It's tough to be critical of Charlaine Harris and her Sookie
Stackhouse books; after all, there is no pretense of serious
literary merit, nor is there a rabid fan base that begs for
"re-education."
No...Charlaine Harris's books are exactly what they are meant to
be: somewhat entertaining, light weight, playful riffs on the
Vampire and mystery genres.
There is always something fun and fresh in the Sookie novels.
Living Dead in Dallas, for instance, has a crazy KKK-like bunch of
religious kooks called the Fellowship of the Sun whose mission it
is to expunge Vampirism from the world -- or at least from the USA.
And there is always a bunch of straight laced, almost monogamous
sex between Sookie and her Vampire lover, Bill. Unfortunately, the
sex is never arousing, even if it is mildly fun to read, and it
only makes me want to crack out some genuine erotica and read it
out loud while my wife and I soak in our big clawfoot tub
surrounded by candles (but that's not exactly a bad reaction to
evoke).
As for Sookie's love life, she kisses whomever she wants whenever
she wants, while being constantly jealous of Bill, but that is
right in line with her skewed personal morality, which turns up its
nose at a menage a trois but has no difficulty with being a blood
source during sex. But at least she recognizes her hypocrisy. She
knows she's a "goody two shoes" -- h*ll, even thong panties are
enough to scandalize her (is this a little too much of Charlaine
coming through in her character?) -- and that is definitely part of
Sookie's charm, but that element of her personality can also become
a little much by the end of an installment (which is why it is best
to take a break of a month or two before reading another).
Even so, I actually do get why Bill and other Vampires,
specifically the Viking Vampire, Eric, are attracted to Miss
Stackhouse. The telepathic waitress turned telepathic investigator
for Vampires is more than a little mouthy, and her ability to stand
up to the powerful Vampires without flinching coupled with her
genuine self-confidence makes me believe that they'd dig her --
unlike other human females, whose names I won't mention, who
inexplicably and inappropriately attract creepy Vampire lovers,
whose names I won't mention either.
Sookie is a pain in the a**, but if she were real I know I'd be
attracted to her.
Living Dead in Dallas is a pretty decent Sookie novel, and it is a
nice piece of fluff if you're reading something challenging and
need a back up. But don't expect greatness.
Bon Temp ain't the place to find greatness.