I got Fever Dream today and I am about 50 pages in and oh my god what the fuck. OMG. It's actually making me antsy, I don't know, Pendergast is no longer the calming influence he once was. [Note: I used to reread the early Pendergast books to calm myself down when I was stressed because the dude could handle anything while being the hottest thing in the room.] :( Poor guy. It's so fucking ridiculous now. Also, man, fuck rich white people. WTF were you doing in Africa, seriously. Great white hunters my ass. Anyway. Oh, and he and Helen don't talk like they're married. Also, we meet up every month under the full moon because we met under the full moon, whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat, who does that? (No one except maybe big saps.) And I'm horrible, but when D'Agosta saw Pendergast handling his wife's ring "in a gesture so unconsciously tender D'Agosta felt himself pierced to the heart," I totally started imagining Pendergast and D'Agosta exchanging rings and it's just terrible. COMFORT HIM, VINCENT, PLEASE.
And oh god, Laura would never, ever let D'Agosta go unless she totally understood that there was a... thing... going on between Pendergast and D'Agosta. What the fuckkkkk.
Oh god these books are going to be the death of me.
OMG when Pendergast is all crazy and hunched over and then catches D'Agosta looking and tries to straighten himself out...
And oh Jesus, did they actually make another unsavory character gay? Wisley with his "boys," I mean. And is D'Agosta still naive enough not to get the innuendo? Oh wait... servants? Preston and Child, D'Agosta is not the only one confused by your innuendo.
Oh my god oh my god Pendergast is literally fucking insane in this, Jesus, it's actually freaking me out. This is so insane, I have to stop reading, gah. It's upsetting me. :(
Sorry I'm giving you the play by play here, I don't know, I just need to talk to someone ahhhhh.
Okay, so am I a bad person for wanting Pendergast to have had a thing with Helen's brother? I think I am.
Okay okay okay hold up, he and Helen only knew each other for THREE YEARS? That doesn't make it less tragical, I guess, but... dude. I don't know. I know Pendergast isn't normal, but his level of investment in a woman he was only with for three years is weird as hell. [Note: As kleenexwoman pointed out, Diogenes fucked him up but good when it comes to personal relationships.]
Okay, but it is WAY more tragical that his old house is now a parking garage. It fits right in with what I've seen of the South... I mean, it happens in the North too, but somehow it has this different air of pathos in the South.
Okay, totally getting the vibe that Helen used him for his Audubon connection. Also, there was an Audubon place in Memphis and I grabbed a pamphlet because there was a very tiny hummingbird in it.
I hope Yahoo groups emails together...
Oh god, I love how when Pendergast is being morose about how his wife had this big weird Audubon secret and used him for his Audubon connection, he totally goes and calls D'Agosta. "Hey, can I go back to New York, I'd like to see my girlfriend?" "Sorry, no." It's like, I know I can trust you, Vincent, you don't have any secrets from me.
Also Helen being more into the excitement than the helping people is... hurm. Kind of telegraphed at the beginning, but creepy. I don't know, I think it's something Pendergast walks a fine line with in his own character, but at the same time he's so damn self-righteous that it balances out the adrenaline junkie part of him and makes it seem less creepy. I don't know.
Also argh, why can't I have come from an old Southern family, why why why? :(
LOL at D'Agosta listening to "Just You and I" in the car while being annoyed with Pendergast:
Just you and I
We can entrust each other,
With you in my life,
With you in my life,
They'll never be another.
LOLing so hard. ANYWAY. Oh my god, Dr. D'Agosta the ornithologist. And then when he calls Pendergast he says, "Hello, it's Vinnie." !!! In order to be like, hey, guess what, your wife was a dead bird thief. Oopsies. Oh, Pendergast will need lots of comfort after that one.