Stephen King's latest, "Mr. Mercedes", is a brilliant example of what an amazing writer he is even if he isn't writing horror or supernatural. He gets you to care about characters in just a few simple paragraphs, which is why when bad things happen to them (and it's an SK book, so you know they will) it hurts so much. Mr. Mercedes is a brutal killer. Retired detective Bill Hodges didn't catch him before retiring. A year after, Hodges is contemplating suicide when Mr. Mercedes reaches out, taunting him. With a renewed sense of purpose, Hodges is determined to catch this maniac and put him away for good. It was taunt and suspenseful and just plain *good*. This is the sort of book he writes occasionally that makes me sad that he's labeled a "horror" writer. Although it doesn't seem to matter too much these days, he's pretty universally popular. As he well should be! :)
In life, James Gandolfini was a very private person who didn't like to do interviews, and after his untimely death last year (sniffle) his friends and relatives continue to respect his wishes, so there wasn't anything terribly personal in Dan Bishchoff's "James Gandolfini: the Real Life of the Man Who Made Tony Soprano". Which is fine, it was nice to read such a respectful and loving tribute to a great man who happened to be a phenomenal actor. I rewatch "The Sopranos" all the time. There is a great picture in this book of Edie Falco at James's funeral, and when I saw it I started crying. The look on her face sums up what we lost by his early death, the great potential that was there. RIP, sir. You are truly missed.
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