* One Rainy Night *
Richard Laymon’s One Rainy Night
I was so intrigued by the storyline proposed about this book, but after thirty pages I was begging for a friggin’ plot! Pass the plot please already!! It was just the same incidence over and over again…with not much change and didn’t create much mystery as to what would take place next…I already knew.
But with my my determination to finish what I start, I lullingly finished this book. It took longer than usual, but I did it.
Conclusion being::
The storied continued on just about the same throughout, but the end was summed up with justice and sweet revenge that was very much due. It’s just a shame there wasn’t more intrigue in the postponed plot.
Excerpts:
Pg. 11- ‘….He opened up wide and stretched out his tongue. The rain felt thicker than water. It tasted like blood. … A mile coppery flavor. … It made him long to fill his mouth with the real thing. ‘
Pg. 66- ‘A warm tremor spread through her. She felt an urge to strip naked and roll on the grass. But a different urge was stronger. … ‘
Pg. 93- ‘She had a small, faint scar on her right cheekbone. Like a nick that a sculptor might’ve given his statue because he found it too perfect and felt the need to give it a small flaw for a touch of humanity and vulnerability. ‘
Pg. 128- ‘He swung a hard right…The guy stayed put, riding through the rain like a big, limp hood ornament. ‘
Triptych…
Karin Slaughter’s Triptych
If you haven’t discovered the writing of Karin Slaughter, woa are you ever missing out! Her latest book: Tryptych. Its twisted scenarios that somehow come together into one big fiasco of a gripping read! Here’s a tidbit to get to you started…
Conversation between ex-con John Shelly and thought-to-be hooker Angie Polaski (who is actually a vice cop) meets John under unusual circumstances and talk about money arise. John becomes uncomfortable and “just wants to talk” for the $50 he gave to ‘Robin’. … talk about her first kiss. She rolled her eyes but she kept the money.
Excerpts:
“Tell you what?”Anything,” he said. “Tell me …” Jesus, he couldn’t think of a damn thing. “Tell me…:” He starred at her willing her face to give him a clue- anything that would keep her here a little longer. He looked at her beautiful mouth, the way it twisted with irritation and maybe something that look like curiosity “your first kiss,” he decided. “tell me about you first kiss.”
“you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“no,” he said. “I’m not.” “just tell me about your first kiss”
~
Though John was adamant to admit it, he had a sort of crush almost admiration for this long time friend Mary Alice. He invited her to a party and after the overwhelming pressure inside they ventured into the backyard, alone where they could talk and John could reflect.
God, she was so pretty. He had been hating her so long that he’d forgotten she was so gorgeous.
~
That night turned into a string of events, not so eventful of what was remembered anyway…not knowing that he should have … his thoughts of his last memory:
He sat back on his heels, his mind going over the last time he had seen Mary Alice. Her eyes. He would never forget her eyes, the way she had stared into nowhere. Her body told the real story, though. She had endured horrible things, unspeakable things. In his mind, he could still recall the blown-up pictures from his trial, the photographs showing Mary Alice Finney’s violated body splayed out for the world to see…
