The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson

Published by Del Rey on August 4, 2020

The Space Between Worlds is rooted in the familiar multiverse theory. The story imagines the ability to move between a limited number of Earths that are similar to our own. The protagonist is tasked with making those journeys. She brings energy and interest to the book's initial chapters. Unfortunately, the story becomes less interesting as it progresses. Some aspects of the novel appear to have been crafted to please soap opera or romance fans.

A woman named Cara lives in Ashville, where underprivileged people of color cope with polluted air and malnutrition. Cara scores a gig as a traverser in Wiley City, where the rich people live. There is little subtlety in the juxtaposition of Wiley City and Ashville, two cities separated by a wall. Ashville residents cannot enter Wiley City without a pass. That wealthy people live well and poor people live poorly is a universal, but we see too little of how the difference developed on Earth Zero, where the neighboring cities are located.

Cara’s job entails traveling to one of 380 parallel Earths that humans from Earth Zero can enter. These are Earths that are sufficiently similar to Earth Zero that they “resonate," whatever that means.

Traversing isn’t a job that many people can perform. Only people who have no counterpart on the world they are entering — only people whose counterpart died on that world — can enter. If your counterpart is alive, you will be rejected with extreme prejudice. Why? Well, that isn’t clear, although Cara feels there’s some sort of spirit being called Nyame who lives between the worlds and makes, or at least enforces, the rules. Readers of a superstitious mindset might appreciate Cara’s communion with Nyame. Had more flesh been given to the concept, I might have appreciated it, as well.

Cara’s value is that she has managed to die on 372 of the parallel Earths but not on Earth Zero. Not yet, anyway, no thanks to Nik Nik, who is the Emperor of Ashville on Earth Zero and most other Earths. On some of those, Cara is Nik Nik’s “favorite girl.” Nik Nik and his father before him have generally been the sort of authoritarian rulers who trade protection for tribute.

Adam Bosch, who invented the traversing technology, lives in Wiley City. He uses that technology to acquire minerals and stock tips and other valuable information from the parallel Earths, some of which exist in the future. Adam is evil in a greedy, hubristic way that makes him easy to dislike — particularly when it becomes clear just how twisted and murderous he is — but like the Earth Zero Nik Nik, Adam is little more than a stereotype. Adam is the Wiley City version of Nik Nik, more a capitalist king than an emperor, but the two men have a connection that is meant to be important to the plot. To the extent that The Space Between Worlds is a soap opera, huge revelations that are turn out to be relatively meaningless are part of the formula. A more interesting revelation, although one that comes early in the plot, is that the death-prone Cara isn’t who we think she is.

The story follows Cara as she visits a few different Earths, encounters different versions of Nik Nik and Bosch, and even encounters herself, which isn’t supposed to be possible. She has moderately interesting adventures and occasionally ponders how people might develop in different ways under different circumstances. That’s an interesting concept that should be enough to carry the story, but key parts of the plot go nowhere. Cara experiences emotional woe because she loves Dell on pretty much every world but doesn’t think that Dell could feel the same about poor trash from Asheville. Cara gets along with Nik Nik on world 175 but hates him everywhere else. All of which left me wondering if the story would ever go anywhere. It really doesn’t. At least, it doesn’t go far enough to justify the set up.

I appreciate the fluidity of Micaiah Johnson’s prose and the thought she put into the concept of traversing. I appreciated the characterization that went into Cara, although other characters are one dimensional. I would have appreciated the plot if the story had realized its potential. Where the story could have explored themes of nature and nurture, it instead becomes a muddle as Cara visits a handful of alternate Earths, all the while fretting about whether Dell will ever love her as much as she loves Dell. The story loses energy and fizzles out entirely by the last chapter. I was disappointed that The Space Between Worlds didn’t live up to the hype that has surrounded it, but I did enjoy significant parts of the story.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

The Law of Innocence by Michael Connelly

Published by Little, Brown and Company on November 10, 2020

The lawyer novels that I most enjoy reflect the drama that is inherent in a trial and indict the frailties of our criminal justice system. Michael Connelly delivers the drama and seasons it with a stinging but accurate look at how police and prosecutors subvert justice to achieve their own ends.

Michael Haller (known as the Lincoln lawyer because he practices law from his small fleet of Lincolns) is pulled over by a cop for a missing license plate. The cop forces him to open his trunk and finds a dead body. The corpse turns out to be an ex-client who didn’t pay his bill.

The “lawyer as defendant” plot has been done before — Scott Turow’s Presumed Innocent remains the gold standard — but Connelly gives it a twist by having Haller defend himself. Yes, Haller has a fool for a client, but he also has his own firm and a couple of investigators working with him (including Harry Bosch) and eventually gains the help of an ex-wife who takes a leave as a prosecutor to join his defense team.

