Restless – William Boyd

Although never a fan of the espionage genre, with the exception of the Ian Fleming Bond stories when I was a boy, I made a recent exception upon the enthusiastic recommendation of a friend and fellow avid reader. I’m glad I did.

The book, entitled Restless, by William Boyd, is an engrossing tale that takes place in two times, 1976 and the Second World War, and has two strong female protagonists, Sally Gilmartin, originally Eva Delectskaya, and her daughter Ruth. Eva’s story begins in Paris in 1939, not long after the murder of her brother Kolia. She is approached by a man named Luca Romer, for whom Kolia had worked, and is quickly recruited into the British Secret Service. Thus begins her life as a spy.

Meanwhile, in 1976, Eva’s daughter Ruth is a single mother of a five year old when she notices her mother acting strangely, insisting that she is being watched. Over a period of time she hands over the autobiography of her life in espionage, for reasons that become completely apparently only very late in the novel. It is a fascinating story that she gives to Ruth, a life of danger, betrayal, and renewal.

Eva’s activities ostensibly revolve around the British efforts to draw the United States into the Second World War. Through the front of a news agency, Eva and her colleagues specialize in writing and planting spurious stories designed to exaggerate the threat of Nazi penetration into the continental U.S., the goal being to produce a sense of danger sufficient to make the Americans believe that entering the war is in their best self-interests. However, as seems inevitable in the world of espionage, all is not always as it seems, and the reader can look forward to some intriguing twists.

Readers will find themselves drawn into the lives of both mother and daughter, both independent, strong-willed women, and fans of the spy genre will experience sufficient plot surprises to appeal to their sense of historical adventure as well.

All in all, a very compelling novel!

Some Quick Picks

While some time has passed since I last wrote on this blog, my reading has been as active and varied as ever; while some of the books have had some interesting elements, but not sufficiently compelling to warrant recommendation, other authors have proven to be reliable purveyors of their particular genre. Following are some ‘quick picks’, accompanied by some very brief comments for each:

Saving Fish From Drowning – by Amy Tan

Using the persona of a ghost as her narrator, Amy Tan does her usual magnificent job in offering acute observations of the clash of cultures, this time by having a group of Americans of various backgrounds taking a tour of Myamar, formerly Burma. Amidst much wry humor, Tan is also able to explore some very serious themes, not the least of which is the frequently misguided notion of Westerners that they can solve the problems of people about whom they know nothing. Unsparing in her examination of the brutal oppression of the military regime currently running the country, the author achieves a remarkable result in this novel: entertainment and edification.

The Accidental Time Machine – by Joe Haldeman

This quirky novel can perhaps best be described as science fiction for those who don’t normally read the genre. As the title suggests, the plot revolves around an accidental invention of a time machine in the form of a calibrator; this machine transports itself and anything/one connected to it into the future in exponential jumps in both time and place, affording the author the opportunity, in the vein of H.G. Wells’ classic, to offer social commentary on a myriad of human foibles. Well worth the read!

Obsession – by Jonathan Kellerman

Every novel written by this psychologist over the years has proven to be satisfying. Part detective, part mystery, part psychological thriller, Kellerman’s latest revolves around the provocative deathbed statement of the mother of one of his former patients, in which she seems to confess a murder to her daughter. While no one who knew the competent, highly regarded and compassionate mother and nurse believes there is any credibility to this, her enigmatic statement sets of a series of events and twists that provide the kind of challenges the author’s readers have come to expect over the years.

Born Standing Up – Steve Martin

Anyone of a certain age who, over the years, has enjoyed the somewhat skewed humour of Steve Martin, comedian, writer, actor and filmmaker, will find real pleasure in reading this gentle and gracious memoir of his development as a stand-up comic. From his early days performing at the Bird Cage Theatre housed at Knott’s Berry Farm, to his writing for the Smothers Brothers, to his appearances on the Tonight Show and Saturday Night Live, through to the end of his stand-up performances in front of tens of thousands of people, Martin provides both wit and insight as he explains what it means to be a comedian. Anyone looking for lurid details of his personal life will be disappointed. An intensely private man, Martin provides only the personal information necessary to understand the factors that contributed to the development of his career. All in all, a classy memoir.

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.

The Overlook – Michael Connelly

Although appreciably shorter than previous installments, Michael Connelly’s latest Harry Bosch novel makes for the usual compelling reading. Originally published as a sixteen-part serial for the New York Times Magazine, and then expanded for publication, The Overlook begins routinely enough, with the murder of Dr. Stanley Kent, a medical physicist with access to cesium, used in both cancer treatment and as a key radioactive component of the so-called “dirty bomb.” Followup investigation finds Kent’s wife, Alicia, naked and hog-tied on the matrimonial bed, and what she ultimately reveals about her captivity sends the FBI’s Homeland Security Unit into immediate action, thereby bringing about Harry’s reunion with his old love interest, Rachel Walling.

The plot contains the twists and turns one expects from Michael Connelly, with a resolution that quite frankly, I did not anticipate, despite some cleverly planted clues. But as always, the real pleasure for me is the characterization of Harry Bosch. Although he is getting older (in this novel he is 56), his instincts continue to serve him well. It is these instincts that bring him into a seemingly perennial opposition to his superiors, but this time out his rebellion takes a slightly less conspicuous form; perhaps he has learned that outright defiance has costs he is no longer willing to bear. Another interesting development is the fact that he has a new, much younger partner, Ignacio Ferras, who, as the novel progresses, becomes increasing nervous about his prospects for career longevity owing to Harry’s unorthodox practices, and at one point declares that their partnership is not working. Needless to say, he changes his opinion by the end of the novel.

The Overlook works effectively on the fears of terrorism that began with the 9/11 attacks, but interestingly enough, while all other law enforcement figures are busy trying to track down the missing cesium, Harry remains true to his calling and to his vision of what it means to be a homicide detective. His credo is a simple one: the investigator has to speak for those who no longer can, and this pursuit of justice in apprehending those responsible for Stanley Kent’s murder never becomes secondary to concerns about terrorist attacks.

Fans of Michael Connelly will not be disappointed in this latest episode in Harry’s life, although they may well lament the fact that their reading pleasure is limited to only 225 pages this time out.