For week 12, I read (unsurprisingly) River Marked, by Patricia Briggs.
Short version: I totes dug it, man.
The long version has spoilers. SPOILER ALERT. SPOILER ALERT.
Heh. Aw. She gots all married and whut-not. Okay, sappy bits aside, I am so glad Briggs didn’t linger for half the book on the damn wedding. It happened, it was meaningful and beautiful, great. I’m glad, don’t get me wrong; but I didn’t pick this up because I can’t find this month’s Brides Weekly. Let’s get onto the good, gory stuff!
Excellent. Old, old monsters with insatiable appetites. Coyote, Thunderbird, Native American legends (whether accurate or not, I am in no position to say; I’m going to assume Briggs didn’t wuss out and did her research), post-marital spats and gooey kissing parts…all in all, fine family fun. Two thumbs up.
I have to say, I very much enjoyed Coyote. Thunderbird was fun to have around too, but Coyote was the best. I hope there’s more of him here and there; not necessarily dropping in as a handy plot device, but more in a cameo capacity. And Calvin, the apprentice shaman, was a wonderful bit of comic relief.
Can I just say, without being misogynistic, that I like it when Mercy is appropriately wounded? I’m not talking about getting a sucking chest wound and total transfusion with every encounter; not at all. But when you face a legendary creature so ancient that it has been practically forgotten, with only swim fins and a bandolier of glass knives, and try to filet that sucker with your bare hands, YES, you end up in the HOSPITAL. In a WHEELCHAIR for a while. With CASTS on LIMBS. It sucks. This is why it is a very scary critter, right? Right. The consequences are appropriate to the immensity of the task. You have to honestly fear for the life of the character. Briggs gets this, thank goodness.
I for one am sick of getting to climax of the book, the bad guys are dead, everyone is very glad to be alive, and nobody is badly hurt enough to stop themselves from immediately trying to reach another kind of climax, if you know what I mean. Vagina-fantasy indeed. I’m glad you can’t hear the very unladylike noises I’m making to go along with my expression of disgust. Unpleasant.
How long do we have to wait for the next one, again?