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A review by fwog19
Hooked on Murder by Betty Hechtman
2.0
Oof. Thank goodness for being able to change the playback speed on audio books.
I figured I would give this cozy a chance since it had to do with crocheting and almost DNF'd it because of a few things. First, the narrator sounded like a robot with hiccups. I don't know if it was the writing causing her to sound so stilted and Shatner-esque, but holy wow. Also, HOW MANY TIMES do you need to describe how to do a chain stitch? Even if you know NOTHING about crocheting and feel the need to "talk it out" to figure it out (I do that too at times) - do you REALLY need to remind people how to do a chain? Really? Then you have the whole, "Knitters are better than crocheters!" garbage. I knit and crochet both and there was a time when I would say "I don't knit" because I didn't care for it at the time. I've never understood the whole animosity bit between the two groups. I swear, they're as bad as rabid vegans.
Molly is middle aged, widowed, with two grown sons and a "sort of" boyfriend (who is actually one of my favorite characters in the book and much too good for her picky ass) who works in a bookstore. She stumbles on a murder victim and gets pegged as the killer.
Most of the book seemed like the author was typing away and let out a huge sneeze, jumbling everything up. It seemed disjointed at times and most of the characters were just flat out annoying. I *did* like how it kind of came together in the end, but really, it's like Molly just stumbled into everything and complained about Barry, her weight, and WHY CAN'T SHE FIGURE ANYTHING OUT?
The only reason I didn't figure out who did it right away was because the character wasn't even really mentioned after a while. Think of the standard group of people and you have three out of the seven or so that the focus is on. You have one who is there (like a red-shirt) and then just isn't. BOOM. There you go. Kind of the inconsequential space filler and the author is trying to be all sneaky and clever, but ends up seeming like a teenager who just realized that they have a 500 word essay due the next morning and it's midnight on a Sunday.
I don't really want to check out the other books in the series, but part of me is a bit curious to see if Molly actually gets her head out of her butt and grows a brain.
I figured I would give this cozy a chance since it had to do with crocheting and almost DNF'd it because of a few things. First, the narrator sounded like a robot with hiccups. I don't know if it was the writing causing her to sound so stilted and Shatner-esque, but holy wow. Also, HOW MANY TIMES do you need to describe how to do a chain stitch? Even if you know NOTHING about crocheting and feel the need to "talk it out" to figure it out (I do that too at times) - do you REALLY need to remind people how to do a chain? Really? Then you have the whole, "Knitters are better than crocheters!" garbage. I knit and crochet both and there was a time when I would say "I don't knit" because I didn't care for it at the time. I've never understood the whole animosity bit between the two groups. I swear, they're as bad as rabid vegans.
Molly is middle aged, widowed, with two grown sons and a "sort of" boyfriend (who is actually one of my favorite characters in the book and much too good for her picky ass) who works in a bookstore. She stumbles on a murder victim and gets pegged as the killer.
Most of the book seemed like the author was typing away and let out a huge sneeze, jumbling everything up. It seemed disjointed at times and most of the characters were just flat out annoying. I *did* like how it kind of came together in the end, but really, it's like Molly just stumbled into everything and complained about Barry, her weight, and WHY CAN'T SHE FIGURE ANYTHING OUT?
The only reason I didn't figure out who did it right away was because the character wasn't even really mentioned after a while. Think of the standard group of people and you have three out of the seven or so that the focus is on. You have one who is there (like a red-shirt) and then just isn't. BOOM. There you go. Kind of the inconsequential space filler and the author is trying to be all sneaky and clever, but ends up seeming like a teenager who just realized that they have a 500 word essay due the next morning and it's midnight on a Sunday.
I don't really want to check out the other books in the series, but part of me is a bit curious to see if Molly actually gets her head out of her butt and grows a brain.