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Executive Times |
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2005 Book Reviews |
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Cold
Service by Robert B. Parker, Jr. |
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Rating: ••• (Recommended) |
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Click on
title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Friendship The title, Cold
Service, of this 30-something installment in Parker’s Spenser series
refers to revenge, a dish best served cold. In a reversal of what happened in
a novel from seven or eight years ago, Small
Vices, this time Hawk is shot and Spenser helps in his recovery. The
bonds of friendship between these two run so deep and remain so unarticulated
that it becomes obvious that when Hawk is ready to wreak revenge on those who
shot him, Spenser will be at his side, no matter what. Here’s
an excerpt, all of Chapter 9, pp. 40-44: Susan had spent the better
part of two days making a pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving. Obviously she was
exhausted, so I agreed to cook the rest of the meal, which I began at nine
Thanksgiving morning. Susan sat at the kitchen table and drank a cup of
coffee. “If you hadn’t forced
yourself upon me,” Susan said, “you could have begun preparations much
earlier.” “I know,” I said. “But
after dinner I’d have been too full to force myself upon you.” “Oh good,” Susan said. “I can rest
easy.” I had the small turkey all rinsed and
patted dry. “Will you make that stuffing with the apples and onions and
little cut-up sausages?” “Yes.” I had coffee, too, and drank some. “Would you like to look at my pie
again?” Susan said. “I beg your pardon?” “The pumpkin pie.” She got up and walked to the
refrigerator and opened the door. The pumpkin pie was on the top shelf. “Ta-da,”
Susan said. “Did you really take two days on that
thing?” “Don’t call her that thing,” she said. “What if she hears you.” “She looks worth every moment spent on her.” Susan
went back to her seat at the table. I sliced up eight small breakfast sausage
links into my stuffing mix. “What is Hawk doing for Thanksgiving?”
Susan said. “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think he’s got much appetite
yet.” “How’d she know the recipe called for
dog slobber,” I said. “What recipe wouldn’t,” Susan said. “Whole-grain,” she said to When she had chewed and swallowed and
drunk some coffee, she said, “Is he seeing Cecile?” “I don’t know.” “Did you ask?” “No.” Susan smiled and shook her head. “Amazing,” she said. “What?” I peeled two Granny Smith apples and
cored them and sliced the remains into my stuffing. “He has risked his life for you and you
for him.” I turned on the water faucet and began
to peel onions in the stream of descending water so they wouldn’t make me cry.
I didn’t want Susan thinking I was a sissy. “And,” Susan said, “you are planning to
risk it again.” “Prudently,” I said. “And you don’t even ask him what his
plans are for Thanksgiving, or if he’s spending it with anyone.” I had the first
onion peeled. “I was walking along the river with
Hawk, couple of weeks ago,” I said. “And he remarked that life in prison had
no connection with how people live anywhere else.” “He’s probably right,” Susan said. “He’s nearly always right,” I said.
“Not because he knows everything. But because he never talks about things he
doesn’t know.” “Not a bad idea,” Susan said. “No,” I said. “Quite a good one.” “But what’s that got to do with not
knowing what he was doing for Thanksgiving?” “I digressed,” I said. “And it misled
you. Go back to the thing he said about prison.” Susan poured herself half a cup of
coffee and emptied in a packet of fake sugar. “Analogy,” Susan said. “Hawk’s world is
not like anyone else’s.” I nodded. “So asking Hawk about Thanksgiving is like
asking a fish about a bicycle,” Susan said. “Or asking him about Cecile.” “Does Cecile matter to him?” “Yes,” I said. “But?” “But not the way you and I do.” “Who does?” Susan said. “Good point,” I
said. “Do you understand him?” “Up to a point,” I said. “And then?” “Hawk’s black. He’s been outnumbered
all his life. I don’t know, and probably can’t know, quite what that’s like.” “Or what it took for him to become
Hawk,” Susan said. “And to keep being Hawk,” I said. “He didn’t choose a Hawk
that’s easy to maintain.” “But if he doesn’t maintain,” Susan
said, “he’ll disappear.” “He’d laugh at you for saying that.” “Yes,” Susan said. “But it doesn’t mean
it’s not true.” “Besides,” I said. “You have a
doctorate from Harvard and you live in “So I’m used to being laughed at,”
Susan said. Longtime fans of Parker and Spencer will
enjoy Cold
Service, and first-time readers can start here and be satisfied. Steve Hopkins,
June 25, 2005 |
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Buy Cold
Service @ amazon.com |
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ã 2005 Hopkins and Company, LLC The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the July 2005
issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Cold
Service.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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