The Night and the Music by Lawrence Block

First published in 2011; published in a deluxe edition by Subterranean Press on September 30, 2021

Lawrence Block has always been an observer of humanity. Much of his fiction fits within a softer, less hardboiled version of the noir tradition. Not long ago, Subterranean Press released a volume of Block’s stories about Bernie Rhodenbarr, the gentleman bandit. The Night and the Music collects short stories that feature Block’s best recurring character, Matthew Scudder. It concludes with Block's explanation of his history with Scudder and his memories of the collected stories.

Scudder began the series as a damaged man, not quite an antihero but far from a role model. Scudder is an ex-cop. When he was on the force, he shot at a murderer and one of his shots killed a little girl. End of his job, end of his marriage, end of his relationship with his children, end of his sobriety. “People go through changes and life does the damnedest things to us all.”

Scudder’s life has changed for the better over the years that Block has written about him. Over the course of 17 novels published between 1976 and 2011, Scudder stopped drinking and married a former hooker. Throughout the series, Scudder never lost his empathy for individuals who have lived unfortunate lives.

Scudder’s world is filled with corrupt and racist cops, newsstand gossips, and neighborhood residents who are panhandlers, drunks, homeless, unbalanced. Scudder tolerates the cops and treats the residents with dignity and respect. He sees the people on the street, even as wealthier residents pretend they don’t exist or want them chased away.

“A Candle for the Bag Lady” is the best story in the volume and one of the best short stories in crime fiction. A shopping bag lady on the periphery of Scudder’s existence is murdered. She leaves him $1,200 in her will. Scudder investigates both the murder and the reason she named him as her beneficiary. The story is about the ways that people touch lives without knowing the impact they’ve made. The moral of the story is that everybody matters. Whether we think about them or not, whether we notice them or not, they matter.

Most of the other stories are quite good. A man claims to be framed for his wife’s murder and asks for Scudder’s help. Scudder gives him exactly what he deserves. A waitress at Scudder’s gin joint dives out a seventeenth-floor window, naked. Her sister believes she was murdered. Scudder investigates the case, taking on a locked door mystery in the process. Years after Scudder sent a man to prison for murder, the man tells Scudder his life story. The story is interesting because of the unusual motive that the man had for killing his lover — and because of the gruesome way in which the killer achieved his objective.

In one of the most entertaining stories, Scudder recalls a time when he was a somewhat corrupt cop who was asked to help some poker players deal with a stabbing death. Scudder immediately sees through their lies but also sees how he can create an outcome that will do justice while making everyone happy.

In the collection’s most offbeat story, Scudder joins a crew that has been hired to confiscate unlicensed Batman products from New York street vendors. Scudder realizes he doesn’t have the heart to bully people who don’t speak English and don’t know anything about copyright law. Another story that breaks the pattern of private detective fiction is a sensitive contemplation of AIDS and death, a story that has Scudder looking for an angel of death who might be a mercy killer.

I love Block’s dialog, the way collateral characters ramble about nothing yet reveal something of their place in the world. For my money, Block has always written some of the best dialog in crime fiction.

A few of the stories failed to resonate with me. The title story and a couple of others seem designed to tie up loose ends in Scudder’s life; they don’t work well as independent stories. Most of the stories, however, will appeal to fans of the Scudder novels — which should include most fans of crime fiction.

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Dog Island by Philippe Claudel

Published in France in 2018; published in translation by Little, Brown and Company on August 10, 2021

The narrator of Dog Island tells us that the story “is as real as you might be. It takes place here, just as it could have happened anywhere.” The “here” to which the narrator refers is one of the Dog Islands, an imagined Mediterranean archipelago. Two of the islands form the jaw of a dog while others form its tongue and teeth, but only if you squint at a map and use your imagination. The particular Dog Island where the story takes place is sparsely inhabited, having little to recommend it to tourists, although a character known as The Mayor is negotiating with the Consortium to develop a Thermal Baths project from the island’s hot springs. He views the project as the “last opportunity for families to remain here, and their children, and their children’s children.”

A character known as The Old Woman is taking her daily stroll on a rocky beach when her dog begins to howl at the sight (or smell) of three dead bodies. The howl attracts the attention of Swordy (named for his proficiency at catching swordfish) and America (“a bachelor who produced a little wine and was something of an odd-job man”). They summon The Mayor who brings along The Doctor. The Teacher and The Priest round out the characters who know about the bodies. The Mayor assumes that the dead men, all black, were boat people who fled from a nearby African country and drowned on their journey to Europe. The Teacher is skeptical of that theory and in any event wants to summon the police from the mainland. The Mayor, fearing that adverse publicity will doom the Thermal Baths project, bullies the other characters into disposing of the bodies quietly.

