Midnight Crossroad by Charlaine Harris is a very stupid book. If this were her first published novel, I could forgive its obvious lack of a plot and dearth of even remotely interesting characters. I could possibly overlook the fact that 99.9% of this book is merely descriptions of the characters going about their daily lives. But this is not Harris's first book so there's no excuse for how incredibly bad this novel is. I've read nearly all of her books, and Midnight Crossroads is simply terrible. Any talent Harris had in the past for writing brave and funny characters, zippy plots and snappy dialogue is gone. This book was published purely to get money from fans hoping for another Sookie Stackhouse series.
Manfred Bernardo, a psychic for hire, decides to move to Midnight, a small town in Texas. There are about a dozen people who live in Midnight, and they are all apparently odd in some way. There is a mysterious disappearance that occured before Manfred moved to town. Aubrey Hamilton, a woman who used to live with his landlord, Bobo Winthrope, up and left him one day with no warning. Bobo is also the target of a white supremacist group called the Men of Liberty. Bobo's grandfather used to be a legendary white power leader who had amassed a mythical treasure chest of assorted deadly weapons. After he died, it was assumed by all the racist redneck white supremacists that Bobo had inherited these weapons. Every now and then a white supremacist group goes after Bobo to get the weapons they assume he has (which he denies). It's possible that Aubrey's disappearance and these mythical weapons are connected.
So, here's my warning right now: I'm going to discuss this dumb ass novel and not hide any spoilers. The "mystery" in the novel is lame, the plot is lame, and if you want to read this novel (against my better advice) and don't want to know what happens, then stop reading this review. This is your only warning.
I don't know what to bitch about first. Everything is wrong with this book. The only compliment I can give it is that it's so incredibly bland and inoffensive that it reads fairly quickly and easily and before you know it, the book has ended. It's like vanilla pudding for your brain. You're spooning something into your head, but the sentences are so lacking in nutritional value you barely notice. Let me tackle the characters' names first. There's Bobo, Fiji, Mr. Snuggly (I don't care if he's a cat; it's still a fucking stupid name), Madonna and Teacher. It's bad enough that these characters are so poorly developed that they barely register as believable people, but Bobo? Unless that's followed by "the clown" or "the chimp," Bobo is not a plausible name for a man. Especially one who is apparently as pretty as a younger Brad Pitt. Fiji is a not very convincing witch who suffers from a case of unrequited love for Bobo-not-the-chimp; and Mr. Snuggly is her talking cat, the only character who could have been half-way interesting if Harris had bothered to put some original thought into his personality. I got the sense that the characters' ridiculous names were a device to distract
the reader from how incredibly not interesting these characters are. Harris switches perspective in the novel often between a few of the major residents of Midnight. That's probably to help the reader to get to know the characters better but really, they aren't worth knowing.
This novel lacks not only a compelling plot, but any story worth telling. Because Aubrey is missing (and dead) before the novel begins, the reader never meets her. You know that Fiji didn't like her (she's in love with Bobo) but Bobo loved Aubrey very much. But you never get any sense of what the dead woman is like and you basically don't
give two shits about her even though Harris is obviously centering the story around her mysterious disappearance. When her body is discovered by Fuji during a picnic the Midnighters held for themselves (seriously, the whole town attended--that's because there's only about a dozen people who live in this "town." It's not
believable, but whatever), many words are devoted to describing how sad Bobo is. Sad, sad Bobo! I don't care how sad Bobo is. He's not a convincing person to me. None of them are. His sadness has no impact. So the rest of the novel is devoted to some kind of half-assed investigation into her death by the Midnighters. It's not convincing or interesting. The side plot of white supremacist groups seeking out Bobo because he supposedly has this motherlode of weapons is ludicrous. I mean...really? C'mon, Charlaine Harris. THIS IS AMERICA. Any half-wit can figure out how to buy a gun illegally. Even in some states you can buy it legally and still not be required to
register it because this country is so ass-backward about gun rights. So don't tell me that a bunch of white supremacists are going to waste their time tracking down Bobo-not-the-clown because he MIGHT have a boatload of kick-ass weapons. They'd go get their weapons from someone happy to sell them, not some guy whose friends include
a vampire (yes, Harris brings the supernatural into this book), a lovelorn witch, and Olivia, the vamp's lover. She's a supernatural being herself, but of what variety is not disclosed in this book. This subplot is just plain retarded.
