Cop Town: A Novel by Karin Slaughter
My Rating: 4/5 Stars
Sexism baby. It’s pretty-freakin’-ridiculous. But if you can’t move past it, or you’re going to start swearing from the mountaintop, you better just slide right on by, because you will not enjoy this novel. Let that sink in for a moment before we move on. And if you’re going to bitch and moan about it, keep in mind Karin Slaughter wrote a realistic historical novel. She did not set out to write a politically correct novel. And for cripes sakes, this is fiction people.
Atlanta is a wonderful southern city. There’s The Varsity and the College Football Hall of Fame and The World of Coke and Centennial Olympic Park and Stone Mountain Park. Yes, three out of the five attractions I’ve mentioned weren’t open in 1974, and yes, I am still going to mention them anyway, because all five are just plain cool. But if you want to ratchet up your confusion, try driving in downtown Atlanta. There are 71 streets with Peachtree in their name. Fuck me. That’s just crazy. Some city planner really wanted to fuck with tourists. Yeah, and I thought Boston was bad.
I did like COP TOWN. Actually, I really liked it. So why did it take me so long to finish? You might ask. My answer is simple: That first 15 percent or so nearly killed me. But once the train got rolling, it moved faster than a hamster on a wheel, and I was left clinging to the side for dear life. Had I stopped sooner, I would have missed out on one hell of a read. Was it the best novel I’ve read this year? No. Would I read it again? Probably not. But the atmosphere nearly caused me to inhale a carton of cigarettes, a bottle of Jack, and way too much hairspray.
I wanted to wave a red flag and a hand-painted sign for women’s rights, and yes, I really wanted to see what Kate Murphy had going on underneath her uniform. That woman could break a man in two, or serve up a heart attack to a twenty-five year old. Sure, her tits may have been mentioned more than once or twice, but if she’s got a pair that could make Susan Sarandon jealous, I want to hear about it. Yes, she was a blonde, and yes, that endeared her to me a little bit more, but again, I can’t stop that train because it’s already left the station.
This novel was locked and loaded better than a Glock 17. My only wish: there were a few more bullets in the chamber.
I received this book for free through NetGalley.