Category: Authors Page 49 of 124

Hi Five by Joe Ide: A Criminal for a Client, an Unreliable Witness, and a Larger Number than Usual that Want Him Dead. IQ has his work cut out for him.

By HCNewton

On February 25, 2020

In Fiction, IQ/Isaiah Quintabe, Joe Ide, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller

Hi Five

by Joe Ide
Series: IQ, #4

Hardcover, 339 pg.https://www.mulhollandbooks.com/titles/joe-ide/hi-five/9780316509534/
Mulholland Books, 2020

Read: February 10-16, 2020

Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

Isaiah has tried to move on after the heartbreak of Wrecked, and has a new girlfriend. This is unfortunate for her—not because IQ is a bad boyfriend or anything—it’s just that when a low-life gun dealer needs Isaiah to investigate something for him, he threatens the poor girl to insure that Isaiah will do it.

What he needs Isaiah to do is clear his daughter of murder. She’s the only witness to the event, but can’t give the police (or our hero) much information about it, despite being in the same room as the murder. Why? Well (and this feels like spoiling something, but it’s on the book jacket), she has Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID)—what we used to call Multiple Personality Disorder—and given the stress and danger presented by a man being shot in her shop, Christina wasn’t “there” for most of what happened. Now, did her father bother mentioning this to Isaiah? Nope. but he thankfully figures that out fairly quickly. So now our intrepid investigator has to look into a murder with an eyewitness/prime suspect who didn’t see anything, and who can’t convince anyone who did see something to say something—and if he doesn’t succeed, someone he cares about will pay the penalty (and he assumes he’ll pay, too).

This is such a fantastic idea for a murder case—it could easily be a sloppily executed idea, but if someone does their homework and does a responsible job depicting DID, this is a wonderful fodder for drama. Please, if there are other examples of mystery writers doing this, fill up the comments with titles. I’d love to read other versions of this—and can’t believe that Ide’s the first to do this.

Most authors would be content to fully develop this idea and run with it for the whole novel. But not Ide. In fact, as interesting as it is, the murder case is not the most interesting thing about Hi Five. I’m pretty sure that’s impressive. To take a concept like that and say, “well, sure, but what’s important is the trouble that Isaiah finds himself in because of the investigation.” That’s bad enough, but Isaiah has recently run afoul of a gang of white supremacists after gang violence has hit someone that Isaiah and Dodson (particularly Dodson) respect and admire.

Oh, and Grace is back.

Ide also finds a way to work in some lighter stories and even a little sweetness. And the book never feels crowded, and everything gets dealt with in the space it needs. Sure, I’d have preferred to spend more time dealing with Christina and her “alters,” but that’s a personal taste thing. I’m a sucker for a good DID story. But what Ide wanted to focus on justifies cutting that storyline some of the space I’d prefer it get.

The tension is high and Isaiah has never seemed more human and fallible (including when he was being waterboarded because of some foolish moves).

Some of the reviews I’ve read about this book seem to think that Ide’s wrapping up the series here. I can see why they’d say that, Hi Five could certainly serve as a fitting end to the series. but it seems to e that Ide has more he wants to say. The way he left things with Isaiah points to a triumphant return. Also, toward the end of the novel, something pretty significant happens to Deondra and I just don’t see Ide leaving things where he did and just walking away—the scene is extraneous unless he’s coming back to follow up on it. I hope I’m reading things right, but if I’m not, this is a solid way to go out.

This is not my favorite of the series, but it is so, so good, that it doesn’t bother me too much. It’s just a pleasure to be back in this prose, in this world, with most of these characters. A great mystery (with a better hook), some great character development, a client you can’t help but loathe—but a subject that you’ll pull for (and want to see more of). Hi Five is just one more proof that Joe Ide is one of the best writers in the genre right now. This is a decent entry to start with, but you’d be better off starting with IQ. But honestly, just grab the nearest book by Ide and enjoy.

4 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Classic Spenser: The Godwulf Manuscript by Robert B. Parker

By HCNewton

On February 24, 2020

In Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Reread Project, Robert B. Parker, Spenser

Classic Spenser

The Godwulf Manuscript

by Robert B. Parker
Series: Spenser, #1

Mass Market Paperback, 204 pg.
Dell, 1973

Read: January 25-27, 2020

Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

Driving back to Boston, I thought about my two retainers in the same week. Maybe I’d buy a yacht. On the other hand maybe it would be better to get the tear in my convertible roof fixed. The tape leaked.

I came to this series about thirteen (possibly fourteen) years late, but to be fair, I would have been thirteen (possibly fourteen) when I started reading it. I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate Spenser without having spent some time with Leroy Brown, Jupiter Jones/Peter Crenshaw/Bob Andrews, Tabitha-Ruth Wexler and others (as I’ve invoked Brown, I hope I remember to draw a line between Sally Kimball and Spenser’s version when I discuss Promised Land). The Godwulf Manuscript wasn’t the first novel I read in the series, I’m going to guess I’d read three or four others before I found this in a used book store. I did find, I now know, a copy with the original cover (as seen above). A year or two later, I loaned it to a friend who proceeded to lose it. I got over it (probably because I didn’t care about things like early editions then) and despite losing that copy, that friend later became my first college roommate, and I didn’t kill him in his sleep for it. Not even once.

That excursus down memory lane means nothing to you, but I put it there in case that friend reads this post. I hope he remembers the Klingon proverb, bortaS bIr jablu’DI’ reH QaQqu’ nay’.

I’ll hold off on talking more about my background with this series for now, but the fact I’ve been reading, and re-reading, and re-re-reading, and re-re-re-reading these books since 1986 (possibly 1987) probably gives you a pretty good idea what I think of them. I could probably write lengthy posts on the first twenty novels in this series without reading them again—but where would be the fun in that? Of the twelve Spenser novels I’ll be revisiting this year, this one is in my bottom two and I’ve read it at least fifteen times, and I don’t see me stopping reading it anytime until I start sleeping the big sleep.

Yeah, that was a purposeful Raymond Chandler allusion. Why? Because this whole novel is a giant Chandler allusion^*. From naming his main character after a British poet; to Spener’s attitude, demeanor, voice, etc.; to the opening paragraphs; and so, so much more this whole book screams Parker’s debt to and affection for Raymond Chandler. Spenser as a Shadow of Philip Marlowe will ebb and flow over the years, but I don’t think it’s ever more pronounced than it is in these pages.

^* Yeah, there are other influences afoot in these pages, I realize. But Chandler is the primary influence, and this isn’t a dissertation. I don’t have the time to be exhaustive, I have at least 9 other posts I want to complete this week and if I don’t cut a corner or two, I won’t be able to get to them.

