reader knows he’s in competent hands, or at least the hands of a competent publisher. We get a slick cover featuring shapely calves and stiletto heels, with oodles of diamonds on the floor to suggest the promise of intrigue. On the back, a hot-lookin’ Christina Dodd beams with confidence.
So what if the premise sounds hokey: new to Chicago, novice lawyer Brandi Michaels gets dumped by her husband, has a night of passion with a tall, dark, and mysterious Italian count, then finds out she’s being stalked, requiring her to depend upon the Count for protection. Everything else seems to bode well, including a competent opening scene. Eleven-year-old Brandi watches as her dad dumps her mom. We soon learn that Brandi has insecurities about being perceived as stupid (despite being “one of the smartest people in the country”) and hangups vis a vis her absent daddy. Nice — strong character development right from the get-go.
But I think you would all agree that a contract exists between the author and the reader. I’ll buy your book, and you’ll deliver the goods. In this case, “delivering the goods” means convincing me of the passion between these two and making me care enough about them to cheer when they hook up in the end. At a minimum, I should believe (A) we’re in Chicago, (B) the hero is Italian (aside from an ability to speak the language and execute, oh God, not another “typically Italian hand gesture”), (C) the author knows something about jewel thieves and the mob.
Sadly, Trouble in High Heels is unconvincing on all counts. Since Dodd’s main characters never spring to life, neither does my interest. Brandi is a stereotype, a statuesque beauty (and smart, too! Not dumb, really!) as is Mr. Dark-Mysterious-Sexy, Roberto. Their passionate weekend happens largely off-screen, yet we’re asked to believe that their desire for one another is damned near irresistible. In such a situation, skimping on the sex is a capital show-don’t-tell offense.
The supporting cast seems unoriginal, cribbed from the movies. Roberto’s father is a knock-off of William Hickey’s character in Prizzi’s Honor, right down to the “Have a cookie, dear?” line, and the chief baddy is a stock Robert Loggia-style thug.
The worst failure-to-deliver is Brandi herself. Trouble in High Heels packs a mystery (is Roberto a notorious jewel thief? What is he up to, anyway?) which befuddles our heroine right up to the novel’s climax. One of the smartest people in the country? Uh-uh, honey, not when I can figure things out 150 pages before you. Talk about obtuse.
Christina Dodd’s wordsmithing lacks little polish on a technical level. She strings the words together perfectly well, knows how to construct a scene, doesn’t fumble the dialog. Yet there’s no heart here, no sense of caring.
Okay, Beth, is that bitchy enough for you?
D.
I’d call this a straight-forward and honest review. A negative review needs to be specific about what went wrong, and you did that.
If all that equals bitchy, so be it.
Thanks, Rosina!
I don’t think it’s bitchy.
Nope, not catty — which is a segue (because I’m tired of being always off topic at your blog) into …
How’re the new cats adjusting?
They’re eating, pooping (in the litter box, yay!), and not trying to claw our eyes out. About as well as can be expected for post-adoption day 2, thanks 🙂
So, what prompted you to try this book in particular?
And bitching about a book counts as an SBD post? Well, then, I definitely did that.
How about raving about a book, does that count? I did that, too.
“Delivering the goods”, I like that term!
Darla: when I work out on the elliptical trainer, I have to read something or else the whole experience feels like torture. I ran out of stuff to read, we have no local bookstore, so I went to RiteAid and checked out the racks. This was the least objectionable offering.
I think Beth defines SBD as being a bitch about the romance genre. Whether or not an isolated book review counts . . . I dunno, we’ll see if she cracks her whip.
Charlene: thanks. Wish I could take credit!
I’ll have to trawl through your romance archives, Doug. It occurs to me that the novel I’m writing at the moment is in some lights a romance, though currently a somewhat tragic one, set on a strange new world etc.
That’s part of why I’m re=reading Wizard and Glass, too.
-pat
Oh, but Pat, you have to have the Happily Ever After. Think about Haldeman (Forever War).
Rethink that tragedy. Turn that frown upside down.
Good grief, Doug! You mean to tell me you have no TBR pile? I don’t have a local book store either, but it only takes Barnes & Noble or Buy.com a week to get books to me.
*shaking my head*
Ah yes, but I’m remembering, oh, Romeo & Juliet.
But, Pat, R & J is tragedy, not romance 😉 (Although I have a dim memory that R & J is classified as one of Shakespeare’s comedies. Am I misremembering that?)
Yes, Darla, I do, but it’s at home 20 miles away. I got caught without a book!
It’s nice to read reviews the simply state what works and what doesn’t for the reader. I’m usually unswayed by reviews anyway – I don’t base book buying on reviews – but when the reader can’t connect with the main character, that doesn’t make me want to read the story.
Anyhow, good review!
Well, I may have stumbled on a way to have my HEA and eat it too.
And, because of the kind of romance I’m writing, it involves an electromagnetic pulse.
No foolin’.
Thanks, Sam. When will I learn not to trust that line, “New York Times Bestselling Author”?
Sounds cool, Pat. Reminds me of the black hole bit in Gateway — how the protag’s wife is forever falling into the black hole (whoops. spoiler), kinda the far extreme opposite of an HEA 😉
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