I must admit, they’d started to get a little predictable. One murder, followed by a second—sometimes a third, maybe more (can’t recall the exact statistics from that many books). Then Eve Dallas (main character) pretty much single-mindedly figures out who the killer is simply by mumbling stuff whilst staring at her murder board (despite her having driven herself to exhaustion until barely able to stand), and drinking damn fine coffee. Add into this the high chances of the murderer coming after Eve, or someone she gives a damn about, plus the even higher chances of her husband (an interesting character who spent more time on the wrong side than right side of the law before Eve converted him) being called in to work alongside her and her team as ‘Expert Civilian Consultant’ (because that’s highly realistic), and I could almost recite the beginning, middle and ending without having to read on.
Not for one minute, though, did (or should I say does?) this stop me reading them, or wanting more.
I’d have to put this down to her character portrayal, I believe, as well as the easily believed futuristic world she creates that they live in … and, of course, the adorable Roarke—Eve’s (now) husband.
If you’ve been avid enough a fan to read her novels from the very first in the series, you’ll have been privy to the development of the relationship between Roarke and the main character. As in a lot of fiction that is lead by female main characters, and read by female readers, the main male counterpart plays a huge role in retaining your interest—something Roarke does an excellent job of.
He’s stupidly rich (although, unlike the Cullen’s wealth, the reader is provided with a solid story for where all his money came from), he’s dominating (but only in the right situations), caring (also in the right situations), tender (without embarrassment of his mushy adoration for his wife), and unafraid of anything (other than losing said wife he’s unabashedly mushily in love with). No wonder female reader’s flutter their lashes at the page.
In ‘Kindred In Death’, only two murders are committed; Eve appears relatively unscathed when compared to previous novels in the series; Roarke seems to be at the forefront a little less (despite being called in as ‘Expert Civilian Consultant’); Eve has to face her childhood demons (yet again—which is consistent, as one would expect of those kind of demons—although their mention appears more subtle) due to the nature of the case she’s investigating; a small amount of input from Dr Mira (police force psychologist and (now) friend to Eve); an upcoming wedding (because Eve spends a lot of time stressing over any social events she’s expected to participate in); the killer is arrested and charged.
But … if I take a step back to evaluate for a moment, I can see there appears to be a whole lot less of all the usual character appearances and a whole lot more of Eve. And you know what? I’ve actually really enjoyed getting to know her again. In the very beginning (‘Naked In Death’) it was all about Eve, and this novel seems to have taken us full circle to spend time with her after all the stuff that has happened in her life has evolved her as a person.
Not sure if that was J. D. Robb’s intention, but if it was? Good job.
If you’re a lover of her ‘In Death’ series, you’ll love this one, too. If you’ve never read her before … well … why the heck not? Go check her out. However, I would suggest you start with her opening novel … no one wants to jump on the roller coaster halfway through the ride, right?
Now … next please! ‘Indulgence In Death’ … you and me have a date.