As one can see from the title, this is the nineteenth full novel in
Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series. And, well, it feels like a
nineteenth novel: it's tired. Plum continues to juggle her two
beaux, continues to get her cars destroyed, continues to collect
bounties on a variety of implausible criminals, continues to work and
joke with her friend the ex-prostitute Lula. It really is more of the
same.
The actual main mystery, of how and why patients who had reason to try
to get away have been disappearing from a hospital, is an interesting
one, and I could have done with more development of that rather than
the comedic interludes, which could more or less be dropped in by
macro at this point. But Plum isn't a detective, and the contortions
Evanovich goes through to get her involved in this feel synthetic.
Time to call a close, I suspect. In fact, possibly time to call a
close several books ago, but when I read number eighteen I was
bingeing on the whole series, so I was less inclined to spot faults.
What, she's already published number twenty? I don't think I'll be
rushing out to read it.
Comments on this post are now closed. If you have particular grounds for adding a late comment, comment on a more recent post quoting the URL of this one.