So what are these two retainers mentioned above? The first comes from an unnamed university that bears a striking resemblance to Northeastern (Parker’s employer when this was released). An illuminated manuscript has been stolen and is being held for ransom. The problem? (or at least one of them) The University doesn’t have the kind of cash the ‘script-nappers want. They do have a suspect, however, a radical political group on campus: SCACE (Student Committee Against Capitalist Exploitation). Catchy, eh? Spenser starts looking into the group, focusing on a couple of the leaders.

Within a few hours, one of those leaders is dead and another is the prime suspect for the murder. She’d called Spenser for help right after the murder, and he believes her (for compelling reasons you should read for yourself). This leads to the second retainer, her father—a pretty successful capitalist, it should be noted—hires Spenser to clear her for the murder.

The hunt for the manuscript and the murder will end up involving a cult, a couple of very dysfunctional marriages, drug dealing, a couple of hitmen, and a mob boss. Basically, Spenser has his hands full.

While there are many aspects of this novel that Parker will tweak for future installments, there’s a lot that he establishes here that he’ll revisit. Spenser gets fired because of his attitude (as demonstrated by his ignoring—rightly—the University’s insistence that he leave faculty alone), his being fired doesn’t stop him from sticking with the job, however. There’s a shootout in an unpopulated area near Boston^*. Spenser cooks a pretty decent meal for himself (not quite Fritz Brenner’s level, but close enough for a guy cooking for one), and proves himself more literate than anyone looking at him would assume. The climactic fight will be echoed in upcoming books, featuring someone who has no business fighting anyone taking on a hardened criminal of sorts solely on the basis of love and desperation. Parker does get away from this, which is good—if only for the sake of variety—but man, I love it every time he uses this.

^* My knowledge of Massachusetts geography comes wholly from the novels of Parker, William Tapply and Dennis Lehane, so I can’t be more specific than “unpopulated”.

Spenser physically roughs up a couple of college kids and verbally pushes around an older man. Each incident is followed by Spenser berating himself. This is the kind of thing that you don’t see a whole lot in the hardboiled world before Spenser’s debut. Parker will do a more subtle job in the future of showing that while Spenser will resort to violence when necessary, he doesn’t relish it (except when he knows the recipient is guilty of something) and regrets the act. But here, it’s pretty clear that Parker’s trying to show that Spenser isn’t unfeeling about acts of aggression.

There are things that show up here that will disappear—Spenser sleeps with two different women and is fairly casual about it. He’ll later become a paragon of monogamy, but that’s a couple of years away. Still, he’s less of a player next time we see him. He’s also a bit more antagonistic to most of the police that he encounters than he’ll be in books to come. Some of that is a shift in Spenser, some of that is a growth in the relationships he develops with individual members of BPD.

The main thing that sticks around in the future are some of the characters—we meet people here that Spenser still knows and interacts with on a regular basis. Spenser flirts a lot with the secretary for the head of Campus Security, and we’ll see her later. A reporter for the Campus newspaper gives Spenser a lot of help and information about various people/groups on campus, her name is Iris Milford and when Ace Atkins brought her back in 2015, I may have let out an audible whoop. We meet Spenser’s lawyer, Vince Haller, who not only helps Spenser, but the college student being framed. Haller will eventually disappear from the stage (I realize as I write this), but he’s a frequent presence for a long time to come.

But the three big recurring characters are Lt. Martin Quirk, Sgt. Frank Belson and Joe Broz. Spenser and Belson (a homicide detective) have some history and clearly respect (and even like) each other. Belson’s smart, appears lazy (appears), perpetually has a cheap cigar in his mouth (I think that’s a characteristic in this novel, if not, it will be next time we see him). Belson’s superior is Lt. Quirk. Quirk is a very no-nonsense cop, he’s driven, almost humorless, and has no use for private investigators, but sees a little value in Spenser and begins to trust him a bit over the course of this novel. Joe Broz, on the other hand, couldn’t be less a homicide detective if he tried—you could argue Broz (and his employees) are responsible for the continued careers for a handful of homicide detectives. He’s a crime boss of some notoriety and viciousness. At this point (and for some time to come), he’s the most powerful mobster in Boston (although we will soon meet competition). Spenser will be a thorn in Broz’s side for a long, long time.

It occurs to me that I haven’t described Spenser himself. He’s a former professional boxer (not that good, but he did get his nose broken by someone who was very good); a Korean War vet; a former Massachusetts State Trooper, assigned to the DA’s office in a County that fluctuates depending on Parker’s memory; and now a Private Investigator. He’s very literate, he likes to cook (as I mentioned), he drinks a lot, thinks he’s funnier than anyone else does (except the readers of the novels)—which brings him a lot of grief. We don’t get a lot of insight into it in this novel, but honor’s very important to him and it will influence the way he deals with clients, victims, criminals and everyone else along the way. He’s very much a latter-day knight.

I’m not sure that the mystery is all that clever, but the strength of this book is riding along with Spenser as he goes around annoying people until someone does something that he can catch them at (a strategy he’ll spell out in the future, but follows here). I love the voice, I enjoy the character, and watching him go about his business is a pure joy for me.

I haven’t discussed the action/fight scenes yet, and Parker’s approach to them (particularly in the first 15-20 of the series) has always greatly appealed to me. Parker has to address violence, given his chosen genre–and Spenser is a violent man. But in months to come, we see the character address that in such a way to give us insight into why Parker uses it the way he does (I think). So I’ll put a pin in this for now (also, this is long-winded enough at this point that I’ll take any excuse to wrap things up).

I, obviously, highly recommend this book—but I’ll be the first to say that the second is much better and the fourth and fifth in this series are better yet. You don’t have to start with this one for future books to make sense—in fact, you might appreciate Spenser more if you start later on. But for my money, you’re not likely to find many characters as compelling in contemporary (or at least late-Twentieth Century) hardboiled fiction. For introducing the character to the world/the world to the character of Spenser, The Godwulf Manuscript is well-worth the time. Even if it wasn’t the start of something big, it’s still entertaining enough for me to encourage you to read it.

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Not Dressed by Matthew Hanover: If this book doesn’t bring a smile to your face, something’s broken

By HCNewton

On February 18, 2020

In Fiction, General Fiction/Literature, Matthew Hanover

Not Dressed

by Matthew Hanover
Series: Wallflowers, #2

eARC
2020

Read: January 3-6, 2019

“Hey there, Jake. This should be fun, right?”…

“I guess,” I say.

“You don’t sound too excited,” she says as she takes a hair tie off her wrist and pulls her disheveled hair back into a ponytail.

