venerdì 16 agosto 2013

High five - Janet Evanovich

***Spazio annunci: ho ricambiato un po' il blog, quello sfondo con gli uccellini stava facendo uscire la parte violenta di me.. Quanto mi irritava!! Ora ha un po' più di colore, almeno! Ho rimesso anche le pagine in alto perché ho trovato un modo per scriverle in modo carino.. Vediamo la mia volubilità quanto mi permetterà di mantenere il tutto :D

IL LIBRO IN PILLOLE: Un nuovo concentrato di stramberie e risate!



Probabilmente risulterò ripetitiva, perché tutto ciò che ho scritto sui libri precendenti è vero anche per questa recensione.. E forse ciò potrebbe essere a svantaggio della Evanovich perché è un'autrice "ripetitivA" e c he rimane ancorata ai suoi schemi, ma che posso farci se ogni volta mi fa fare un sacco di risate e non vedo l'ora di sapere quale altra catastrofe aspetta Stephanie all'angolo?!
Ci sono degli elementi comuni che ritornano, come ad esempio le macchine che scoppiano (a causa di una bomba, solitamente!!), o la sfiga cronica di Stephanie e le manfrine con  Joe (aaah, Joe. W Joe!).. Però la Evanovich riesce a presentarle in un modo tale che sono sempre piacevoli e soprattutto diventano il segno distintivo di questa scrittrice: situazioni paradossali, personaggi matti persi che ti fanno ridere come un babbuino e soprattutto dialoghi brillanti e divertenti!
20 libri (con probabilmente il 21° in uscita) sono parecchi per continuare a giocare con gli stessi elementi ancora e ancora, non lo metto in dubbio.. Ma non credo smetterò presto di leggere di Stephanie, l'anti-eroe per eccellenza, la cacciatrice di taglie più divertente della storia dei cacciatori di taglie (Che, a proposito, inizialmente pensavo fosse una cosa connessa con il fantasy e con Star wars.. Non so se rendo il livello della mia fantasia galoppante :DD) che non diventa un genio del crimine da una pagina all'altra ma che continua inesorabile a commettere un sacco di errori, ad avere fortuna e ad essere incredibilmente pasticciona :D
Nonna Mazur poi.. Questa donna mi fa ridere di cuore tutte le volte che apre bocca!!
Per il livello di "sexità", in questo episodio si aggiunge anche Ranger.. Mmm.. Personaggio decisamente interessante che darà del filo da torcere a Joe! Ero convintissima del mio essere Pro-Joe al 100%, quand'ecco che Ranger si presenta sulla scena e fa vacillare tutte le mie certezze.. =P
La scena finale, vogliamo parlarne?! Stephanie, con un vestito sexissimo, chiama uno dei due per invitarlo da lei, solo che la Evanovich non specifica chi sia.. SUSPENSE!! La mia scommessa era su Ranger :DD (E no, non ho resistito ma ho letto le prime pagine del sesto libro, giusto per mettermi l'anima in pace XD)

Se avete bisogno di qualche risata e di staccare la spina.. Scegliete assolutamente la Evanovich ed entrate nel suo pazzo mondo!!

"There's two kinds of secrets," Grandma said. "One kind is where nobody knows the secret. And the other kind is where everybody knows the secret, but pretends not to know the secret. This is the second kind of secret."

"You mean Fred has affairs? He's in his seventies!" "Midlife crisis," Grandma said. "Seventy isn't midlife," I said. "Forty is midlife." Grandma slid her uppers around some. "Guess it depends how long you intend to live."

"Hey, Cupcake," Morelli said. "What's the disaster?" "How do you know it's a disaster?" "You left messages on three different phones plus my pager. It's either a disaster or you want me bad, and my luck hasn't been that good today."

"Okay," he said. "What did you have in mind?" "Something legal." "There's all kinds of legal." "I want something entirely legal." Ranger leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Let me explain my work ethic to you. I don't do things I feel are morally wrong. But sometimes my moral code strays from the norm. Sometimes my moral code is inconsistent with the law. Much of what I do is in that gray area just beyond entirely legal."

I glanced at the food. Salad. "Morelli would have brought sausage sandwiches." "That stuff'll kill you, Babe." We were bounty hunters. People shot at us. And Ranger was worried about trans fats and nitrates. "I'm not sure our life expectancy is all that good anyway," I said.

Santos grinned. "Man, you don't like to get shot. You don't like to get arrested. You don't know how to have fun at all."

"Jesus," Morelli said. "I had to fall in love with a woman who works with a guy named Tank." "You love me?" "Of course I love you. I just don't want to marry you."

"How's this?" she asked. "I look okay? This here's my nonthreatening look. This look says, Come on, motherfucker, open your door." If I saw Lula on the other side of my apartment door, wearing her nonthreatening look, I'd hide under my bed. But hey, that's me.

