I almost didn’t purchase WHAT THE DEAD KNOW by Laura Lippman. I have a stack of paperback books waiting on my reading table.
“You’d better get busy girl, my cleaning lady and friend Chris said to me, “Jack’s stack of books is getting a lot smaller than is your list of books. (Chris doesn’t really think Jack and I read all the books that move across our bedside tables.)
When I see a review, I tear the slip out of the magazine or newspaper and then this unruly piece of paper sits and sits until I do something about it. It was decision time. Either throw the damn paper away or order the book. I simply was not going to let clutter stay where it was a second longer.
I had started a book by Faye Kellerman, a historical novel about a subject I cannot fill enough of my brain with – the holocaust. Reading was going slowly, so when my “new” book arrived, Kellerman’s book went to the bottom of the stack and one night and ½ ago I started WHAT THE DEAD KNOW. I almost could not stop reading to eat or sleep.
Usually when a plot grips me as strongly as this one did, I’ll cheat and do something strange. No, I’ll not read the last page. I’ll read the last chapter. Then I’ll slip backward which is really forward in the book about five chapters and read from there. When I catch up to myself, I’ll go forward – backward five more chapters, until I reach the front of the book.
The plot of this book unfolds in such a way, it would have been impossible to read in such a fashion. I would have been thoroughly confused. Also, I didn’t want to get ahead of the story. I was willing to let the author tell me what happened to two sisters – a teen and a pre-teen, when they simply disappeared from a shopping mall outside of Baltimore in the 1970s.
WHAT THE DEAD KNOW is a good story. The author did her research well. She even explains in her notes that certain movies were indeed playing at the time of the historical events. She checked, these movies were in re-release.
The only criticism of the book is that the final, FINAL wrap-up is a little too neat. The author allows probably the only case in which a victim gets her wish to remain anonymous. In this day of news savagery, it is hard to believe that a coup of silence of the names and whereabouts of parties involved is accomplished.
I love books that have words scattered here and there that I am so uncertain of their use that I have to look them up. I couldn’t stop to look up these few words that I didn’t recognize. Never fear, my husband will either know the definitions or pause to look them up and tell me the meaning.
I found one interesting use of a word in this book. Lippman speaks of police in the singular. I’ve just never encountered that. Example: “When I was a police, …I worked in robbery”
This plot has more twists and turns than Dead Man’s Curve on Highway 69. (Yes there is a highway 69 in Alabama), but if you like a good story told in an interesting way, I think you will like this book. Laura Lippman is not John Steinbeck but the following review is one with which I agree:
“Laura Lippman’s stories aren’t just mysteries: they are deeply moving explorations of the human heart.”
Here are some nuggets that touched my human heart:
“We’re such good friends we don’t need to go into specifics, Joe,” she’d said, patting his hand. “…something bad happened. Something you seldom speak of. And you know what? You’re right to keep it inside. Everyone says just the opposite, but they’re wrong. It’s better not to speak of some things. Whatever you’ve done, whatever happened, you don’t need to justify it to me or anyone. You don’t need to justify it even to yourself. Keep it locked up.” Pg 109
She had been lucky not smart. She had sold her own house eighteen months earlier, before the market began its precipitous slide. At the same time she had divested herself of some longtime investments she had inherited from her parents. But it wasn’t that she had predicted the stock market collapse in 1987. “Lots of people didn’t want to stay in Texas just now, and these people had cried I Miriam’s office over the past few months, baffled by the concept of negative equity. “How can we owe?” one young woman had sobbed. “We bought the house, we made our payments, and now we’re selling it. So why do we owe seven thousand dollars.” Bolder sellers tried to suggest that a Realtor should not be paid if the deal yielded no profit for them. It was an ugly time. Pg 229
And finally "Children can be happy when their parents are miserable. But a parent is never happier than her unhappiest child." --- Page 371
Respectfully Submitted,
Kathy Albers
Last edited by BamaMama; 08/12/07 02:04 PM.