“Yeah, well. I’m not good at dancing.”

“Obviously! That’s why you’re here. Same as me. I’m probably just as bad as you. But we’ll learn together, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra,” she says.

“I…have no idea what that means.”

“It’s from Star Trek…Actually, Star Trek: The Next Generation. It means we’ll work together to solve a common problem. In this case, the problem is learning how to dance.”

“I gotcha. So, you’re like…a Trekkie?”

“Was my sweatshirt not a big enough clue?”

“No, I just—”

“You’re not a Star Wars fan, are you? If you are, you’ll have to find a different partner.”

Jake Evans is our protagonist—he’s a decent enough guy, who could probably use some maturing (which means he’s like 90% of guys in their twenties). He’s got a great girlfriend (although the relationship seems a bit rocky when we meet him) and is second-guessing his chosen career (partially because he has a horrid employer, and partially because architecture isn’t the career he thought it would be). There are signs that he’d be a pretty fun guy to hang out with, but when the book opens he’s got a pretty good-sized cloud over his head between the girl and the gig.

Lindsay’s his long-time girlfriend. She works in radio and is very passionate about her job. She’s enjoying a little bit of success, and has a hard time relating to Jake’s struggles. She’s the producer and in-all-but-name on-air sidekick to a Boston-area conservative talk show host, who calls her “Lefty Lindsay.” (don’t worry, politics are absent from the book!) At least when the book opens, I really didn’t see why the two of them were a couple. There’s a good chance that neither of them rembered at that point, either, it had been so long.

Two things about their relationship provide most of the initial conflict for the plot. First, due to some financial hits they’ve taken recently, Lindsay has taken some modeling gigs to make some extra money. She did it back in college, which was recent enough that she still had connections. Why didn’t Jake do something to make extra money? He’s having a hard enough time finding a replacement full-time job that it didn’t seem like a good idea to try to add another job search to his plate. Besides, Lindsay’s moonlighting is profitable enough. What she neglects to mention to Jake is that this modeling is for art classes at a local college. And, well, none of these artists-in-training are working on fashion degrees—clothing gets in the way of what they’re learning to draw/paint/sculpt. Jake’s an open-minded kind of guy, except when it comes to this, it’s not pretty when he finds out (although it’s a pretty amusing scene for readers when he does).

Meanwhile, Jake’s sister’s wedding is coming up and Lindsay has decided the two of them need to learn to dance before it. Besides, it’s a fun activity for the two of them—they never go out mid-week anymore, and their relationship could use a boost. So she signs them up for a dance class, and then tells Jake about it after she paid for it, so he pretty much has to agree to it, but isn’t really that interested. So she basically promises him sex if he goes. Which pretty much seals the deal. But then Lindsay’s show gets moved to a new (and better) time slot. So, in addition to not being able to make the class, the couple will hardly see each other during the week. Her plan is that Jake will go, and then on the weekend, teach her the moves (he insists on getting his payment in advance for this).

Jake hates this new plan, and is convinced that he’s going to be stuck dancing with the instructor (after he and the reader meets this instructor, no one thinks this is going to be fun for him). Thankfully, just before class starts, Kaylee walks in. You read her opening dialogue up above. She’s a few years younger than Jake, taking some time out from college to figure out what she wants to do with her life, and is a major geek. She’s almost a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but doesn’t fit the category in a few ways (I’m only using that term because I’m afraid this post is getting too long and I want to pick up the pace). She’s also my favorite character of 2020 so far (granted, that would mean more if it wasn’t January 13th).

Kaylee and Jake strike up a nice little friendship during the class, and pretty soon, he’s going so he has an excuse to hang out with her. The two of them are fun together—she’s socially awkward and embarrassed to be herself, Jake tries to shake her out of that, and even encourages her to let her Geek-Flag fly (even if he doesn’t get any of it). Meanwhile, she’s encouraging about his job hunt (as opposed to Lindsay, who mostly nags or wants him to find a way to succeed where he is), and gets him to be a little less angst-y about his life. I like Jake more when he’s in friend with Kaylee-mode over guy with Lindsay-mode. But what do I know? I have a tendency to pick people the protagonists don’t in these situations (I won’t provide examples because I’d expose myself to too much ridicule).

The one last bit of Jake’s life we need to talk about is his job. It’s horrible. He has a nice group of work-friends who band together for mutual support (and complaints), but the atmosphere at work is toxic, and their superiors would be enough to turn anyone against their chosen field. For example, in the first chapter, Jake’s two-year anniversary with the company happens and he asks his boss about scheduling his annual review (which will hopefully involve a raise, which he could really use). His boss stammers and suggests an alternate date, nine months away. Yeah, Jake’s bad attitude toward work makes a little sense, doesn’t it?

I worked as a draftsman at an architecture firm some years ago, and while the atmosphere there wasn’t at all what Jake experienced, Hanover did do a great job of capturing the kind of work and personalities that I saw—which doesn’t really match the typical depiction of architects in fiction. I liked that bit of realism. (I asked Hanover about that in an upcoming Q&A, but I haven’t read his responses yet, looking forward to seeing where that authenticity came from).

Getting back to Jake’s life—what we have here is a stagnant (at best) relationship that’s got a couple of pretty big things to work through; a job situation that needs addressing; and a new friend that is really the only positive thing in his life. Jake’s life is basically begging to be shaken up, is Kaylee going to help instigate that?

There’s something about Hanover’s style that I can’t express, but I wish I could. This book (like last year’s Not Famous) is effortless to read. When I started this book, it was late in the day and I thought I’d just stick a toe in the water, maybe read about 10% of it. Before I knew it, I was about a third into the book (and were it not for the time of day, I’d have probably finished it in one sitting!). It’s funny, it’s sweet, it’s infectious, it’s engaging as anything I can remember. I cared about these characters and got invested in their lives faster than I typically do.

Jonathan Tropper tends to have certain character types that show up in every novel—particularly the wise sister/friend-who-might-as-well-be-sister* (many authors do this kind of thing, I know, but Tropper is who I thought of when I was reading this book). Hanover shows signs of the same thing—sisters play a big role in both of his novels to date. He doesn’t use them the same way that Tropper does, don’t get me wrong, but his male protagonists are more honest and open about their emotional lives because of sisters. This is neither good or bad, it’s just a trait that he may have—it’s something I’ll be looking for next time. (again, see the Q&A for more on this topic). I like that there’s someone who can draw this out of a character without the need for alcohol, drugs or trauma—also, that he bares his soul first to someone who isn’t a love interest.

* There are other types that Tropper utilizes constantly, too, if I ever get around to my big re-read of his corpus, I’ll end up compiling a chart.