The story takes an even stranger turn when The Teacher takes it upon himself to experiment by acquiring a boat and tossing dummies into the ocean at various points to see where the currents will take them. The Mayor, unhappy with the results of the experiment, devises a scheme to silence The Teacher. The scheme coincides with the arrival on the island of The Superintendent, who might want to investigate the bodies or The Teacher if he isn't pursuing some toher agenda. We eventually learn why the dead men died and how they are connected to the island.

Dog Island is a modern prose version of a morality play. The characters represent virtues or vices. They are identified by title rather than names because their individuality is less important than what they represent — greed, weakness, indifference, or (in the case of The Teacher) rectitude. The characters are presented with a choice between good and evil and, when they make the wrong choice, the island as a whole is punished, almost as if it has become cursed. A foul odor covers the island, growing worse by the day, while the inhabitants begin to live a strained life, losing “not so much the will to live, as their love and hope in life. All this was like a stain on a piece of clothing, on clothing that one had enjoyed wearing.”

Some of the characters are amusingly quirky (the Priest has befriended bees that follow him everywhere), as is much of the dialog. The story becomes increasingly dark but a dark ending is needed to teach the novel’s lesson. Like a morality play, the lesson is superficially simple, although in this postmodern world, it is also a bit ambiguous. I think it has something to do with women high jumpers who “attempt, in graceful and sensuous arched movements, to topple over death in order to enjoy life.” Readers who can figure out what that means, and those who appreciate the sentiment if not the meaning (I’m in that group), might find Dog Island to be a book worth reading.

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Civilizations by Laurent Binet

Published in France in 2019; published in translation by ‎Farrar, Straus and Giroux on September 14, 2021

Civilizations recounts an alternate history of European, Norse, Incan, and Mexican civilizations, a history that, by the Middle Ages, produced a different (and possibly better) world than the one that existed. Laurent Binet imagines a string of linked events that cause Incan sun worship to take hold in Europe, competing against the religion of the “nailed God” (as the Incans describe Christianity) and opening the door to tolerance, religious freedom, and universal peace until the peace is shattered by new conquerors.

The story is told in four parts, although the third part dominates. The first is centered on Freydis Eriksdottir, a bad-tempered woman who was fathered by Norse explorer Erik the Red after he founded Greenland. Freydis flees after committing a murder, bringing her husband, a few men, and some animals in search of a new home. Her entourage spreads disease in Cuba, wiping out most of the native population before she moves on to Panama and then to Peru.

The second part consists of fragments of a journal kept by Christopher Columbus. In this version of history, Columbus never returns to Europe. His explorations take him in search of gold and jewels, initially following the path of Freydis as he makes his way to Cuba. Things do not go well for Columbus and his crew, although they put up several good fights. Near the end of his life, he captures the attention of Higuénamota, the daughter of the queen Anacaona, who loves his stories of European monarchs.

The heart of the story is told in the third part. It begins when Huayna Capac, the Emperor of the Inca Empire, is felled by a red-headed traveler whose ancestry presumably traces to Freydis and her fellow settlers. Huana leaves the throne to his son Huascar but allows Huascar’s half-brother Atahualpa to govern the northern provinces that include Quito. After a time, Huascar declares war on Atahualpa, forcing Atahualpa and his army into a retreat. Hearing rumors of an island paradise, he travels to Cuba where he encounters and marries the naked princess Higuénamota. Using Columbus’ rotting ships as models, Atahualpa replenishes his army and supplies and sails to Portugal. Higuénamota becomes a key political adviser in the events that unfold.

Atahualpa brings the sun god to Europe, where he slowly amasses political power in a land that is torn apart by war, poverty, and fear of the Inquisition. Atahualpa establishes trade routes to Cuba, putting an end to poverty with a steady supply of gold and silver. Putting an end to fear of Moors requires Atahualpa to consult with Machiavelli, whose understanding of politics is unsurpassed. Ending the Inquisition takes a bit more time.

