Book Review: In The Woods

I think a successful writer should spend as much time reading as he does writing and part of what makes me “me” is an avid interest in reading.  For that reason, I want a component of my blog dedicated to reviews of books I have read.  My sister has been, what The Wife has identified as, a reading machine.  I believe she has finished her NINTH summer book.  I’ve just recently finished my first and have a lot of catching up to do.  Fortunately, I have a pile of books already on my shelf that I haven’t read, but picked up when browsing book stores because they interested me, so I won’t have to spend a lot of time finding my next quiet distraction.

The book I just finished was In the Woods by Tana French.  The story is set in present day Ireland and revolves around a detective who is trying to solve the murder of a 12-year-old girl found at an archaeological dig.  The detective, as a boy, grew up in the same town and went into the nearby woods with two friends.  They become lost and there was a frantic search for all three.  He was the only one to be found, covered in blood of one of his two friends.  The story alternates between the two cases and at times suggests there might be a link between them.  There wasn’t.

Las Vegas Day Four (Part 2): May 28, 2011



Rick James once famously said in an interview on the Chappelle Show that “cocaine’s a helluva drug.”  The same could be said for liquid cocaine, the street name of vodka Red Bulls.  The three of us hit the Strip and looked like wild monkeys running a 40-yard dash.  We weaved around clusters of pedestrians and snuck up on each other to jump-smack whatever bald spot was available.  My smacking was as limp-wristed as my punching.  There was one time when I leaped into the air behind Rob to smack his head and from some subconscious recess I thought, “what if that isn’t Rob,” so I misfired.  Then, Rob had jumped on the back of one of us.  I can only assume it was me because I have a hazy recollection of being pitched headlong on the sidewalk, only to regain my balance before serious damage could be done.

All inhibitions were down.  We had spent three days walking around Vegas, intentionally giving the card-flipping smut peddlers the Heisman (I was more polite, actually deigning to give a head shake or a “no” at many offerings), but not that night.  I took a card or booklet from anyone who offered, which set off a chain reaction of others handing me their cards.  I felt like a politician shaking hands with my constituents, eagerly and happily accepting the well wishes from the masses.  Once at the Paris, I had a huge stack of porn star collector cards, which I immediately deposited into the nearest trash bin.  I may have been drunk, but I don’t litter. 

Similar to the Jabbawockeez show, the doors to the Anthony Cools show were already open and people were finding their seats.  I could have used a stop at the bathroom, but we were worried about missing the show and we went right in.  The show started shortly after and Mike immediately volunteered to be hypnotized.  Anthony asked for several volunteers and it soon became obvious why.  Whenever a person showed any signs of not accepting a suggestion, he was escorted off the stage.  Anthony was weeding out those who weren’t as suggestible.  Those who were, especially Mike, put on an entertaining show.

There was one guy named Dave who was told that every time he heard his name, he would get an erection and would want to hide it.  Another guy would feel like his ass was on fire and rub it along the stage to put it out whenever Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’ was played.  Anthony made the suggestion to the group that when he turned around, he would be naked from the waist down and well hung.  When he did turn, everyone had a shocked look on his face and Mike turned to the guy sitting next to him and held his hands about two feet apart with a look of awe on his face.

Las Vegas Day Four (Part 1): May 28th, 2011



We saved the best for last, which worked out well; otherwise we would have spent the rest of our trip recovering.  I don’t think any of us had much of a hangover, but we did sleep into the late morning.  Mike went downstairs and returned with three cups of coffee and a newspaper.  The coffee was just what the doctor ordered.  We eased into our day and took stock of what we still wanted to do while in Las Vegas.  We had tickets to Anthony Cools and wanted to go to Coyote Ugly, which would take care of our evening.  We felt baked from the intense heat of the past couple days, so we weren’t eager to sit by the pool.  The European soccer championship was in the afternoon and since Rob and I had money on the game, we wanted to watch it.  A foam party was scheduled in the Monte Carlo pool area starting at noon and lasting until six, which sounded like a lot of fun.  We had a pretty big window to catch the party and figured we could stop by when we had some free time.  We hadn’t done any souvenir shopping and we were leaving early tomorrow morning, so we decided to do that to get the day going.

We visited the local places, like Gameworks and the M&M store, across the street.  We didn’t walk around for long before I started to feel a little light-headed, probably for not having breakfast after an alcohol-fueled night.  We made our way over to the MGM Grand to visit the shop next to the lion’s cage.  Inside the store, there was a window where people could view a lion cub being fed from a bottle.  There was an older couple with a trainer in the room and I assumed they had paid for the experience.  I also took the opportunity to redeem my $15 ticket I had from video poker on our first night in town.

The soccer game had an early start time for us on the West Coast, and just in time for lunch.  We re-crossed the street to New York, New York and found a place with immediate seating at the Nine Fine Irishmen.  Barcelona was well represented in the bar, but the table we sat was in an area where most people were cheering Manchester United.  We had lunch and Sam Adams while we watched the game.  It became pretty obvious that Man U was out-matched in talent, but the score was tied 1-1 at the half.  I knew if Man U had a chance to win the game, the final score would have to be 2-1.  When Barcelona scored its second goal, my hopes faded.  When Barcelona scored its third goal, they evaporated.  At least I waited until the official end of the game before tearing up my ticket.  Mike paid for lunch and we headed outside.