In Haller’s view, the “law of innocence” requires him not just to raise a reasonable doubt, but to prove that a specific suspect committed the murder and framed him. Nothing else will restore his reputation and allow him to continue making decent money.

Haller is handicapped by being in jail during much of the time he’s preparing his defense because, as Connelly demonstrates, the bail system isn’t fair. When Haller finally makes bail, the prosecutor amends the charge to send him back to jail because that’s exactly the kind of sleaze that defense lawyers have come to expect from win-at-all-cost prosecutors. The prosecution also withholds critical evidence because that’s what win-at-all-cost prosecutors do. The Law of Innocence is fiction but it serves as a fair introduction to the perils that defendants face when a prosecutor is really out to get them.

The plot works for a few reasons. First, the story allows the reader to follow Haller’s investigators as they sift through evidence, concoct theories about who might have wanted to frame Haller, and chase down leads that eventually solidify one of those theories. The mystery comes to a credible resolution.

Second, it’s easy to sympathize with Haller as he sits in jail, paying inmates for protection but enduring a couple of beatings because jailers have little incentive to protect a guy they regard as the enemy. Haller suspects that at least one attack is tied to his case, along with the death of a man who might have been a useful witness.

Third, every courtroom drama rises and falls on the courtroom scenes. The inside skinny on strategy, both in cross-examination and in working the judge, are the lawyer novel equivalent of tradecraft in a spy novel. Haller comes up with some clever strategies that are unique to his defense. The novel is less melodramatic than Perry Mason — the real killer doesn’t confess from the witness stand — but courtroom drama builds incrementally as the reader begins to wonder whether Haller will be unjustly convicted. I love reading about fictional defense lawyers using their skill to outwit self-righteous prosecutors who have little regard for due process.

There were, I thought, some dangling loose ends regarding the way in which the crime was actually committed and the specific ways in which the police were used to frame Haller. But those are quibbles in a smart novel that moves quickly and maintains suspense from beginning to end. Connelly provides enough characterization to make Haller seem like a real person with real problems, but the novel is driven by plot more than characterization. The plot’s strength makes The Law of Innocence a good choice for fans of lawyer novels.

RECOMMENDED

Comrade Koba by Robert Littell

Published by The Overlook Press on November 10, 2020

Robert Littell has written some good spy novels, including Company and The Sisters. He’s also written some historical fiction that is less successful. Comrade Koba falls into the latter category.

Comrade Koba imagines a ten-and-a-half-year-old child named Leon Rozental whose father, a physicist, died from radiation poisoning. He’s living with his mother, a Jewish doctor, in Soviet housing. From a hidden room, he watches the NKVD arrest his mother. He later learns that she was arrested with many other Jewish doctors who are accused of conspiring to poison Stalin.

The NKVD seals shut the apartment door. Leon knows of hidden hallways that let him connect with other kids who have been effectively orphaned within the building. He also knows of a hidden tunnel that will let him leave the building unobserved to forage for food. While returning from one such trip, he notices another passageway that takes him to a basement room where he meets a grumbly old man who claims to be Stalin’s aide. As the man, who calls himself Koba, narrates his story to Leon, it quickly becomes clear to the reader that Koba bears a striking resemblance to Stalin himself. In fact, that question of identity arises so quickly that it isn’t a spoiler to mention it here.

So that’s pretty much the story. Leon listens to Koba every day and hangs out with is friends at night. Leon is a clever kid with a winning personality. Koba is Koba: unrepenting, blaming others for Soviet atrocities or blaming the victims who, in his view, had it coming. He certainly isn’t as nuanced as the book’s blurb suggests. The story is interesting and Littell’s dialog is rich and surprising, but it doesn’t add up to much. If the novel is meant to remind us that Stalin was evil and anti-Semitic . . . well, history reminds us of that.

Unlike history, the novel doesn’t ring true. A kid who wanders through tunnels accidentally encounters a Soviet dictator? Stalin secretly likes kids and wants one to write his biography? Stalin — as we learn at the end — has a sentimental side? I might have been willing to suspend my disbelief if Littell had written a meatier novel, but the rewards of Comrade Koba are too few to earn a full recommendation.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

The Galway Epiphany by Ken Bruen

Published by Grove Atlantic/Mysterious Press on November 3, 2020

A priest has an incurable disease that will ravish him before it leaves him dead. He wants to speed the process but it’s bad form for a priest to commit suicide. The priest asks Jack Taylor to kill him. When Taylor argues that murder is a mortal sin, the priest responds, “You have so many sins, will God notice?”

Taylor weighs the decision to kill the priest after a different priest confesses that he intends to kill a satanic child who, for a time, befriended Taylor. Such is Jack Taylor’s life. Those are only two of the plot threads that weave together in A Galway Epiphany.

Children are at the heart of the novel, both as abuse victims and as abusers. One of the villains in the story is burning down buildings, including one that might be occupied by kids. Another villain is a man who beats his six-year-old daughter. Another is a child whose bullying caused another child’s suicide. The remaining villain — the murderous child — is creating fake miracles that the gullible are only too happy to believe.

