Drama City - George Pelecanos

At one point in this gritty novel, someone says, “They used to call this Dodge City. Better name would be Drama City.” The city being referred to is Washington, D.C., but it is not the one we are most familiar with, the seat of U.S political power, but rather a much more hard-edged community encompassing both comedy and tragedy, just as we see depicted in the masks of drama. It is the world of the street, the drug dealer, the addict, and those who are trying to leave that world behind.

Lorenzo Brown, the novel’s protagonist, is one of the latter. A black former drug dealer now on parole, he is trying to adhere to the straight life through his job as “a dog police.” Working for the Humane Society, he and his white partner, Mark, have the responsibility of confronting a wide range of people, some criminal, some just addicted, lazy, helpless or irresponsible, in order to ensure the proper treatment of the animals under their care. Lorenzo, the more realistic of the two, has to frequently remind Mark that there are some dogs that cannot be rehabilitated or made adoptable, so scarred are they from the abuse experienced in their lives. These dogs, few in number, become a metaphor for both the limitations and the possibilities of human change.

Rachel Lopez is Lorenzo’s troubled parole officer. By day her tough but compassionate nature serves her well in the demands of work, but by night she is a troubled woman who abuses alcohol and gets into a variety of risky sexual situations, all the time deluding herself that she is in control of her life.

The lives of these struggling people invariably intersect with the world of the drug dealer. Two groups, led by Nigel Johnson and Deacon Taylor, control the streets of their respective turfs in Drama City, each seemingly satisfied with their domains and their agreement not to encroach upon the other’s jurisdiction. However, an almost innocent misunderstanding by one of Johnson’s men over who has rights to a specific corner leads to a series of events that threaten both the rehabilitation of Lorenzo Brown, a former acolyte of Johnson, and the very life of Rachel Lopez.

Pelecanos has fashioned an involving story here. Although his characterization is not as thorough as some of the writers of this genre, he provides sufficient information to involve the reader in Brown’s life to the point where we care about his fate, admiring his efforts at rehabilitation, and concerned about the influences that threaten it.

I don’t think he is as successful with Rachel Lopez. While he provides reasons for her behaviour, the loss of both of her parents and a wild streak observed by her father when she was young, neither seemed especially credible to me. Perhaps had the author spent a little more time with her development, he would have succeeded in creating a three-dimensional character.

In terms of the main drug dealers, Nigel Johnson and Deacon Taylor, Pelacanos invests sufficient humanity in the former by showing that he cares about his mother, as well as his friend and former employee Lorenzo. He does not want the latter to fall back into the criminal life. One senses that had circumstances been different, he might have developed into a productive member of society. Deacon Taylor has no such humanity.

George Pelecanos accomplishes a great deal in his novel. His talent for writing street dialogue lends a verisimilitude to his work that lesser writers are unable to achieve. As well, in the commonplace depictions of the circumstances and behaviour of people existing on the periphery of society, he effectively conveys the cruel reality of the lives of those who, either by social conditioning, fate, economics, or just plain bad luck, have very little chance to break out of the despair of their existences.

Harbingers – F. Paul Wilson

Although it may seem like a low-brow taste, I readily admit to a lifelong affection for well-written horror stories. For many years a fan of Stephen King’s work (although his last few outings have been somewhat disappointing), I also very much enjoy the novels of F. Paul Wilson, a New Jersey doctor who happens to write riveting tales that frequently venture into the other-worldly. Especially gripping is his ‘Repairman Jack” series, revolving as they do around a loner who exists, as he puts it, ‘off the grid,’ a fact that allows him a measure of freedom denied most people.

As his name suggests, Jack makes his living by taking care of other people’s intractable, seemingly irresolvable problems. Because he exists in a kind of netherworld of anonymity, he can eschew conventional approaches and draw upon his unique talents and resources in order to offer remediation to desperate clients. But an interesting evolution has taken place over the course of this series. The formerly solitary Jack has made an emotional connection with a woman and her daughter so deep that in the novel Harbingers, he is ready to ‘go legit’ by adopting an identity that will ultimately make him a citizen who can marry the woman he loves, adopt her child, and be a real father to their unborn child. However, fate has other plans for him.

Without going into too much revealing detail, one of the most compelling and interesting aspects of this series is the way Wilson has connected it to another, called the Adversary Cycle, which began with a novel called The Keep. The latter was an introduction to a cosmology in which two forces, The Ally and The Otherness, vie for control and possession of the earth. The Ally, not to be mistaken for God, has an almost capricious, dispassionate interest in our world while The Otherness, represented on earth by The Adversary, feeds upon human misery and hopelessness, doing everything possible to promote these negative emotions and thereby grow stronger.

It has become apparent in the past several Repairman novels that Jack is somehow a crucial player in this cosmic battle. Exactly what that role is, and the shocking measures used by The Ally to recruit Jack, are revealed in Harbingers. To say more would ruin the pleasure of discovery for the reader. Let’s just say that to cross Jack, even on a cosmic level, is not a wise thing to do.

