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aseIn case it wasn't evident, I'm posting in order read. I'm messy like that.
The Game (Laurie R. King): Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes in India, searching Kimball O'Hara, a missing English operative. As always, Laurie King's knack for vivid characterization and use of the historical setting makes me want to run into the history and lit fiction library stacks.
The fictional detectives' search for a vanished Rudyard Kipling character makes me think of Jasper Fforde. There's a similar delight in literature, history and blurring the edges of both at work in LRK and Fforde's writing.
The Beekeeper's Apprentice (Laurie R. King): I was fifteen when I first met Sherlock Holmes, fifteen years old with my nose in a book as I walked the Sussex Downs, and nearly stepped on him. In my defense I must say it was an engrossing book, and it was very rare to come across another person in that particular part of the world in that war year of 1915. And I was fourteen when this fell into my hands (by way of, all people, my father), and I keep rereading it despite my wavering opinion on the Mary Sue-ishness of the main character. The premise may be a bit fangirl, but the execution is attentive to details, is propelled by a nicely twisty narrative and includes several vivid, interesting characters (all electrified by Sherlock Holmes' presence) and generally holds up really well to rereading. This is comfort reading of the best sort.
The Game (Laurie R. King): Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes in India, searching Kimball O'Hara, a missing English operative. As always, Laurie King's knack for vivid characterization and use of the historical setting makes me want to run into the history and lit fiction library stacks.
The fictional detectives' search for a vanished Rudyard Kipling character makes me think of Jasper Fforde. There's a similar delight in literature, history and blurring the edges of both at work in LRK and Fforde's writing.
The Beekeeper's Apprentice (Laurie R. King): I was fifteen when I first met Sherlock Holmes, fifteen years old with my nose in a book as I walked the Sussex Downs, and nearly stepped on him. In my defense I must say it was an engrossing book, and it was very rare to come across another person in that particular part of the world in that war year of 1915. And I was fourteen when this fell into my hands (by way of, all people, my father), and I keep rereading it despite my wavering opinion on the Mary Sue-ishness of the main character. The premise may be a bit fangirl, but the execution is attentive to details, is propelled by a nicely twisty narrative and includes several vivid, interesting characters (all electrified by Sherlock Holmes' presence) and generally holds up really well to rereading. This is comfort reading of the best sort.