Taylor makes clear his disgust with a religion that fails to protect children from its priests. Still, he decides to go on something like a religious retreat where he will try to recharge while avoiding contact with nuns and priests. To the nun in charge, avoiding contact seems like a fine idea.

Taylor’s relationship with Catholicism is both strained and ambiguous. He is inclined to believe that all miracles are fake until he experiences one of his own. He’s hit by a car, wakes up from a coma with no serious injuries, and actually feels better than he has in years — until the novel’s end. Rarely does a Jack Taylor novel end well for Taylor. This one is no exception. Taylor might actually be on the verge of an epiphany until the last page. Like many of Ken Bruen’s last pages, it changes the narrative entirely.

Along the way, Taylor makes jaded and pithy comments about politics and praises a variety of crime writers, some of whom I’ve read and some I haven’t. Reading a Jack Taylor novel always makes my reading list grow.

I could complain that Taylor novels are formulaic but I like the formula. The books always move in sprints, occasionally pausing for Taylor to drink and exchange cross words with, well, everyone who speaks to him. Taylor’s dark struggles with whiskey and evil make him philosophical without being pedantic. He is one of the most troubled characters in crime fiction and, for that reason, among the most interesting. The Galway Epiphany is about average for a Jack Taylor novel, making my recommendation virtually automatic.

RECOMMENDED

Hidden in Plain Sight by Jeffrey Archer

Published by St. Martin's Press on November 3, 2020

Jeffrey Archer has been chronicling the early career of his fictional creation, William Warwick, who appears later in life in Archer’s Harry Clifton novels. In Nothing Ventured, Archer described Warwick’s efforts to thwart art forgers, a gig he scored by virtue of his degree in art history. Warwick begins Hidden in Plain Sight with a promotion to the rank of Detective Sergeant and reassignment to a new team that is chasing the big dog of London drug smuggling. “The Viper” runs a good chunk of London’s illicit drug market from the top three floors of a building that houses his manufacturing and distribution business. The location, however, is a mystery to the police.

Despite Warwick’s shift to the drug task force, an interesting plot thread continues the art theft plot that drove Nothing Ventured. Miles Faulkner, whose sentence for art fraud was suspended, attempts to foil Warwick’s marriage to Beth. Miles is having marital problems of his own, problems that motivate him to engage in a couple of new crimes to thwart his soon-to-be-ex-wife’s effort to take his house, his art collection, and pretty much everything he owns. By novel’s end, the degree of his success will be in doubt, setting up the continuation of the story in the next novel.

Hidden in Plain Sight takes place in 1986, when it was still considered wise to declare war on drugs rather than treating them as a public health problem. While the drug plot has Warwick playing a significant role in the effort to find the Viper’s den, Warwick learns that his nemesis Faulkner is also involved in drug distribution, at least with regard to his elite friends. Warwick recruits an informant who helps him catch Faulkner with drugs, but whether the evidence will stand up in court leads to a trial that provides another plot point.

The courtroom theatrics are provided by Warwick’s father, representing the Crown, and his sister, who prosecutes as her father’s junior. I always enjoy courtroom scenes and this one is entertaining, in part because a prosecution witness turns out to be unreliable. Still, while discussions of courtroom strategy are always fun, cases turn on evidence and the evidence made the outcome fairly predictable, strategic considerations notwithstanding. As Rumpole sometimes mused, it is easy to prove that guilty person is guilty. Getting a guilty person acquitted is the real courtroom challenge.

My only knock on William Warwick as a character is his stalwart and unblemished nature. Warwick is known as “choirboy” because he is resolutely proper in everything he does. My sense is that Archer means him to be an exemplar of the British upper-crust at their best (Warwick’s father, Sir Julian, is a QC and his sister seems destined to become one). People of resolute moral character, at least in fiction, tend to a bit one-dimensional. All members of the Warwick family dispense bits of trivia so we know they are learned, but it takes more than an ability to explain the origin of “Bob’s your uncle” to give a character a memorable personality. I’d like to see Warwick let his hair down and show us his naughty side, except he doesn’t seem to have one.

Warwick’s moral rectitude does, however, set up a personal conflict (can he remain a police officer if he must serve a corrupt master?) that remains at the end of the novel. Since the Harry Clifton novels answer that question, it isn’t a cliff-hanger, but the novel does set up a (presumably) final conflict between Warwick and Faulkner in the next novel.

On the whole, I enjoyed Hidden in Plain Sight more than Nothing Ventured. There are fewer scenes of Warwick family gatherings that tended to slow the first novel, while the plot moves more quickly and in more directions. Readers who want their crime novel protagonists to be righteous defenders of the law and virtue will likely admire Hidden in Plain Sight.

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