When hard-bitten but pretty California private investigator Rose Lavine is hired to protect Jorandel, the charismatic singer of an "elf-rock" band, she discovers dark secrets lying behind the Fairy magic of the beat. Original.
I bought this book because the cover and the premise made me laugh. Genre fiction, amirite? But /Cold Iron/ is more than its gimmick. It’s an earnest thriller that feels genuinely invested in its characters. The fantasy is applied with a very light touch; the trauma arc is heavy-handed and sensationalist, but it makes room (movingly) for solidarity and compassion between victims of abuse. The two central characters are compelling, but not very complex; my loyalty and affection lie with the book’s minor characters (candy! killer! shannon!), who are drawn much more distinctly. Definitely a product of its era — Rose’s whole hard-boiled not-like-other-girls schtick feels like a very 90s take on the Hitchcock protagonist, and some of the descriptions of nonwhite characters are straight up bizarre. But this datedness is a strength in other ways — the novel has a really strong sense of time and place.
TLDR: 4 genres in a blender. Come for the memes, stay for the disarming minor characters and the campy suspense.
This is published by ROC which is a SF/F imprint, but it didn't feel magical to me. Elves exist but not as anything different from non-magical rock stars. They get drunk, do drugs, and have sex with groupies. The main character is a private investigator who gets caught up in the band scene and similarly picks up the habits. She already drunk a lot, but starts taking drugs and goes to bed with the lead singer.
If I hadn't been reading it for a challenge, I would have given up around page 150. The second half got better as Rosie actually tried to solve the murder rather than just hang out and get upset with herself.
As I wrote in a journal some years ago about this book, whoever said that fantasy fiction is just cheap escapism obviously didn't read this book. Admittedly, the cheesy cover doesn't help much with the elf rocker who looks suspiciously like Bret Michaels, but that saying about judging a book by its cover is quite apt. Cold Iron on its face seems like a typical urban fantasy novel, but this one was written back in 1997 before romance got its tentacles into it (and in some instances has watered-down the genre) and it is a much darker, cautionary tale about the human condition.
Jorandel is the charismatic lead singer of infamous elf-rock band, Cold Iron. He is a combustable mix of Jim Morrison and Sid Vicious, with a little G.G. Alin thrown in (and we all know what happened to them). In spite of his massive fame, someone is trying to kill him and his manager pretty much owns his soul, thanks to a contract signed in faerie, which is binding. Enter Rose Levine, a human PI who hates elf-rock and elf-rockstars in general. She also hates Christmas, but doesn't quite understand why. Add to the mix Jornadel's guitar-playing twin Jimedan, a groupie named Candy Kane (I kid you not) who wears her heart on her sleeve, and the rest of the band members with the unforgettable names of Blade, The Roach and Killer and stir well--then get the hell out of the way.
Outside of the fact that someone's out to kill him, Jorandel seems hell-bent on doing that on his own. Between gigs, he spends a good deal of time either drunk or stoned or playing head games with Rose, who is barely hanging on in the maelstrom that is sex, drugs and elf-rock. These two rather toxic characters play off each other's weaknesses, and yet there's a deep kinship between them. Rose comes face to face with her own demons all the while trying to keep the self-destructive Jorandel alive.
Cold Iron is a heady brew of dark fantasy with a rock n' roll twist. Think of Led Zeppelin faery-style--trashed hotel rooms, groupies, all-night parties and stage antics to rival any 80's metal band. Author Melisa Michaels is obviously a fan of the genre and her love shows.
It also takes place in my favorite city--San Francisco--yay!!!
Tolkien meets Bon Jovi meets Blade Runner meets Stephanie Meyer. Un asco. Uno de los primeros libros que termino a punta de fuerza de voluntad. Me costó luca, y fue luca perdida. Al menos me sirvió para practicar el inglés... en esos años, eso era importante.
You *think* this book is about elven musicians and a noir-style detective who is going to find out who wants to kill the band's frontman. As expected, there is sex and beauty, diva-ness and kindness.
What I didn't expect? The book's real foci: * alcoholism * drug abuse (and coming clean) * rape victim aftermath
The alcoholism, in particular, is done very well, with the narrator fooling herself into thinking that another drink won't be a problem (she doesn't even think it *could* be, unlike the drugs which she knows are bad for her but does anyway). Really, I'd like to see this book done again without the 1990s elfrock band; that way it could be more serious...and wouldn't get as hung up in "elves! musicians!"
This is really more about the personal journey of the main character than the murder mystery. Not quite what I expected. While there is a mystery plot line, that isn't really the focus of the book. The direction it went in instead threw me at first, but once I got used to it it was a fun read. I'm hoping the next book features Rosie being a bit more in control, though. I'd hate to think she didn't learn anything from all that. (And I'd like to see her getting to be the good investigator I'm sure she normally is)