Never Suck a Dead Man's Hand

January 29, 2007
Fans of CSI and Court TV, your book has arrived: a chronicle of the most unusual, macabre and malodorous experiences from 10-plus years of crime scene investigation. Baltimore Police Department CSI Kollman has the enthusiasm, wit (she dedicates the book "to all the bugs I've loved before") and natural storytelling ability to make this memoir sparkle-not easy for a text devoted largely to death and decay. Kollmann aims to educate those with "a Hollywood mentality about a Hell's Kitchen kind of job," and to that end she accentuates glamourless, largely drama-free case-solving. Thankfully, however, there's no lack of adventure: Kollman gets her title from a mishap she suffered while trying to get prints on a bitterly cold night, huffing on the fingers of an accident fatality. At another scene, a rotating ceiling fan flings down grisly bits of a suicide victim's head; at another, maggots are already devouring a body as Kollman tries to get photos. Amid consideration of office politics and her long-suffering family ("literally sickened by my job"), crime-scene anecdotes can get bogged down in details; luckily, Kollman's bright prose, which achieves an approachable, chick-lit tone without sounding flip, makes this squirm-inducing tale highly enjoyable. Photos.

February 12, 2007
Fans of CSI and Court TV, your book has arrived: a chronicle of the most unusual, macabre and malodorous experiences from 10-plus years of crime scene investigation. Baltimore Police Department CSI Kollman has the enthusiasm, wit (she dedicates the book "to all the bugs I've loved before") and natural storytelling ability to make this memoir sparkle-not easy for a text devoted largely to death and decay. Kollmann aims to educate those with "a Hollywood mentality about a Hell's Kitchen kind of job," and to that end she accentuates glamourless, largely drama-free case-solving. Thankfully, however, there's no lack of adventure: Kollman gets her title from a mishap she suffered while trying to get prints on a bitterly cold night, huffing on the fingers of an accident fatality. At another scene, a rotating ceiling fan flings down grisly bits of a suicide victim's head; at another, maggots are already devouring a body as Kollman tries to get photos. Amid consideration of office politics and her long-suffering family ("literally sickened by my job"), crime-scene anecdotes can get bogged down in details; luckily, Kollman's bright prose, which achieves an approachable, chick-lit tone without sounding flip, makes this squirm-inducing tale highly enjoyable. Photos.

Copyright 2007 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

December 1, 2006
Former Baltimore County Police Department CSI Kollmann tells her story in the perky manner of the " CSI " and " Law and Order" TV franchises, proudly delivering terse commentary and gory detail while puncturing common tube-inspired misconceptions about forensics. "You can't get fingerprints off of rocks," she imparts, and "crime scene investigators don't interview suspects." Furthermore, "luminol doesn't glow blue hours after it's sprayed," and "a miniskirt and heels" aren't the usual raiment of distaff CSIs. Kollmann eventually left the crime lab after realizing she "didn't want the cranberry sauce [at] Thanksgiving . . . to remind [her] of blood clots anymore." This informative, witty treatment of her work accessibly illuminates the reality of forensic science, making it a natural adjunct to true-crime collections. The title, by the way, refers to "the day a dead man's hand ended up in [Kollmann's] mouth\rdblquote\endash\endash just one of the many true-life experiences unlikely to befall TV CSIs that she reports. (Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2006, American Library Association.)