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Murder Most Frothy (Coffeehouse Mysteries, No. 4) by Cleo Coyle
Book Summary InformationAuthor: Cleo Coyle Edition: Mass Market Paperback Audio: English (Unknown); English (Original Language); English (Published) Published: 2006-08-01 ISBN: 0425211134 Number of pages: 272 Publisher: Berkley
Book Reviews of Murder Most Frothy (Coffeehouse Mysteries, No. 4)Book Review: Einstein's Theory of Taste? Dark Stars. Literary Luxury. Summary: 5 Stars
Ahhhh. Smell the "aroma" of a view from the top...
The opening salvos of this novel were excellent. I devoured coffee quotes, zapped into a chillingly crisp, mesmerizing prologue, then zeroed in on chapter one, page one, which addressed the wealthy exclusivity of East Hampton, dropping a big name, David Mintzer, and his mansion's title, "Otium cum Dignitate." Digesting those appetizers, craving to rave each word, I received an impulse (it wasn't indigestion) to check the title page CYA. I wasn't surprised by the additional ward:
"This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or... This publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party web sites or their content."
All but that last sentence has long been standard fiction disclaimer. (My copies showed that this series began adding the extra sentence perception with LATTE TROUBLE. That publication process would have been coincident with the Hampton heated composition of FROTHY.)
Given legal capacity of East Hampton residents, added protection was wise, especially since the prologue powered through well-honed prose into a "take-no-prisoners" zone of harshly satiric, derogatory description of repulsively stereotypical participants in a July Fourth party. The diss included the owner, his mansion, and Names "knocked off" from Genuine Articles, though I rarely recognize Names beyond Adam or Eve. Speaking of Apples and Evils, the prologue's cuttings from that gathering were sliced from the chilled view of a professional marksman with an aversion to the mark within the cross-hair of his hefty Remington.
Would a few well-heeled readers with plush-fit foot-wear sport red-faced rages after reading that prologue? Web sites would likely revel in designing real people, places, events this story might have based on, even if it had been written solely from the wild imagination of the author duo (see my Listmania, and/or review of Latte Trouble for the authors' names).
Smart move, Berkley Publishing.
Reading the disgusting descriptions of party participants, I thought, surely some down-to-earth, good people were there, a few who weren't foolishly shallow? I've encountered integrity in all walks of life. I'm not prejudiced against the rich nor against the poor; against the educated (many of whom are not physically lazy, except moi), nor against our labor force (education is entertained there, too) nor against subsidized, symbiotic situations. Almost as soon as I notice color, creed, greed, or gender; the distinction rapidly loses its edge, unless the one holding the edge reinforces it.
I've encountered wisdom and grace in mansions and gutters, having owned the former and almost slid into the later. I've had intimate human connections (meaning sharing of souls, not sex) in varied cultural locations.
Getting to the point, Ms. Cosi, a person of indubitably good character, attended this gala. She discovered the body.
The author skillfully surged anticipation with the opening sentence in chapter one.
At the end of the page two, I began wondering if Cleo Cole may have owned a prejudice against Wealth. Had someone once screeched, "Get out!" to pigtails and a crew-cut, peeking through a hedge? Huckleberry Fin move over! Childhood embarrassments can wrought a lot in adult gaming.
From some perspectives, Clare's situation would be a plum-lap of financial luxury:
Manager becoming joint owner of this thriving coffee house (and building).
In fact, some people might feel privileged to live in an NYC "Cigar Box" (term from chapter one). What population percentage has a clue about "The Hamptons" (Spell Check didn't recognize the plural). I had no clue where those "whatever's" were, until a reviewer whose family owned a house there dialed me in.
Einstein, did you brace the opening of Pandora's box when you pegged Relativity, given the resultant jealousies comparisons breed?
Is envy is the ugliest of human couture, rather than "having" or "not having"? That odious emotion exists at every level. Looking up or down gives telling views. Living vicariously in a setup like Clare's has been one of the draws returning me to the series.
I wouldn't be able to pay for a simple meal in most NYC restaurants (Mintzer's Cuppa J would be on my To Drool list). I'm incompetent about where or how much to Tip (though I received hints in United Airlines flight attendant training, when my base was to be at Newark Airport in 1968). The wardrobe required to feel invisible, even in the Village Blend, would be beyond me (and my hair). I'm not speaking of designer labels or frosting on the head. The Eye of Ra is my style (and beyond my budget). A perm would be within possible parameters.
