The book looks interesting, but I'm sort of pleased that the subject matter isn't very relevant outside of North America. School shootings are just not a thing elsewhere in the world, really; but if you replace the gun with something else I think you'd get a similar kind of book :) And it's certainly getting good reviews!
Therapy Fenella set another stack of case-files down on her desk; with the other four it looked like she was trying to create a miniature city-scape of skyscrapers next to the flat-screen monitor of her computer. She moved the fountain-pen stand a little, and Cass, who she shared the office with him, mm-hmmed approvingly. "What?" said Fenella, looking at the desk with a critical eye and wondering how she was going to get any work done. "That now represents the Fathers' Fountain," said Cass. "If you move the coffee cup a bit to the left it'll be in the same place as the Rotunda, and then I think you've got a pretty good model of downtown." "Ha! That is not what I'm going for," said Fenella, eyeing the coffee cup and wondering if she could move it now without appearing neurotic. "Sure. You tell yourself that," said Cass with the mocking, superior tone that she couldn't use with any of her clients. She smiled at Fenella's snort of frustration. "Are these more of the good doctor's files?" "I wouldn't call Dr. Fraud good, exactly," said Fenella. She walked around the desk and pulled the chair, leather-cushioned and solid rosewood, out so she could sit down. Her arms ached from carrying stacks of case files from Dr. Fraud's old office to her own. "Busy, maybe. And some of his therapies were certainly effective, but you have to wonder if it was by accident or design." Cass raised an eyebrow and pushed her keyboard back slightly. She picked up her coffee cup -- Fenella noted with slight annoyance that it smelled like Cass had a fresh, hot cup while Fenella had only the sad, cloudy dregs of the cup from an hour ago -- and leaned back in her chair. Which creaked, reassuringly.
"Well," said Fenella, lifting the topmost file from the nearest stack. "Take this. This is... a thirteen year old boy. The front matter says that he was referred to Dr. Fraud by the courts who were concerned that he was adversely affected by the actions of his older sister. She was teaching a firearms class for licensed marksmen when she had a petit mal seizure and ended up shooting a field of sheep. Fourteen dead sheep, eight dead crows, and one dead bystander. The bales of hay that should have been preventing anyone shooting into that field had been removed earlier that day by a farm-hand who didn't know what they were there for. But the boy became oddly convinced that his sister had been ordered by 'voices' to kill the sheep and he became vegetarian almost immediately, vegan a couple of weeks later and then started talking about Jainism. When he started trying to have only rocks for dinner he ended up with Dr. Fraud." "Sounds like a case of PTSD," said Cass sipping her coffee. "Was he at the class when the shooting happened?" "Yes," said Fenella. "He often went with her to carry things and help set up, but wasn't allowed to use any of the guns himself. And yes, I'd agree. PTSD, probably combined with some elements of hero worship for the sister and the discovery before he was ready that idols have clay feet." "So, easy case," said Cass. "That's quite a thick file for a case that easy, isn't it?" "That's the thing," said Fenella. "Dr. Fraud starts off with a baseline assumption that the voices that the boy heard belonged to the sheep." Cass's eyes widened a little and she set her coffee down. She steepled her fingers under her chin, thinking, and Fenella waited. "Well," she said. "I guess that's a line of attack, isn't it? The voices must come from somewhere, and the vegetarianism suggests that the death of the animals is the primary concern for the boy. But... it kind of gives credence to the idea the voices are real. Is that a good idea, do you think?" "Dr. Fraud thought so," said Fenella. "In the third session he brought a lamb in with him to see if the boy could talk to it." Cass, who'd picked her coffee back up, spat a mouthful of it all over her keyboard. "He did what?!" "When the boy asked about it in the fourth session," said Fenella, "the 'good doctor' reports telling him that he'd killed, cooked and eaten it as the boy hadn't succeeded in talking to it." Cass stared at Fenella as coffee dripped onto the floor, unheeded, by her feet. "It gets worse," said Fenella.
Greg - I went in blind, having chosen it mostly for the title and expecting a light read. Well there is certainly humor throughout, obviously what's happened brings about some tougher reading.
It's all very well done though.
... I can only imagine how much worse it gets. Feel a little bad for laughing as much as I did, but that's par for the course with Dr. Fraud stories.
