Gentle readers you might not know this about me but I am a shitkicker to the core. I may put on high airs and use proper grammar and such to the best of my ability but in reality I am genuine hick. I raised hog for most of my growing days and have a fair hand with a hoss. Get me around my mama’s kin for more than an hour and this ol boy could fit in to the most authentic casting of Oklahoma y’all have ever seen.
So you bet your ass I fell in love with miss Karen Memery, spelled like Memory but with an ‘e’ there in the middle. She may not be from Oklahoma but with that accent I could sure enough take her home to meet my grandma. She is in Seattle territory, back before the states were all carved up, or maybe never will be since this ain’t your granpappy’s old west; there are airships and steam powered autotrons bouncing around that can’t be seen in any old pictures I have ever laid my eyes on. Karen is a simple girl, which don’t mean stupid, mind. She got enough lernen to read and has a real keen mind. But damned if her accent didn’t make me think of family here and gone. I fell back into it and so far ain’t looked back.
She calls herself a stargazer, and she pays her taxes as a seamstress, and I don’t think you need a schoolmarm to tell you what that means. She got lucky though, fell in with the right type of lady who runs a better sort of house. Only has to take those clients that she needs and the house muscle don’t let anything rough happen. Got herself a dream too, saving up to run with a stable of her own liker her and her daddy used to work before…well, just before. Would be no kind of story at all though if trouble didn’t come around, or maybe it would be a different kind of story, but this is the kind of story were trouble does end up coming around.
A ground war is brewing, with Karen’s Madame facing a bad sort of man who runs his own group of stargazers but in a whole different way. When two girls come to the door all bloody like a spark is hit that threatens to build quick. One of the girls escaped from Peter Bandel, the Madame’s main competition in towns a right swarmy heel. The other gal is the one doing the break out, and has a reputation for doing it more than once. Peter damn sure wants back what he reckons is his by right, servitude he don’t call slavery even with the lack of choice involved. It all goes to hell from there. Enter a U.S. Marshall chasing a serial killer, a little gun play and some steam contraptions, and a hell of a lot of people usually found sitting in the corner of a book instead standing up and taking action.
Shitkicker I may be but a long ways from the worst of the hick side of my family I sit. I love seeing a diverse cast take over a story completely. Did I mention Karen might lay with men, but paying is the only reason that would ever happen? No I didn’t because it don’t matter much where Karen’s attention lays; at least until it does. Because when she finds love she fights for it with the same fire as anyone else would. The Hotel Mon Cherry ain’t just color blind, it is completely blind. Women who are part of the madam’s circle are loved and cherished, no matter their color or where their attraction lays or even if they have a little something extra under their skirt. Don’t mean Seattle is suddenly the most enlightened town in the West, not at all. But a group of outsiders that stick together can do all right for themselves.
Call a spade a spade. Karen Memory (note the spelling, with an ‘e it is a name, but if that ‘o’ is there I am talking about the book and not the person), is a fast paced dime novel. This is a cast to adore, sure, but it ain’t no character study. Adventure full of twists and turns, gun play and chases, and a few gizmos doing what they do make up the base of this tale. Louis L’Amore sits on a good many shelves in my family, bout the only books to be found outside of the bible, and as far as I know the man wrote one book forty different times. Black hats take the girl and the cowboy gets her back. And that is what we got, excepten the cowboy is a seamstress who ain’t afraid to rough it up with the boys (or if she is she puts on her brave face and does it anyway). And she got a posse of men and women of every color and walk of life right there with her to back up her moves. Even the damsel of Karen’s tale don’t lay back and wait, doing her fair share throughout to make sure the black hats don’t carry the day.
I ain’t too certain this a book I will always remember. It is a simple story after all. But I am also pretty damn sure I haven’t done my reading of a single book this fast in quite some time. Karen Memory is a tale full of diverse characters but it don’t lean on that as its crutch nor a gimmick; it just runs a fun story using the people that have always been there but don’t always get their face on the cover.
One last thing, any character that knows what a Tobiano is, even in just a single mention. Well, she is all right by me.
Copy for review provided by publisher.