The Literate Kitty

Ask anyone who their favorite fictional private eye is, and you’ll find you’ve cast a pretty wide net—granted, one in which some of the same, bigger, fish show up again and again—but ask for their favorite detecting duo , and the resulting catch will likely be noticeably smaller. [Not that the latter won’t also include some repeats; great writing and plotting, as in blood, will always out.] Me? Honestly, for my all-time faves, I’m torn between a couple of dynamic, modern duos [which sounds way too superhero-y for this particular discussion, but here we are]: Lynley and Havers (from the mighty pen of Elizabeth George), and Robert Galbraith (aka J.K. Rowling)’s Strike and Robin. [Yes, I know, I know . Technically, I should call her “Ellacott”, because a) “and Robin” also skews way too superhero-y, and b) going with last names would be tidier, but… to me, she’s Robin, because she feels more like a good friend. <insert shrugging emoticon here>] So, now that I finally got around t...

Synchronicity : an apparently meaningful coincidence in time of two or more similar or identical events that are causally unrelated. Soooooo… pretty sure it wasn’t because I did some search for “cool shows set in Amsterdam” (because I definitely didn’t), but the fact remains, nontheless, that I found myself watching, back-to-back, two different series set… in Amsterdam.  Anywho, I'm going with " synchronicity is totally a thing" , mkay? (The fact that there's also a totally-legit  The Police tie-in, here? I mean, just kill me now.) _______________ The series about the quasi-retired French detective, on holiday with his wife in Amsterdam? Yeah, Baptiste was a no-brainer for me, because I found both seasons of The Missing  riveting (My review of the first of that series’ two seasons can be found here .) Baptiste , let me say, is definitely best appreciated after watching both seasons of The Missing , because—while it certainly stands on its own, just fine—the...

If all you had to go by was what you know of my reading and watching habits, you might assume I'm a grim, humorless thing. (In reality, that couldn't be farther from the truth, but like I said... going by the stuff that pulls me in, you'd be forgiven for assuming so.) But sometimes, even I'm surprised by how dark something is.  If  " Hinterland "-- which I've finally gotten around to watching--were a color, it might be a super-dark and utterly-depressing shade of green, like sodden, rotting vegetation. Or maybe it would be a blue so murky and opaque that it was nearly black, like the bottom of the ocean. That's how the characters in " Hinterland " strike me. There is, you see, no smiling in " Hinterland ". Seriously. I've watched all but the last couple of episodes, and I can't remember anyone smiling. Now, maybe-- surely(!) --someone showed a smidgeon of humor, for a split second, at some point... but if that...

An ordinary man leaves his wife after several years of marriage, convinced that his happiness may only be found elsewhere. It’s the classic “greener pastures” syndrome--nothing terribly earth-shattering there. But, when the man stabs his wife in their home, then proceeds to throw her off a nearby cliff-- before disrobing and sauntering to the water’s edge, calmly following her into the same body of water --that’s the sort of thing that tends to make people sit up and take notice. And, when only one body--hers--is recovered, well, that’s when things become downright interesting. This is David Whellams’ Walking into the Ocean ... ✠ ~ ✠ ~ ✠ ~ ✠ ~ ✠ When semi-retired Scotland Yard Chief Inspector Peter Cammon receives word he’s being sent to Dorset to look into what appears to be a murder-suicide on the Jurassic Coast, he’s unsure what role they’re expecting him to play. Surely the local constabulary are better-equipped to look into the murder of one of their own than he is...

Say you knew with absolute certainty the day--down to the hour--of your death... how would you spend those last months, weeks, days, and hours?  Maybe you'd hole up alone somewhere, helpless against the inevitable. Perhaps you’d go all hedonistic, trying to cram in every fabulous experience possible before time ran out. Or, you might opt to spend all your waking hours preparing yourself physically and mentally to "rage, rage against the dying of the light".... on the off-chance that you could somehow change the outcome.  Door number three is the choice one woman picks in Lisa Gardner’s positively chilling new thriller, Catch Me . After dealing with an abusive mother for her first several years--during which time the woman did things so awful to her that she's blocked all memories of them from her mind--it's safe to say that twenty-eight-year-old Charlene Rosalind Carter Grant's life has been anything but a bed of roses. Fortunately, she was taken in by an aun...

After listening—with an enthusiastic ( could’ve been glazed ) look on my —to the first ( well, probably two-hundred-thirty-ninth ) person in my life as he/she proceeded to enlighten ( actually, annoy-the-crap-out-of ) me about the hilarity ( hello --inanity ) of the Three Stooges, I made a solemn vow to stop being so politic about the whole subject, and say what I really feel from the get-go in such situations (namely, that you’d have to hogtie me to a chair to get me to watch anything so mind-numbingly irritating). All of which has what to do with anything? Well, a couple of things, actually. First, you’ve been warned about the Stooges and me, okay? And second, I’m trying to illustrate just how subjective humor really is; what one person—or even millions of them—finds funny, won’t be the same for everyone. ( Really, if you love the Stooges, that’s fine. Just please don’t drag me into it, ‘kay? ) What I like best is clever, witty banter, dialogue that preferably comes with a little ...