Stephanie Plum returns for what should be an easy apprehension for her. Eddie DeChooch, an elderly, blind and deaf retired hit man has missed his court date. All Stephanie needs to do is bring him in to reschedule. If you’ve been paying attention to Janet Evanovich’s hapless bounty hunter, you know nothing is ever easy for Stephanie. DeChooch is depressed. And slippery. For an old, depressed guy, he gets around pretty good, slipping out a window. And we’re off.
Boyfriend Joe Morelli is furious. Stephanie and Joe are now engaged, but Joe wants no wife of his doing fugitive apprehension. He does, however, want to have a lot of sex with Stephanie. Stephanie’s mom is insistent that there will be a wedding and that it be done right. Oh, and no daughter of hers should be doing fugitive apprehensions. Stephanie has to juggle problems with stoner pal Mooner (who now believes he’s a superhero), two aging mobsters named Benny and Ziggy, the mysterious Ranger (who also wants to have a lot of sex with Stephanie), a lady mud wrestler, DeChooch’s horny son, and crazy old Grandma Mazur.
By itself, Seven Up is a fun, light read. However, the series got tired around #4, and it’s been years since I read a Stephanie Plum novel. It’ll probably be a while before I read another. Funny, but nothing original.
Steven Tyler is a fascinating human being. And he wants you to know all about him.
Then again, you would expect nothing less from Aerosmith’s flamboyant front man. Part beat poetry, part self-aggrandizement, part honest look at a long career in rock and roll, Tyler’s ego and bravado are on full display in this story as he gives you the world according to one Steven Tallarico of Bronx, New York. He makes no apologies for four decades of hedonism or calling out his bandmates. Despite the criticism and smack talk, you can tell Tyler is extremely fond of Joe Perry and Joey Kramer, calling them his “brothers.” He fully admits he is difficult and points out that the lead singer of any band is cursed to be the lightning rod for any controversy.
And yet what makes this memoir go down smoothly is Tyler’s almost beat-poet portrayal of himself as an unreliable narrator. He makes excuses. He makes it obvious he’s making excuses. Because, as he says when explaining how he and Joe Perry look at music when they write, it’s not just the notes. It’s what’s between the notes.