Alternate titles for this book:
Dexter Doesn't Do Dinner, Dexter Gets a Cold, Dexter Joins Boy Scouts, and Dexter Meets Jaws.
Let me get the really horrible shit out of the way. I get the fact that Rita has always been the house-wifey sort. I dig that she enjoys cooking and cleaning and raising her kids. I get that. My wife and I have been together for fifteen years. She hasn't applied for a job since 2005 (I would never say she hasn't had a job since 2005 because being a stay-at-home Mom is probably one of the hardest jobs there is). This is a mutually agreed upon thing. She wanted to stay home and raise the kids, homeschool them, and I want whatever makes her happy. This does not give me the right to bitch when she doesn't have dinner ready for me, which Dexter does, insistently, throughout this book. In fact, I cannot think of a single chapter past maybe chapter eight that doesn't have Dexter wondering where his goddamn dinner is. Once again, I understand that this is just these characters, that Dexter is a sociopath who doesn't like his routine spoiled and Rita enjoys playing house and being run over, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Plus, it makes for a boring read to hear a character bitching about the same nonsense over and over and over...
The coincidences in this one are so obviously slapped together that not even the dark comedy could save this read for me. You have Rita thinking that Dexter's cheating, because he's always disappearing and coming home sweaty. Then someone frames him for infidelity. Mind you, this bad guy doesn't know that Rita thinks Dexter's cheating. These two events just happen to occur at the same time. There is no reason for Rita to suddenly start believing Dexter is stepping out. His routine hasn't changed in five books. It simply worked for this book, so Lindsay said, "Fuck it," and threw it in. Then you have Rita and Dexter house hunting. And guess what? They go to an open house for a home wherein Dexter has just recently killed someone.
In case you're wondering, I'm not done with the bad yet. The book comes to a screeching halt around the 75% mark and doesn't get going again for another 20%. During this time, you have Dexter having breakfast, Dexter running errands, and Dexter going on a boy scout excursion. The last time I read this much padding in a book I was flipping through a pillow catalog. The trip to Cuba in the last book was bad enough, but this meandering bullshit is insulting to the reader. "John Q. Public won't know if I stuffed this bird with turkey-flavored cotton."
And then... (oh, goddamn, this one) and then... (take a deep breath) And then Jaws makes an appearance. Yes, Jaws. Not the Jaws of James Bond fame. But motherfucking swimming-ass, fin-having, people-eating, goddamn Jaws. What is this shit - Abbott and Costello Need a Bigger Boat?
Here's where I talk about the narration of the audiobook. Maybe it's because Lindsay had to narrate these fucking things back to back to back, or maybe even he realized what kind of shit this book is. All I know is, one of these things is not like the other. His character acting is horrible in this one. It's forced and stilted, and I have a funny feeling Lindsay was laughing internally the entire time. I could almost hear him giggling and saying: "I can't believe I got away with publishing this shit."
No math needed. Narration and story both get one star.
In summation: I've seen series go downhill. I quit that Sandman Slim bullshit, but finished Odd Thomas's clusterfuck, but I've never seen a series be so consistently average only to jump the shark (pun most definitely motherfucking intended) mid-series. I said in one of my reviews that Lindsay is nothing if he's not consistent... well, I was wrong. So shoot me.
Final Judgment: Only a post-coital penis gives less of a fuck.