Because the plot(s) of the book are so lacking in suspense and conplexity, Harris resorted to padding the novel's 305 pages with long passages describing the everyday activities
of the characters. 99.9% of this book is comprised of excessive, unnecessary details. For example:
page 83--everyone is gathering for this picnic (which was held in what I thought was a ridiculously difficult-to-get-to location. The reason for this soon became clear: they needed to be there to discover Aubrey's body, which of course would be dumped in this difficult-to-get-to, but pretty, location.) Rasta is a dog. "Joe set up the wildly
assorted stadium chairs after handing Rasta over to Chuy, who took the little dog on a frantic exploration of the cliff's edge. Rasta found an exciting assortment of new smells, so much to sniff and pee on. After an exhausting five minutes, Rasta drank a bowl of water, ate three treats, and curled up for a nap on his special blanket,
laid down under the tailgate so the Peke would be in the shade." What the fuck. Do I really need (and deserve) that much tedious detail about the dog? I mean, woo--he not only ate dog treats, he specifically ate three dog treats. I'm surprised Harris didn't describe the crunchy texture of said treats and the exact ingredients.
page 115--Manfred is supposedly working at his computer but he's mooning over Creek, the barely legal (and only apparently) hot girl in town. Yet another half-assed romance I don't give a shit about. This sentence kills me: (While talking on the phone) "He noticed absently that the tree outside his east window was moving in the wind." Yeah? So what? Unless that tree is moving in the wind because there's a man-eating bat sitting in it looking hungrily at Manfred, I don't give a shit. Why bring it up?
page 124--here's another delightful nonsensical Manfred observation. Manfred, by the way, is an idiot. He's also a very bad psychic. His character adds nothing to the story and his supposed psychic abilities are nonexistent. He hires a teenager to do some yard work for him and has this long internal discussion of whether the kid is trustworthy or not because Manfred can't tell. Yeah, you're a great psychic. Anyway, here's Manfred's rather amusing (in a homophobic way) thoughts at having dinner with a gay couple: "After five minutes, Manfred forgot that Joe and Chuy were men who had sex with each other. Instead, he was able to revel in the happy discovery that Chuy was a very good cook and that Joe kept a stock of excellent beer in his refrigerator."
page 241--This paragraph accurately describes the way the whole book is written--tedious details about every movement these idiotic characters make. This is Fiji in her kitchen cooking dinner. "Fiji heard the shop doorbell tinkle, and she dumped everything on the chopping board into the pot of chicken broth. As she washed her hands, she thought of having corn bread with the soup tonight. As she was drying them, she told herself how much better the soup would be without the corn bread, and failed to convince herself that could be so." I love the blow-by-blow description of her thoughts about corn bread while she washes AND dries her hands. Wow. Thanks for that, Harris. The whole book is like this. And if this is an acceptable way of writing a book, then hell, what am I waiting for?
Chapter One: "Kris's alarm goes off at 5:45 am. Her alarm clock has bright blue numbers. Kris growles at the alarm clock. She hits the snooze button. Then her cat jumps on the bed. He is a black cat with yellow eyes. He meows at her. Kris is grumpy. She does not want to get out of bed. She does not want to go to work. She would rather sleep. The alarm goes off again. Kris gets up and stumbles into the kitchen. Kris walks by first putting one foot in front of the other. The cat follows her. He twitches his tail. Kris gives him four cat treats. They are crunchy and prevent tartar build-up on his teeth. Kris now walks back to the bedroom. The rooms in her house are connected by hallways. While walking down the hall, Kris absently noticed that a light breeze was blowing down the hall. She surmised this breeze--probably an east wind--was blowing in from an open window..."
Harris, you may be on to something. If I keep going like this, soon I'll have a 300 page book comprised of lots of words but absolutely no story! But hey, if my cat talks and my neighbor is a vampire, and I add in two pretty young kids in love (one of whom happens to be a werewolf), then I bet my book will sell too.
This book is terrible. The Charlaine Harris who wrote the Sookie Stackhouse novels (which were entertaining until they weren't), the Lily Bard mysteries, etc., is not here. The characters aren't interesting, they are underdeveloped, nothing happens, and you don't give a shit about Aubrey or who killed her. The resolution of that mystery is quick and easy and stupid. The whole Bobo-the-hoarder-of-guns nonsense resolves too and guess what? Bobo is a big fucking liar. He had the guns all along. So he put his neighbors in danger
because he had the guns and wouldn't fess up to it. Asshole. To sell this story, Harris leans way too much on having a very politically correct novel filled with a variety of characters (gay, Hispanic, African-American) and yaps on and on about the big bad racist white supremacists. Yes, Charlaine, not many people are going to cheer
on the white supremacists but for fuck's sake, shut up about them. They're an easy target as bad guys and they're a giant red herring since they aren't even the real villains. Don't read this book. It sucks.
FYI--tv adaption update
NBC is apparently thinking they can make some money off of this terrible book by turning it into a tv show. I'm guessing they're basing this decision on HBO's adaption of the Sookie Stackhouse novels with True Blood. That show had its moments, but was ultimately too stupid and had gore and sex just simply for the sake of having gore and sex. But at least the books had a story with interesting characters. Midnight Crossroad lacks interesting characters, a plot, suspense, basically anything to make it a worthwhile experience. NBC must be writing the scripts based on...??? not sure what. The book's a complete snooze fest.