Mette Ivie Harrison

What a complete disappointment this book was. I loved her series that began with The Princess and the Bear. Where, I wonder, is the depth and complexity of that story? Perhaps I should have read more of the summary than the author's name and that it was a modernization of a legend. At that, I was sold...and convinced that the book had to be awesome. Plus, pretty cover.

Unfortunately, from the first this book held nothing but disappointment. Honestly, not a thing did I approve of. Perhaps the show more modernization was done well, but I actually cannot say in that regard because, despite all of my studies of Arthurian legend, I have never actually read the story of Tristan and Isolde, nor did I even watch the movie version with James Franco.

WARNING: The rest of this review contains spoilers.

Why did I dislike this book so much? Well, for one thing, the characters are completely vapid and one-dimensional, their behavior unrealistic. The story consists of two love triangles, with Izzie's best friend Branna in love with Izzie's boyfriend Mark and Izzie falling for the new guy, Tristan. Feelings change. That's fine. What's not fine is that Izzie, once in love with Tristan, does not break up with Mark. She wants to keep him, but that doesn't stop her from making out with Tristan. What a completely awful person.

Furthermore, the truth of Izzie's feelings is brought to light in a completely awkward scene, wherein she and Branna both take a truth potion and confess their feelings for the boys in the story. Let's not forget that accomplishing this little drama apparently required that Branna make out with a completely disgusting guy she didn't like first.

This gets even weirder post-confession time when everyone is totally cool with it. Even though Izzie wanted to keep Mark for herself, she is suddenly encouraging Mark and Branna to make out in front of her, which they do. AND EVERYONE'S COOL WITH IT. lol whut? Not to mention that Branna does a complete 180 from saying during the truth serum debacle that she both loves and hates Tristan in equal measure to being in disgusting, pancake syrupy, unquestioning true love with him. The two couples are immediate besties and there is no awkwardness. No, I am not making this up, but for some reason, someone did.

The plot, too, lacks inspiration. The battle scenes are completely pathetic and contrived. Our heroine never learns how to properly use her magic. Mostly, she just swaps sappy lines with her boyfriend. The big bad is defeated abruptly and with, in the grand scheme of things, little effort. Then, even though Tristan's injured, they spend a night not doing anything and wait to travel in the morning. That sure gave me a sense of urgency as to whether he would be all right. Oh wait, it didn't.

I highly recommend reading The Princess and the Bear and not judging Mette Ivie Harrison off of this subpar work. show less

Ada Latia, happily divorced after an unhappy marriage, is troubled by a link her ex has sent to her. It’s from a social media site, a story designed to spark outrage, claiming that an autistic child has accidentally killed a classmate at a school for autistics. She stares at the photo of the dead girl, a host of questions forming in her mind. The body seems posed, the room around her has been staged, and someone put makeup on the child’s face so she doesn’t look dead. Looking closer, show more Ada realizes its the line of makeup she invented for the cosmetics company she founded that now belongs to her ex. This doesn’t look like an accident. It looks to her like murder, by someone who is not autistic but who knows how to lie convincingly and put the blame on someone else.

The comments, typical of the internet, are full of slurs and insults against autistic people, people like Ada – probably the reason her vindictive ex sent it to her. After making a list of the elements in the photo that point to murder, she contacts the county sheriff in the town nearest the school to report it, but gets a brush-off. Wanting to do something, she leaves a voice mail at a public phone number for the FBI. To her surprise, she gets a call back from Agent Henry Bloodstone. He noticed the report, and wants to investigate. He’s willing to take it seriously because he went to school with Ada and knows that she may have been strange and unpopular, but is highly intelligent. If she thinks the photo is evidence of a homicide, he’s willing to travel to her home in Utah to find the truth.

The story is seen primarily through Ada’s eyes, and her interactions with Henry and the school personnel are highly influenced by twinned characteristics: an inability to read people’s nonverbal cues or understand their idiomatic speech patterns and a sharp capacity to see what others don’t see, particularly when interacting with autistic children at the school. When she has a chance to meet with the boy who has been blamed for the accidental death of a girl who had been his friend, she’s able to communicate with him despite his having retreated into nonverbal isolation after the traumatic event. He’s not responsible, she’s convinced, and someone is taking advantage of his vulnerability to cover up their crime.

