Darkfever by Karen Marie Moning

First, the horribly truncated summary: Sleuth Barbie goes to Dublin to solve her sister’s murder and ends up pantiless with a spear.

That’s just how Dublin rolls.

I’m not certain I can summon up the vitriol required for explaining the narrative voice of this book. Never before have I read such shallow first-person text given to me straight. I thought the protagonist was joking, trolling me from some future vantage point five books down the road. She started so reasonably in the prologue. Alas, I was misled, forcing myself through the drivel of a frivolous college-age woman who sounded more like a teenager from the 1990s.

But don’t take my word for it. Feast your eyes upon this sample: “Later that night I stopped in an Internet café and downloaded new tunes for my iPod. iTunes loves my Visa. I should be more frugal, but my weaknesses are books and music and I figure there are worse ones to have. I’d been hankering for the Green Day Greatest Hits CD (the song that goes “sometimes I give myself the creeps, sometimes my mind plays tricks on me” had been majorly on my mind lately) and got it for the bargain price of $9.99, which was less than I would have paid in the store. Now you know how I justify my addictions—if I can pay less for it than I would at Wal-Mart, I get to have it.”

She’s investigating her sister’s murder. She just finished questioning her sister’s classmates. I don’t care about the protagonist’s playlist at this time. I also really hate when authors borrow from songs.

And wouldn’t you be buying it in Euros if you’re in Ireland?

*hits “search” on the kindle, types in “Euros”, gets nothing. Tries again with “Euro,” still gets nothing.* Sleuth Barbie pays for everything with a credit card or other people’s money.

I apologize for that tangent. It still stands that you’re listening to that same voice, without change, for the entire book. She mentions nail polish and lipstick more times than the currency required to buy them. Sleuth Barbie (her name is Mac/Mackayla) cries because she has to cut her blonde hair and dye it in order to keep herself from being a target. She’s not crying due to being a target, but because she really likes her hair.

Oh, and in one scene, she believes a pair of Clark Kent glasses and a dingy shirt are enough to keep people from noticing her. She ends the disguise description with “I might never manage ugly, but at least I bordered on invisible.”

I think I need Shallow Hal to give me a visual on her inner beauty.

Now, I will admit that the world she’s placed into in Ireland is very creative. As she digs into her sister’s death, she finds an Ireland steeped in myth and magic that would have made for awesome fun. Fae creatures are all around her, both good and evil, and the evil ones are connected, somehow, to her sister’s death. You also have two main males with our protagonist, one being a rich man who lives behind a bookstore. (How is he rich? We don’t know. Even Christian Grey had a company and wealthy parents.)

The other is a fae prince who constantly inspires our protagonist to want sex. Not “oh let me go home and take care of this” urge, but the urge to rip off her clothes in the middle of the street and have sex with this fae until she dies from orgasm (hence the no-panties comment at the beginning). I guess these are meant to be intriguing scenes, but I just couldn’t stop laughing.

As for the poor deceased sister, we have to pick up another book to get closure.

I’ll get right on that. Right after I read The Winds of Winter. Or, in Blizzardspeak, “soon.”

2.5 stars.

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