A review of Laurell K. Hamilton’s ‘The Laughing Corpse’ chapter twenty seven

Sorry I didn’t post last night – I was out at a pub quiz. We came second and lost out on first place by just half a point. Pretty epic night. And now back to Anita Blake. Joy.

Anita heads out the the crime scene and there’s a huge police and media presence. Huh. You’d think the local news would make a big deal over the fact that you can’t have a judicial process on the days of Saturday and Sunday, because I sure as fuck would. A reporter starts badgering Anita for a statement because she’s just soooo well known but Anita is professional and SRS.

A crime scene is a crime scene is a crime scene. Except for the unique nightmarish qualities of each one.

What are you trying to say here? Are you saying that all crime scenes are alike, or that each one is unique? You can only say one. You can’t say both because they contradict each other. Understand?

Anita takes a look around and says there’s two gallons of blood in there and that ‘there are roughly two gallons of blood in the human body’ – so someone was killed and drained of their blood. Except not, because a human being does not have two gallons of blood in the body. People have about one gallon of blood in their body. So yeah, research fail.

My white Nikes were splattered with scarlet before I was halfway to the bed.

Lesson learned: wear black Nikes to murder scenes.

Lesson learned: Hamilton doesn’t know shit about murder scenes.


If you’re at a bloody crime scene, you wear protective shoe covers. It’s so you don’t ruin your shoes and also so you don’t CONTAMINATE THE EVIDENCE. That’s generally rather important at a crime scene.


Anyway, the body is a bit like a lumpy mess of mashed potato. It’s hidden under a sheet and all the police officers are called in to take a good long look at it.

I’d never seen a sheet saturated with blood before. A morning of firsts.

…. I’m just going to ignore how silly that statement is.

I stared at the rug and couldn’t make sense of it. It was just a pile of lumps, small lumps. I knelt beside them. Blood soaked through the knee of my jeans, it was cold. Better than warm, I guess.

You ought to be wearing coveralls, you are contaminating the evidence, you are ruining your jeans, it should be ‘knees’ unless you have only one knee and you are stupid. I guess.

The other body is uncovered and there’s ‘banter’ over who can take looking at the mangled corpses. Pleasant. Nice to know you respect the memories of the two murdered people. I don’t care about Anita duking it out with her male colleagues over who’s ‘tougher’. It’s disrespectful and it’s an uncomfortable shift in tone. It’s jokey and playful, after talking about extreme gore and it just doesn’t work. They make a bet over who can handle looking at a corpse of someone who died horribly, in fear and in pain. Aren’t you a class act, Anita?

The left half of a rib cage lay on the bed. A naked breast was still attached to it.

The perfect time to make some jokes!

Was breast tissue breast tissue?



…….. yes?

They find a baby blanket dripping with blood so the couple who died were presumably targeted for their baby… I think. The other family were targeted for their child, but that’s just my guess. I’m sure that the truth will be Hamilton-style awesome. The child is not here; what Anita presumed to be a child is in fact a doll, lying in a pool of blood. And then someone throws up, meaning Anita wins her bet and she thinks ‘Awesome!’ because it now means that she can throw up.

Each new chapter is either offensive or stupid.


5 thoughts on “A review of Laurell K. Hamilton’s ‘The Laughing Corpse’ chapter twenty seven

    • Nope. One of the police men is essentially squishing bits of body in his hands (because yeah, that’s how you work a crime scene) and Anita starts to ponder whether breast tissue is still breast tissue. I am not making this up.

  1. Our library used to have a bunch of those blue booties to protect the carpet from stupid people who didn’t understand that mud + snow + carpet = ew.

    • If Dexter, the serial killer, can remember to wear booties to avoid contaminating his crime scenes, then Anita Blake should really remember. But, then again, this is the woman who wore heels to a crime scene in the snow.

  2. Actually, the average adult human body has 6 quarts of blood, which translates to 1.5 gallons. I don’t know why Anita wanted to make it gallons, like someone just put blood into milk jugs and tossed those about the scene… Or why LKH can’t do proper research when she has so many friends who are part of law enforcement, but whatever. I don’t feel like nitpicking. If I did, I could just twitch in general about all the crime scene contamination going on and how everything about the police procedures is wrong.

    For reference, a quick Google Maps search says that from St. Peters to St. Charles is a 17-18 minute drive. Why a zombie would choose to go that far on foot when I’m sure there are plenty of other homes with children/babies to nom on in St. Peters, or between the two, I have no idea. Something is fishy about this whole book, though, and it’s not just the stench of the Doomcrotch. I’m sure it will be all muddily wrapped up for us in the last chapter.

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