On her latest case, wisecracking Private Investigator, Helena Handbasket, is faced with a lot of tough questions. Did Robin Banks have a hand in the theft of Evan Stubezzi's jewels? And if so, was the hand one of those packed in ice in the freezer box that was delivered to his brother, Owen? Is there a serial killer on the loose? Or are all those handless corpses with scarlet fish sewn into their chest cavities purely coincidental? What shoes should you wear for a meeting with a killer? Why does her next-door neighbour smell of cheese? Which of her true loves is her real true love? And, more importantly, is there anything in the fridge for dinner? Can our man-loving, cocktail-loving, food-loving, not-so-very-intrepid heroine answer these questions-any of them-without leaving a cliché unturned?
I'd heard that GO TO HELENA HANDBASKET was side-splitting funny, but when I saw the back cover blurb describing it as "Bridget Jones meets Raymond Chandler meets Jeffrey Dahmer," well, that gave me pause. The reference to Bridget Jones almost scared me off. I'm glad it didn't.
Helena Handbasket must qualify as one of the worst detectives in fictional PI history—even her cat has a better handle on the case (a sly reference to the crime-solving cat mysteries, I think). But the story is such a great send-up of the detective/serial killer novel, that her blundering and obliviousness become part of the big joke (a touch of Stephanie Plum, if you ask me).
With a secretary/sidekick named Fifi Fofum (every character in the book has an outrageous pun for a name) who spouts hardboiled banter that sails completely over Helena's head most of the time and the requisite cop who advises her throughout to keep "her big nose" out of the investigation (giving her quite the complex about the size of her proboscis, along with the one she already had about her "arse"), the intrepid protagonist manages to survive the case (despite suffering numerous fractured bones and other ailments from various attacks—a sly reference to the seemingly indestructible hardboiled investigator, no doubt) and even catch the killer, who is revealed, true to the tradition of the genre, in a final twist at story's end.
She does all this while agonizing over her weight, what dress to wear and which of the men involved in this sordid affair could be Mr. Right (thus, the Bridget Jones reference).
I will indulge myself in my own pun when I say the story ends with a bang (or at least seems to). And you can only fully understand what I mean by reading the book. Which, by all means, you should.
I’m a great fan of clever, funny books and Go to Helena Handbasket is both very clever and very funny, so it was no surprise I enjoyed it immensely. Donna Moore ruthlessly parodies the crime genre, sending up every cliché, stereotypical character and corny plot device to great effect through a noirish lens. As I read, I had a permanent grin plastered across my face and laughed out loud many times. The puns, gags, sarcasm, cringing similes, and comic set pieces come thick and fast. The characterization is first rate and the plot unfolds as a smart, witty puzzle. Handbasket is a great creation – a kind of private investigator version of Clouseau, who believes she’s the bees knees but is actually rather hopeless and yet despite her ineptitude she somehow stumbles towards solving the case. It’s difficult to think of a direct comparison, but the writing and style reminded me of the Spike Milligan. And like Milligan’s writing, I would love to see Go To Helena Handbasket converted to radio or television.
Be forewarned, if you are looking for a serious story, don't request this book.
Helena Handbasket is absurdly hilarious. This PI is a spoof of every other book written. Helena is constantly on the prowl for a man... even if every man she encounters is entirely inappropriate or even nasty! She is a bumbling drunk that wouldn't know a clue if it slapped her. Donna Moore makes it very clear to the reader so that we know exactly what Helena is missing. Detective Lee, the lead investigator, isn't much better. While telling Helena to keep her nose out of it, he continually gives her tips and clues to keep her nose right in it.
To give you an idea of the comedy of this story, some of the various characters have the following names:
Fifi Fofum, Heidi Salami, Luke Warmwater, Gene Poole, Frank Lee, Katya Fallingstar, Justin Case, Emma Roids, & Hal Litosis.
From the git go this parody of crime fiction is off to a manic pace and you laugh yourself silly! There is a jewel theft and a serial killer so there really is crime to solve but oh my what a road to get there! She hits on almost every single stereotype and crime suspects you could imagine...
The characters names are hilarious! Robin Banks, Owen Banks, Fifi Fofum, Luke Warmwater, Justin Case, Katya Fallingstar, Frank Lee, Hal Litosis, Sally Mander, Gene Poole and more!
If parody is up your alley and you love to laugh this one might be for you! Nonstop silliness and a solved crime at the end.
PROTAGONIST: Helena Handbasket, PI RATING: 4.5 WHY: What a joy to read this wonderful book! Putting my badass reputation aside, Helena was a very enjoyable reading experience and I had many LOL moments. I just loved the structure of the book - brilliant that each chapter was devoted to a cliché or two and then written to illustrate that cliché. I loved the clever character names and was looking forward to meeting as many new characters as possible. Some of them took me a while to figure out, but I knew none of them were "straight" names.
TITLE/AUTHOR: GO TO HELENA HANDBASKET by Donna Moore RATING: 5/A GENRE/PUB DATE/# OF PGS: Mystery, 2006, 153 pgs TIME/PLACE: Present, UK CHARACTERS: Helena Handbasket/PI COMMENTS: Brilliant! Parody of the crime fiction novel. Donna Moore's love & knowledge of the crime fiction genre shines through. The humor is hilarious. Highly recommend to crime fiction fans.
It's in the mystery section, but it should be in humor. It's a flat-out parody that covers quite a few mystery sub-genres: hard boiled, forensic, rogue cop, and even vampire and cat detective.