I prefer to earn my way through talents, like Coyle has accomplished, bless her, er, their keyboards! When it appears I'll never get there, I'm thankful for novels which have.
This novel edged out of the shoot in enviable syntax style, with literary grace and a thematic crystallization of having Vs. not having. After being hooked by the opening salvos, I began wondering if the edge of drool-worthy, art-work-in-prose could be maintained. I also wondered if the Coyle team would redeem a few human gems in this kingdom of extravagance? Would they recognize their own envy; realize the parallel (yet paradoxically lower on vertical axes) existence of envy being directed to them on the ladder of fame, and success? Would socio/emotional sludge succumb to demands of a murder investigation, to the "reality" of an immediate emergency which might focus pursuits toward resolution, toward redemption of human ways, means, and conditions?
I dreaded to lose the faith in this authorship team. If you've read one book in this series, and if you value your taste buds, you will want to be baited to continue to the next.
Okay. I've read to the end and drawn conclusions and cuppas.
I love coffee. Heck, I can go with the Wal Mart discounts of Arabica, even as I discriminate nuances of flavor up to the stars. I use a carafe to keep my low-budget, high-profile morning pot vacuum fresh, avoiding the bunt weeds stink of an open pot left on an admirably functional but tasteless burner, no slight intended. For my opinion of FROTHY, look up. There's always one star shining in the night, on Amazon.
In that glittering starlight, I noticed a flicker of melange in Clare's persona in FROTHY, a melange of famous sleuths like Kinsey Millhone and Goldy Schulz. At first, those flickers made me wonder if Clare had clarified the Voice she'd use when she grew up. It might be difficult to hone a singular, unique voice in the sleuth of a series written by a team.
Not to worry. Clare's shenanigans, became engrossing through whatever melange or melody she strutted and sang, seeking tone, tune, and tang. Particularly enjoyed the way Clare played herself off several males, including her ex, all with Quinn in mind, but at a distance as she tangled alternatives, testing them as suspects, or lovers on the line. Also enjoyed how she played her attractions/repulsions off those of her daughter, ex-husband, and mom-in-law.
The coffee tips, mixtures, and gourmet tidbits flared up in FROTHY, with exquisite coffee concoctions worked into the plot and listed in appendices.
Speaking of which, I do not fuel fears for my health due to daily doses of caffeine. I question coffee addiction, because for several months during a phase of exhaustion, I quit (without delirium tremors) my habit of brewing a pot at dawn. It boiled down to temporarily letting go of that daily effort giving greater pleasure than sipping the cuppa. A draw of tap water became a blessing. Vicarious became vital. So, I see the appeal to those who have not succumbed to coffee flavors and routines.
Closing the book, I was left with a pleasant sense that the "Coyles" relished vamping in the Hamptons for research. I'm happy for anyone getting "in" to the Games of his Grandest Fantasies (if they're legal/ethical). The privet hedges parted like the Red Sea, for Sawyer and Finn (in Biblical, Classic solutions). Privilege and prejudice were well played.
Thank you Coyles, for releasing a few noses from the gutter-of-envy of those who guiltlessly sample the fruits of financial fairs. Now I can admit that every diss-ing description this author team penned in taut, tangy prose, of the "bozo" element at the opening gala of this novel, agreed with my distaste of those "types" wherever they exist within the strata of poverty and wealth.
Taste from below; no prejudice from above,
Linda G. Shelnutt
Summary of Murder Most Frothy (Coffeehouse Mysteries, No. 4)Clare Cosi?s new friend, millionaire David Mintzer, has an offer no New York barista could turn down: an all-expenses-paid summer away from the sticky city. At his Hamptons mansion, she?ll relax, soak up the sun, and, oh yes, train the staff of his new restaurant. So Clare packs up her daughter, her former mother-in-law, and her special recipe for iced coffee?for what she hopes will be one de-latte-ful summer? Soon, Clare tends the coffee bar at her first Hamptons gala. But the festivities come to a bitter end when an employee turns up dead in David?s bathroom?a botched attempt on the millionaire?s life. Thanks to the Fourth of July fireworks no one heard any gunshots, and the police are stuck in holiday traffic. Concerned for everyone?s safety, Clare begins to investigate. What she finds will keep her up at night?and it?s not the java jitters?
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