Fantasy Mystery Romance Comics Non-Fiction

Promised Land, Audio Book

Thursday, November 9, 2023

Promised Land, Audio Book (1976) Robert B. Parker narrated by Michael Prichard (Spenser)

Promised LandWe are now beginning to see Spenser develop into who he is in later stories.

“Maybe Millie might know.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yeah, she’s sixteen. That’s old enough for them to have girl talk and stuff, I imagine. Maybe she’s got something you could use. Want me to get her?”

“Yeah, and old phone bills, letters, that kind of thing, might be able to give us a clue as to where she’d go. And I’ll need a picture.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll get Millie first, and I’ll look for that stuff while you’re talking with her.” He hadn’t come right home and done it like I told him. Maybe I lacked leadership qualities.

The self-depreciating humor.

It was five o’clock and Susan agreed to join Pam for a drink while I made supper. I pounded some lamb steaks I’d bought for lamb cutlets. Dipped them in flour, then egg, then bread crumbs. When they were what Julia Child calls nicely coated I put them aside and peeled four potatoes. I cut them into little egg-shaped oblongs, which took a while, and started them cooking in a little oil, rolling them around to get them brown all over. I also started the cutlets in another pan. When the potatoes were evenly browned I covered them, turned down the heat and left them to cook through. When the cutlets had browned, I poured off the fat, added some Chablis and some fresh mint, covered them and let them cook. Susan came out into the kitchen once to make two new drinks. I made a Greek salad with feta cheese and ripe olives and Susan set the table while I took the lamb cutlets out of the pan and cooked down the wine. I shut off the heat, put in a lump of unsalted butter, swirled it through the wine essence and poured it over the cutlets. With the meal we had warm Syrian bread and most of a half gallon of California Burgundy.

The cooking.

The spaghetti sauce was bubbling. I poured it into a big gravy boat and put two big heaps of spaghetti on two plates. I poured the salad dressing over the salad, tossed it and set everything on the kitchen counter. “Silverware in the drawer there,” I said. I got some Gallo Burgundy in a half-gallon bottle and two wine glasses out of the cupboard.

We sat at the counter and ate and drank. “Did you make the spaghetti sauce?” she said. “Yeah. A secret recipe I got off the back of the tomato paste can.”

“And the salad dressing? Is there honey in it?”

“Yep. Got that from my mother.”

She shook her head. “Fighter, lover, gourmet cook? Amazing.”

“Nope. I’ll take the fighter, lover, but the gourmet cook is a sexist remark.”


“If you’d cooked this no one would say you were a gourmet cook. It’s because I’m a man. A man who cooks and is interested in it is called a gourmet. A woman is called a housewife. Now eat the goddamned spaghetti,” I said. She did. Me too.

The feminism.

And this book introduces something even more important.

Shepard appeared from the door past the stairs. With him was a tall black man with a bald head and high cheekbones. He had on a powder blue leisure suit and a pink silk shirt with a big collar. The shirt was unbuttoned to the waist and the chest and stomach that showed were as hard and unadorned as ebony. He took a pair of wraparound sunglasses from the breast pocket of the jacket and as he put them on, he stared at me over their rims until very slowly the lenses covered his eyes and he stared at me through them.

I looked back. “Hawk,” I said.

Publisher: Random House Audio

Rating: 8/10


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