Crashed by Timothy Hallinan

I listened to this on tape, and about three days after I initially downloaded it from the library, I saw a positive review for the book on NPR and felt unreasonably proud of myself for downloading a decently reviewed book purely because the cover is well-designed.

The review said that it was the tone that makes this book - and I think that's very true.  When you tell someone what the story is about, it doesn't sound like anything spectacular. It's about the underworld of the Hollywood area, a drugged-out child star, a burglar, and a porn film.  How is that new or different, right?  And when you tell them that it's funny sometimes, it's even more misleading. Because it isn't a funny book overall; people die, and it's serious and scary. Yet the characters can find humor in life - they aren't perpetually serious - and that makes them seem like human beings.  Nothing is more boring to me than the stoic, inscrutable, Bond-style detective.

So, basically, it's a hard book to describe to people.

I can say that this is the only modern mystery story I've read that I really enjoyed.  Not only because the main character was fun and all that - but because it was at least a bit believable, and seemed to be about bigger things than just giving the reader a fun ride.  I was struck by the unmistakable social commentary.  And how the characters - all of them (with the possible exception of Junior's wife - she's believable and everything, but not meaty) - would be an actor's dream. And since Lionsgate has bought the rights to make a movie, there's a slim chance that it might pull through development purgatory and get made. Of course, the story and the characters and the social commentary could all get sapped out of them by dumb people, but with a smart screenwriter and a handful of great actors it could be something really, really special.  And I don't think that often.

Thistle Downing, in particular, would be a dream of an acting role. If somebody played the part well, I'd see them grabbing awards.  Thistle is drugged-out, obviously, but she's also so self-aware, and sees precisely what the media machine is after. She has a sense of humor.  She has weird ideas about what happened to her talent. She's not your normal messed up hollywood kid character - and I think that's cool because there is no such thing as a normal messed-up hollywood kid.

CONCLUSION:
People in real life are not just types - they're all different, no matter what group they fit into - and that, right there, is why this book is good: because Timothy Hallinan knows it, and writes his people like people.

55/365 The Secret of Chimneys by Agatha Christie

The best thing about Agatha Christie is that when you become a rabid fan (as I am) and have read every book (as I have) and then you don't read a particular title for a year or so, there is a very good chance that, when you pick this particular title up again, you've forgotten the whole plot.  I almost never forget books, and this happens to me all the time with Agatha Christie.  Usually I remember who gets murdered and who did it and who pairs off and all that - but the stops along the way?  Not a clue.  (Ha ha! Bad joke!)

It happened with this one.  I expected it to be about Bundle, but I think I had it mixed up with The Seven Dials Mystery.  I opened it up and had no idea what was going on.  It was lovely.

I would like to be fascinating like Virginia Revel.  And as that ranks up there on the possibility scale with trading bodies with Keira Knightley, I will also say that I would love to have Bundle's wonderful turn of phrase.  And also a nickname.  Not Bundle - but so many Agatha Christie women have nicknames.  Tuppence, for heaven's sake.  Socks.  Egg.  How do they acquire these?  I have always wanted a nickname, but I think I'm a bit too old to pull a C.S. Lewis and inform my family that they're to call me Jack from now on. A pity.

Anyways, this book is fun. Princes and crown jewels and wonderful one-liners.  I do so love Lord Caterham.  I made my own papa read a bit of Lord Caterham's talking this afternoon, laughing my head off all the while.  My poor dad.  It wasn't even funny out of context.  I just can't help myself sometimes.  I've got the SHARE virus.

CONCLUSION:  Classic Christie.  Gosh, the woman can entertain.  In my book, there really is no better way to spend an afternoon than at a country house party gone murderous.

42/365 A Graveyard for Lunatics by Ray Bradbury

Ah.  Um.  Well, I just googled this book and learned that it's the second book in a series.  Which makes it make a lot more sense.  I did feel rather that I was missing pieces here and there.
This book took me ages.  But it was well worth it.  Bewildering and sometimes spooky, but good.  I love reading about people who are really good at something - in this case, film editing, writing, and making clay dinosaurs.  I wish I talked the way the characters do.  When I try to do so - or, even worse, when I try to talk like Lord Peter Wimsey - I sound like a supercilious freak.

I want to say more but my eyeballs are falling out.  I just finished a re-do drawing for art class because I decided that the first one didn't turn out.   From now on I think I will try to stick with the first one.

CONCLUSION:  I'm interested in reading the others in the series, so that has to be a good sign.

P.S.  I do not care for that cover.  Just needed to make that clear.