Showing posts with label Bob Woodward. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bob Woodward. Show all posts

Thursday, January 29, 2015

The Owl: Scarlet Serenade by Bob Woodward


Title: The Owl: Scarlet Serenade
Author: Bob Forward
Publisher: Brash Books
Rating: WARTY!


DISCLOSURE: Unlike the majority of reviews in this blog, I've neither bought this book nor borrowed it from the library. This is a "galley" copy ebook, supplied by Net Galley. I'm not receiving (nor will I expect to receive or accept) remuneration for this review. The chance to read a new book is often enough reward aplenty!

I've head a good relationship with Brash Books. I like the idea of it and the people who work there, and I admire what they're trying to do, but personally I've had little success finding books from their roster which appeal to me. Maybe I'm just too picky! This one I thought would be a winner, but it wasn't, I'm sorry to say. It's book two in a dilogy.

This novel is about Alexander L'Hiboux, almost a super-hero figure, but without any super powers. His last name means 'the owl'. He's homeless not because of poor circumstances, but by choice - so his enemies never know where he'll be. He's an unlicensed private detective, and he suffers from insomnia - so he'll never be found sleeping on the job. Or at all. He is known as (and curiously refers to himself as ) The Owl. He operates outside the law with his own brand of justice, and no matter what he does, he never faces any consequences. In short, the story was rather juvenile, but full of adult themes. A curious combination.

There's no valid evidence supporting the author's assertion (via his first person PoV character narration) that the name of the Santa Ana winds ever came from the Mexican word for 'Satan' (which is actually SatanĂ¡s) nor is there any supporting the more common claim that it's from a Native American phrase meaning 'devil winds'. It's more likely that they're named for the Santa Ana Canyon, although they don't blow solely there. It doesn't preclude a character being misinformed, however, and it does make for a fun legend.

Alexander has Native America in his genes and he apparently has a spirit guide, because when we first meet him, he sees what appears to be a native American who directs his attention to a car with three men inside, idling outside a nearby school. The guide then disappears. Why Alexander hadn't noticed this car without supernatural help goes unexplained. Why his guide hadn't warned him of this attempted kidnapping early enough that he could call the police goes likewise, but this gives Al a chance to perform his spectacular heroics.

He takes down the three guys one after another and then fires a shot from his Colt 45 peacemaker (seriously?!) into the car's gas tank and it explodes. Let's not get into the unlikelihood of this actually causing the tank to explode, and of his gun literally being able to knock someone three feet backwards into the air from its fire power. It's not going to happen. What intrigued me here was that the red-head he saved from the kidnapping, Sarah Scarlotti, chose to chase after him instead of waiting for the cops who were coming fast, judged by the sirens.

This precipitates a relationship between these two characters that presumably lasts the whole novel, haunted by violence and the very real feeling of being hunted. I can't say for sure because I had to quit half-way through. The writing wasn't at all to my taste. If you like simple stories full of improbable action and very little mood-setting or world-building prose, with lots of conversation to fill the pages and some unlikely close shaves, then you'll love this. It's just not my kind of story.