A review of Laurell K. Hamilton’s ‘Bloody Bones’ chapter thirty two


I’m all bandaged up. I’m got some pretty big blisters on the thumb and index finger of my dominant hand, but at least they don’t hurt any more! I can at least type now, but I can’t knit. GAH.

Dorcas Bouvier, brand new gal pal, has arrived. Her arrival means that everyone has brand new outfits, which are described in loving and unnecessary detail. Anita bemoans that society won’t let her run around with her gun drawn. Yeah, why can’t people be allowed to walk around with guns out all the time? That’d benefit everyone.

Anita asks Dorcas to let her talk to Marcus. Dorcas says she has no idea where he is and wouldn’t tell her anyway. She then adds about how she’d knew Anita would be in time, and then romantic music swells and it’s the end of a rom-com with the two of them going off together in the distance. (My secret talent is my ability to turn anything into a rom-com)

They’re all going off to find the rawhead. After picking up fairy repelling ointment in the local health food store … hang on, hang on. In the middle of nowhere, a health food store has fairy repelling ointment? Why is a health food shop selling that stuff? And why, if fairies are so rare in North America, are they able to pick some up so easily? Anita notes how she had to buy non-silver bullets and is carrying salt to repel fairies. Salt is traditionally used as a purification agent, so I’ll give her that, but she should have some sort of iron on her if she wants to repel fairies. A child in the seventeenth century would be able to tell you this.

The air smelled clean and fresh. You hoped the beginning of time smelled like that; like fresh bread, clean laundry, childhood memories of spring. It probably smelled like ozone and swamp water. Reality almost always smells worse than daydream.

On one hand, I really like talking about smells and how you imagine things should smell like. Warm and nice smells are wonderful things. However, saying that the beginning of time would smell like swamp water is a bit silly. The big bang wouldn’t smell like stagnant water, because it wouldn’t exist yet. And what’s with the daydream stuff? I don’t think the beginning of time is a daydream. Imagining what it smelt like isn’t dreaming.

What I’m trying to say is that LKH really fails on philosophical stuff because it always has some sort of negative ‘woe is me’ slant.

Dorcas asks how they find the trees and Lawrence lets slip they’re wearing ointment. This is a Very Bad Thing apparently, but is shrugged off as they head towards a large Celtic cross.

Every inch of ground was covered with bluebells. English bluebells, thick and fleshy, bluer than the sky. The flowers never grew in this country without help. They never grew in Missouri without more water than was practical. But standing in the solid mass of blue surrounded by trees, it seemed worth it.

Someone clearly knows nothing about bluebells.

This is a bluebell. I’m lucky in that I love close to a bluebell wood – a wood where they grow in huge numbers, carpeting the ground – and have them in my garden at my mother’s house. They’re quite blue, but the blue has a distinct purple to it, not remotely like the blue of the sky. I wouldn’t call them ‘thick and fleshy’ by any stretch of the imagination – they’re really quite fragile. They do grow in the United States, having been successfully introduced yonks ago. And there is no such thing as a ‘English bluebell’. They grew right across Eurasia and Africa, so I shouldn’t imagine they’d find Missouri a problem.

This is what a bluebell wood looks like, because they are something beautiful.

oh and Magnus is right by the Celtic cross bleeding everywhere. Dorcas starts hitting him for the crime of blasphemy. Magnus has been feeding from rawhead to gain powers and this means that he is called by death. Whatever that means. I think it’s a reference to vampires. Anita notes that Magnus doesn’t have pointy ears and wonders where the rumours started from.

I dunno, one of the many varieties of fairy folk?

Anyway, it seems that Magnus only has powers from drinking the blood of rawhead. And no one noticed? Not even his own sister? For twenty years? Anita suddenly realises that the giant monster which has been responsible for killing a lot of people might be around killing people now.

Magnus rolls his eyes and says that there is absolutely no way for the rawhead to manifest physically. Then how have you been feeding on his blood then?

“It’s imprisoned by a combination of Indian, Christian, and fairie power,” he said. “It’s not breaking free of that.”

Yes, because I’m sure that there are huge stretches of the Bible dedicated to combating fairies. And I’m sure that Native American spiritualism is dedicated to combating creatures from European folklore.

Anita thinks about how you can’t watch flowers bloom. The woods feel like death magic, and she asks whether the Bouviers have used death magic to keep the rawhead in place. It turns out that the dead Bouviers are used to keep the rawhead trapped, so that’s why they can’t sell the graveyard. I wonder how they controlled him when there were no Bouvier dead, but anyway, Serephina promised Magnus a new guardian for rawhead. Magnus as the head of the family has to be the guardian of rawhead, or something else rather patriarchal.

Serephina has been drinking from Magnus to stop herself from dying. Yeah, I don’t really understand why.

Anita promises to raise a few of the dead from the graveyard that Stirling has now gotten (and it’s been so long since that’s been mentioned I’m forgetting just what that was all about). And everyone is seeing each other tonight and I don’t know why.

I… did not like this chapter. The taste of bad exposition is fully in my throat. Let us have another pretty to balance it out.

pretty pretty

pretty pretty


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