There’s a bit of conventional wisdom discussed here that I didn’t know before reading this book.

“You realize that dancing is basically foreplay, right?”

“So I’ve heard.” [Jake replies]

Four chapters later:

“Because dancing is, like, totally foreplay, you know.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” [Jake asks]

I counted someone telling that to Jake four times (with at least one more allusion). Is this really a thing that everyone thinks/says? I may need to cancel some of my daughter’s plans for the next 20 years…

I’d forgotten that Hanover had said there’d be a link between Not Famous and this book. It’s small, and if you haven’t read his other novel, you won’t miss anything. But if you have, you’ll enjoy the brief catch-up you get about the lives of the protagonists of that novel. It brought a big grin to my face.

There was a slight flavor of Nick Hornby wanna-be-ness to Not Famous that’s not present here. Instead, what Hanover has done is take that same voice and put it to use telling a story that’s all him (while being the kind of thing that Hornby readers will appreciate). I do think that Hanover could go a bit deeper in his characterizations (I have very little sense about Jake apart from work/Lindsay) and his plots could add a little more complexity. I’m looking for a few degrees of depth/complexity, not much. But that doesn’t stop me from loving this world and characters, and it doesn’t keep me from encouraging you all to grab this book when it releases next month.

This heart-warming tale about being who you are and finding acceptance for it is a real winner. Adorkable, irresistible, and just fun—Not Dressed is sure to please (if you are so led, book is available for pre-order). I don’t know what Not Description is next for Hanover, but I’m already eager to read it.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion and this post. I appreciate the book, but it didn’t sway what I had to say.

4 Stars

Winterkill (Audiobook) by C. J. Box, David Chandler: Pickett Battles Winter and Paranoia to Find Justice

By HCNewton

On February 11, 2020

In A-B, C. J. Box, Fiction, G-L, Joe Pickett, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller

I wish I knew what it was about Joe Pickett novels that made them difficult for me to write about. I ended up not writing anything about the first two books in the series and it took me three attempts to get this done (which was followed, naturally, by saving this as a draft rather than scheduling the post…). In the end, I was a bit more spoilery than I like to be, but the book has been out since ’04 (the audiobook since ’14), with 17 more books in the series. I’m giving myself a little more leeway with it than I’d normally grant myself.
—

Winterkill

by C. J. Box, David Chandler (Narrator)
Series: Joe Pickett, #3

Unabridged Audiobook, 11 hrs., 25 mins
Recorded Books, 2014

Read: January 29-31, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

Joe Pickett is wrapping up a pretty routine day when he stumbles on to a U.S. Forest Service Supervisor acting in an irrational (at best) manner. While Joe’s trying to apprehend him (I’ll spare you the details, but it’s similar to the incident that kicked off the first book, and will give Joe’s critics plenty to mock him about), he’s murdered in a noteworthy manner.

As he was a witness (and the only one who can lead anyone to the crime scene), Joe’s attached to the investigation that features state officials, the Sheriff’s office and a Forest Service official (who brings a reporter in her wake). They quickly identify a suspect and make a fast (and brutal) arrest. Something in the way that the suspect reacts makes Joe wonder if they’ve got the right guy.

This wondering is compounded when the suspect reaches out to Joe a couple of days later to ask him two favors. Nate Romanowski is, among other things, a falconer who left two birds behind when he was arrested. Favor one is to feed the birds. Favor two is to get him out of jail—Nate and Joe have never met before, but Nate’s read about him and figures Joe’s his best shot after the events of the last two novels.

From a thing or two I’ve read, I think Nate’s going to be around for awhile. Which is fine with me, I enjoyed his character a good deal. He’s a former special-ops guy who wants nothing to do with any governmental entity anymore. He just wants to live on his own terms and take care of his birds. I could be wrong, but at this point, it looks like Box is establishing Nate as Joe’s Hawk/Joe Pike/Bubba Rogowski/Henry Standing Bear-figure. Although really, to qualify as Joe’s lethal pal, is a low standard—it’s not like Joe can use a firearm with any kind of accuracy. If my hunch is right, and he’ll be around more in the future, I’ll be very happy to know him better.

As before, Joe’s daughter Sheridan is a Point-of-View character as well. She doesn’t play as large a role in this novel, but when she shows up, it matters. Her appearances in the narrative are also a pretty good signal that it’s time for something heart-wrenching to happen.

Before I forget, I want to say something about Joe’s family. I love, love, love his family. His wife, Marybeth, may be the best Significant Other in crime fiction—supportive, tough, she’s not a wilting flower nor an obstacle to his work. His other daughter, Lucy, is as cute as you could hope for (am sure we’ll get something more than cuteness from her in a while). And how many crime fiction heroes are plagued by a mother-in-law like his—the dynamic between the two is wonderful.^*

^* Wonderful to read, that is. It’d be a miserable, unhealthy, and precarious situation to live through.

There are three factors that make it difficult for Joe (or anyone else) to investigate a murder. The first is snow. The novel takes place in the days before and after Christmas and even for this section of Wyoming, the snow is heavy. The second complicating factor is the arrival in town of a large group of people trying to shake off their pasts and find a peaceful place to live (I’ll explain in a bit). The third factor is that one of this group is Lucy’s mother—we saw her last in the first book when she abandoned Lucy after her husband’s murder. In the ensuing two years, Joe and Marybeth had taken her in as a foster daughter and were trying to adopt her. Until Mom showed up with a court order form a crooked judge demanding Lucy be turned over to her.

One of these would be difficult for Joe to overcome—all three? That’s just mean.

The group of people that came to town (technically, a campground outside of town) could be considered Survivalists, I’m not sure the best way to describe them. Most are those who were around during the biggest law enforcement stand-offs in recent history: e.g., Waco, Ruby Ridge, Montana Freemen. Their leader assures Joe (and would assure others if they’d listen) that they’re just looking to live a quiet life outside of Federal control.

But Strickland (the Forest Service official) doesn’t see them that way. She’s convinced that they’re anti-government activists, probably terrorists. They’re a threat that she’ll do anything to put down. And she (and her FBI cronies) are looking for a way to create another stand-off. Given the out-of-the-way nature of their location—and the snow—it’ll be a stand-off they can end without the press interfering. No press means the Feds can do whatever they think they need to in order to stop the stand-off.

By and large, the people working for the Federal Task force looking into the murder, the Survivalists, etc. are decent people trying to do their job—but Strickland and her cronies (and the Sheriff) are focused on their goals. The Survivalists/Freemen/whatever are antagonistic to the government, but they’re not necessarily trying to overthrow anything. Box does a truly commendable job of being sympathetic to their concerns/issues without coming down in their favor. It’s a real tightrope he’s walking along here, and he pulls it off magnificently.

