Carol O'Connell (1) (1947–)

A nun with a colourful past.
A blind boy playing hooky from school.
A fragile homeless man.

On a sunny day in one of New York’s historic neighbourhoods, the lives of these 3 characters intersect thanks to one man on a mission. Only one will survive.

Detective (don’t call me Kathy) Mallory is approached by a priest who fears for the missing Sister Michael. It doesn’t take her long to dig up the good nun’s past & her connection to blind 12 year old Jonah. But how did the mayor know the nun show more was missing before the police? And speaking of the mayor….um….has he noticed the 4 bodies on his lawn?

The opening sequence grabs your attention immediately. It’s obvious this is going to be a complex story with many threads that initially run parallel to each other. The fun part is sitting back & watching as Mallory & long suffering partner Riker begin to tie them together. Along the way, they deal with smarmy politicians, Jonah’s family members & some of the city’s wealthiest citizens.

In alternate chapters, we spend time with Jonah & his captor. They’re both compelling characters whose lives were altered by Angie Quill, AKA Sister Michael. Jonah’s character in particular packs an emotional punch & gives a fascinating “look” into the mind of a boy blind from birth. He’s smart & resourceful and there’s an almost mystical element to his story.

This is book # 12 & it’s hard to believe the series has been around since 1994. Mallory is a complex character & the author surrounds her with a diverse cast & rich history. It’s a series that rewards faithful fans as the relationships between regular characters continue to evolve. Most of the gang is back including all the poker buddies she inherited from her late adoptive father.

There’s no shortage of twists & turns before the book reaches a literal race to the finish. Great read. show less

Mallory's Oracle was great fun. Everything about it was appealing – from the unique main character (unique in my experience, though I've seen comparisons to Dexter) to the setting to the trappings of the case to the writing.

Kathleen Mallory puts a different spin on "sociopath". I'm used to thinking of the label as only applying to the ones who go out and kill dozens (and applying to men) (like my former boss), and I suppose there is the seed of the idea that, left to the tender mercies show more of the city or the foster program, Mallory might have become famous as a rare female serial killer. However, she was not left to any such fate, and while she is far from civilized she is a fierce proponent of the law – when it suits her – as she learned from her foster father, Lt. Markowitz. I'd be curious to read her point of view. As it is, the image of her gained through others' eyes is fascinating – a network has been formed to keep an eye on her, both for her own sake and the rest of the world's. She is beloved – but her leash is kept rather short, as those who care for her never lose sight of the fact that her morality is a thin veneer. What's rather wonderful about her is that, brilliant as she is – and her IQ is substantial – most of her experience as an officer has been in front of a computer. There she has no equal. On a crime scene, though, or working surveillance or questioning witnesses, her inexperience gangs up with her lack of socialization and sets her back rather than moving her forward. She screws up. She'll never admit it, ever, but she does.

All of the characters are wonderful. Louis Markowitz, dead as the novel begins, and his wife Helen, dead several years before, are as much of a presence as Kathy's putative partner Riker. The department lieutenant, Coffey, taking over Louis's office and position, is not welcome by the department, but is not the idiot his new crew assume he is, or perhaps want to believe he is. The inhabitants of the apartment building where Mallory works during her bereavement leave are bizarre flesh and blood – one of the benefits to setting a series in New York has to be the ability to fill the stories with absolutely anyone. Best of all is Charles Butler, the odd and odd-looking friend of the family, some fifteen years older than Mallory and caught in a consciously hopeless love for her. He's another genius, with major flaws and blind spots, and he is rapidly becoming one of my favorite fictional people.

There is an obvious, though not obtrusive, illustration in the cast of characters of nature versus nurture. Louis's affectionate but entirely serious epithet for the Kathy he arrested trying (probably successfully) to break into a Jaguar was "baby sociopath". (Actually, that's becoming a flaw in the series; "baby sociopath", "baby felon"; "baby whore"…) She is barely socialized, barely comprehending of the whys and wherefores of thou shalt nots, and the question is left open of what she would have become had Markowitz not accidentally adopted her. Or even if it had happened later. In the cast of victims and suspects of Mallory's Oracle, there are many damaged people, and the most damaged of them lacked what Mallory chanced onto: love.

The setting is New York, NY, and it's terrific. Rent-control and little oases of green and breathtaking architecture, and blocks that are a whole different sort of breath-taking, with "rats dancing on garbage pail lids" and crack whores, it's NYC, and all-inclusive. I admit to being partial to books set in places I know even a little, and though the commercials made it a cliché I do love New York.

