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Tally McGinnis #2
No Escape
Lesbian PI Tally McGinnis is called into action when Dr. Rececca Toliver is charger with the murder of her lover Melinda. Is the red rose left at the sdene of the crime the signature of a copycat killer, or is the infamous Marsha Cox back, and up to her evil tricks again? This edgy, fast-paced whodunit set in picturesque San Francisco, will keep you guessing.
172 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 1998
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September 30, 2016
This book wasn't fancy terrible, just plain ol' terrible. I stepped away from the book for a few days to gain a little perspective, because some of my quibbles with it are, I think, personal to me, but the vast majority are objectively critical issues. So, from the top:
Things That Were Not Good In This Book:
--Tally McGinnis, the protagonist was uninteresting, unpleasant and dumb as a bag of rocks. She's hired to investigate a murder and automatically assumes it's someone she had antagonism with in the last book, Marsha Cox. From then on, every third thought is that Marsha Cox is guilty and evil, and possibly behind that tree over there. To be fair, sometimes she is behind a tree, but mainly not.
--The other protagonist, Cid, is just uninteresting, although marginally smarter than the first one, which is the only reason I can see that their detective agency is still open. She too, believes Marsha Cox is guilty, evil and behind that tree over there. Spoiler: Marsha Cox is never behind Cid's trees. Overall though, the book then reads like:
--There were POV bobbles for the gods, including Tally's inability to refrain from commenting on her strawberry hair or her strawberry bangs, or her straight and beautiful teeth, or gazing at someone with a "pleasant, expectant expression." Which she can apparently see because she's in front of an invisible mirror or out of her head, one or the other.
--I don't know what city the author was trying to write about, but it wasn't San Francisco. To wit:
1. Ostensibly, this is San Francisco General, on a Monday night two nights after July 4th:
First of all, if I'm looking for peace and quiet, the emergency room of SF's largest hospital is not on the top 100 places I'd look. Second of all, there is no way -- NO. WAY. -- SF General's ER is deserted the Monday after July 4th. None. I have been to SF General in the middle of a weekday and it was packed with people. I have been to SF General in the evening of a weekday and it was packed with people. I may have had to give the book a little experimental toss in the air at this point because WHAT DRUGS, AUTHOR.
2. "Tally eased the BMW smoothly out of the garage and into traffic, and hands placed high on the wheel, sped down Montgomery and then over to Market Street. Commuter traffic had cleared out early. Mondays were like that..." There's only one way you can speed down Montgomery Street at 6:05pm on a Monday (as the chapter heading helpfully lets us know), and that's if you've been personally fired out of a cannon.
3. "The county jail was a straight shot up Portrero and a few blocks down Bryant. As they drove, Katie rang up Rita Cruz and passed the cellular phone to Tally. Tally didn't mince words. 'I need your help. I'm en route to the Hall of Justice now."
The county jail's over on 7th, because it's not actually at the Hall of Justice. They're two separate places.
4. "The time and temperature sign on the front of the Bank of America building read a suffocating ninety-eight degrees."
The average daily temperature for SF in July is 68F. 98 degrees is a record-breaking temperature for SF -- anywhere in SF, let alone on the eastern side of the city that, for huge weather-nerd reasons, gets the hot air sucked out of it and spat into the ocean, so at that point in the story, 98 degrees in SF would be a fucking miracle and all any of the characters would talk about for the next three chapters. If it's 98, you could be serial-killing people in the middle of Pier 39 with a live internet feed and the next day the papers would still all be about the record-breaking temperature.
There's also a scene that takes place in a thunderstorm in SF which... is statistically real unlikely but technically possible. And then there's:
"Although it was still warm outside, the fog made the air damp."
Look, I know we're veering towards pedantic here, but if you're going to take liberties with a city's geography and climate, say that up front or better yet, make up your own city.
--The third member of the detective agency, Katie, is an Irish national from Dublin who's been in the country for 8 years. So of course she sounds like a leprechaun on Prozac. Of course she does. She says things like:
Tender Jesus in a flaky crust. WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE. She quotes her Da every third utterance and, I don't know, I guess they could've been close, except then she says: "Top of the morning and good luck."
AUTHORS, DON'T DO THIS. If you want to include a character who speaks in dialect, have someone who is a native speaker of that dialect proof-read your work. Realize that the United Kingdom has multiple languages and more dialects than you can shake a Curly-Wurly at, and in basically none of them do people sound like they're magically delirious.
