by Janet Evanovich
Once upon a time, many years ago, Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series was the freshest, funniest phenomenon in the publishing industry. Hollywood long ago forgot how to make engaging screwball comedies, but Evanovich’s Plum, a klutzy, novice bounty hunter, was a slapstick delight. And so were the supporting characters: Grandma Mazur, Lula the reformed hooker, and the rest of the gang.
But then, sadly, somewhere around book six or seven in the series, Evanovich either ran out of creative steam or simply sold out. Stephanie’s adventures are now repetitive and there are very few laugh-out-loud moments. And yet, I continue to check in with this series. How come? I guess the Plum adventures are like Stephanie’s relatives — you know more than enough about them, but there is a certain hokey comfort whenever you pay them a visit.
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