Published by Scribner on August 27, 2013
Temperance Brennan is a forensic anthropologist who becomes curious about the hit-and-run death of an unidentified teenage girl. Although the case does not require the services of a forensic anthropologist, Brennan is certain that she's more capable of solving it than the assigned homicide detective. Remarkably, the detective takes her along as he investigates, even letting her interview a witness while he sits in the car and broods. In the real world, no homicide detective would tolerate Brennan's condescending attitude or her meddling, much less follow her around like a puppy while she does all the work. Nor would he bring her along while executing a search warrant at a potentially dangerous location -- dressing her in Kevlar, no less -- particularly when he has no reason to believe the search will uncover evidence that requires inspection by a forensic anthropologist.
Even more improbable is a subplot that sends Brennan to Afghanistan, where she is tasked with determining whether a soldier shot a villager in the back a year earlier by examining the villager's skeletal remains. Brennan's daughter happens to be in the military, serving in Afghanistan. This happy circumstance allows Brennan to go shopping with her daughter in a bazaar while dodging mortar rounds. The trip to Afghanistan eventually ties into the primary plot in a way that requires the reader to swallow a series of extraordinary coincidences. I didn't. The Afghanistan interlude is utterly predictable, completely unbelievable, and much of it comes across as filler designed to pad a thin story.
On the plus side, Kathy Reichs writes the kind of clever prose that encourages readers to set aside reservations about the story and characters. Fortunately for the reader, a good bit of medical jargon is translated into simple English, but it's unlikely that the seasoned detective who demands the translation would actually need it. What homicide detective doesn't know the meaning of "lividity"?
Unless you count an unfailing sense of superiority as a personality, Brennan has none. She's a one-note character and the note is irritating. The other characters are bland and boring. Brennan has a stereotypically shallow ex-husband. That relationship, and another failed relationship, like her scattered sister and her daughter in Afghanistan, are presumably meant to add human interest. They are of no interest at all. Brennan's "passion" for issues like "justice for the dead" (as if the dead care), and her frequent climbs onto soapboxes to tell us just how passionate she is (she often feels like screaming at people who care less than she does because she cares sooooo much), come across as narcissistic posturing.
Once Brennan returns from Afghanistan and refocuses on the murdered girl, the story follows a mundane, overused plot, taking a couple of obvious twists before racing to an eye-rolling ending. Despite receiving a series of graphic warnings telling her to mind her own business, Brennan goes charging into danger at midnight, pausing only to leave a voicemail for the detective assigned to the case (but inexplicably forgetting to take her phone with her), when any sane person would have called 911 and left the risky work to people who carry guns. Reichs understands the mechanics of thriller writing, as demonstrated by her snappy (although sometimes overwrought) prose style, but the novel's brighter moments are overshadowed by the story's silliness.
NOT RECOMMENDED