If you have never read any of the Repairman Jack novels, I strongly suggest that you enjoy them in chronological order, as each novel is related. A complete bibliography can be found at www.repairmanjack.com. May you derive the same pleasure I have with this series.

Boomsday- by Christopher Buckley

Any worthwhile satire is an attempt to point out the shortcomings of humanity through humour and wit, usually with a measure of exaggeration. The ultimate goal is to inspire change. I have always felt that writing a satire of American politics would be a very difficult undertaking, simply because the world of American politics, even without any literary embellishments, is an absurd one. Christopher Buckley’s latest novel, Boomsday, confirmed this for me.

The plot revolves around Cassandra Devine, (aka Cassie Cochrane), a public relations executive and inveterate blogger who, in her latter persona, tries to effect change by challenging her generation of thirty-somethings. Despite her establishment job, which essentially boils down to defending the indefensible through language and optics, she rebels against that establishment by urging her peers to rise up against the boomers who, as they retire, will bankrupt her generation through their social security provisions. Her frustration over the government’s failure to address the issue leads her to make a ‘modest proposal’, in the Jonathan Swift tradition, that Boomers be offered financial incentives in order to commit suicide by age 65, thereby sparing her generation the overwhelming costs of supporting them in their dotage. Euphemistically labeled ‘transitioning,’ this mass suicide would carry with it financial incentives to be enjoyed during the life of the suicide and his/her heirs.

Of course, this proposal is met with predictable outrage. That is, until Senator Randy Jepperson, ‘from the great state of Massachusetts,’ and a friend of Cassandra, decides to use it for his advantage, both raising his national profile in the process and giving the concept political legitimacy. His actions bring out some powerful enemies, including the foul-mouthed President Peacham, his amoral (is there any other kind?) political adviser Bucky Trimble, Cassie’s estranged father, Frank Cochrane, and a Jerry Falwell type of religious figure, Gideon Payne, who many believe killed his mother by driving her off of a cliff.

While the book is undeniably humorous in many ways, whether it is an effective satire is an altogether different consideration for the reason announced at the beginning of this review. We are perhaps too familiar with the self-serving nature of American politics, marked as it is by greed, lust for power, amorality and expediency to derive any real benefit from a book that seeks to satirize these things. In a world where a Karl Rove can retire, unscathed, from his position, where a Vice President can shoot a man in the face and then have that man apologize for the trouble he caused Mr. Cheney, and where a President refuses to extend healthcare for children while spending billions per annum on a futile war, is there really anything more that the world of satirical fiction can achieve?

The Tin Roof Blowdown – James Lee Burke

The overwhelmingly melancholy tone of James Lee Burke’s latest novel, The Tin Roof Blowdown, seems especially apt given both its subject matter, the destruction of New Orleans, and the late middle age of his protagonist, Dave Robicheaux. Set in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, a natural phenomenon that served to reveal government indifference to the plight of the poor, the selfishness, brutality and callousness of the citizenry, and the noblest responses humanity is capable of, the novel explores the themes typical of Burke’s works: greed, depravity, violence, and the always tantalizing possibility of redemption.

Burke is at his narrative best, telling a story that begins with a seemingly routine looting of a flood-ravaged home by four black men, Bertrand and Eddy Melanchon, their cousin Andre Rochon, and Rochon’s nephew, Kevin. However, owing to both the ownership of the house and what has been stolen, as well as a sudden explosion of violence, the crime turns out to be anything but routine, and has far-reaching consequences for all of the story’s principals: an insurance adjuster, Otis Baylor, whose daughter Thelma previously suffered a traumatizing assault; the wife of the adjuster, Melanie; Dave’s longtime friend Clete Purcell as well as Dave and his family – wife Molly and daughter Alafair.

The usual masterful elements of Burke’s plot and characterization are present in this engrossing tale, but there is also something more: the pervasive imagery of death and mortality. There is, for all intents and purposes, the death of New Orleans, the great city which holds the key to much of Dave’s past and identity. As well, in addition to graphic depictions of violence and death, there is a new element: a distinct sense of Dave’s mortality. Throughout the entire series of Robicheaux novels, readers have always understood the precariousness of his existence arising from the war between his self-destructive tendencies and his nobler impulses, as well as the violent world he inhabits as a law-enforcement officer. This time, however, there are more overt musings on time winding down. Consider the following passage, as Clete tells Dave about a dream he had:

I was walking in a woods and I could smell fall in the air. There were leaves and mushrooms all over the ground, and air vines were hanging from the trees. When I came out of the woods, you were standing on the edge of a stream with a suitcase by your foot, like you were about to go on a trip. You said, ‘You walked over a grave, Clete. Didn’t you see it?’ Then you waded into the water.

The connotation of his dream made something drop in my chest, like a stone tumbling down a wall.

‘What do you think it means?’ he said.

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Dreams are just dreams.’

Throughout his entire writing career, James Lee Burke has required that his readers confront the realities of life, both bad and good. Acknowledging the finitude of life is just one more of those realities, but one cannot help but wonder if the author is also telling us about his plans for the literary fate of his aging protagonist, Dave Robicheaux.