Street Magic

Amazon preorder

Twelve years back Pete Caldecott stood in a circle and let Jack Winter shed her blood to wake a spirit. It killed him.

Except he's not dead, he's the informant that just let her know where she'll find a kidnapped girl...WTF?

And they're off and running. Pete's now an inspector with Scotland Yard. Jack's now a heroin addict (it's the only thing that keeps the voices away). But Pete's determined that she's going to find whatever is responsible for taking the missing children whatever the collateral damage.

Given that Jack's on smack and Pete has very few issues with getting her answers by any means necessary, it should come as no surprise that Black London is a good deal rawer and grittier than Nocturne City. Pete's really likable, and when he's not whinging, so's Jack. Looking forward to reading more of their adventures. ( )

Original post - in French - on my blog:
At">http://moncoinlecture.over-blog.com/article-street-magic-magie-urbaine-caitlin-kittredge-87482127.html

At first, I was sure I was going to like this book. I mean, REALLY like this book. I liked the universe, I liked Pete (the girl. I know, it can be confusing) and I liked the fact that the hero was an addict. It was different.

The problem? I soon began to get bored. I mean, it was going everywhere but I couldn’t see in what direction exactly. And then, I began to be really annoyed. Annoyed by the british slang (I’m not British. I don’t even speak a lot of English in my everyday life but seriously, it was a lot too thick for me. All those “bloody” and “bullocks”... but maybe I’m wrong), annoyed by the number of times the characters’ names were specified, and – and that’s worse – annoyed by Pete. Wasn’t it a bit too easy? I mean, she doesn’t know anything about this world. How can she always be right in her decisions? And I understand she’s daring and a badass girl but seriously, it’s not a reason to throw herself in all those situations, in a world she isn’t supposed to master.

There was good ideas, but it just didn’t work for me. Still, I’m curious about where it will go. As I said, the world was interesting... Call me weird!
( )

The best thing I can say about STREET MAGIC is that I finished it because, uh, it was touch and go there for a while. This book seems to consist entirely of the sort of drama drama drama nonsense that gives reality TV such a bad name. If I had to do an elevator pitch for this novel, I think it would go, "It's like the Real Housewives of London, starring Sid Vicious the junkie mage, an annoying groupie, and set in a Hot Topic...."

In the prologue we find out that when Pete was a starry-eyed teenager she accompanied Jack Winter to perform a magic ritual. From what I could tell, he was dating her older sister at the time and they didn't know one another very well. The ritual goes awry and Pete is left with the impression that Jack died. Twelve years later, they meet up again. Pete is a cop, Jack is a junkie. Kittredge goes all out with the descriptions, so we find out how skinny, wrinkly and ruined Jack is...and yet the second Pete sees him, she reverts to reverts to dreamy-eyed teenage behavior. It's actually embarrassing to read. For his part, Jack is supposed to be sexy, I guess? Except that all he does is smoke and pose and mouth off.

The whole book felt like an endless succession of ridiculous declarations, "Why did you leave me there to die, Pete!" and "I never stopped thinking of you, Jack!" The plot (about a ghost that kills children) only exists in order to give Pete and Jack the opportunity to storm out on one another (this time for good!), or else dramatically insist that they'll die for one another, or maybe for one of them to declare that he/she doesn't care about the other, only to dramatically put his/her life on the line anyhow.

Also, another reviewer here commented about the annoying Britishisms. But the reviewer was British and I figured that would make him/her particularly sensitive to a false vernacular. Now that I've read the book I can say: the annoying Britishisms are just as annoying and weird to an American. Every page is so cluttered slang that the writing - which is otherwise of a pretty good quality - becomes outright ridiculous. If you took a drink for every time Kittredge uses the word "bloody" in this book you would die of alcohol poisoning before reaching the halfway point. And not just "bloody": Kittredge also tosses in "bloke" and "telly" and "lift" (instead of elevator - and MAN are there are lot of elevators that need mentioning in this novel), "git" and "bint" and "luv" and "dodgy" and "sodding" and on and on and on, scattering them liberally throughout the text at a rate of three or four per page. It's silly. It doesn't sound British, it sounds like a Saturday Night Live sketch.

So, yeah, I did finish STREET MAGIC but by the time I got to the end I hated Jack, I hated Pete, and I hated the book. ( )

I should have been looking for a Comfort Read for Christmas. But this Christmas bore no resemblance whatsoever to any other Christmas in living memory (in a word, it sucked), so I drifted with my whim and landed almost randomly on this book on the Kindle. I figured I'd start it and see how it went.

How it went was almost in one sitting. I was hooked quickly and dragged along for the ride. And it was quite a ride.

Taken separately, the component parts of this book aren't promising. The main characters are a tough-as-nails-here-I'll-prove-it 28-year-old female London copper, Pete Connelly (if I told you what Pete is short for she'd kill me) and Jack Winter, former punk rock singer, current junkie, and all-around (*pause to review possible epithets for one clean enough for a review*) Grade-A jerk. The story is different from other urban fantasies I've read, though there are elements that ring all kinds of Dresden-esque and Peter-Grant-esque bells (like the ability of the heroes to withstand a horrific amount of physical pan and abuse and come out of it making smart-ass remarks). One thing this book (this series, I'm finding) has that the others don't is language. By which I do not mean skilful use of adjective or metaphor or turn of phrase; all three series do have that to one degree or another. No, what Street Magic has that the others don't, quite, is sheer unadulterated potty mouth. I'm not unduly sensitive to filthy language – heaven knows my mouth in these past few months especially, as the universe has consistently showed me its heel, has been worthy of an Orbit gum commercial. But even at my worst I don't think I've used the f-bomb quite as often and as creatively as it is used by the characters here. And I definitely haven't used the (not to be coy, but I don't choose to ever use the word) "c-word" … and if I did it wouldn't be in every other sentence, and probably not referring to male characters…. I still find that odd. And there's plenty more besides … It's a little like sandpaper on the eyeballs.

Still. Despite all of this, I found myself completely involved. I like Pete. I even like Jack – and I feel for him, and want him to be ok. More, I want to know how it is that he reappears in Pete's life after twelve years. I wanted to know how it was going to come back to, literally, haunt her.

It all begins with a missing child. Kidnapped children are rarely going to return home the same as they used to be, but this situation is something else again. Much as Pete wants to deny it, there is more than just a human psycho involved in this – there's a supernatural agency at work, and that is going to take even more explaining away than her confidential informant is.

And that there is one of the problems with the book. When the sh – er, when everything hits the fan, it demands Pete's time, at the expense of her official duties. Her partner has to do some heavy-duty covering up for her, and for the most part without knowing what he's covering up, and it's all handled a bit more casually than it ought to be – by Pete, by her partner, and by her superiors. Or maybe not, considering the second book.

Still, the setting was great; the Big Bad is both very big and very bad, with a few elements that were thoroughly chilling. And while I admit I have a soft spot for the classic Knight in Shining Armor hero, reading about protagonists as thoroughly messed up as these two are is a gritty dose of realism, and – since I can close the book and not worry about the pain or odors et cetera – a strangely refreshing change of pace. Not for everyday, this – more like the grungy, tattered outfit you dig out of your closet when you're headed to a punk rock concert.

Not that I've ever been to a punk rock concert.

Or ever will.

But now I know what one is like. ( )