I’ve now read six books by Box—the first three in two series.^* And three of those (you could argue four of those, I guess) Box does something almost unthinkable to his protagonists/their family/friends. So many authors would do the kind of thing I’m talking about once very 5-8 books, and it’d be a big deal (think of the Battle in the Ministry in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix). But Box does it routinely. Does this lessen the impact? Not for me yet. In fact, I couldn’t believe that he’d done what he did in this book for a few minutes, I kept waiting for something to happen revealing X had only appeared to have happened. It’s just brutal. How Pickett can make it to book 20 boggles my mind given the beating these people take. I’m not sure I’ll survive that long, given only The Highway Quartet Book 2, and Winterkill (I’m honestly still reeling from the first Pickett novel, Savage Run

^* Okay, I read a stand-alone back in 2009, but that’s beside the point.

I do not think that Box did a sufficient (or credible enough) job explaining the odd behavior of the victim in the books opening pages. He does spend all of a sentence or two giving us Joe’s theory about it. I don’t buy it. This single point has been driving me crazy since the murder—yes, it’s overshadowed by the rest of a very strong book that shocked, surprised and entertained me so well. But…it’s going to be a long time before I can read a Pickett novel without hoping that he’ll revisit this and explain it better (I don’t expect Box will do so, but I’ll hope for awhile).

I really don’t have a lot to say about Chandler’s narration. It’s good, without drawing attention to itself. I’m pretty sure that when/if I get to the point I’m reading the novels rather than using an audiobook, I’m going to hear Chandler’s voice in my head. He is the voice of Joe Pickett for me.

At the end of the day, most of the “White Hat” guys really were “Black Hats.” The suspected “Black Hats” mostly wore a dirty gray. And almost everyone was just trying to do the right thing with limited knowledge (some of those with the most knowledge were deliberately taking illegal and immoral steps, but they’re the exception). There are a lot of moral questions to wade through in this novel and it’ll keep you thinking about it for a good amount of time.

In the midst of all that, Box managed to tell a pretty decent Crime Story, a compelling family story, and introduced us to a fascinating new character—while developing characters we’ve known and liked (or known and distrusted) already. It’s not going to be long at all before I’m fully addicted to these books if the next few are almost as good as this one.

3.5 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

A Beginning At The End by Mike Chen: Love, Uh, Finds a Way in this Optimistic Dystopian Novel

By HCNewton

On February 10, 2020

In Fiction, In Medias Res, Mike Chen, Science Fiction

A Beginning At The End

by Mike Chen

Hardcover, 391 pg.
Mira Books, 2020

Read: January 28-February 4, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

“Mommy’s not coming home.”

“No! Mama now! Want Mama!” Desperation had taken over the child’s face, eyes pooling With the Whiplash turn of raw emotions. She tossed the plastic spoon across the prison-cell-turned-living-space, her voice ramping up in volume and intensity. His arms wrapped around his daughter, even though she punched at his thigh in frustration; he held her as if she was the last thing in the world.

Rob blinked as the realization came to him. She was.

His home, his old life was gone. His parents and brother, killed by MGS. Their friends, their community, scattered and ravaged. And now Elena gone too.

Sunny was all he had left.

Well, I really painted myself into a corner with my In Medias Res post about this book a couple of weeks ago. I’m not sure what else there is to say! Oops.

I was more right than I was wrong about where Chen was taking some of the story—but while I had the destination correct the route he took totally caught me off-guard (and it was so good!). The parts of the story I was wrong about, however. I could not have been further off the mark if I’d tried. Both of those results are so satisfying to me, Chen nailed the nuts and bolts bits of plotting—conclusions that seem right and expected (and earned) while being very unexpected.

While Chen knows how to plot a book, characters are his strength (see also Here and Now and Then).
I could absolutely see where Moira was coming from and understood (and applauded) what she did to change her life. I felt like I got Krista’s pain and the way she reacted to her mother and uncle made sense to me (I’m not sure she was fair to her college boyfriend, even if he should’ve known better than to do what he did). And Sunny should win over even the most jaded reader. But Rob? The way Chen wrote him made me empathize with Rob to a degree that I wasn’t prepared for. That sentence I quoted above, “She was,” just about broke me.

I assume that other readers will gravitate to other characters (and Moira is probably my favorite in the novel), and they should. But Rob is going to stick around in my subconscious for a while.

All of this happens against the backdrop of a world trying to recover from a global pandemic that wiped out an unimaginable number of people. Sure, other apocalyptic scenarios seem worse (zombies, whatever lead to Panem, the First-through-Fifth Waves, etc.)—but what makes this scenario chilling is just how possible it really seems. And I’m not just saying that with one of my sister’s kids dealing with being quarantined in Asia around the time I read this.

Nevertheless, Chen’s novel is optimistic. Human beings, human society, human families prevail. Like Dr. Ian Malcolm famously said, “Life, Uh, Finds a Way.” So does humanity in Chen’s world.

Like all good Science Fiction, this is more about our present than it is our future. In a survivor’s group, Rob has a lot to say about living in fear with the source of the past hanging over is and letting the two dictate our lives. Without trying I could think of a dozen ways that could be applied to pre-apocalyptic Americans (who knows how large the number would be with some effort).

There’s more I feel like I should say, if only just to flesh out some of what I’ve put down—but at this point, I think I’ve said enough about this book over the two posts, so I’m going to stop here (so much for that corner I painted myself into). I want to do 400-600 words on the title alone (many of which would be devoted to the indefinite article).

A Beginning at The End is the kind of SF that should appeal to SF readers. It’s the kind of SF that should make non-SF readers (including those antagonistic to genre fiction) think there’s something to the genre after all. Because this isn’t “just” a SF novel. It’s a novel about humans being very human, with hopes, fears, loves, joys, sorrows, failures, and successes—it just happens to be set in a post-apocalyptic future. Chen’s first novel was among the best I read in 2019. I fully expect that this will be among the best I read in 2020. I’m going to jump on whatever Chen has coming in 2021 without bothering to note the title or even skim the blurb. He’s earned an auto-read from me for at least the next two novels.

4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

In Medias Res: A Beginning At The End by Mike Chen

By HCNewton

On January 30, 2020

In Currently Reading, Fiction, In Medias Res, Mike Chen, Science Fiction

As the title implies, I’m in the middle of this book, so this is not a review, just some thoughts mid-way through.

