I read about 99 percent urban fantasy, but I do have a few guilty pleasures. One of them is Janet Evanovich, and right now I’m in the final pages of the seventh in the Stephanie Plum series: Seven Up.
These books aren’t deep. They aren’t going to change the way I look at life. They won’t challenge my intellect or keep me awake thinking philosophical thoughts.
What they do is make me put them down at least once every chapter or two and laugh out loud. How many books can do that? They also really give a feel for living in Trenton, N.J., or at least they make me feel as if I know Trenton. I wouldn’t want to live in Trenton.
Stephanie Plum is a 30ish bounty hunter. A really bad bounty hunter with really good instincts and really bad luck. In Seven Up, she ends up thrown in a mud-wrestling pit with a female wrestler named animal, gets nabbed by rent-a-cops at the mall carrying a pig heart in a cooler (which she hopes to trade to a low-rent octogenarian mobster in exchange for her kidnapped grandmother), and is adept at getting her ginormous dog to secretly do his business on the lawn of her nemesis Joyce.
How can you not love it?
What’s your literary guilty pleasure?