I never expected the thread of the story about Charles's cousin Max Candle and his glorious days of illusion accompanied by his wife, Edith, famous in her own right as a medium. I was surprised by the magic and mediums – and, for once, it was a pleasant surprise. It all tied in together nicely. Detectives strive to solve mysteries, and here was a whole world of mystery not quite amenable to their investigation. It's all fascinating to me, and well used.

I was surprised by the writing. I read one book somewhere in the middle of the series long ago, Stone Angel, put Carol O'Connell on my List, and collected the books as I found them, but was never impelled to read them until now, anticipating the receipt of the latest Kathy Mallory (Chalk Girl) as an LTER. So I had forgotten why I enjoyed it so much. I think the only thing I disliked in this read was the dogs; abused to a horrific degree, they are mentioned without much explanation or any resolution – including one family pet which launched an unprovoked attack.

There is a sense of humor about this book, sometimes wry and sometimes whimsical, never the main object of the text. And alongside the unexpected humor is an unanticipated poetry. Again, it is never the point of the writing, but instead phrases are scattered as grace notes, like a support pillars shaped into acanthus-crowned Corinthian columns instead of plain unadorned square props. I noticed dance referenced often, literally and descriptively: Max danced, and well; one of the victim family member/suspects was a dancer; light danced, and so did rats. Magic and poetry and dance – alongside blood and age and terror, it was unexpected and surprisingly beautiful. It's not, apparently, to everyone's taste; I enjoyed it. I will be working through the rest of the series to better review Chalk Girl, and I plan on enjoying this. show less

Well, I was going to take lots of notes and quotes while I was reading Carol O'Connell's newest book, The Chalk Girl, so I could write a fabulous post telling you how much I love this character and author.

The notes and quotes didn't happen.....because I couldn't put the book down long enough!! But I can tell you that I do love O'Connell's 'Mallory' books.

As a child, Kathleen (Kathy) Mallory was found living alone on the streets of New York City by NYPD Lieutenant Lou Markowitz. She was taken show more in and raised by Markowitz and his wife (with some help from Lou's fellow cops and friends). She is streetwise, cunning, an expert thief and described as 'a baby sociopath.'

Following in Lou's footsteps, Mallory (she refuses to answer to Kathy) has joined the NYPD and is paired up with Markowitz's old partner. She is a brilliant detective, but her methods and her relationships with people are strictly on her terms. No one breaks through the walls she has erected. The term sociopath is still bandied about.

In The Chalk Girl, the 10th in the series, there may be a little chink in Mallory's armour. A small girl is found wandering alone in Central Park...with blood on her tee shirt. She says the blood fell from the sky while she was looking for her uncle who turned into a tree. There is something special about Coco. She has Williams Syndrome and can't really tell them exactly where she's from or who she is. But with help from psychologist Charles Butler, they are able to decode what she's trying to tell them. Coco seems to stir something in Mallory - one wounded child recognizing another.

When Mallory locates the uncle, the case leads to places no one could have ever predicted.

And that's the beauty of O'Connell's books. You just never have an idea where the plots will lead. They're inventive, intriguing, intelligent and will keep you guessing until the end. They might keep you up late too - the crimes are bizarre and gruesome - perfect fodder for crime thriller aficionados. Each chapter opens with an excerpt from what seems to be a journal of someone called Ernest Nadler. I'm glad I read everything on the page - these entries told a story on their own that eventually met Mallory's path.

The character of Mallory continues to intrigue me. Small details about her past and small glimpses past the barriers she has erected have been slowly inserted into each new entry in this series. We still really have no idea who Kathy Mallory really is. But I am inextricably hooked by this flawed protagonist. show less

Several days before Christmas, in a small, bucolic, tightly knit town, two ten year old girls, best friends, Sadie Green and Gwen Hubble, suddenly disappear. One of the local cops, Rouge Kendall, becomes involved in the investigation and manhunt that ensues. The case calls to mind his own brush with a madman, when fifteen years earlier his own ten year old, twin sister, Susan, had likewise been abducted. She was found murdered on Christmas Day, and his family never fully recovered from the show more blow they were dealt by Susan's untimely and grisly death.

Carol O'Connell's adult characters are well drawn and sympathetic, but the little girls steal the show. Be warned--you will be late for work, stay up past your bedtime, let dinner burn on the stove, just to find out what happens to these engaging children. The tension is sometimes almost painful, but delicious at the same time. I thought I knew where the story was headed and how it was going to finish but, as it turned out, I was so far off base. It's pleasing to find a story that can continue to provoke thought long after you've closed it on the last page. show less