Karen Does Sarah McCarty's, Caine's Reckoning...

So, I read Sarah McCarty's Caine's Reckoning last week. As most of the people who request book reviews from me can attest, I'm a lazy bugger when it comes to writing reviews, especially when the book is dull as dishwater.

Anyway, without further ado, here's the back cover blurb:

Caine Allen is a hardened Texas Ranger, definitely not the marrying kind. But when he rescues a kidnapped woman and returns her to town, the preacher calls in a favor. One Caine's honor won't let him refuse.


From the moment he beds Desi, Caine knows turmoil will follow. Desi might have the face of a temptress, but she also has a will of iron and while she needs his protection, she's determined that no man will control her again. They establish an uneasy bond, but it still isn't enough for Caine. He wants all Desi has to offer. He wants her screams, her moans, her demands…everything. Yet there's still a bounty on Desi's head and keeping her satisfied is proving easier than keeping her alive.

VERDICT

I loved this book. I really did.

One of the reasons I love Ms McCarty’s stories is because of her ability to deliver the reader into the psyche of the characters in her books. I love when I can get to know the people in a book on an intimate level, rather than just observing them as an outsider.

As I do with the books that I really love, I like to look at the characters individually, so here goes:

The Heroine

Desi’s story is an extremely tragic one, the only survivor when a group of Comancheros attack her home, killing all of her family, with the exception of her, and her twin sister, Ari, who was taken away to God-knows-where.

Much of Desi’s sorrow stemmed from the knowledge that she had never appreciated how lucky she was, and how pampered and spoiled her life was, before everything was so cruelly ripped from her. The loss of her sister is one thing that haunts her, yet she holds on to the belief that Ari is still alive.

I liked Desi, because she was a victim, who refused to behave like one. She refused to be beaten down by life, and had the courage to keep fighting, even when the odds were heavily weighted against her. Having said that, I did find myself wanting to hug her, and tell her that she wasn't to blame for any of the things that had happened to her.

She was a mass of contradictions, in that she could be feisty as hell, when faced with a bunch of men trying to hurt her, yet she had a fragility about her that was quite touching. She also had a very tender side, which became more evident, as her trust in Caine grew.

For a book to work for me, the heroine has to be spot on, and I think that Desi was. She wasn’t annoyingly feisty (read: assholic), and she wasn’t as dumb as a box of rocks. That pretty much made her perfect in my eyes.


The Hero

Caine Allen is very typical, as McCarty heroes go. He’s sexy, he’s confident, he’s possessive, and once he falls in love, he loves with everything that he is. How can anybody not love a hero like that?

Also, as well as all of the above, he was likeable. I’ve read so many books where the hero is actually so unbearable, that it's been hard for me, the reader, to understand why the heroine would fall for such an arsehole. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case with Caine.

The story starts with Caine and his posse tracking a bunch of ruffians who’d kidnapped the sheriff’s wife, and a few other women, including Desi.

When Caine first meets Desi, she’s trying to defend herself from one of the kidnappers who’s determined to get hold of her. Caine is mightily impressed by Desi’s wicked right knee, as well as her courage. He becomes smitten with her then and there, and when the town preacher calls in a favour, he doesn’t hesitate much to make Desi his.

Caine was a surprisingly well-rounded character, and I loved that he was able to find humour in any situation, even when dealing with Desi’s understandable reticence, and her constant self-flagellation.

It was the little things that he did for our heroine, that made this reader totally fall for him. There was a scene where he brought Desi chocolate that totally melted my heart. There was also a scene where he washes Desi's hair for her. He was so gentle and sweet with her that it almost brough tears to my eyes.

"No one had washed her hair since she was a child. She'd always been too impatient to wait on a maid, and quite frankly had considered another's hands on her an intrusion, but Caines's touch was different. Firm and gentle, it seemed more like a caress than a functional act, and the places his fingers lingered seemed to find the last corded bits of tension within her, and unraveled them one slow circle at a time. He pressed gently at her temples and she groaned. How could such a big man be so gentle?"

That was such an "awwww shucks" moment.

The Secondary Characters

There were a whole host of secondary characters to get to grips with, but that wasn't so surprising, seeing as CR is the first book in the Hell's Eight series. I have to say though, at no point was I overwhelmed by the number of secondaries, as every person who appeared in the book had a good reason for being there.

I was most fascinated by Sam and Tracker, who were both Hell's Eight men. Sam had a bit of a thing for Desi, and didn't mind that Caine knew it, which I thought was quite sweet. He seemed to be the most easy going of the two men, but this may have just been a front.

Tracker was much harder to gauge. He was the quintessential darkly brooding hero, didn't say much, but when he spoke, he was quite compelling. I'm really looking forward to his story.

Tia, another secondary character, was the Hell's Eight house-keeper. She seemed to be the obligatory Mammie-type character, equipped with a quick temper, and a warm heart.

There were other characters, including the villain of the piece, but I just can't be arsed writing about them.

One of the things that I appreciate most about McCarty’s stories, is that they aren't just about swapping bodily fluids as often as possible, in as many positions as possible, with as many people as possible.
Although Desi and Caine spent a lot of time getting horizontal, the scenes were timely, beautifully written, and really demonstrated the difference between erotic romance and some of the smutty pretenders out there.

Caine's Reckoning is definitely a character-led story, so for the readers who crave fast-paced action, and guns flaring on every other page, this may not be the book for you.
However if you appreciate a slower sensual ride, where you have time to smell the roses, feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, and fall in love, then I would highly recommend Caine's Reckoning.

You can buy Caine's Reckoning here, and visit Sarah McCarty here.

How Not To Respond To A Review...

