One Minute Out by Mark Greaney

Published by Berkley on February 18, 2020

You know what you’re getting when you read a Gray Man novel. An abundance of action, a fair amount of mayhem, and a story that blows past the boundaries of plausibility. You also know that characterization is rudimentary, with the exception of the protagonist, whose personality is well established. Court Gentry is an action hero, not an introspective character who cares about personal growth. He knows what he knows and that’s all he’ll ever know. He’s happy with that, so why should readers complain?

I don’t follow many unidimensional action heroes, but there are a few I find entertaining. The Gray Man series is on that list. Few action thriller writers actually deliver thrills. Mark Greaney is one of them. I don’t care that the action is implausible because the story moves so quickly that I don’t have time to think about it.

The Violator, a/k/a the Gray Man, a/k/a Gentry, is hired to kill a retired Serbian war criminal by people who think he deserves to be dead. Killing people is Gentry’s thing, and if he’s paid to do it, all the better. Of course, he only kills people who deserve it, and to some minds, that makes it okay. To my mind, fretting about Gentry’s morality— he doesn’t claim to have any — would get in the way of the story.

As he’s getting ready to take the shot, Gentry goes against his instincts and noses around because he senses something’s not right. When he investigates, he discovers a couple of dozen women and girls who are shackled to the floor. He learns that the women are being trafficked as sex slaves — a popular thriller theme in recent years — and that the women are likely to pay a price for the mayhem he is causing. Gentry doesn’t have the resources to rescue a dozen women from a hellhole, but after he kills the war criminal and makes his escape, he feels guilty about whatever grief he might have caused them.

Gentry eventually hooks up with a female EUROPOL analyst named Talyssa Corbu. She’s usually tracking down financial criminals, but she’s freelancing in an effort to take down the sex slave pipeline. She has a personal stake because she enlisted her sister to cozy up to one of the leaders of the Consortium that manages this billion-dollar enterprise, and her sister, not being trained as a spy, got herself kidnapped and added to the stable of sex slaves. Talyssa eventually uses her skills at following the money to help Gentry use his skills at killing bad guys.

To follow the kidnapped girls, Gentry chases after and boards a yacht, then tries to figure out how to infiltrate a heavily guarded way station for enslaved women in Italy. In the meantime, the CIA has an important mission for Gentry and needs him to come home. To that end, a team is sent to Italy to bring him home against his will.  All of this is just an excuse for chase scenes, gun battles, underwater chase scenes involving gun battles, and . . . you get the idea. By the time it’s all over, Gentry is in California and a lot of people are dead.

The highlight comes near the end when Gentry enlists some over-the-hill action heroes and a geriatric helicopter pilot to help him assault a rich man’s estate. The story isn’t even slightly plausible but it is richly entertaining. I wouldn’t rate One Minute Out as my favorite Gray Man novel, but it is much better than the bulk of action hero thrillers, the ones I typically abandon after twenty pages because the protagonists are so self-righteous and full of themselves. Yeah, Gentry knows he’s the baddest assassin out there, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He is who he is, and Greaney’s emphasis isn’t so much on what a great patriot Gentry is (that’s an understated given) or how he’s a great American hero (debatable, even in Gentry’s mind), but on how much fun he can deliver to the reader by having Gentry break things and kill bad guys.

RECOMMENDED

Blackwood by Michael Farris Smith

Published by Little, Brown and Company on March 3, 2020

Dark, disturbing, and gritty, Blackwood is Michael Farris Smith’s latest contribution to the literature of the American underbelly. Set in a kudzu-covered valley in rural Mississippi, the novel follows characters who seek escape. The kudzu vines that build a cage around houses and abandoned cars are presumably a symbol of the forces that strangle freedom, forcing characters to reach for figurative machetes to cut themselves free.

Colburn Evans comes back to his hometown in response to an ad that offers a free storefront to anyone who agrees to become a town resident. Colburn assembles sculptures from scrap metal. He envisions the storefront as his workshop. But Colburn finds himself shunned by residents who recall his family’s past, including his father’s apparent suicide-by-hanging. A character tells Colburn that the valley is “one big ghost story. Stories about the past. Stories about the man who killed himself. It’s what we do.” Memories of his father’s death haunt Colburn for reasons that only become fully apparent late in the novel.

The novel’s most decent character is Myers, the local sheriff. He comes across a drifter who appears to be living in a broken down Cadillac with a woman and their son. The story begins with a look at the drifter, who is well along the road to derangement. The fate of the woman and her two children is one of the plot-drivers. The boy soon becomes a fixture in the valley, rummaging through garbage for food, collecting cans in a shopping cart, warily accepting charity, finding independence because he has no choice. Myers eventually comes to regret that he didn’t arrange to repair the Cadillac and send the family on their way. The novel suggests that for a decent person, regrets of that nature — why didn’t I do more to help? —are inevitable.

Colburn is drawn to a bar owner named Celia, another decent character but one who is habitually drawn to troubled men. One of those men, a fellow named Dixon, is married, which creates a conflict (mostly in Dixon’s mind) between Dixon and Colburn. Dixon’s wife wants Dixon to end his embarrassing relationship with Celia while Celia wants Dixon to let her make her own choices about how she lives her life. Like other characters in Blackwood, Dixon struggles to contain the bitterness that compels him to make decisions he will only regret.

The characters coalesce in a plot that uses random acts of violence to illuminate the tragic circumstances of people who cannot see beyond their mistaken assumptions. An unnoticed woman goes missing, followed by the disappearance of twin children. Suspicion focuses on Colburn, since he is an outsider. Eventually another key character goes missing. The misinterpretation of circumstantial evidence leads multiple characters to arrive at false conclusions about the guilt of other characters. Nobody gets it right because they don’t try to get past their anger and view the facts with a rational mind.

