Book review: E is for Evidence, by Sue Grafton

This started out as a sleepy little holiday mystery, and then there were explosions. Literal (bombs in packages nearly kill Kinsey twice) and metaphorical (one of her ex-husbands shows up out of the blue, and she learns why he left her in the first place).

Also, the revelation that Kinsey Milhone takes bubble baths with dishwashing soap.

More educational nuggets, primarily concerning air travel as written in the year I was born:

  • Flights with small planes that seated only 15 people (!)
  • Only a curtain separating the pilot’s cockpit from the rest of the cabin
  • Terminals were called “satellites”???
  • Planes still had non-smoking sections

And Kinsey remains a weirdo who needs to stop judging other women for eating breakfast sandwiches, oh my God. Shut up, Kinsey, breakfast sandwiches make life worth living.

A far worse line, though, is when she agrees with her new rich friend on why the world sucks:

She was right about one thing: the harm in the world is done by those who feel disenfranchised and abused. Contented people (as a rule) don’t kite checks, rob banks, or kill their fellow citizens.

KINSEY. I want to like you, but sometimes you make it really hard.

She did, however, provide the most unfortunately accurate description of a McDonald’s apple pie I’ve ever seen. Clearly their recipe has not changed in nearly thirty years.

I finished up with one of those fried pies full of hot glue that burns the fuck out of your mouth. Pure heaven.

Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what they are.

Back to one of the central plots, the personal one for Kinsey: the initial description of her ex-husband put me in mind of Matt Boemer. That turned out to be hilariously appropriate. I say no more.

I liked the saga of her getting reacquainted with the mega-rich family she knew in high school. I was really sad when Olive got blown up, despite her terrible Randian mindset.

And why did she get blown up? Revelations of childhood/teenage incest. Jeez, so much judgment for incest. (Note: I do not condone actual incest. Only fictional incest, where you can roll around in all the fucked-up boundaries and relationship issues.)

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