This short novel (2000) by T.R. Pearson is another one I picked up at my favorite used bookstore a month or so ago. I was attracted by its title, Blue Ridge, which promises something Southern, perhaps buried in the mountains or told quietly on front porch swing.
Nope. The back cover promises "a riveting, double-barreled story of crime and intrigue." Once again, I forgot that I really tend to not enjoy this genre. My review of Blue Ridge could read much like my review of P.D. James' The Lighthouse. I didn't hate it, but I was glad to reach the end and get to my next book.
There are two stories going on in this novel: one focuses on Ray Tatum, new deputy sheriff of a little town in Virginia, who happens upon a skeleton in the mountains. The other features Ray's cousin, Paul, who has to go to New York City to identify his grown son's body, although he's only met his son a couple of times. Both stories, which had nothing to do with each other, were anti-climatic and confusing. I think that both Paul and Ray were potentially interesting characters; unfortunately, the book focused too much on the odd details of the murder victims and their lives. Paul and Ray were just a few steps away from being flat as pancakes.
This one is going up on Paperback Swap, right away.