All in all, my whelm could not have been more greatly undered.
Things That Were Not Good In This Book:
--Tally McGinnis, the protagonist was uninteresting, unpleasant and dumb as a bag of rocks. She's hired to investigate a murder and automatically assumes it's someone she had antagonism with in the last book, Marsha Cox. From then on, every third thought is that Marsha Cox is guilty and evil, and possibly behind that tree over there. To be fair, sometimes she is behind a tree, but mainly not.
--The other protagonist, Cid, is just uninteresting, although marginally smarter than the first one, which is the only reason I can see that their detective agency is still open. She too, believes Marsha Cox is guilty, evil and behind that tree over there. Spoiler: Marsha Cox is never behind Cid's trees. Overall though, the book then reads like:
--There were POV bobbles for the gods, including Tally's inability to refrain from commenting on her strawberry hair or her strawberry bangs, or her straight and beautiful teeth, or gazing at someone with a "pleasant, expectant expression." Which she can apparently see because she's in front of an invisible mirror or out of her head, one or the other.
--I don't know what city the author was trying to write about, but it wasn't San Francisco. To wit:
1. Ostensibly, this is San Francisco General, on a Monday night two nights after July 4th:
The emergency room was relatively quiet as Tally silently strolled through the glass door entrance. She observed a doctor in surgical greens standing off to one side quietly speaking with an older man and woman. Then the elevator across the hall opened and a janitor exited, noisily pushing a yellow plastic bucket and mop down the hall. So much for peace and quiet, Tally thought.
First of all, if I'm looking for peace and quiet, the emergency room of SF's largest hospital is not on the top 100 places I'd look. Second of all, there is no way -- NO. WAY. -- SF General's ER is deserted the Monday after July 4th. None. I have been to SF General in the middle of a weekday and it was packed with people. I have been to SF General in the evening of a weekday and it was packed with people. I may have had to give the book a little experimental toss in the air at this point because WHAT DRUGS, AUTHOR.
2. "Tally eased the BMW smoothly out of the garage and into traffic, and hands placed high on the wheel, sped down Montgomery and then over to Market Street. Commuter traffic had cleared out early. Mondays were like that..." There's only one way you can speed down Montgomery Street at 6:05pm on a Monday (as the chapter heading helpfully lets us know), and that's if you've been personally fired out of a cannon.
3. "The county jail was a straight shot up Portrero and a few blocks down Bryant. As they drove, Katie rang up Rita Cruz and passed the cellular phone to Tally. Tally didn't mince words. 'I need your help. I'm en route to the Hall of Justice now."
The county jail's over on 7th, because it's not actually at the Hall of Justice. They're two separate places.
4. "The time and temperature sign on the front of the Bank of America building read a suffocating ninety-eight degrees."
The average daily temperature for SF in July is 68F. 98 degrees is a record-breaking temperature for SF -- anywhere in SF, let alone on the eastern side of the city that, for huge weather-nerd reasons, gets the hot air sucked out of it and spat into the ocean, so at that point in the story, 98 degrees in SF would be a fucking miracle and all any of the characters would talk about for the next three chapters. If it's 98, you could be serial-killing people in the middle of Pier 39 with a live internet feed and the next day the papers would still all be about the record-breaking temperature.
There's also a scene that takes place in a thunderstorm in SF which... is statistically real unlikely but technically possible. And then there's:
"Although it was still warm outside, the fog made the air damp."
Look, I know we're veering towards pedantic here, but if you're going to take liberties with a city's geography and climate, say that up front or better yet, make up your own city.
--The third member of the detective agency, Katie, is an Irish national from Dublin who's been in the country for 8 years. So of course she sounds like a leprechaun on Prozac. Of course she does. She says things like:
"Da used to say, 'It's better to live in the forest with a carpet of leaves for a bed and wee critters for companions, than to choose a cold castle build on a hill of silence and loneliness.' We must come to some sort of understanding, or the grand love we share will surely be lost."
Tender Jesus in a flaky crust. WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE. She quotes her Da every third utterance and, I don't know, I guess they could've been close, except then she says: "Top of the morning and good luck."
AUTHORS, DON'T DO THIS. If you want to include a character who speaks in dialect, have someone who is a native speaker of that dialect proof-read your work. Realize that the United Kingdom has multiple languages and more dialects than you can shake a Curly-Wurly at, and in basically none of them do people sound like they're magically delirious.
All in all, my whelm could not have been more greatly undered.
Displaying 1 of 1 review