It was all I could do to get through this poorly written, men’s rights advocating dumpster fire of a book.
Joanne Fluke and her Mary Sue are sanctimonious, woman hating twits, and I’m done gritting my teeth over this.
I’m convinced that Fluke is writing exclusively for an audience of midwestern, socially conservative housewives, with a healthy heap of misogynists “mixed in”
This series is reliably sexist; there’s lots of female murder victim-blaming, slut shaming, biological essentialism, and sneering at “working mothers,” but Cherry Cheesecake Murder is the worst of the lot.
To digress for a bit, I suspect that Hannah's treatment and oppinion of Andrea stems from a bone deep jealousy. After all, Andrea is younger and better looking, dresses better, and has two beautiful children. She has a husband and, unlike Hannah, didn't strike out in the romance department like Hannah did with the professor she was sleeping with in college.
Hannah is butthurt because she tanked her academic career to come home and parent her mother.
Meanwhile, Andrea gets to be a mostly unfettered professional woman instead of being chained to the crib and stove.
And you can just bet that Hannah has heard the "why can't you be more like Andrea" speech all her life, but I digress.
Fluke, through her female characters, articulates the following about girls, women, and sexual predators:
1. If a grown man interacts inappropriately with a 15-year-old girl, the child on the wrong end of the power balance is a “Lolita in training” and a “burgeoning sex-kitten” (Fluke).
2. If you have a child out of wedlock, you are especially, understandably inviting to sexual predators because you’ve clearly let a man have the milk for free.
3. If you are married and have children, you are a terrible mother if you decide against a paternal, economically dependent relationship with your husband.
4. Women in Hollywood are morally bankrupt whores who, unlike the virtuous women of (insert Podunk bastion of American conservatism here), invite the attentions of sexual predators.
I know that most books involving female protagonists and killers are inherently sexist in that authors almost always write in a male love interest; he usually takes on the role of high-handed protector and serves to reassure a certain segment of readers that for all the heroine’s skill and intrepidity, she is still a physically and emotionally vulnerable female who wants strong arms, marriage, and children.
Thing is, though, that that genre convention is tolerable for most people because the likability, relatability, mental agility, and backbone of the protagonist and the investigation to biological essentialism ratio serve to counteract the sexism and romance.
For example, whereas James Patterson and his team of ghostwriters do an excellent job of balancing the detective/police work with Lindsay Boxer’s personality and personal life, Joanne Fluke, often to the exclusion of the murder and mystery, focuses on her protagonist’s romantic entanglements, antifeminist precepts, political leanings, and moral judgments.
One of the biggest problems I have with the Hannah Swenson series is the ham-fisted way in which Fluke tries to make a case for “traditional values.” Fluke litters her books with alienating, poorly disguised political screeds and dog-whistles.
The female characters spend more time worshiping, conceding to, cooking for, and accommodating men than they do on investigating murder.
They moralize and judge and twist themselves into knots trying to be ladylike, right down to the language they use.
I can understand trying to accurately represent the attitudes and behaviors specific to a region, but Fluke beats us over the head with the social conservatism, something that distracts as much as it offends.
Again, if there were more to recommend the books, I could grit my teeth and deal; I do this with JD Robb’s In Death series, even as Eve Dallas’s husband gets increasingly more controlling.
Thing is, Eve isn’t a sanctimonious, incompetent, feckless jellyfish, Robb rarely, if ever, employs the damsel in distress trope, the stories are tight and mostly coherent and cohesive, the investigating figures prominently in the books and, most importantly, Eve isn’t an inauthentic, mean-spirited, judgmental Mary Sue who fancies herself to be better and smarter than everyone else.