Book Report: Danse Macabre

BWA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

You must excuse me -- I'm laughing so hard at this excuse for a book that it's hard to type.

Yes, once again I dipped into the scummy puddle of questionable fluids that is the Anita Blake books these days. Don't judge me -- the paperback was free, and I needed truly mindless reading for a plane ride.

And it appears that Laurell K. Hamilton has dropped any pretense of a plot. Because there's nothing resembling that creature in this book.

How is it that a once-interesting character has become a blow-up doll with a pulse? I used to argue that it was the men who had become flat and lifeless in this world, but really, Anita is just as bad -- and self-involved and annoying to boot. She offers the many, many men who line up for a guided tour through her magical cavern nothing but sex -- supposedly fabulous, mind-blowing sex, but completely devoid of emotion or meaning.

In return, the men must never look at another woman (or man), never step out of bounds, do *exactly* as they're told, and serve in whatever role Anita chooses. Any rebellion or independent thought -- and it's back to the lotion and tissues for you, buddy!

Seriously -- can the sex be good enough to put up with that shit? Get over yourself?

The pregnancy scare? Pathetic. Too many potential daddies, the scene with Ronnie was *terrible,* and the scare's not much of a scare if Anita's still banging away with every supernatural in sight.

There's *supposed* to be a story here, about multiple vampire Masters and a vampire dance troupe visiting St. Louis, but this is all crammed into the last third of the book and isn't really dealt with even then. The big political party where all the Masters will be? We don't get to see it -- instead, Anita's getting pounded on the office couch!

Now there was a point ... a brief shining moment. Anita, in the midst of having sex and becoming even *more* powerful (she's gonna be a panwere, ya'll!) could have broken the main triumvirate between herself, Jean-Claude and Richard. She could have walked away, and chosen humanity.

This would have been a stunning turn of events, and could have put the series on a new, exciting track. But she wimps out, because of some third-stringer vamp that no one cares about.

Sigh.

So here's the book:

Whine about "relationships." Fight with Richard. Have sex. Kiss a girl. Move to another room, whine about relationships. Fight with someone else, have sex. Have more sex, add in bestiality and blood play. Move to nearby corridor, fight with Richard, have group sex. Rinse and repeat.

The book takes place in a maybe 24-hour period. It may have been written in 24 hours as well.

Sad, sad, sad.