Published by Crown on June 4, 2013
You don't want to mess with Vanessa Michael Munroe. She has serious anger management issues. When she's mad, she becomes feral, blindly psychopathic in her rage, behaving like the Incredible Hulk without the green skin or the growth spurt. When she's calm, her calculating intelligence shines. The winning combination -- intelligent fury -- makes Munroe one of my favorite thriller protagonists.
The Doll begins with Munroe's fall from her motorcycle. An ambulance whisks her away, but the patient who is admitted to the hospital isn't our heroine. Munroe's closest friend, Sherebiah Logan, has also been snatched, leaving Miles Bradford (Munroe's lover and occasional employer) and his team of mercenaries to search for them. Munroe and Logan have been taken by the Doll Man, who is keeping Logan as a hostage to assure that Munroe will use her talents to undertake a mission on his behalf. It's not entirely convincing that the Doll Man couldn't have used his own people rather than the troublesome Munroe to get the job done, but that's the set-up and I was able to roll with it.
Not coincidentally, Neeva Eckridge, an actress and the child of prominent parents, has been missing for two weeks. Munroe had been trying to find her before the Doll Man intervened. The connection between these stories becomes apparent in the early chapters. During the first half of the novel, the focus shifts between Munroe and Bradford, with Munroe becoming the dominant character in the second half.
Is the story entirely believable? I'm not sure any of the Munroe stories are entirely believable, but they are told with such speed and intensity that Taylor Stevens always hooks me. She makes me suspend my disbelief for the sake of enjoying the experience.
Munroe is a complex character, often a dangerous, amoral sociopath, yet motivated by compassion for the innocent. She often plays the role of vigilante. Unlike other thriller heroes who are driven by vigilantism, however, Munroe makes no pretense of adhering to a higher moral code. When she kills, she is a creature of instinct. For that reason, I find her easier to accept than the more sanctimonious vigilantes in thrillerdom. Not just in Munroe, but in at least one other central character, Stevens blurs the line between villain and victim, creating moral ambiguity that is both realistic and refreshing. Of course, some readers dislike moral ambiguity, and they might be put off by Munroe and by the novel for the very reasons I admire it.
Although The Doll makes frequent references to (and reintroduces some characters from) the first two novels in the series, it would be easy to read this as a stand-alone novel without becoming lost. Stevens fills in enough of the backstory to make Munroe's life understandable. If anything, she repeats herself unnecessarily while explaining the events that shaped Munroe's life. Fortunately, the narrative never bogs down; the story is always in motion.
As much as I enjoyed the characters in The Doll (one of the bad guys is particularly well drawn), the first two novels had stronger plots. This story amounts to a series of extended chase scenes, with Munroe sometimes acting as pursuer, sometimes as the pursued. It delivers thrills, and that's what a thriller should do, but it isn't as memorable as the earlier books. On the other hand, Munroe's final confrontation with the Doll Man is as powerful and surprising as anything in the previous novels.
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