3 comments:
The book looks interesting, but I'm sort of pleased that the subject matter isn't very relevant outside of North America. School shootings are just not a thing elsewhere in the world, really; but if you replace the gun with something else I think you'd get a similar kind of book :) And it's certainly getting good reviews!
Therapy
Fenella set another stack of case-files down on her desk; with the other four it looked like she was trying to create a miniature city-scape of skyscrapers next to the flat-screen monitor of her computer. She moved the fountain-pen stand a little, and Cass, who she shared the office with him, mm-hmmed approvingly.
"What?" said Fenella, looking at the desk with a critical eye and wondering how she was going to get any work done.
"That now represents the Fathers' Fountain," said Cass. "If you move the coffee cup a bit to the left it'll be in the same place as the Rotunda, and then I think you've got a pretty good model of downtown."
"Ha! That is not what I'm going for," said Fenella, eyeing the coffee cup and wondering if she could move it now without appearing neurotic.
"Sure. You tell yourself that," said Cass with the mocking, superior tone that she couldn't use with any of her clients. She smiled at Fenella's snort of frustration. "Are these more of the good doctor's files?"
"I wouldn't call Dr. Fraud good, exactly," said Fenella. She walked around the desk and pulled the chair, leather-cushioned and solid rosewood, out so she could sit down. Her arms ached from carrying stacks of case files from Dr. Fraud's old office to her own. "Busy, maybe. And some of his therapies were certainly effective, but you have to wonder if it was by accident or design."
Cass raised an eyebrow and pushed her keyboard back slightly. She picked up her coffee cup -- Fenella noted with slight annoyance that it smelled like Cass had a fresh, hot cup while Fenella had only the sad, cloudy dregs of the cup from an hour ago -- and leaned back in her chair. Which creaked, reassuringly.
"Well," said Fenella, lifting the topmost file from the nearest stack. "Take this. This is... a thirteen year old boy. The front matter says that he was referred to Dr. Fraud by the courts who were concerned that he was adversely affected by the actions of his older sister. She was teaching a firearms class for licensed marksmen when she had a petit mal seizure and ended up shooting a field of sheep. Fourteen dead sheep, eight dead crows, and one dead bystander. The bales of hay that should have been preventing anyone shooting into that field had been removed earlier that day by a farm-hand who didn't know what they were there for. But the boy became oddly convinced that his sister had been ordered by 'voices' to kill the sheep and he became vegetarian almost immediately, vegan a couple of weeks later and then started talking about Jainism. When he started trying to have only rocks for dinner he ended up with Dr. Fraud."
"Sounds like a case of PTSD," said Cass sipping her coffee. "Was he at the class when the shooting happened?"
"Yes," said Fenella. "He often went with her to carry things and help set up, but wasn't allowed to use any of the guns himself. And yes, I'd agree. PTSD, probably combined with some elements of hero worship for the sister and the discovery before he was ready that idols have clay feet."
"So, easy case," said Cass. "That's quite a thick file for a case that easy, isn't it?"
"That's the thing," said Fenella. "Dr. Fraud starts off with a baseline assumption that the voices that the boy heard belonged to the sheep."
Cass's eyes widened a little and she set her coffee down. She steepled her fingers under her chin, thinking, and Fenella waited. "Well," she said. "I guess that's a line of attack, isn't it? The voices must come from somewhere, and the vegetarianism suggests that the death of the animals is the primary concern for the boy. But... it kind of gives credence to the idea the voices are real. Is that a good idea, do you think?"
"Dr. Fraud thought so," said Fenella. "In the third session he brought a lamb in with him to see if the boy could talk to it."
Cass, who'd picked her coffee back up, spat a mouthful of it all over her keyboard. "He did what?!"
"When the boy asked about it in the fourth session," said Fenella, "the 'good doctor' reports telling him that he'd killed, cooked and eaten it as the boy hadn't succeeded in talking to it."
Cass stared at Fenella as coffee dripped onto the floor, unheeded, by her feet.
"It gets worse," said Fenella.
Greg - I went in blind, having chosen it mostly for the title and expecting a light read. Well there is certainly humor throughout, obviously what's happened brings about some tougher reading.
It's all very well done though.
... I can only imagine how much worse it gets. Feel a little bad for laughing as much as I did, but that's par for the course with Dr. Fraud stories.
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