Review for Dead Man Rising, by Lilith Saintcrow

If there was a soundtrack for this series made into a tv show or movie, it would be consisted of hard rock, metal and death metal. The voice of the protagonist Danny is no less than scathing emo. I hadn't even realized that's what it was until I talked to someone else who was reading the series, and she had hated Dante's voice. It was no mere coincidence that the person I was speaking to had hated American hard rock, punk rock, metal and death metal, as well. Nevertheless, a handful of chapters into the second book, small subtle changes are taking place. For instance, the cast is expanding - now to incorporate her sensei Jado and her masseuse Sierra. Our protagonist is less PTSD'ed and heartbroken betrayed now, so much as just grieving and heartbroken, a subtle difference. Her new physique, which she keeps snidely noticing, is giving the novel more of a gothic romantic feel, as defined by modern fashions.

The other thing was that whenever Danny keeps pushing away thoughts of something, it is foreshadowing for the rest of the book. It makes it slightly more predictable. In the first book, when she kept thinking of her nightmares of Doreen and a past that she can't get away from, the rest of the book was devoted to ending those nightmares. This fear and longing for Japhrimel is far more conscious, however; and maybe our character matures slightly, even though her aura is still stretched taut and she's as tense as ever. Not even Sierra's famous massages helped for all that long. At least she's smiling a little more often now.

When Danny starts questioning people about Rigger Hall after the insane ghost of one victim attacked her, the novel starts to get a cyberpunk noir type of feel. It's calm and investigative, building up the suspense and delaying the action, because the stuff of nightmares for our characters isn't that easily to be unraveled. That, and the atmosphere set by the author's words when Danny's doing something as usual as opening up an old locker. The noir feel is also because of the ghosted love triangle between Japhrimel, Dante and Jace - now that Japhrimel's dead (or we presume so), the relationship between Jace and Dante is almost Casablanca-esque. All those reporters sitting outside Dante's house just gives everything a strange offsetting point.

Three fourths into the novel, the ever winding thoughts of grief and revenge and the muted introspection when she was walking to Rigger Hall were driving me mad. Maybe it's just that I'm an impatient reader, so maybe I don't do so well with that much suspense, but I really wanted the action to come already. All the descriptions of her surroundings started reminding me of Charles Dickens and the way he would keep going on about scenery. Or Herman Melville - take your pick.

Also, it was fairly obvious by that point to me that Japhrimel had returned, and I didn't understand why Danny was in such denial of it. It's like she keeps insisting on thinking that everyone has to die around her, just because that's the way her Fate was set. It was a sad state, watching through the eyes of a (character) soul who is so used to death that she denies hope because she so desperately fears disappointment. For the empathetic reader, she is to be pitied though she would hate it, and for the harsh reader, she is just plain delusional. But she treasures the positive interactions that she has, which in the end, saved her. That, and Japhrimel, a part that was slightly predictable.

Though the action felt slightly disappointing given the amount of build up, it was a semi-typical noir move to end everything on a note of contentment despite everything. Perhaps because of how long it took to put all the puzzle pieces together, I expected a grand battle - but this was a battle of another sort, a battle of the psyche. It feels like the series could have ended right there, but I know there are more books to read. More psychic food for me.