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Series: Savannah #2 Author: Lisa Jackson Edition Language: English ISBN10: 0821772953 ISBN13: 9780821772959 Pages: 448 Published: 1994

Description: I have mixed thoughts about Lisa Jackson's serial killer novel, The Morning After. Not far into the book, I had the distinct impression that the characters had a past together. This was confirmed when I looked up Jackson's Web site; this book was preceded by The Morning Before. In fact, Jackson has quite a few books under her belt-including myriad romances, which made it even more disappointing. If this had been a new writer, I could have forgiven the flat characters, unbelievable dialogue, and constant telling vs. showing. I should have known, though: The action was perfectly paced and the plot held my attention until the end of the book. It's rare for a brand-spanking-new novelist to master those things this well. And the story itself was intriguing, with a cool spin on an old plot line. The prologue sets up the tale with a woman waking up in a coffin. Naked. With the original occupant still in it. And a microphone. And the bad guy laughing from above as he fills in the grave. The main characters were mildly interesting. Nikki Gillette is an annoying, doggedly determined Savannah journalist trying to break away from mundane stories of school district news and onto the crime beat. Detective Pierce Reed, described as ruggedly handsome (sigh), despises the press and a past that haunts him. Cardboard, except he has some shady secrets that surface in this book, including a short-term but significant relationship with one of the victims. Reed's partner, Sylvie Morrisette, smoked, drank, drove as if she were in the time trials for the Indy 500, swore like a sailor and dressed as if she were pushing 25 instead of 35. The woman complains throughout the book about her fourth ex-husband's refusal to pay child support. By page two, I was hoping she'd be a victim-soon. The Survivor is our man of the hour. He believes he is smarter than the police and has a bone to pick with Reed, but lapses into psychotic rantings and ravings. He likes to steal his victims' underwear and record the terrifying final moments of their lives.

Jackson throws red herrings like confetti, which is fine, except the characters spend a lot of time thinking and talking but not enough developing. Halfway through the book, I still didn't really care about any of them. And the cliché's! Don't get me started! The two-people-in-a-coffin slant is neat and adds a weird dimension of horror to the already creepy prospect of being buried alive. Readers with visions of Uma Thurman as The Bride punching her way to freedom will be disappointed, though, as this story's women play identical helpless victims. By the third one: Bo-ring. And the short, racy erotic scenes between the evil psycho and his victims' stolen panties did little for character development, in my opinion. Where Jackson might have shone, she chose not to. The Savannah police contacted an FBI profiler, but no profile is ever generated. Conflict between investigators is never fully explored, and may have been a lot more interesting than the long descriptions of Nikki Gillette's discomfort with the newspaper's technical guru. Gillette's brother had committed suicide-or was it an accident?-before this story; how about some of that? To call this a psychological thriller would be stretching. Maybe Jackson didn't want to include all that stuff. Maybe this was a romantic thriller and she didn't want to go into police procedure and familial relationship dynamics. That's fine. Now I know her writing style and my reading preferences don't mesh. Would I recommend this book? Sure, if you get it for free.