Real Murders is a sort of decent book. It's well written in the way where you can read it in no time and it passes time in a fairly entertaining manner. Charlaine Harris' books have turned out to be guilty pleasures of mine - they are in no way amazing nor do I put them down with the feeling of having expanded my horizon or what not, but something about them just draws me in and I'll most likely read everything she ever writes, just because.
Main character Aurora is boring, plain and I resent her being a librarian - it's just too easy a stereotype to cast her in, even more so when she despite being plain as a mouse wearing a drab wardrobe still suddenly gets not one but two acceptable suitors - you know, in addition to all the unacceptable ones.
The crime/murders aren't very suspenseful and the people don't seem all that affected by it (but then again I've never discovered the victim of a gruesome murder, so what do I know). I didn't care much for the ending, it wasn't really wrapped up, but given the style of the book I don't care. Just like I'm not very invested in some tv show I'll watch on a lazy afternoon I'm not particular invested in this sort of book either. But I still somehow, obscurely, enjoy reading it. It takes my mind off things and thus serves it purpose.
This is probably one of the weirder reviews I've written, but don't you too have books that you read but don't really a strong opinion about be it negative or positive?
290 pages / published in 2007
|Review by Iben Jakobsen, BoB, 2013|