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Loading... Go to Helena Handbasket (edition 2007)by Donna Moore
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Sign up for LibraryThing to find out whether you'll like this book. No current Talk conversations about this book. I'd heard that GO TO HELENA HANDBASKET was side-splitting funny, but when I saw the back cover blurb describing it as "Bridget Jones meets Raymond Chandler meets Jeffrey Dahmer," well, that gave me pause. The reference to Bridget Jones almost scared me off. I'm glad it didn't. Helena Handbasket must qualify as one of the worst detectives in fictional PI history--even her cat has a better handle on the case (a sly reference to the crime-solving cat mysteries, I think). But the story is such a great send-up of the detective/serial killer novel, that her blundering and obliviousness become part of the big joke (a touch of Stephanie Plum, if you ask me). With a secretary/sidekick named Fifi Fofum (every character in the book has an outrageous pun for a name) who spouts hardboiled banter that sails completely over Helena's head most of the time and the requisite cop who advises her throughout to keep "her big nose" out of the investigation (giving her quite the complex about the size of her proboscis, along with the one she already had about her "arse") . . . Read the entire review at http://thebookgrrl.blogspot.com/2008/07/why-dont-you-go-to-helena-handbasket.htm... no reviews | add a review
Awards
On her latest case, wisecracking Private Investigator, Helena Handbasket, is faced with a lot of tough questions. Did Robin Banks have a hand in the theft of Evan Stubezzi's jewels? And if so, was the hand one of those packed in ice in the freezer box that was delivered to his brother, Owen? Is there a serial killer on the loose? Or are all those handless corpses with scarlet fish sewn into their chest cavities purely coincidental? What shoes should you wear for a meeting with a killer? Why does her next-door neighbour smell of cheese? Which of her true loves is her real true love? And, more importantly, is there anything in the fridge for dinner? Can our man-loving, cocktail-loving, food-loving, not-so-very-intrepid heroine answer these questions-any of them-without leaving a clich unturned? No library descriptions found. |
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Helena Handbasket’s private investigation practice isn’t doing too well when Owen Banks walks (well crashes if we’re being entirely accurate) through the door and begs her to find out what happened to his brother Robin whose hands were posted to him that morning. What unfolds is a tale of a diamond heist, a serial killer with a penchant for hands (and fish), blackmail and a man whose girlfriends blow up in rather alarming quantities.
This book is to the crime genre what Scrubs is to TV medical dramas: a not-so-subtle but top notch parody. The characters, the story and the writing are all wonderfully absurd. There are clichés a-plenty: portents, brilliant felines, a serial-killer’s contemplative prologue and many more all put together in a way guaranteed to make a crime fan chuckle almost continuously. Humour in general and parody in particular is difficult to get right but Moore has achieved it with a combination of tight, pun-laden writing and an obvious affection for the hard-boiled PI novel. I don’t know what you’d make of the book if you’ve never read a mystery before and haven’t occasionally rolled your eyes at gratuitous femjep or the MacGyver-like survival skills of a protagonist but I’d suggest giving it a go anyway (for the character names alone). ( )