I swear, sometimes those book display types at the public library are too savvy for me, and I find myself taking home books in a haze of nice placement and intertextual interest.
I don't particularly like mysteries, I have zero interest in Tennessee (no offense, Tennessee, I'm sure you're a really nice person), and my knowledge of forensics is gleaned from CSI. Or CSI: Miami, which means mostly forensics is about bikinied women running along the beach, and oh my god! what the hell is that!
So, this book is mystery, based on forensics, set in Tennessee. And Tennessee, despite the fact that this author hales from your fair state, I think you should be a little offended about your depiction. Tennessee, you've gotten a bad rap about hilly billies and incest and whatnot, and here's a story that hinges on all of those things.
And Tennessee, I'm not sure what to think of the use of dialect in the conversations. Whoo-wee jammer, we'uns got a right good one, uh huh. Makes me think the speakers are idiots, even when we're told by the narrator like 100 times that they're not.
And cock fighting, really?
Anyway, Tennessee, with friends like this, who needs hillbillies? You could totally do better, and I wish you luck, man.