I don't know why she called this one Shakespeare's Christmas. It didn't happen in Shakespeare - at all. It was probably because the Lily Bard stories have all included "Shakespeare" in the title and without this cue, how would the reader know what they were getting. Okay, not a big deal, really.
Actually, Lily has gone home to another small town in Arkansas for her sister's pre-Christmas wedding. Arkansas is well supplied with small towns, and several mentioned in this story are ones I actually know exist. I was a little surprised at how blatantly Harris telegraphs the central mystery in this one - practically neon sign and flashing lights. Still, it was a good story and a fair amount of action. AND neither Lily nor those near and dear end up in the hospital - a few bruises, but nothing to signify compared to the abuse the poor woman has endured in the two previous books - and in events which predate the actual series.
I do feel compelled to wonder about Harris's true southern credentials - based on my relatives and experience living in the land of the razorback - both Lily and her sister, Verena (now there's a good southern name) are almost hopelessly beyond bridal age. Even I married younger than that, and my Oklahoma and Arkansas kin had written me off as a hopeless old maid at something near 19. At near thirty, Verena should be slinking off quietly to the JP rather than holding a white-gowned extravanganza. Murders or no murders.
No comments:
Post a Comment