The Only Harmless Great Thing by Brooke Bolander

Published by Tor.com on January 23, 2018

The Only Harmless Great Thing reimagines the history of the Radium Girls, factory workers who suffered from radiation poisoning after painting watch dials with a luminous paint made from powdered radium. In Brooke Bolander’s alternative version of the story, U.S. Radium responded to litigation by enlisting elephants to do the painting. Thus, the Radium Girls become Radium Elephants. Part of the novella is, in fact, narrated by elephants.

The novel also borrows Topsy from history, the elephant who was electrocuted at Coney Island in a spectacle for invited guests. As a circus elephant, Topsy killed at least one person, no doubt with good reason. Both moments of history remind us of how incredibly cruel the human race can be. Factory owners are cruel to workers; hunters and showmen are cruel to elephants.

The Only Harmless Great Thing links those two extremes of wickedness in a fantasy that gives elephants the ability to communicate with sign language. Two humans are important to the story. Regan, a Radium Girl who taught Topsy to paint, is dying of cancer caused by radium in the paint brushes she was instructed to “point” with her lips. She’s waiting for the insurance settlement that will be her legacy to her family, although her dying mother probably won’t benefit from it. In the meantime, she comes up with a plan to avenge her death and Topsy’s execution.

In the present, Kat is dealing with the problem of nuclear waste. She has hit upon a scheme to use glowing elephants as permanent markers to warn people away from disposal sites. The elephants, not necessarily keen on the idea of exposing themselves to radioactivity (again), have their own agenda.

The elephants in the story have their own folklore, and the novella acquaints the reader with some of it. The Only Harmless Great Thing is in part a celebration of storytelling, as an elephant tale reminds the reader that stories are meant to be told, not hoarded. The story can also be viewed as an allegory of motherhood. Females outsmart males every time (at least if they’re elephants); mothers pass down such wisdom to daughters. Elephant folklore teaches that women can be just as strong and cunning as men, and much more patient, but while bull elephants fight each other, mothers use their strength for a purpose: to educate, to preserve a sense of community, so that future generations will remember the lessons of the past.

Describing prose as lyrical is almost a cliché, but in this case the description is apt. The story is strange, but it works, in part because it is so beautifully told, and in part because the lessons it imparts are both timely and timeless.

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Two Girls Down by Louisa Luna

Published by Doubleday on January 9, 2018

Jamie Brandt leaves her two daughters, Kylie and Bailey, in the car while she runs into a K-Mart for a birthday present. When she comes out, the kids are gone. Yes, this is an “every parent’s nightmare” story. But it’s better than most child kidnapping stories, which tend to overdo scenes of hand-wringing and weepiness and too often feature self-righteous protagonists who make a point of telling the reader how deeply they care about children, unlike all the people who care less than they do.

As parents go, Jamie is kind of a wreck even before the kids disappear. She hires Alice Vega to recover her kids. Vega has made a reputation as someone who gets kids back by working harder than the police. In her own way, she’s just as screwed up as Jamie, but that doesn’t stop her from being competent. It also makes her interesting, as does the fact that she hates men, although to be fair, she seems to hate everyone. Vega cares about child victims, but she also cares about getting paid big bucks. She isn’t self-righteous about what she does, and that’s refreshing.

Max Caplan is another interesting character. A cop who retired in disgrace, Caplan now works as a private investigator. He’s also a bit of a wreck but, he isn’t self-pitying about it. In fact, he wrecked his life to help a friend, so he’s a decent guy. His daughter doesn’t live with him, but when they’re together, she’s his touchstone of moral authority.

Vega hires Caplan as her local source of information. They make a good pair of contrasting characters as the story moves forward. The novel succeeds as a character-driven story that pairs two broken people on a joint quest who gain strength from each other.

There are elements of a whodunit in the plot, but this isn’t the kind of mystery that makes it possible to guess the culprit’s identity. Two Girls Down is more a police procedural than a mystery — although the police and the FBI get in the way more than they help, so the novel might be more accurately described as a private investigator procedural. There’s even a hint of romance (opposites attract), but not enough to get in the way of the story.

While the plot emphasizes investigation over action, there is enough action to keep the story moving at the decent rate. The investigation creates a reasonable amount of suspense. The last pages combine action with suspense to generate the kind of tension a thriller should have. This is a strong debut, and one that could easily develop into an enjoyable series, which I have to assume is Louisa Luna’s plan.

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Hellbent by Gregg Hurwitz

Published by St. Martin's Press/Minotaur Books on January 30, 2018

Hellbent is the third Orphan X novel. To appreciate it fully, you might want to read the first books in this series, Orphan X and The Nowhere Man. I haven't read Orphan X. I enjoyed The Nowhere Man, but I was a bit frustrated by it. Hellbent is better.

