Monday, January 12, 2004

Sunday I wanted something that wouldn't make me think, so I pulled out Full Tilt, by Janet Evanovich and Charlotte Hughes. I had high hopes because I love the Stephanie Plum mysteries, but alas, this book is nowhere near as fun or smart or silly as those. The characters were straight stock romance cardboard cutouts (feisty, independent woman and arrogant, handsome, yet likeable man) with little touches of Plum here and there (Vera and her gun is very reminiscent of Grandma Mazur and DeeDee is very Jersey), while the hit men and Swamp Dog seemed like they were brought in from a sub-standard Carl Hiaasen ripoff. The romance wasn't hot enough to make it guilty fun and the mystery wasn't developed enough to give it any depth. It was just brainless fluff, pretty much. It didn't piss me off enough to make me give up, but I wasn't thrilled with it either. This one will be returning to the used book store from whence it came.

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