DREAM GIRL

An injured literary lion is held captive in his waterfront Baltimore condo.

There's a moment in Lippman's latest novel when her delightful series detective, Tess Monaghan, walks into the room and, for a moment, it seems everything could be all right. Unfortunately, it's just a cameo, and we're soon back with our uninspiring cast of three: novelist Gerry Andersen, who's had a debilitating fall, and the two women taking care of him, personal assistant Victoria and night nurse Aileen. At 61, Andersen has never repeated the success of his prizewinning bestseller, Dream Girl, and it's been quite a while since he wrote anything at all. He moved to Baltimore to take care of his mother in her last days, but even after her unexpectedly speedy death, he didn't return to New York, where the last of his many bad decisions involving women is waiting to shake him down for whatever she can get. This ploy doesn't work, and the woman shows up in Baltimore. Even more distressing, Gerry gets a phone call from a woman claiming to be the inspiration for Dream Girl, only, as he's told everyone for years, there is no real person who played that role. All the while, no matter what happens, Andersen's mind generates a literary or cultural connection, from Pete Townshend's solo album to Ben Jonson's plays to The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Some are explained, some aren't, so the reader sometimes feels as stupid as Gerry thinks everyone is. It's too bad this book has to be compared to Misery, because despite similarities in setup, it's no Misery. All the reveals come after you have figured them out; the murders are played for camp. The most gaspworthy moment in the book comes in the author's note: "If you want to play the game of figuring out who Gerry Andersen is, check out the author photo on this book." No! It can't be.

In her 25th novel, Lippman messes up a near-perfect batting average.