In addition to being Orphan X, Evan Smoak is the Nowhere Man. He helps people in need, as did Paladin in Have Gun, Will Travel. But Paladin sometimes charged for his services and Smoak gives his killing skills gratis to those in need. He’s more like the Equalizer, the hero of an old television show (although not as old as Have Gun, Will Travel) who has recently been reincarnated in an undistinguished novel by the show’s creator. I didn’t like the Nowhere Man angle in the first Orphan X novel, and was pleased to see that the Nowhere Man subplot in Hellbent occupies a relatively small role.

Early events in Hellbent send Evan on a mission of personal vengeance. The mission is sidetracked when Evan finds himself looking after another government experiment gone awry — a part of the Orphan project, like himself, except this one is a teenage girl. They aren’t the easiest creatures to look after even when they aren’t trained to kill.

The girl, Joey, is sassy. She treats Evan like he’s an old man, which by comparison, he is. That makes her a fun character.

Evan is a more interesting character than most tough guys because he meditates and actually seems capable of learning. Lots of tough guy characters pretend to follow some sort of Zen philosophy that involves meditation before they start killing people (the Steven Segal school of being a tough guy), but unlike those characters, Evan is bright enough to integrate an actual philosophy of life (the one he learned from Jack) into his daily routine. Imparting that philosophy to a 16-year-old girl gives him the kind of challenge that most fictional tough guys never face. That’s one of the reasons I like the second Orphan X novel more than the first.

The other reason is that I bought into the action, which I couldn’t do in the first novel. Yes, there are a couple of moments when credulity is strained (shooting a bad guy through the scope of his rifle with a handgun from a distance), but for the most part, the over-the-top nature of Evan’s antics are dialed back sufficiently to make the story almost credible. Almost is good enough in an action novel.

Parts of Hellbent are midway between sappy and moving, but not so close to sappy that I felt manipulated. The character of Evan takes on greater substance in the second novel, and Gregg Hurwitz sets up an interesting premise for the next book(s) in the series. I’m looking forward to the next one more than I looked forward to this one.

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Poison by John Lescroart

Published by Atria Books on February 13, 2018

Dismas Hardy has a new murder case, and that’s reason for readers — but not Dismas — to celebrate. A former client named Abby Jarvis has been charged with murdering her boss for a million dollar inheritance. Having once killed someone in a car accident, the police and prosecutors (being true to their nature) believe that Abby must be guilty of an intentional murder. In addition, Abby was the bookkeeper in her boss’ business, and she has been taking money off the books, perhaps by embezzling the funds or perhaps as a means of tax-free compensation that her boss authorized. In any event, things don’t look good for Abby.

Abby’s boss was poisoned with a drug that comes from an herbal root (although the death was initially ruled a heart attack) and there is no direct evidence that Abby poisoned him. Suicide or an accidental death from overdosing on an herbal tea is a possibility, although no poison was discovered in the victim’s home. The case against Abby does not appear to be strong, but Dismas has sworn off murder cases (the last one got him shot) and he needs to talk himself into taking this one. It doesn’t help that Abby has kept a fact or two secret that, when revealed, will make her look guilty whether she is or isn’t.

There are plenty of other suspects for Dismas and his investigator, Wyatt Hunt, to consider. The victim had been having an affair with Abby (hence her inheritance), but he had recently broken off an affair with another woman. His son Gary was running the business and may have been concerned that the victim was planning to sell it. Two other children from his first marriage also work for the business, although at least one of those resents Gary’s larger salary and would like to see the business sold so he could cash in and stop working. The victim’s current wife is in a care facility for dementia, and her adopted son, while having no role in the victim’s business, seems to be taking an active interest in whether or not it will be sold.

Much of the drama unfolds early in the case, after Abby has been indicted but before she’s entered a plea. Whether Dismas will even continue to represent her past the plea is unclear. Even less clear, since Dismas doesn’t know what evidence was presented to the grand jury, is whether the case is strong or weak. The police and prosecutors engage in a fair amount of posturing, as does Dismas, but Dismas’ uncertainty is a realistic portrayal of the problem that defense attorneys have as they make strategic decisions early in a case without knowing what they’re facing.

Dismas is one of my favorite defense attorneys in legal thrillers. He’s an ideal blend of nice guy and fierce advocate. He has strong friendships with prosecutors and police investigators, but he doesn’t let friendship get in the way of mounting an aggressive defense. He’s tactically smart and has the theatrical skills that defense lawyers need. He’s ethical, practical, and dedicated to his clients. If he were real, I would hire him in a heartbeat.

