Robb, J.D.: (14) Reunion in Death

When I read the last Eve/Roarke novel, Seduction in Death, I rather wanted Eve to face her evil twin, a woman killing off rapists and the like. Well, it’s not quite ask and ye shall receive: in J.D. Robb’s Reunion in Death, the villain wants to be Eve’s evil twin, but can’t quite manage it, for a number of reasons. For one thing, she despises men, period; for another, she’s really just not as smart. Which makes the big set-piece at the end a little silly—she can’t possibly have thought it would work—but it’s nice to have a different flavor of bad guy, so I’ll roll with it.

I’m starting to get a little weary of the constant playing-up of how horrible Eve’s childhood was, though. While it was certainly horrible, the Big Harrowing Scene about it in this book 1) didn’t provide any major new information to justify the harrowing, and 2) accordingly felt like gratuitous Character Torture. Which I am not comfortable with. (I note that the motherhood theme is being played up a little more in this book—we meet Peabody’s parents—so perhaps soon we shall have actual revelations on Eve’s past. One can only hope.)

Anyway, if I skim that scene and the sex scenes (which vary so little from book to book that they’re just boring), this is another guilty pleasure installment in a guilty pleasure series. Besides, true-urbanite Eve’s reaction at Texas prairies is worth at least one cookie-cutter scene and a continuity error to boot:

“This guy’s loaded,” she went on, slightly mollified by the roaring clack of a helicopter that buzzed the near field. “He’s got a thriving, successful business in Dallas. But he chooses to live out here. Voluntarily. There’s something really sick about that.”

With a laugh, Roarke picked up her hand, the one that kept inching up toward her weapon, and kissed it. “There are all kinds of people in the world.”

“Yeah, and most of them are crazy. Jesus, are those cows? Cows shouldn’t be that big, should they? It’s unnatural.”

“Just think steaks, darling.”

“Uh-uh, that’s just creepy. Are you sure this is the right way? This can’t be right. There’s nothing out here.”

“May I point out the several houses we’re passing along this route?”

“Yeah, but I think the cows must live in them.” She had a flash of bovine activities inside the low-slung houses. Watching some screen, having cow parties, making cow love in four-poster beds. And shuddered. “God, that’s creepy, too. I hate the country.”

(Okay, maybe I have a low sense of humor.)

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