—–

A Beginning At The End

by Mike Chen

Book Blurb:

Six years after a global pandemic wiped out most of the planet’s population, the survivors are rebuilding the country, split between self-governing cities, hippie communes and wasteland gangs.

In postapocalyptic San Francisco, former pop star Moira has created a new identity to finally escape her past—until her domineering father launches a sweeping public search to track her down. Desperate for a fresh start herself, jaded event planner Krista navigates the world on behalf of those too traumatized to go outside, determined to help everyone move on—even if they don’t want to. Rob survived the catastrophe with his daughter, Sunny, but lost his wife. When strict government rules threaten to separate parent and child, Rob needs to prove himself worthy in the city’s eyes by connecting with people again.

Krista, Moira, Rob and Sunny are brought together by circumstance, and their lives begin to twine together. But when reports of another outbreak throw the fragile society into panic, the friends are forced to finally face everything that came before—and everything they still stand to lose. Because sometimes having one person is enough to keep the world going.

I’m a couple of chapters shy of the halfway point, but I’m pretty excited about this book and want to get something out there about it—also, I have to take a break because I forgot about a book tour I have next week, and I really should read that book first.

So, like last year’s Here and Now and Then, Chen uses SF trappings to tell the kind of story that you don’t normally associate with Science Fiction (especially if you’re an anti-genre fiction snob).

I’m a chapter or two past a Speed Dating scene. On the one hand, it’s like every other Speed Dating scene you’ve seen from TV or the movies and/or read before. On the other hand, this is after most of the population of the earth is gone and people are trying to rebuild a facsimile of their lives in the midst of tragedy, so you’ve got the awkwardness, the insanity of the whole speed dating thing, and people dealing with unspeakable trauma at the same time. Chen makes this feel incredibly familiar and incredibly alien (yet relatable) at the same time, mildly humorous and miserable, tinged with hope and despair. And that’s just one scene. The book is full of stuff like this.

At its core (I think), this is a novel about how our past defines us, even after the apocalypse. Two characters here want to redefine themselves from the pre-pandemic lives, and somehow still can’t (at least not totally). Two characters need to redefine themselves from their post-pandemic past, and can’t seem to find the will to. It’ll take no time at all before you’re invested in these characters—you’ll want what the former two want, and hope that the latter two can somehow make things work.

Also, you’ll find you have some pretty strong feelings about Moira’s father. And they won’t be at all positive. But that’s all I’m going to say about that.

I have a few ideas where the stories are going/may end up, yet I’m reasonably certain that Chen’s ideas are better. Regardless, these are all building toward a satisfying pay-off or three. Maybe late next week I’ll have a chance to talk about this more, but for now, let me say I’m digging this and expect that about 80% of the people who read this blog on a semi-regular basis will, too.

Lost Hills by Lee Goldberg: A Dynamite Beginning to a New Series from One of the Most Reliable Scribes Around

By HCNewton

On January 28, 2020

In Fiction, Lee Goldberg, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller

Lost Hills

by Lee Goldberg
Series: Eve Ronin, #1

Kindle Edition, 237 pg.
Thomas & Mercer, 2020

Read: January 23-25, 2019
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

Mulholland Drive. It was an intersection that generated lots of confusion, and not only because of the nearly identical street names. It was also the intersection of two cities, three neighborhoods, two law enforcement jurisdictions, and on this hot, smoggy Thursday afternoon in December, life and death.

So begins Lee Goldberg’s new series—a story of a young, talented, fallible, inexperienced woman detective in the LA County Sheriff’s Department. Eve Ronin is in this position thanks to being in the wrong place at the right time, and getting herself plastered all over social media just when the Department needed any good publicity it could get. Capitalizing on this, the Sheriff puts her in the high-profile Robbery-Homicide Division where she faces a lot of sexist backlash—and some that’s not sexist, but based on the way she got the job and how unprepared she is for it. Still, Eve knows a good opportunity when she gets it and is determined to rise to the occasion, as hard as it will be.

That’s the novel (and probably the series) in a nutshell—everything else is just window dressing. But man, I tell you, it’s great window dressing.

First off, you’ve got this case. A single mother of two (no longer romantically involved with the man she’s living with, but unable to move out), her kids and their dog are missing. What’s present in their home is a lot of blood. I mean a lot. Enough that there’s little hope that any of them are still alive, but Eve can’t rule out the possibility. So she really has two investigations to get into—the multiple murder case, and a missing persons case. Given the grizzly nature of the crime scene, there’s a lot of public attention on this case, and a lot of pressure on the rookie detective. That there is enough for most novels, but we get more.

What I loved about this book (and, from what I hear in interviews, the series to come), is how it displays that everyone in the L.A.-area is in or adjacent to the entertainment industry. Eve’s mother and the probable victim are chasing stardom, the likely victim’s ex-boyfriend works on a film crew (as does his alibi). There are detectives shopping script ideas around, and clearly will jump on new “material.” You’d think that with the sheer number of police procedurals/PI novels set in LA that this would be well-trodden territory, but it really isn’t. How is that possible? I’m so glad that Goldberg committed to this idea.

At the end of the court was a poorly maintained, unfenced ranch home with two cars in the driveway— an old Ford Taurus with oxidized paint and a Nissan Sentra. A woman in her early thirties paced anxiously in front of the house.

“She’s keyed up,” Duncan said as Eve pulled up to the driveway. “You better talk to her, woman- to- woman.”

“Good idea, because you know we don’t even have to speak to each other,” Eve said, putting the car into park. “Our uteruses can communicate telepathically.”

“I think the correct term is ‘uteri.’”

But what makes this (and any series) work are the characters. Eve is a great character, while her mom was off chasing stardom (and primarily finding work as an extra), she did the heavy lifting when it came to raising her younger siblings. Now she’s taken that sense of responsibility to her career and those she comes into contact with.

Eve’s mom is still in pursuit of the Hollywood dream, if not for her (though that’d be her preference), than for Eve. When Eve shows up on TV being cornered by a reporter, Jen is more focused on how Eve looks than the case in question. When she does think about the case, it’s in relation to how Eve can turn it into a movie deal. I cracked up at Eve’s first conversation with her (and enjoyed the rest), but can easily see where she could be overused on the long-term, and she could easily turn into a one-note joke. I know Goldberg can do something interesting with her if he wants to, I just hope he does.

Meanwhile, Eve’s younger sister, Lisa is a delight. She’s a nurse as well as Eve’s main source of emotional support (and ice cream). The cynic in me thinks she might as well be named Nurse Bechdel Test. But let’s ignore him—she’s a great character for Eve to bounce off of—a sounding board for the emotional beats and struggles that Eve endures thanks to her promotion and career—as well as something that humanizes Eve. She’s not just a cop, she’s a sister with strong maternal instincts/reflexes, who needs someone to take care of her occasionally. I thoroughly enjoyed their interaction and the way they fed off each other, and her continuing presence in the series bodes well for it (and, yeah, probably makes sure these books pass that particular test).