I was reading the comments over at the SB’s site, when I came across a link that lead me to a snarky take of Anne Rice’s Amazon Meltdown.

I didn’t know anything about it, so reading it was a real treat.

This is definitely how NOT to respond to a review:

“Seldom do I really answer those who criticize my work. In fact, the entire development of my career has been fueled by my ability to ignore denigrating and trivializing criticism as I realize my dreams and my goals. However there is something compelling about Amazon's willingness to publish just about anything, and the sheer outrageous stupidity of many things you've said here that actually touches my proletarian and Democratic soul.

Also I use and enjoy Amazon and I do read the reviews of other people's books in many fields. In sum, I believe in what happens here. And so, I speak. First off, let me say that this is addressed only to some of you, who have posted outrageously negative comments here, and not to all. You are interrogating this text from the wrong perspective. Indeed, you aren't even reading it. You are projecting your own limitations on it. And you are giving a whole new meaning to the words "wide readership." And you have strained my Dickensean principles to the max.

I'm justifiably proud of being read by intellectual giants and waitresses in trailer parks,in fact, I love it, but who in the world are you? Now to the book. Allow me to point out: nowhere in this text are you told that this is the last of the chronicles, nowhere are you promised curtain calls or a finale, nowhere are you told there will be a wrap-up of all the earlier material.

The text tells you exactly what to expect. And it warns you specifically that if you did not enjoy Memnoch the Devil, you may not enjoy this book. This book is by and about a hero whom many of you have already rejected. And he tells you that you are likely to reject him again. And this book is most certainly written -- every word of it -- by me. If and when I can't write a book on my own, you'll know about it. And no, I have no intention of allowing any editor ever to distort, cut, or otherwise mutilate sentences that I have edited and re-edited, and organized and polished myself.

I fought a great battle to achieve a status where I did not have to put up with editors making demands on me, and I will never relinquish that status. For me, novel writing is a virtuoso performance. It is not a collaborative art. Back to the novel itself: the character who tells the tale is my Lestat. I was with him more closely than I have ever been in this novel; his voice was as powerful for me as I've ever heard it. I experienced break through after break through as I walked with him, moved with him, saw through his eyes. What I ask of Lestat, Lestat unfailingly gives.

For me, three hunting scenes, two which take place in hotels -- the lone woman waiting for the hit man, the slaughter at the pimp's party -- and the late night foray into the slums --stand with any similar scenes in all of the chronicles. They can be read aloud without a single hitch. Every word is in perfect place. The short chapter in which Lestat describes his love for Rowan Mayfair was for me a totally realized poem. There are other such scenes in this book. You don't get all this? Fine. But I experienced an intimacy with the character in those scenes that shattered all prior restraints, and when one is writing one does have to continuously and courageously fight a destructive tendency to inhibition and restraint. Getting really close to the subject matter is the achievement of only great art.

Now, if it doesn't appeal to you, fine. You don't enjoy it? Read somebody else. But your stupid arrogant assumptions about me and what I am doing are slander. And you have used this site as if it were a public urinal to publish falsehood and lies. I'll never challenge your democratic freedom to do so, and yes, I'm answering you, but for what it's worth, be assured of the utter contempt I feel for you, especially those of you who post anonymously (and perhaps repeatedly?) and how glad I am that this book is the last one in a series that has invited your hateful and ugly responses.

Now, to return to the narrative in question: Lestat's wanting to be a saint is a vision larded through and through with his characteristic vanity. It connects perfectly with his earlier ambitions to be an actor in Paris, a rock star in the modern age. If you can't see that, you aren't reading my work. In his conversation with the Pope he makes observations on the times which are in continuity with his observations on the late twentieth century in The Vampire Lestat, and in continuity with Marius' observations in that book and later in Queen of the Damned.

The state of the world has always been an important theme in the chronicles. Lestat's comments matter. Every word he speaks is part of the achievement of this book. That Lestat renounced this saintly ambition within a matter of pages is plain enough for you to see. That he reverts to his old self is obvious, and that he intends to complete the tale of Blackwood Farm is also quite clear.

There are many other themes and patterns in this work that I might mention -- the interplay between St.Juan Diago and Lestat, the invisible creature who doesn't "exist" in the eyes of the world is a case in point. There is also the theme of the snare of Blackwood Farm, the place where a human existence becomes so beguiling that Lestat relinquishes his power as if to a spell. The entire relationship between Lestat and Uncle Julien is carefully worked out. But I leave it to readers to discover how this complex and intricate novel establishes itself within a unique, if not unrivalled series of book. There are things to be said. And there is pleasure to be had. And readers will say wonderful things about Blood Canticle and they already are.

There are readers out there and plenty of them who cherish the individuality of each of the chronicles which you so flippantly condemn. They can and do talk circles around you. And I am warmed by their response. Their letters, the papers they write in school, our face to face exchanges on the road -- these things sustain me when I read the utter trash that you post. But I feel I have said enough.

If this reaches one reader who is curious about my work and shocked by the ugly reviews here, I've served my goals. And Yo, you dude, the slang police! Lestat talks like I do. He always has and he always will. You really wouldn't much like being around either one of us. And you don't have to be. If any of you want to say anything about all this by all means Email me at Anneobrienrice@mac.com. And if you want your money back for the book, send it to 1239 First Street, New Orleans, La, 70130. I'm not a coward about my real name or where I live. And yes, the Chronicles are no more! Thank God!”

Classic. I wish I’d been around when she went batshit crazy. I would have had a field day reading the ten million blogs that would have taken the piss out of her.

Talk about Abilify withdrawal.

Ahhh, the good old days, they sure don’t make authors like they used to. Oh wait, LKH is still carrying the flag isn't she, so all is right with the world.