Full of suspense and some scares that more than push the envelope, Kathy Reichs doesn’t disappoint when it comes to the promised ride for readers in her latest Tempe Brennan thriller Evil Bones. Reichs masterfully builds tension throughout the novel, forcing me to set all else aside to finish those last pages. I had to see how Tempe survives this one and solves the who-done-it.
In this blog I offer a different type of book review—one that’s combined with vocabulary building. In Evil Bones, just released in November, I found plenty of unfamiliar words due to the nature of the detail regarding forensic anthropology. I stayed away from purely medical terms for this this list of unfamiliar words.
From Evil Bones:
Having eaten maybe two bites, she’d planted an elbow on the table, cradled her head in her palm, and commenced macerating the remains of the egg concoction.
macerate: verb, 1. (especially with reference to food) soften or become softened by soaking in a liquid. 2. archaic – cause to grow thinner or waste away, especially by fasting
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From Evil Bones:
His dingy white tee was stretched to its full tensile capacity across a frame not yet obese but poised on the edge.
tensile, adjective: 1. relating to tension, 2. capable of being drawn or stretched
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From Evil Bones:
Despite my postprandial drowsiness, sleep eluded me.
postprandial, adjective: formal-during or relating to the period after dinner or lunch; medicine-occurring after a meal (an annual postprandial blood glucose test)
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From Evil Bones:—
Nun pose. The phrase floated back, forgotten for years.
As a kid I’d often pondered the secrets of those billowy recesses. I knew the sleeves served as temporary repositories for tissues, used and unused. But what else? An extra missal? A spare battery? A loaded Glock 19?
missal: noun, a book containing the texts used in the Catholic Mass throughout the year
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From Evil Bones:
Was this guy Mom-schmoozing me? Or was he this obsequious with everyone?
obsequious, adjective: obedient or attentive to an excessive or servile degree
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Definitions are typically from the dictionary that comes with my Mac or The New Oxford American Dictionary.
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“The word is only a representation of the meaning; even at its best, writing almost always falls short of full meaning. Given that, why in God’s name would you want to make things worse by choosing a word which is only cousin to the one you really wanted to use?” ― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft



re of it in our society, and in turn, ourselves. Lippman’s skill at pulling multiple tentacles of a story together thrives in this tale, but she eloquently succeeds at something unique even for her. The story is told from the perspective of one character, but some of it comes to us in the first-person account of a remembered childhood, while the rest is told in third-person present tense as all those story tentacles come together for Lu Brant, a newly elected state’s attorney. The combination of first and third person from the same protagonist is so competently handled that I didn’t catch it until well into the book. It seems to bring a more intimate view into the life unfolding in Wilde Lake. The unique characterization provides a deeper grasp of what is happening in Lu Brant’s life as she digs into her own family history while sorting out the facts of her first capital murder case in her new position. The layers of revelations and connections to Brant’s past keep the pages turning. From the book jacket: “If there is such a thing as the whole truth, Lu realizes—possibly too late—that she would be better off not knowing what it is.”