Then there are Eve’s colleagues (who get more real estate in the book than her family does, but I’m going to cover briefly here because I’m rambling). I’ll start with her partner, Duncan—a jaded veteran detective nearing retirement. That gives him a certain detachment from Eve’s catapulting into Homicide, as long as her presence doesn’t interfere with his exit, what does he care. In the meantime, he’ll pass on some wisdom and cynicism. I loved his character and really hope that retirement stays away for a while.

Almost every other detective (both in the Sheriff’s department and the LAPD) doesn’t share his detachment, and will not actively try to derail Eve, but will be skeptical and antagonistic to her. The nicest thing anyone will say about her is that she’s starved for attention and fame. The Sheriff on the other hand, will exploit Eve whenever he can (he needs her to be a star to deflect attention away from serious problems in the department). It’s hard to tell if he has any real confidence in her, or if it’s all opportunistic. I’m not sure it matters much.

I would’ve liked a little more depth to this story, but just a tad. Any more and it would’ve slowed down the fast, driving pace and tension—which wouldn’t have been worth the trade-off. I’d also have liked to gone a bit more in-depth here myself, but if I do, I’d probably not get this posted for two more months, so we’ll call this good.

I haven’t read every novel Goldberg has written, but I have read 26 of them (so far), so I feel like I have a pretty decent idea of what kind of writer he is. There is something distinctly Goldberg-esque about Lost Hills and Eve. At the same time, there’s a freshness and verve to them that is new—it felt like Goldberg has stretched himself to try something in these pages and it worked—a reward for both author and readers. Eve Ronin is a fantastic character that I hope to spend many years reading and exploring the world of. You should, too.

4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Opening Lines: The Godwulf Manuscript by Robert B. Parker

By HCNewton

On January 27, 2020

In Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, News/Misc., Opening Lines, Robert B. Parker, Spenser

We all know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover (yet, publishing companies spend big bucks on cover design/art). But, the opening sentence(s)/paragraph(s) are fair game. So, when I stumble on a good opening (or remember one and pull it off the shelves), I’ll throw it up here. Dare you not to read the rest (plus the 39 novels to follow by Parker (not to mention the 8+ by Ace Atkins)).

from The Godwulf Manuscript by Robert B. Parker:

The office of the university president looked like the front parlor of a successful Victorian whorehouse. It was paneled in big squares of dark walnut, with ornately figured maroon drapes at the long windows. There was maroon carpeting and the furniture was black leather with brass studs. The office was much nicer than the classrooms; maybe I should have worn a tie.

Bradford W. Forbes, the president, was prosperously heavy—reddish face; thick, longish, white hair; heavy white eyebrows. He was wearing a brown pin-striped custom-tailored three-piece suit with a gold Phi Beta Kappa key on a gold watch chain stretched across his successful middle. His shirt was yellow broadcloth and his blue and yellow striped red tie spilled out over the top of his vest.

As he talked, Forbes swiveled his chair around stared at his reflection in the window. Flakes of the season’s first snow flattened out against it and dissolved and trickled down onto the white brick sill. It was very gray out, a November grayness that is peculiar to Boston in late fall, and Forbes’s office seemed cheerier than it should have because of that.

He was telling me about the sensitive nature of a college president’s job, and there was apparently a lot to say about it. I’d been there twenty minutes and my eyes were beginning to cross. I wondered if I should tell him his office looked like a whorehouse. I decided not to.

“Do you see my position, Mr. Spenser,” he said, and swiveled back toward me, leaning forward and putting both his hands palms down on the top of his desk. His nails were manicured.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “We detectives know how to read people.”

Forbes frowned and went on.

“It is a matter of the utmost delicacy, Mr. Spenser”—he was looking at himself in the glass again—”requiring restraint, sensitivity, circumspection, and a high degree of professionalism. I don’t know the kind of people who usually employ you, but…”

I interrupted him.

“Look, Dr. Forbes, I went to college once, I don’t wear my hat indoors. And if a clue comes along and bites me on the ankle, I grab it. I am not, however, an Oxford don. I am a private detective. Is there something you’d like me to detect, or are you just polishing up your elocution for next year’s commencement?”

Forbes inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly through his nose.

“District Attorney Frale told us you were somewhat overfond of your own wit.”

Deep Dark Night by Steph Broadribb: High Stakes Danger for Lori Anderson in the Windy City

By HCNewton

On January 23, 2020

In Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Steph Broadribb/Stephanie Marland

Deep Dark Night

by Steph Broadribb
Series: Lori Anderson, #4

Kindle Edition, 320 pg.
Orenda Books, 2020

Read: January 16-17, 2020
Grab a Steph Broadribb book from your local indie bookstore!

I’ve always felt an element of fear about the jobs I do. In the right dosage it can help you. It gets your adrenaline firing, makes you think clearer, faster—gets you alert and ready to tackle anything that comes your way. But if the fear builds too much, all that good stuff swings things around; the nerves make you hesitant, jumpy and too cautious. That’s when you start making mistakes. And mistakes, in my world, can be fatal.

After barely getting to take a breath following the events of Deep Dirty Truth, Lori finally gets the chance to work off her debt to FBI Agent Monroe. This puts Lori and JT in Chicago trying to get the mobster Cabressa to take possession of some stolen goods. Once that’s done, a series of dominoes will fall and Monroe will be able to put him away for a very long time.

So he insists, anyway.

Step one involves Lori getting an invite to an incredibly exclusive Poker game, Step two involves giving her a crash course in playing Poker so she seems mostly credible in the game. (this isn’t presented as a comedic segment, but I chuckled at this part of the book—also, I’m jealous, I wish I could learn how to play like this).

Now, every thriller reader knows what will happen next—no plan, no matter how thorough, how well-thought-out no matter who’s involved, will work. If for no other reason than it would produce a dull novel. But also, every thriller reader has heard the line, “no plan survives first contact with the enemy” and knows it to be true. The questions that need to be answered are: how badly will the plan go awry? and How will Lori and JT react to it?

So let me assure you, when this plan is derailed, it’s derailed in a spectacular fashion, providing a lot of danger for our heroes, peril for those around them, and more than enough tension to satisfy a hungry reader. Lori and JT respond appropriately, not perfectly (which would be boring), but they display the stamina, resourcefulness, and tenacity we’ve come to expect from them.