I chugged out of the lot and drove on autopilot to Mabel's house, trying to prioritize projects. I had to neutralize Ramirez, get to the bottom of the Fred thing, chauffeur some sheik . . . And I felt uncomfortable about the dead garbage lady. Not to mention, I needed shoes for Saturday night. I lined everything up in my mind. The shoes were, hands down, top priority.

"Nice car," he said, eyeing the Buick. "Man, they don't make cars like this anymore." He ran a hand over the back fender. "Cherry. Real cherry." "Uh-huh." The cherry car got four miles to a gallon and cornered like a refrigerator. Not to mention it was all wrong for my self-image. My self-image called for fast and sleek and black, not bulbous and powder blue. Red would be okay, too. And I needed a sunroof. And a good sound system. And leather seats . . . "Earth to Babe," Banderas said. I dragged myself back to the moment.

"We need some french fries to celebrate with," Lula said after I bought the dress. "My treat." "I can't have french fries. Another ounce and I won't get into the dress." "French fries are a vegetable," Lula said. "They don't count when it comes to fat. And besides, we'll have to walk all the way down the mall to get to the food court, so we'll get exercise. In fact, probably we'll be so weak from all that walking by the time we get there we'll have to have a piece of crispy fried chicken along with the french fries."

"Okay," I said, blowing a strand of hair off my forehead. "Guess I know what you think of the dress." "If you knew, you wouldn't be standing here," Ranger said. "If you knew, you'd have yourself barricaded in the bedroom with your gun in your hand."

"Stay away from me!" he hollered. "I'm armed." "What, are you kidding me? You're holding a fork." "Yes, but it's a meat fork. And it's sharp. I could poke your eye out with this fork."

My hair still didn't look wonderful after the rollers, so I lined my eyes and added extra mascara. Stephanie Plum, master of diversion. If your hair is bad, shorten your skirt and add extra mascara.

When we were done I put some lamb and potatoes and vegetables in a disposable aluminum pie plate. "What's that for?" Grandma wanted to know. I added a plastic knife and fork. "Stray dog down by the Kerner's." "He eat with a knife and fork?" "Don't ask," I said.

Fortunately, Con was the consummate undertaker, his demeanor always controlled, his smile sympathetic, his voice as smooth as vanilla custard. There was never any ugly mention of the unfortunate incident. After all, I was a potential customer. And with my line of work it might be sooner rather than later. Not to mention Grandma Mazur.

I would have liked a piece of pie, too, but I thought about the little black dress and had a banana instead. I was still hungry after the banana, so I made myself half a ham sandwich. After the sandwich I picked at the lamb. And finally I gave in and ate the pie.

Lula looked up from the filing when I walked in. "Girl, we've been waiting for you. We heard how you beat the crap out of that Briggs guy. Not that he didn't deserve it, but I think if you was gonna beat the crap out of someone, you could let me in on it. You know how bad I wanted to beat the crap out of that little wiener."

Vinnie opened his office door and stuck his head out. "Jesus Christ," he said. "How many times have I told you not to hit people in the face? You hit them in the body where it doesn't show. Kick them in the nuts. Sucker-punch them in the kidney." "He fell down the stairs!" I said again. "Yeah, but you pushed him, right?" "No!" "See, that's good," Vinnie said. "Lying is good. Stick with that story. I like it." He stepped back into his office and slammed the door shut.

"We could go now," he said. "And no one would notice." "Your grandma Bella would notice. She keeps looking over here. I think she might be getting ready to do the eye thing again." "I'm her favorite grandson," Morelli said. "I'm safe from the eye." "So your grandma Bella doesn't scare you?" "You're the only one who scares me," Morelli said. "You want to dance?" "You dance?" "When I have to."

Morelli and Ranger were staring at my breasts and smiling at the wet dress that was plastered to my skin. "So I have nipples," I snapped. "Get over it."

"Jesus," Briggs said to me, "you turned out pretty good considering your gene pool."

"I guess that's where I heard of her. There's lots of people in that seniors' club, and I don't go to the meetings all the time. I can only take so much of old people. If I want to see loose skin I can look in the mirror."

"This Porsche isn't stolen, is it?" "Do you care?" "Of course I care!” "Then it isn't stolen," Ranger said.

Briggs was already at work at his computer when I came out of my bedroom. "Look who's here . . . Mary Sunshine," he said. "Christ, you look like shit." "This is nothing," I told him. "Wait until you see what I look like when I'm done running."

"Is that the wall where the brains were splattered?" Lula asked. "It don't look fresh painted. How'd you get it so clean? I never have any luck getting blood off walls like that."

"That's the Porsche," I said. "It exploded and caught fire and then the garbage truck fell over on it." "I especially like the part about the garbage truck." "I was afraid you might be mad." "Cars are easy to come by, Babe. People are harder to replace. Are you okay?"

