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Bad Blood by John Sandford
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Sep 27, 10

Read in September, 2010

Last summer I was out in Minnesota, and whenever I hear people speaking in that wonderful midwestern lilt, sadly made a joke by Sarah Palin, I think, "Ah, home." Well, this book about a sect in southern Minnesota made me sort through my memories, wondering if all those friendly people with the lilting way of speaking I'd seen through my rose colored glasses were actually perverts and murderers. The three men sitting in the corner when Dick and I had the world's best fries in the tiny restaurant right off the interstate must've been planning a sex orgy despite their innocent faces. No, stuff like this doesn't really happen in Minnesota, does it? That said, I found this book to be a page turner and handed it over to my husband, who loves the sort of stuff Sandford dishes up so easily, just about as much as he loved those out of this world fries. Virgil Flowers is likable, maybe more so than Lucas Davenport, and definitely less pretentious. I don't think I learned anything from reading this book, but I had fun doing it.
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