The poker game collected quite the interesting mix of players—sports figures, politicians, as well as shady characters like Cabressa. When things go wrong during the game, it opens things up for a lot of drama and conflicting interests causing trouble for all involved. Suddenly, Lori and JT can’t focus solely on getting Cabressa to fall into Monroe’s trap—they have to worry about survival—their own, and as many others that they can help. Sure, Cabressa is still their target, but there’s a lot they have to go through before they can make him a priority.

I’m not going to get more in-depth than that, I’ll leave it there and say there’s more than enough going on plot-wise to fuel a book at least half again as long as this one. Broadribb has stacked the deck against the pair and it’s great to watch them try to navigate the situation.

The game takes place at the top of a pretty high building in Chicago and the action centers around that location, stories above the ground. In the real world, I’m pretty acrophobic—and occasionally (okay, more than occasionally), a movie can get me to feel the anxiety that heights can bring out in me. I don’t remember ever feeling symptoms while reading a book, but I did here. It’s not like Broadribb focused all that much on the height and risk of falling (it was there, but she didn’t belabor the point), but something about the way that she told the story, flicked that particular switch in my brain. There’s something very disconcerting about sitting in a comfortable seat (on the ground level like a sane person) but feeling like I was standing in a precarious* location several feet off the ground. I’m not promising that anyone else will experience what I did, I assume the rest of humanity is a bit better adjusted than I am, but for me that was an unexpected “bonus” to the book.

* Yeah, fine, my definition of a precarious location applies to perfectly safe—even benign—spots.

I’m a little worried about the long-term health of Lori’s elbows. She uses them so often as weapons, she probably heads back to Florida with at least one of them horribly bruised. I don’t remember this being the case in the previous novels, maybe I just forgot—or maybe she’s just relying on the technique in these circumstances (I remember more than once the narration in a Jack Reacher novel talking about the usefulness of that tactic compared to the use of a fist).

As far as long-term character development goes, Lori and JT start a conversation they’ve needed to have since, well, since we met the two of them about Dakota and why Lori didn’t tell JT about her before she did. This will prove helpful in the future and provide the opportunity for the relationship to grow and change. The two of them have some sort of plan going forward about their careers and daughter, but we’re going to have to come back to find out what they have in mind. Seeing these two deal with each other and their daughter is almost as rewarding to me as the action-hero kind of thing is, and Broadribb’s featuring both sides of Lori like this is a real strength of the series.

For my money, this is the best of the series—she’s got a real handle on these characters by now and knows just how to put them through the wringer in a way that provides real tension and thrills. I got more wrapped up in this than I expected to (and I had pretty high expectations at this point in the series), and it was absolutely worth it. Book five cannot arrive soon enough for me.

If you haven’t met this bounty hunter yet, you need to—either in the pages of this book or the beginning, either would work (but you might as well just buy the set all at once, you won’t be satisfied until you read them all). Deep Dark Night will win Broadribb some new fans and confirm those readers already along for the ride.

4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Come Tumbling Down by Seanan McGuire: Jack and Jill’s Final (?) Showdown in the Moors

By HCNewton

On January 16, 2020

In Fantasy, Fiction, K-O, Seanan McGuire, Wayward Children

Come Tumbling Down

by Seanan McGuire
Series: Wayward Children, #5

Hardcover, 206 pg.
Tor Books, 2020

Read: January 8-10, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children was an island of misfit toys, a place to put the unfinished stories and the broken wanderers who could butcher a deer and string a bow but no longer remembered what to do with indoor plumbing. It was also, more importantly, a holding pen for heroes. Whatever they might have become when they’d been cast out of their chosen homes, they’d been heroes once, each in their own ways. And they did not forget.

I wanted to do an Opening Lines post for this book, but I couldn’t decide where to stop—maybe around page 6 (which is a little too long for that kind of post). Seriously, it took less than a page for me to fall in love with this book.

It’s a typical day at Eleanor West’s School for Wayward Children (assuming such a thing exists) when a door appears, but instead of someone getting to go to their “home,” two figures emerge. One is a complete stranger, the other is Jack. Well, sort of. Close enough for our purposes here.

Things on the Moors have gotten to a crisis point where only one of the Wolcott twins can survive—Jack or Jill. Jill has struck first and things are dire. Jack recruits a couple of her friends and classmates to return with her (she was relatively certain she could return them to the school) to aid her in confronting her sister. They used to be heroes, they will be heroes again—as often as needed—much to Eleanor’s chagrin.

Once in the Moors, a dark and nasty place to be sure, dangers that no one (save maybe Jack) could’ve predicted present themselves and threaten the lives of the students in horrible and chilling ways. Culminating in what appears to be a final encounter for the sisters.

I love the way that McGuire writes these books, and Come Tumbling Down is no exception. It is full of the typical whimsical, fantastic and nigh-poetic language and ideas. If you’ve read a Wayward Children book before, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t . . . it’s hard to tell you. Here’s a sample or two:

“This is terrible . . . I mean we knew it was going to be trouble . . . but this is bonus terrible. This is the awful sprinkles on the sundae of doom.”

“A little knowledge never hurt anybody,” said Sumi.

“Perhaps not. But a great deal of knowledge can do a great deal of harm, and I’m long past the point of having only a little knowledge.”

Sumi was Sumi. Spending time with her was like trying to form a close personal relationship with a cloud of butterflies. Pretty—dazzling, even—but not exactly companionable. And some of the butterflies had knives, and that was where the metaphor collapsed.

Jill had always been the more dangerous, less predictable Wolcott, for all that she was the one who dressed in pastel colors and lace and sometimes remembered that people like it when you smiled. Something about the way she’d wrapped her horror move heart in ribbons and bows had reminded him of a corpse that hadn’t been properly embalmed like she was pretty on the outside and rotten on the inside. Terrifying and subtly wrong.

“wrapped her horror movie heart in ribbons and bows” is pretty much worth the purchase price of the book.

I’m glad that I enjoy—relish, really—the language like I do, because there’s not a lot of plot or action here. There’s enough, but there’s an awful lot of talk both around and before the action really gets underway. That’s not a wholly bad thing, and I enjoyed all of it, it just seemed self-indulgent.

It felt to me that McGuire’s reached the point of diminishing returns with this one, it’s been one too many trips to the Moors and it’s time for other Wayward Children to get the focus. Thankfully, that seems to be the plan.

I don’t think this would be a great introduction to this series (but it would function okay that way) if you’re not going to read them all in order, I feel safe in saying that it needs to be read after Down Among the Sticks and Bones. This is a good way to return to the world and revisit some of these characters. I can’t wait to see what happens in the next volume.

4 Stars

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