manjushra (manjushra) wrote,

Compare and Contrast

I've reached a milestone in my reading project. I have completed one side of the library bookshelf (you know, the C section!) and now I have turned the corner. Cussler is approaching, with all his books about life on a boat.

Anyhow, surely by now I have found reliable factors that influence my likes and dislikes? I think maybe I have. Interesting to compare my two latest books, one (completed) by NJ Cooper, and one (in progress) by Glenn Cooper.

Title             Lifeblood Book of Souls [My comments:]


NJ Cooper

Glenn Cooper

Overall percentage-wise, I prefer writings from male authors more than female.

Although when I was reading sci-fi that wasn't true. Strange.


Isle of Wight/Sussex

New York/Warwickshire

Sadly, in Lifeblood the settings descriptions were a bit wet. I remember a lot about a willow by a stream. Surely you can do more than that with an IOW setting.

The guys in BofSouls have just entered an old Tudor house and that was done quite well.


Karen, a forensic psychologist; her OCD surgeon boyfriend; her moody, non-boyfriend IOW cop who fancies her. Oh and some serial sadistic rapist.

Will, ex FBI, old, fit. Frazier, existing FBI, nasty. Old dying guy with money and a motorhome.

How shallow am I. Prefer the fit ex FBI agent to the wet indecisive Karen who STILL chooses the OCD surgeon over the fancies-her, alive-and-kicking IOW cop.

Basic plot

Sadistic rapist on parole. Will he do it again? Former victim in hiding. Will she (a) get herself together (b) not get killed (c) get off with Jed?

There’s a supernaturally generated list of everyone ever living, in the past up until a spurious date in the extended future, and their dates of birth and death. I.e. predictions. It’s always right. Everyone wants a piece of it.


And regardless of almost anything else I have said here, I just don't want to pay attention to descriptions of sadism or rape or their perpetrators.

The second paragraph from Chapter 3.

“Taking a careful breath and settling her shoulders, she rang the bell. A short, plump man in his early forties opened the door, bringing with him a gust of instant coffee, dust and a confusion of smells from flowery scent to bleach. His chinos were creased and baggy, and his striped shirt was stretched tight over his beer gut. As he inspected her, she wondered why he looked as if he hated her.”

“He zipped up his bomber jacket to his throat, stuffed his hands into his jeans for warmth and paced back and forth, second-guessing the wisdom of humouring this Henry Spence fellow. Out of an abundance of caution he had slung his holster over his shoulder and he was getting reacquainted with the weight of steel over his heart. The sidewalk was empty and dark, and despite scatter traffic he felt alone and vulnerable.”

Glenn is just a bit more pacey, you see? And there’s more going on. NJ is sort of provincial.

Any wisecrack lines?



Ah well. We can’t all be Lee Child.


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