A subplot involves Detective Eric Waverly’s struggle with pain and the impact his anger is having on his family and career. Another involves Dismas’ son Vinnie, whose friend David Chang was murdered. Another involves how Dismas’ wife reacts to the fear that Dismas has (again) made himself (and perhaps Vinnie, this time) a target for the real killer. The dilemma that Dismas faces (abandon his client or be abandoned by his wife) adds an extra layer of drama to the story. All of the subplots are credible and they all tie together neatly in the end. Poison is the kind of well-crafted legal thriller that readers have come to expect from John Lescroart, and another strong entry in the Dismas Hardy series.

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The Boat People by Sharon Bala

Published by Doubleday on January 9, 2018

The Boat People explores the plight of Tamil refugees from Sri Lanka who have traveled to Canada on a freighter. Two key characters are Mahindan and his young son. Much of the novel’s drama is driven by their uncertain fate as they endure detention and admissibility hearings to determine whether they will stay in Canada or be deported to a country where they are likely to be killed. When news of the freighter’s arrival is reported, nationalists carrying “Go Home Terrorists” signs arrive to help make their lives a little more miserable. It seems that some people in Canada shares with their counterparts in the United States a lack of compassion for people born outside the nation’s borders.

The Boat People uses Mahindan to represent the hopes and fears of refugees. Mahindan has great hopes for Canada until he realizes that so much of the country views him as a cockroach. At the same time, scenes of home life in Sri Lanka show how nationalism and a demand for ethnic purity has given Mahindan no choice but to leave. How ironic it is to flee a nationalist movement in one country, only to be rejected by nationalists in a country that claims to be fair-minded.

The other two central characters are native Canadians whose ethnicity becomes an important plot point as the story develops. Priya Rajasekaran, a Canadian whose family came from Sri Lanka, is a third-year law student interning at a Canadian law firm. A senior partner recruits her to help the refugees, despite her lack of interest in refugee law (she prefers corporate mergers and acquisitions). The partner chose Priya because he incorrectly assumed that she speaks Tamil. Being forced to help people from her ancestral land forces Priya to reassess the kind of professional life she wants to live.

Grace Nakamura is a newly appointed adjudicator, transferred from a different government department as a favor to a cabinet minister. The cabinet minister shares an intelligence briefing with Grace, claiming that half the Tamil refugees are Tigers, members of the separatist group that the government regards as terrorists. He wants Grace to disabuse the world of the notion that Canada is “a soft touch.” Like some American politicians, the cabinet minister wants to blame all Canadian crime on immigrants and isn’t afraid to lobby an adjudicator whose job is to make neutral decisions that are uninfluenced by politics.

The cabinet minister and a prosecutor want all of the boat people gone and have no interest in separating Tamil terrorists (if there are any among the refugees) from victims of the Tigers, including Mahindan, who worked as a mechanic and was forced to repair vehicles for the Tigers. In the government’s view, he enabled terrorists. In Mahindan’s view, he was trying to survive so he could make a life for his son.

Grace is the granddaughter of a Japanese immigrant, a fact that occasionally gives her pause when she is told to keep immigrants out of Canada. Grace’s mother, who is seeking redress for her interment during World War II, also gives Grace reason to think that national origin should not determine how a government treats the people within its borders. Yet Grace is so determined to blend in with white Canada that she resents her grandmother telling her twins about the difficulties that the Japanese faced as Canadian immigrants. The war between Grace’s better instincts and the fear that the cabinet minister arouses with his poisonous rhetoric create a conflict that makes Grace an interesting character.

The Boat People makes the point — and it can’t be made too often — the terrorism often grows out of oppression. One way to end terrorism is to end the oppression that breeds it — and the best way to avoid terrorism in a country like Canada is to avoid oppressing the people within the country’s borders.

Several scenes in the story are moving, and they showcase the author’s best writing: a flashback to the birth of Mahindan’s son and the consequent death of his wife; the separation of Mahindan and his son in detention; the son’s trauma when he’s taken to foster care, his hatred of unfamiliar Canada and his longing for a home that has been bombed into oblivion; the story that Priya’s uncle tells of fleeing from the Sinhalese; the stories Grace’s mother tells about Japanese internment.

All of the central characters are multifaceted and conflicted. The plot leads to an unresolved ending, which might be disappointing for some readers, but I appreciated the opportunity to imagine my own ending. The Boat People is a timely novel about a sensitive social and political issue that should engage open-minded readers who care about the larger world.

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