Queen of Suspense

Thinking I was very clever to outwit my six-book check-out limit at the library, I checked out a book that was actually three novels in one volume, all by Mary Higgins Clark. How sneaky you are, srah. All of that reading and it only counts for one of your six. It will bring you hours and days of enjoyment.

Of course, it would have helped if you knew anything about Mary Higgins Clark before, because it turned out to be hours and days of blah and screaming.

While my solitude is slowly leading to insanity and making me talk to myself, it was only reading while this volume that I started talking to books. I started criticizing the incredibly stupid characters and the author out loud and cheering when I read that one of the characters worked (c. 1992) in the World Trade Center in New York. I think MHC has caused a sharp decline in my condition. Unfortunately, the title page is missing from the book, so I have not yet figured out the address of her publisher in order to send future psychiatrists' bills there.

I'll give you an example:

'...It's near Branscombe, a beautiful English village. Built during the time of the Norman Conquest.'
'About nine hundred years ago,' Judith interrupted.
'I really must remember I'm dealing with a historian...'

My first instinct upon reading this was to slap Stephen for saying something as stupid as that last line, when not just a historian but anyone with a high school education (especially in England, as they are) should know the date of the Norman Conquest and have a vague grasp of subtraction and thus be able to provide that information.

My second thought was to smack Judith for interrupting Stephen with that useless bit of pseudo-information when he clearly knew the age of his own house, being a snotty upper-class type person.

My third thought was to realize that this was not just a conversation between two stupid people, but a conversation thought up by someone who is somehow a best-selling author.

The most frightening thing was that I went through this thought process several times in each novel, so I have to assume that there is more like this out there. I also have to recognize that I did read all three, which makes me wonder about myself as well.

In conclusion, While My Pretty One Sleeps, Loves Music, Loves to Dance, and The Anastasia Syndrome are highly decommended by the weblogger, who is starting to wonder about the Vichy Public Library's English Books section, as it carries this volume as well as WMPOS and LMLTD by themselves, BUT neither Lord of the Rings nor Harry Potter.

srah - Sunday, 10 November 2002 - 7:42 AM
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