And When She Was Good by Laura Lippman
Morrow • $26.99 • ISBN 9780061706875
On sale August 14, 2012
I am a huge fan of Laura Lippman—her smart thrillers make me think, stick with me for days and (best of all!) keep me turning pages long into the night. Her newest novel, And When She Was Good, is no exception. It's also now officially tied with I'd Know You Anywhere as my favorite Lippman thriller.
The story is about Helen, a smart girl from an abusive family who eventually turns to sex work to make ends meet. She risks her life to sneak away to the library, but she never receives a formal education. She ends up pregnant by her pimp, who eventually goes to jail for a series of illegal deeds. Fast forward more than 15 years, and Helen—now Heloise—has a relatively normal life. She lives in a nice house on a quiet street, and her polite son excels in school. Only thing out of the ordinary is that she's actually an efficient and successful suburban madam (and working call girl), catering to the beltway's elite. She's got a clever cover for her business and a foolproof method of destroying her paper trail—but her situation starts to get increasingly dire when a madam from the next county over winds up dead. Here's a taste of the plot:
When the Suburban Madam first showed up in the news, she was defiant and cocky, bragging of a little black book that would strike fear in the hearts of powerful men throughout the state. She gave interviews. She dropped tantalizing hints about shocking revelations to come. She allowed herself to be photographed in her determinedly Pottery Barn-ed family room. She made a point of saying how tough she was, indomitable, someone who never ran from a fight. Now, a month out from trial, she is dead, discovered in her own garage, in her Honda Pilot, which was chugging away. If the news reporters are to be believed—always a big if, in Heloise's mind—it appears there never was a black book, no list of powerful men, no big revelations in her computer despite diligent searching and scrubbing by the authorities. Lies? Bluffs? Delusions? Perhaps she was just an ordinary sex worker who thought she had a better chance at a book deal or a stint on reality television if she claimed to run something more grandiose.
A woman's voice breaks into Heloise's thoughts.
"How pathetic," she says. "Women like that—all one can do is pity them."
The woman's pronouncement is not that different from what Heloise has been thinking, yet she finds herself automatically switching sides.
What are you reading today? Have you read any good thrillers lately?
The Most Dangerous Thing by Laura Lippman
Morrow • $25.99 • ISBN 9780061706516
on sale August 23, 2011
In general, I prefer stand-alone suspense novels to series, so I was thrilled to learn that Lippman has a September book coming out that is indeed a stand alone—and not part of her series about Baltimore PI Tess Monaghan.
The Most Dangerous Thing alternates between the present and the 1970s. It's about five childhood friends who come together again after one of their group dies in a car accident . . . and a secret comes out.
Here's an early scene from the friend's funeral:
Gwen was spared funerals as a child and accepted this practice, as she accepted so many of her parents' practices, as the inarguably right thing to do. Certainly, it never occurred to her to bring Annabelle to Go-Go's visitation, and she is shocked to see how many young children are here. More disturbing, they are gathered around the open casket, inspecting Go-Go with a respectful but palpable excitement. A dead person! This is what a dead person looks like! In the fact of their bravery, how can Gwen not come forward and look as well?
A dead person this may well be, but it is not the boy she remembers and not only because he is thirty years older than the Go-Go who lives in her memory. This person is too still, his features too composed. Go-Go was never still.
"Gwen." Doris Halloran holds her hands tightly, peers into her face, as if nearsighted. "Pretty little Gwen. You look wonderful."
She does? She doesn't feel as if she looks wonderful. True, she is thin. She has no appetite as of late. But she is pretty sure that the lack of food has made her face gaunt, her hair dull and dry. Then again, maybe it's all relative. She looks better than Go-Go, for example. And better than Mrs. Halloran, whose face is white and puffy in a way that cannot be explained by mere grieving. Her eyes are like little raisins deep in an uncooked loaf, her mouth ringed by wrinkles.