Book #67

Obsidian Butterfly
by Laurell K. Hamilton

All right, so we're up to Book 8 in the series now, and I still haven't lost any interest. Reading these as quickly as I have been has made them seem like one extremely long novel, rather than a series; I can't decide if it's better or worse this way. But the fact that the characters are still fascinating to me and the stories haven't lost anything over the course of -- what, 3000 pages? Something like that -- shows me that this is a series that is worth pursuing, something that I plan to read and enjoy more than once. Maybe next time I'll read them with a little more space in between.

This one was excellent, though slower than the ones before it. Slower partly because it was longer, jumping 150, 200 pages in length over Blue Moon; slower partly because I had to start my life outside the home again (sigh), and slower partly because it was just slower-paced. There was much less action and much more investigating and talking to different people in this one, which was a little disappointing inasmuch as it was Edward's book, and I expected that to be nothing but slaughter. But after reading it, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way, because it was fascinating to examine the disparate attitudes and morals and desires of the Four Psychos of the Apocalypse, Edward, Bernardo, Olaf, and Anita. These four run the gamut of serial killers, since that's what all of them are, and I loved comparing them over the course of the book.

You have Bernardo, who isn't really in it for the kill, but is simply good at what he does and has found a place where he belongs in his role as killer-for-hire. Since he doesn't love the kill, he does as much bodyguard work as anything, and he chafes the worst under the necessity of waiting for a break in the case. Then you have Olaf, who is a true serial killer -- a sexual sadist. He's in it for the kill, but not this kind of kill, so he has trouble with this case as well, but for a different reason: he has trouble because he has a terrible time resisting his own desire to kill Anita. The case becomes something he just wants to get finished so he can get back to what he loves: murder. Then there are our two heroes, Anita and Edward; throughout all the earlier books, Anita has worried that she is becoming too much like Edward, too willing to kill for too little reason. Not surprising, as she has dropped several hints that Edward had much to do with making her the way she is; most of her guns are either given to her or suggested to her by Edward, and her biggest internal struggle -- the conflict between her connection to her two boys, and Edward's most basic philosophy, "You don't sleep with the monsters, you kill the monsters" -- comes directly from her desire to live up to Edward's example in some way. So she has been worrying that she will become as bad as, if not worse than, Edward. In this book, it turns out, she really has reached Edward's level, but not because she sank that low: rather, Edward came up. The empty, cold-hearted killer, who exists only for the thrill of a challenging hunt and a deadly climax, has found love. He has found a family. And when he comes together with these other three murderers, they actually become friends, as much as these people can. Even Olaf -- though his perception of Anita, particularly, is pretty far from what I'd call friendship. But it fit perfectly with his character.

How many writers can do that? How many can not only write a convincing serial killer, but four convincing serial killers, of disparate types, and also portray their interactions in what seems a realistic way? The only other one I've known is Stephen King, who's done similar things in novels with multiple villains -- like It, with Pennywise and Ace and Beverly's father all playing different villain roles at different points. I think it says quite a lot about Laurell Hamilton that her name goes next to his with this accomplishment.

The story was okay; I liked Obsidian Butterfly, both her story and her power/character, and I liked the mystery surrounding the deaths. I didn't think much of the "god," though his outfit was the ickiest thing in this oft-icky series since the rotting vampire sex or the zombie scenes in The Laughing Corpse. Good to see the theme of horrifying-multi-person-zombie come back around again, thanks to that twisted little nutjob Nicky Baco. Glad he's dead. I was a little bummed that even after 600 pages of Edward's story, I still never got to see him cut loose and slaughter people by the score; that was Olaf, Bernardo, and Anita. Which was still cool. And I liked Anita's difficulty in dealing with celibacy and her final decision regarding Richard and Jean-Claude -- and it was nice to have a book without the two of them flexing and ma-petite-ing all over the place. Though now I want them back in it, so we can see what happens next!