Confrontations with Luther and deal-making with the Pope (who tries to recast the Sun as a metaphor for the Christian God) place Atahualpa into the role of Reformer and Protector of the Poor. His reforms include religious freedom (because the Sun doesn’t care if people want to worship other gods), redistribution of wealth, promotion of foreign and domestic trade, acceptance of science, generous exemptions from the payment of tribute, and a form of welfare for the sick or injured. If Incan government is not Utopian, it is a more caring government than Europe had managed to provide before Atahualpa’s arrival. It is, of course, denounced by men who feel threatened by the prospect of having to share power with others.

Trade with Cuba and the Caribbean assures Atahualpa’s success until Mexico, under the emperor Moctezuma, goes to war with Huascar. The Mexicans have a formidable army, placing the Inca-led Europe at risk of invasion and conquest. Atahualpa’s response is practical if a bit Machiavellian, placing him at odds with Higuénamota.

The final part features Cervantes, who flees Spain after bedding the wrong man’s wife. Cervantes has a series of adventures (generally involving fleeing and being captured) and ends up hiding from the plague in Montaigne’s castle, where yet another comely wife gains his attention. The Cervantes section represents an enormous departure from the preceding story, as Cervantes is the only character whose goal is not power or conquest or glory, unless getting laid falls within one or all of those categories.

Civilizations is driven by politics and events rather than characters, although most of the characters are drawn from history. The key players are shown in broad outline. We learn little about their personalities and inner thoughts, if in fact they have any, beyond their drive to achieve their goals. In that regard, Civilizations is written in the style of a history textbook that was authored with literary flair.

In the place of characterization, the novel features intriguing questions of philosophy. It explores leadership and governance, the harms and benefits of competing religious beliefs, and the ease with which, but for a minor change of events here and there, the history we know could have been very different.

Religion is a driving force of history. It is no less so in this alternate history. An exchange of correspondence between Thomas More and Erasmus debates the merits of religious freedom. Atahualpa sees the differences between Catholic and Lutheran beliefs as too petty to merit burning people for holding one belief or the other. The Incan insistence on tolerance comes to benefit Lutherans, Jews, Muslims, and everyone who was branded as a heretic by the Pope.

The novel highlights cultural differences in ways that remind us how silly culture can be. The Incans are amazed that Catholic cultures place importance on female virginity while not caring whether males gain sexual experience. Believers in the “wrong” religion are scorned as infidels until they amass armies, and then are accepted as good neighbors, provided they leave their armies at home. All of this should be puzzling, but Civilizations reminds us that we often accept things as given that should puzzle us.

Civilizations is driven by ideas rather than characters, and the plot is driven by big events rather than the small stories around which most novels are built. For those reasons, Civilizations might not be to every reader’s liking, but history buffs who like to imagine “what if” should love it.

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When Ghosts Come Home by Wiley Cash

Published by William Morrow on September 21, 2021

Racism and loss are dominant background themes in When Ghosts Come Home, a crime novel set in North Carolina in 1984. Winston Barnes is the Sheriff, but he’s likely to lose his reelection campaign to a good old boy named Bradley Frye who terrorizes black neighborhoods by shooting his gun while nightriding with a confederate flag on his pickup. Winston’s wife is battling cancer. His daughter Colleen just arrived home for an unexpected visit. Colleen made an impulsive decision to take a break from her husband in Texas after she experienced a stillbirth. Exactly why she thought it necessary to take that trip without talking it over with her husband first was never quite clear to me.

The plot begins when Winston is awakened by the sound of a low flying plane. Fearing that the plane might have crashed, he drives to the small local airport. Fearful because he is going out at night alone, Winston's wife calls one of his deputies and asks him to back up Winston.

At the airport, Winston finds a plane with broken landing gear that just avoided a collision at the end of the runway. The plane is empty, but he sees the body of Rodney Bellamy laying on the ground. Rodney has been shot. Winston finds Rodney's car is in the airport parking lot. Rodney’s wife, Janelle, tells Winston that he went to a 24-hour supermarket to buy diapers for their baby and didn’t return. Janelle has a much younger brother named Jay who got into trouble in Atlanta and has been exiled to Janelle’s home until he gets his act together.

None of the characters are entirely likable, although Jay is the most sympathetic. He was hanging with the wrong peers in Atlanta and was sent to North Carolina to get his life straight. Even before Rodney’s murder, Jay’s new life is troubled. His only friend is a white kid whose father doesn’t approve of blacks. Jay soon has a confrontation with Frye that makes him wish he hadn’t been pushed out of Atlanta.