Morelli opened his back door. "You," he said, releasing my jacket. "Go in the house. I'll be right back. I'm going to walk Mary Lou to her car." "Not necessary," Mary Lou said, looking nervous, like she was going to run like hell at any moment. "I can find my own way." "It's dark back here," Morelli said to Mary Lou. "And you've just been contaminated by Calamity Jane. You're not getting out of my sight until you're safely locked in your car."

I looked down at him. He was wearing Winnie-the-Pooh pajamas. "Nice jammies," I said. "I have a hard time finding things that fit. When I want to really impress the ladies I wear Spider-Man." "Is it hard being a little person?" "Has its ups and downs. I get a lot of perks because people think I'm cute. And I try to take advantage of my minority status." "I noticed." "Hey," Briggs said, "you gotta use what God gave you."

I pulled on a pair of jeans, shoved my feet into ratty sneakers, and covered my flannel nightshirt with an oversized gray sweatshirt. I grabbed my keys and took off for the stairs. "Looking a little scary, Babe," Ranger said when he saw me. "A friend of mine suggested this look could be a new concept in birth control." "It's not that scary."

"Hey, girlfriend," Lula said. "Did you see the paper this morning? You got a big spread. And not that I'm bummed or anything, but I didn't even get a mention. And I didn't get a cool name like Bombshell Bounty Hunter either. Hell, I could bombshell your ass off."

"Oh boy," Lula said. "I'm gonna squash this guy like a roach." "No. No, no, no, no, no roach squashing. No unnecessary force." "Sure," Lula said. "I know that. But we could use necessary force, right?" "Necessary force won't be necessary."

"I read about you in the paper," she said. "They said your car was bombed!" "Yeah. And then a garbage truck fell on it." "It was excellent," Lula said. "It was the shit." "Boy, nothing fun ever happens to me," Leona said. "I've never had a car bombed or anything." "But you work at a bank," I told her. "That's pretty cool. And you have kids. Kids are the best." Okay, so I fibbed a little about the kids. I didn't want her to feel bad. I mean we can't all be lucky enough to have a hamster.


"Call the police," I yelled. "Help! Call the police." "Don't worry, dear," Mrs. Keene said, "I've got my gun." She fired two off and took out an overhead light. "Did I get him?" she asked. "Would you like me to shoot again?" Mrs. Keene had cataracts and wore glasses as thick as the bottom of a beer glass.


Trama What’s Stephanie up to now? Her Uncle Fred has disappeared. A body turns up in a garbage bag. She’s got a nasty bookie following her around town. Grandma Mazur has her hands on the stun gun. Stephanie can’t keep a car for more than forty-eight hours. Two men are trying to get her into bed. She has nothing to wear to the Mafia wedding. And there’s an angry little man (don’t call him a dwarf!) who won’t leave her apartment. Bail jumping in Trenton is down to small potatoes. Stephanie’s only open case is a small bond for a small violation, committed by a small person who raises Stephanie’s frustration level in big ways. So short of money and long on bills, Stephanie comes up with a plan-–diversify! Signing on as an intern with entrepreneurial Super Bounty Hunter Ranger, Stephanie ventures into Ranger’s mostly morally correct and marginally legal operations. None of this makes vice cop Joe Morelli a happy man. The cop in him can’t help but wonder as to the source of Stephanie’s expensive new cars. And the rest of him, the man who’s been friend and lover to Stephanie, can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the partnership than meets the eye. The internship is downgraded to second priority when Uncle Fred goes missing. Even though Grandma Mazur is sure he was abducted by aliens, Stephanie sets out to look for Fred. He’s a perfectly average senior citizen, and he’s disappeared without a trace while running errands. He’s left his ten-year-old Pontiac station wagon locked up nice and neat in the Grand Union parking lot, the cleaning is carefully arranged on the back seat, and his wife is at home, waiting for him to return with the bread and the milk and the olive loaf bologna. Locked in the top drawer of his desk are photos of a body, dismembered and stuffed into a garbage bag. And locked away in the computer files of a another average citizen are the clues that will lead Stephanie to Fred.

4 commenti:

  1. una serie che devo assolutamente continuare, lo so che lo dico sempre, la colpa è che la mia attenzione viene costantemente rivolta altrove...ma prima o poi:...andrò avanti..bellissima la nuova grafica..io è che non sono in grado altrimenti la cambierei sempre..sono super volubile;)

    RispondiElimina
    Risposte
    1. Ahahaha, Vale, ora ti tampino fino a che non continui con la Evanovich!!

      Ma grazie :3
      E lo sai che se ti serve una mano io sono qui!!! :)

      Elimina
  2. Commento rapidissimo: la nuova grafica mi piace da matti! *O*

    RispondiElimina