I read cozy and historical mysteries, a bit of Paranormal/UF, and to mix it up, I read science and gardening books on occasion.
Darynda Jones is quickly becoming the second author alive for whom I'd go out of my way to have a conversation with. Folded into a zany, quirky, funny urban fantasy series is some deeply well thought out theology; hidden amid the rapid-fire one-liners, Jones tackles head on the issues of God, free-will, and why He "allows' pain and suffering. And she doesn't take it lightly, and she doesn't go for easy answers or glib reasoning. She's successfully mixed silliness and the very opposite of silliness and I'm a little bit in love with her for pulling it off.
Eleventh Grave... clears a lot of the ongoing questions up, and I'd go so far as to say it brings the major story-arc to a close. The climatic scene was so shattering, the resolution was almost an afterthought. This is by no means the end of the series, as far as I know - there's still a lot of questions unanswered so it had better not be.
It was mostly excellent; my complaints are twofold: The first - we don't find out what happened to Strawberry Shortcake's brother. I hate unresolved stuff like that. Second: I have to preface this with the disclaimer that I'm not a prude. Sex scenes don't bother me in the slightest, but Jones went a little too far for my comfort in one of the scenes here. It wasn't that it was deviant in any way, but after 11 books I feel like I've come to know Charlie and Reyes; like an invisible, unacknowledged member of the gang. And yeah, I'd rather not know as much about Charlie and Reyes as I got from that scene. At one point it stopped being sexy and started being really awkward. On the flip side, she wrote a hell of a homage to When Harry Met Sally in another scene.
Awkward sex aside, I'm with Jones and Charlie until the wheels fall off. I'd say until hell froze over but apparently, that's a thing.
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