Colleen’s grief and her feeling that her stillborn son’s ghost followed her from Texas is meant to give the story an emotional charge. Colleen’s decision to leave her husband in order to heal, her weeping every time she sees a baby, and her need to make a decision about her future seem artificial. The heart-tugging plot elements add little interest to the story.

Winston’s shooting of a black suspect in the early days of his law enforcement career has the similar feel of an event that Wiley Cash contrived to give Winston a burden that explains his troubled personality. Winston complains that his wife undermined his job or his masculinity by asking the deputy to provide backup at the airport. Winston’s failure to appreciate his dying wife’s concern makes him a bit of a jerk, although I suppose his mildly toxic masculinity is realistic. Still, I found it hard to care about Winston or his daughter.

The whodunit and the subplot involving Jay are sufficient to hold the reader's attention in the absence of compelling characters. Jay plays a collateral role in the larger mystery and creates a moral dilemma for Winston, who must decide whether to overlook the law in the interest of justice. A similar moral dilemma makes Winston weigh the arrest of a likely killer against the evil that the killing probably prevented.

As much as I believe in the power of fiction to expose the ugliness of racism, for a time I thought that the issue was overplayed, that the nightriding of the racist characters was almost cartoonish. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that some of the racists have underlying motivations for their obnoxious conduct that transcend race.

The surprise ending is partially telegraphed — there are clues that don’t make any sense unless they were planted to set up the ending — but in a key respect the ending comes as a shock. The ending is abrupt and not entirely satisfying, in part because it is never clear how the culprit managed to become part of the criminal enterprise that resulted in Rodney’s death. Still, I give Cash credit for the jarring, unconventional ending and for telling a story that is entertaining if not entirely credible.

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Mr Cadmus by Peter Ackroyd

First published in the UK in 2020; published by ‎ Canongate Books on September 21, 2021

Most of the story that unfolds in Mr Cadmus follows a British tradition of making murder the undercurrent of a whimsical story. Yet a growing darkness makes the story, by the end, more disturbing than whimsical.

Millicent Swallow and Maud Finch have an aunt in common, but they did not know each other until their teenage years, when the aunt introduced them. They also have murder in common. During their young lives, each killed for reasons they never came to regret. It is likely that neither woman is entirely right in the head, although they seem very proper and well suited to a quiet life in a gossipy village. As the years passed, they became as close as sisters, and by the early 1980s they occupy similar houses on the same street in Little Camborne, “the tiniest dot in a map of the county of Devonshire,” separated only by the house that stands between theirs.

When Theodore Cadmus moves into the middle house, the cousins are concerned. “I hope he doesn’t have any habits,” one cousin says. “Such as what?” the other asks. “Oh you know, food and so forth.” The cousins are quickly charmed by the new arrival, a single man in his 40s from Italy who lavishes the two women with attention and compliments. When reports of crime begin to crop up in the sleepy community and nearby villages, the reader will suspect they might relate to Mr Cadmus. The cousins do not suspect Cadmus of any crime. Surely he cannot be held accountable for the vicar who seems to have purloined the local parish’s property, although Cadmus and the vicar were together in a bank to which Cadmus paid a sudden visit. The cousins believe Cadmus is much too polite to be a criminal, even if his account of his past seems to change from conversation to conversation.

Theodore’s true past begins with a childhood on a small, misty island between Sardinia and Sicily. As a child, he kept his eye open for German soldiers and English spies. He was mistreated by both but had a particularly ugly encounter with a group of Englishmen. That episode gave him a dual purpose: revenge and finding hidden treasure at a location described on a map that a German soldier liberated from one of the Englishmen.

The story is odd and quirky, the kind of story in which the appearance of a parrot with a vulgar vocabulary is not unexpected, although the parrot’s fate might come as a shock. Mr Cadmus begins as an amusing story about eccentric characters who are not what they appear to be. The story eventually takes a darker turn, complete with brutal murders, voices from a grave, and a corpse whose “mouth and nostrils were stuffed with green amethysts so that he could no longer breathe.” The change in tone, complete with legends of a purple seagull, gives the novel a hint of the supernatural. While the change is a bit jarring, the ending is consistent with karma, given that none of the characters deserve to go unpunished.

Readers who want likeable characters and happy endings should avoid Mr Cadmus. Readers who want to be surprised — even if the story makes them cringe a bit — might be nourished by a plot that, if not entirely satisfying, is filled with unexpected events.

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