A review of Charlaine Harris’s ‘Dead as a Doornail’ chapter thirteen


Sookie calls up Eric and he’s round in a jiffy.

He was wearing a golden brown T-shirt and brown pleated trousers with a magnificent belt that was just barbaric; lots of leather, and gold, and dangling tassels.

That’s some real awful fashion there Eric.

He’s over the moon at Sookie needing a favour from him.  So, you know, a dick. It shouldn’t be a surprise by now. He keeps saying ‘oh Tara could just leave her home and business behind blah blah blah’ until I want to stake him myself. Franklin has too much of the old ways, he says, back when vampires used to pass around humans, to maintain a steady supply of blood until the humans died.

“Very much in the same relationship to humans as humans have to, say, cows. Edible like cows, but cute, too.”

McPeople.

That’s a terrible analogy. I don’t pass around half eaten steaks.

In payment for calling up Mickey’s maker Salome and having her call him off, Sookie must tell Eric EVERYTHING that happened to him during the evetns of Dead to the World. She could just send him that link and it’d be a whole lot easier.

“Did we have sex?” he asked directly.

What is your obsession with knowing whether or not you had sex with her? How old are you, fifteen?

“We had sex in every position I could imagine, and some I couldn’t. We had sex in every room in the house, and we had sex outdoors. You told me it was the best you’d ever had.”

Eric looked like I’d hit him in the forehead with a mallet.

So would I. TMI.

“You offered to give me up your position as sheriff and come to live with me. And get a job.”

Eric isn’t reacting well to all this. Sookie then tells him about the murder of Debbie Pelt. There’s an interesting part where she says she did it for self defence, but that it was still murder, plain and simple, and Cain probably said the same about Abel. Well, uh, no I don’t think he did, seeing as Cain was a dick who hadn’t just been shot at. I may be an atheist, but I know my Bible good.

Eric phones Salome and asks him to take care of Mickey… and he already knew there was something iffy with Mickey anyway, so I don’t understand why he didn’t pull this ‘I’m sheriff and he didn’t call!’ stuff before. But whatever. He also says that the sniper may have mistaken Sookie for a shifter because she spends all her time hugging people, and some of them are weres, and argh the way he says it makes me want to stab things.

Then Mickey is outside and he’s pissed.

MICKEY SMASH!

Mickey had thrown a large rock as big as my fist, and to my dismay the rock hit Eric squarely in the head. He went down like – well, a rock.

Mickey’s got Tara with him, and she’s been beaten to a pulp. If Sookie doesn’t let him in, he’ll kill her. Huh. Quite a conundrum. Eric bites her wrist to heal, and says to not let Mickey in… but then he comes in? I have no idea wha’s going on, I can’t find any sentence where she invites him in.

Hello editor? I think you fucked up. Again.

Mickey slides through the window, dumps Tara on the floor and begins smacking Sookie around.

Mickey was on top of me, his intentions completely clear when he reached down to unzip his pants. “This is all your good for!” he said, contempt making him even uglier.

NO

NO

CHARLAINE HARRIS

I CALLED NO MORE RAPE AFTER THE LAST TIME IT HAPPENED

NO

Before anything actively traumatic happens, Sookie rescinds Mickey’s invitation and he flies backwards out the window, to stalk about outside for a bit before he suddenly runs off into the darkness, presumably to be viciously killed by his maker. I’m so sad.

Tara wakes up and refuses to go to the hospital ‘because everyone will know’. Wow, so I guess when you have to pay for medical care apparently there’s no such thing as doctor-patient confidentiality. What a bitch! Eric says her wounds will heal without a doctor; I mean, she’s only got some broken ribs, nothing too serious then.

Eric then rants on about what a terrible friend Tara is to his beloved Sookie, for which I call immediate and complete BOLLOCKS on.  Eric, you knew that Mickey was a bad guy, hoping to poach in your area. You should have sorted it out when you had the opportunity, instead of being obsessed with Sookie’s amazing vagina. Sookie, you knew your friend was in an abusive relationship, yet you decided to stand idly by and attempt nothing. Yes, you did get shot, but you weren’t trying at all before that point anyway. You can BOTH GO FUCK YOURSELVES AND STOP BEING WHINY ARSEHOLES TO THE STUPID WOMAN WITH BROKEN RIBS AND DRIVE HER TO THE HOSPITAL.

ALSO MY TYPOS FOR THIS BIT WERE KIND OF HILARIOUS

BUT NOT AS HILARIOUS AS WHEN BILL COMES TO FIX THE WINDOWS AND SOOKIE THINKS TEE HEE, WE COULD HAVE A THREESOME TO GET OVER ALL THIS SECHSUAL TENSION

WHILE HER FRIEND IS LYING UNCONSCIOUS WITH INJURIES THAT COULD KILL HER

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA I DON’T FUCKING WELL THINK SO WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE PEOPLE IN THESE BOOKS

Watch some videos to cleanse this chapter from your minds

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One thought on “A review of Charlaine Harris’s ‘Dead as a Doornail’ chapter thirteen

  1. This is actually the FOURTH Sookie rape/attempted rape, out of five books At this point. ‘Funny Uncle’, Gabe from the Fellowship of the Sun incident, Bill in the car, and now Mickey. I just finished this book, so I don’t know if that list grows, but something tells me it will. I am not even sure I haven’t missed something. That is not even to mention Andy Bellefleur’s intentionally implanting the idea of incest with her brother to test her telepathy.

    An interesting read is Freud’s take on ‘bawdry.’ He asserts that dirty jokes against an unwilling individual are a form of rape, for it forces the idea of nudity/sexual congress into the unconsenting victim’s mind, especially if the dirty joke is uttered in front of others, as it ‘strips’ the victim and shames him/her publicly. I think there is something to be said of that characterization, since it is often employed (most often by men) as a way of subjugating and humiliating a female. Andy’s intrusion falls into that territory, if you ask me.

    Hah. I have to laugh at my applying all this grad-school critical Lit theory to something as light and silly as the SVM books. Like I said – I’ve clearly thought way too much about this.

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