Notorious Nineteen by Janet Evanovich: A review

The most inept bounty hunter in the state of New Jersey and possibly on the face of the earth, along with her equally inept sidekick, is at it again. Yes, Stephanie Plum and Lula are busily chasing skips around Trenton. Chasing, rarely catching.

This time, Stephanie is on the trail of Geoffrey Cubbin, facing trial for embezzling millions from Trenton’s premier assisted-living facility. Geoffrey mysteriously disappeared from the hospital after an emergency appendectomy. Now Stephanie needs to find him so that her boss, Vinnie, will not have to forfeit all that bond money. But Cubbin has vanished without a trace, without a clue, and five million dollars of embezzled funds are missing.

Things take a sinister turn when it becomes known that Cubbin isn't the first patient to vanish from this hospital. He isn't the last either, for soon, another post-surgery patient who was facing trial also vanishes in the middle of the night. What could be happening here? Obviously, they must be receiving help from somewhere, but from whom and why? And does it have a connection to another mysterious medical facility simply called The Clinic? A night nurse at the hospital also moonlights at The Clinic so there is a link, but beyond that, Stephanie and her team are unable to find out what is going on. Or to find Geoffrey Cubbin.

As usual, Stephanie gets help from her crazy Grandma Mazur in breaking the case. Grandma goes undercover at the assisted living facility to see if she can get a lead and she provides the clue that finally cracks the facade of deception.

Meanwhile, Stephanie is doing her own moonlighting with the security firm of the hot and sexy Ranger. Their case leads them back into Ranger's days with Special Forces. It seems that a member of his former unit that he thought was dead may not be. He's back and looking for vengeance for some imagined fault of Ranger's and another member of the group. The question is will Ranger be able to track him down before he starts killing the people against whom he has a grudge.

Of course, while all of this is going on, Stephanie is also chasing her usual caseload of low-level skips and losers and she keeps missing them in her usual helter skelter fashion. In that she is most ineptly assisted by Lula.

Lula is a really problematic character for me. She is such a stereotype. She is fat and constantly thinks about food or sex - mostly food, in this entry. She is black. She wears outrageous costumes and hairstyles. She is a former whore - or "'ho" in her vocabulary. Her humor is mostly scatological. In other words, she's the typical big, brassy, black woman of so many blaxpoitation movies and television shows. I really find her offensive.

As for Stephanie, she's a caricature of another kind - the cute, perky nincompoop whom all the boys are crazy for. She has two hot guys, the good guy cop Morelli and the dangerous guy Ranger, constantly panting after her and vying to get her into bed. It's never made clear just what her attraction is for these two perfect specimens. It's a fantasy worthy of any romance novel.

In fact, that is pretty much what the Stephanie Plum novels are - romance masquerading as mystery. They are fun reads and they certainly don't tax the brain or the emotions. Just don't expect too much from them and you won't be disappointed.

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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