While there’s a solid mystery plot here, the real focus of the story is seeing the investigation through the eyes of an autistic woman who has plenty of thoughts about the prejudices she faces and the misconceptions those around her have. The conversations between the well-meaning Henry and Ada particularly draw out these themes, as do the interviews she conducts with school personnel who are supposedly experts at educating autists but are frequently clueless or worse. At one point, the stress of being at the school, surrounded by strangers and feeling the pressure of solving the case cause Ada to have a meltdown that is vividly described from Ada’s point of view.

The author, who previously has published young adult series and the Linda Wallheim mystery series about a Mormon woman married to a bishop, was diagnosed with autism as an adult. Like the light she once shed on the patriarchal dynamics of Mormonism, this book takes us inside the world of autism. Though it’s different in style to the Wallheim series, it does a similar job of showing both the high points and the challenges of living outside the mainstream. Ada Latia makes for an intriguing heroine and will likely continue to show readers the world from an autistic angle in this new series.

Reprinted from Crime Fiction Review https://crimefictionreview.com/a-special-interest-in-murder-by-mette-ivie-harris... show less

King Haikor is a mercurial ruler whose violent fits of temper can mean that his favorite courtier one day may be executed at his order the next. Growing up in such an environment, sixteen-year-old Ailsbet has learned to adapt, to obey her father's whims without expressing her own anger which so often simmers below the surface of her personality. Ailsbet has always been different from the rest of her people -- without the neweyr, or women's magic, she cannot take part in many traditional show more activities, or even converse with other women when the topic turns to magic -- and because of that distance, many of her father's court see her as cold and conceited. Music is her only refuge. But when her father starts discussing plans to arrange a marriage for her, will her music be enough?

To the north of Haikor's kingdom lies another land, one with a more benevolent king on the throne. He also has a sixteen-year-old daughter, Marlissa. Since her mother's death, Issa has taken the queen's place as custodian of the neweyr, working alongside the women of her country to strengthen the land. She loves the land and its people -- but as princess, she is also facing the prospect of marriage, and when a surprising offer takes her away from the country she loves, she must learn to adapt -- even though she has lost her heart to a man who is not her betrothed.

This story has its good points, including an interesting binary magic system and issues related to what happens when a person of one gender is born with the opposite gender's magic. I'll admit, however, that I thought this idea was not explored to its fullest potential. The characters are well-developed, though Marlissa's romance is of the hello, I hate you, I love you, we are doomed sort, without a lot of development in between those stages. There are plenty of plot twists, though I never found the book as a whole as gripping as I thought I should, if that makes sense. Also, neither the title nor the original cover are particularly suited to the content of the story -- the "rose throne" is only mentioned in passing, and the lacy pink cover design may lead readers to expect something with more froth and less grit than the story contained therein. I didn't exactly dislike this book, but it's not one I see myself rereading, recommending, or even remembering a few months from now. show less

The Prodigal Daughter is often a very painful book to read, wrapped as it is in the #MeToo movement and the author's own life. Has the #MeToo movement made it easier to speak out about sexual assault in religious communities? Personally, I doubt it because it's much too easy to blame outsiders for the problem. It simply couldn't happen here, not with our good little boys raised in the teachings of the church! (Notice how I did not single out the Mormon church?)

Mette Ivie Harrison's life has show more become shredded due to her Linda Wallheim mysteries and her unflinchingly honest portrayal of crime in Mormon communities. I'd love to say that I'm shocked by the Mormon reaction to her writing, but after having lived in Provo, Utah, for three years, I am not. Her writing is honest. She talks about the good things the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints does. She talks about what she strongly believes in. But-- and here's the rub-- she also talks about where the Church often fails.

In The Prodigal Daughter, it's the plight of runaway and thrown-away children who either can't deal with their parents' insistence on being the perfect Mormon child or who have been thrown out because they don't live up to their parents' expectations. Harrison also paints a clear picture of Mormonism, #MeToo, and women as second-class citizens. It's not pretty, but as Linda Wallheim says, "If the truth destroys something, then it probably wasn't real to begin with."

As I said earlier, The Prodigal Daughter is often painful to read as Linda tries to find Sabrina and provide her with safety and acceptance. The truth can hurt. But it's as if all the things Harrison has been living through as she wrote this book squeezed some of the heart out of it. It feels rushed and doesn't quite measure up to previous books in this excellent series, but that does not make it a bad book. Not in the slightest. If you like mysteries that provide you with a strong, clear look into another world, mysteries steeped with a sense of place so palpable that you can touch it, I strongly urge you to read Mette Ivie Harrison's series in its entirety. Begin with The Bishop's Wife.

(Review copy courtesy of the publisher and Net Galley) show less