Disturbance by Jan Burke: A review

Stories about sociopathic and apparently invincible serial killers who love to torture their victims are not my cup of tea. Thus, I am still trying to remember how this book came to be on my to-be-read shelf. I believe it was given to me by someone who knows I read a lot of mysteries with tough women as the protagonists and probably thought I would enjoy it. Wrong. I just found it irritating, frankly.

Perhaps it would have made a difference if I had ever read any of the other Irene Kelly books. This was the eleventh in the series, apparently a successful series with a lot of fans. If I had read any of the other books, it's possible I would have had a greater appreciation of the characters. There was little character development or explication in this book. I guess the assumption was that the reader would have already read those earlier books.

So, the reader meets Irene Kelly here as an investigative reporter for a failing newspaper, the Las Piernas News Express. She is married to Frank, a homicide detective with the local police department. She had had a horrific encounter (in the last book, I guess) with the aforementioned sociopath, Nick Parrish, who had kidnapped and tortured her. The sociopath was ultimately captured and Irene was rescued, but Parrish was seriously injured and, as a result, paralyzed.

However, after being sentenced to life without parole, Parrish received excellent medical treatment and, as a result, his paralysis was reversed. He has sworn vengeance on Irene Kelly.

Meanwhile, in the outside world, Parrish has a devoted online fan club, the Moths. (Why "Moths"? Who knows? Maybe because they circle around Parrish's bright flame.) It turns out that these Moths are sons of Parrish. Literally. Apparently he had planted his seed all over the place and now the crop has matured and is ready for harvest.

Strange things start happening around Irene. Not-so-funny pranks are being played, and, for a woman still suffering from PTSD, they may be enough to send her over the edge.

Then her newspaper closes and her job is gone.

Then the dead bodies of women start turning up. Bodies with pictures of moths drawn on them.

Then Nick Parrish escapes from prison.

Then Irene Kelly is kidnapped once again.

Yep, even though I hadn't read the other books, I definitely felt like I had been down this road before and I didn't really want to travel it again.

I very, very rarely, as in almost never, give up on any book. If I make the commitment to read it, then I stick with it to the bitter end. My husband laughs at me for this. If a book doesn't grab him in the first twenty pages, he tosses it. Perhaps I should have adopted his philosophy with this book, but I soldiered on. However, I won't pretend that I read every word. Indeed, I quickly scanned most of it, but enough to get the gist of the thing. Enough to know that I really didn't like it.

Jan Burke is a successful, award-winning writer. This book seemed tightly plotted and written to elicit the maximum in suspense. To paraphrase a famous quote, for those who like this sort of thing, no doubt this is the sort of thing they would like. Not me.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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