In the end, the novel offers a lesson in compassion and understanding. Characters discover the peril of making harsh and unnecessary judgments. One outcast regrets his failure to recognize how he viewed another outcast. “He thought of the boy and the life he had lived and the way he looked and his inability to participate and all that he had missed and would forever miss. It’s not your fault and I looked at you the same way the world looked at you and I should have known better.” If we can’t recognize pain in people who are like us, the novel seems to ask, how can we hope to understand people who are less fortunate than us?

The story’s grit is offset by its grace. Smith’s fluid prose rises above the brutal world it illuminates. Dialog is sharp; atmosphere exudes from the pages. The story is intense, the themes are timeless, and the characters — like your neighbors — are recognizable as types but surprising as individuals. This isn’t a “feel good” story so it might not travel to the top of the best seller charts, but it is a better book than most of the best sellers I’ve read.

RECOMMENDED

New Waves by Kevin Nguyen

Published by Random House/One World on March 10, 2020

A young woman named Margo is hit by a car and dies. She is something of a phantom character for the rest of New Waves, carried in memory by two of her friends who bond with each other through their discovery that they both knew her.

Margo had dark skin and a Haitian background. She worked as a software engineer. She could see patterns that others missed. Often at night, because she “was happiest when she was drinking,” she got buzzed and dictated short science fiction stories, typically in dystopian settings, into her phone. A few of those stories appear in New Waves.

Margo had few friends, but she developed two friendships online. One was on a website that archived music (not entirely in conformity with copyright laws). She was a fan of Japanese music. She traded music with Lucas Nguyen, who is a fan of bossa nova.

By coincidence, at some point after the music website is shut down, Lucas and Margo discover that they are both working at the same messaging app company — Margo in development, Lucas in customer service. They eventually leave the company and go to work for a different messaging app company (Phantom), a startup developing an app that allows covert messaging. The app is intended for whistleblowers but is embraced by teens who use it for sexting. The perils of working for (or doing business with) a tech company, particularly a startup, is a theme to which the story frequently returns.

As a lark (or so it seems to Lucas), before quitting and moving to Phantom, they steal some user data, prompting an eventual discussion of the morality of stealing from a company that doesn’t care about its employees. Margo does it to get back at all the male employees who don’t take her seriously because she’s a woman, and all the white employees who want to discuss hip-hop with her. Lucas does it to get back at all the non-Asian employees who assume he’s an engineer because he’s Asian, and all the Asian employees who look down on him because he’s not an engineer. Margo is particularly offended when a survey finds that the app appeals to nonwhite users, and the company instantly focuses on making the app more “white friendly” rather than working on features that would appeal to its black customer base.

All of that gives a taste of the carefully consructed background to New Waves. The story really begins with the introduction of Jill August, Margo’s other online friend. Jill wrote a novel, sort of a downbeat family drama, that found a publisher. She began working on a book with a science fiction setting and joined a science fiction message board to get a sense of the genre. There she met Margo, who critiqued Jill’s writing.

Lucas takes it upon himself to close Margo’s Facebook account, where he discovers unanswered messages from Jill. He lets Jill know that Margo died, and they eventually meet and begin something that might be a friendship-with-benefits or a deeper relationship, depending on their changing perspectives.

New Waves is an engaging novel on several fronts. Lucas’ relationships with Margo and Jill are complex. Both involve something that might be love, although it is clear that neither Margo nor Jill feel about Lucas the way he feels about them. Lucas’ assumption that Margo doesn’t want to have an intimate relationship with him because she doesn’t want to be intimate with anyone sets up a surprising revelation — surprising, at least, to Lucas, but foreshadowed to the reader.

Different approaches to confronting (or ignoring) racism and sexism are a key theme. Another is the difficulty of connecting with people. All the technology that connects us, the novel suggests, might paradoxically push us away from each other in the offline world.

Another theme is the human desire to fix things — relationships, ourselves, other people — even when they might not be fixable, or might not need fixing at all. One of the characters thinks that “all we need to do is trust that time and space sort everything out.”

But the novel’s larger message is that having a certain kind of friend can change your life in profound ways. Even after your friend dies, even if the friendship was brief, an honest friend who calls you on your bullshit, who inspires you to see the world in a different way, can guide your future. “What would Margo think about this?” is a question that Lucas constantly asks. He imagines answers that make him a better person, the kind of person Margo would admire.

New Waves is a surprisingly quick and easy read, given the complexity of the themes it explores. The characters are young, still finding their way into the adult world, trying to make sense of their lives. Kevin Nguyen writes with empathy and compassion as he steers his characters through a multi-layered story that, despite its subject matter, never becomes maudlin or preachy.

RECOMMENDED

The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich

Publlished by Harper on March 3, 2020

The Night Watchman is inspired by Louise Erdrich’s grandfather, who served as chairman of the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa Advisory Committee in the 1950s. Erdrich’s focus is upon a congressional attempt to terminate the Turtle Mountain Band in 1954, one of many shameful episodes in America’s history of broken promises. The government wanted to break up the reservation so it could “relocate” Indians, a blatant land grab by white people at the expense of Indians who farmed the miserable land that the government agreed would be theirs forever.

As is customary in an Erdrich novel, her story showcases Indians who go about their business, faintly amused by the ways of white people. The Indians maintain their culture and dignity as they make the best lives they can. A key character is Thomas, who farms and works as a night watchman, where he sometimes chats with the ghost of a boy who was his friend before he died. Thomas leads a delegation of the Turtle Mountain Chippewa to Washington in the hope that they can educate Congress about their mistaken claim that the Turtle Mountain Band is self-sustaining and no longer needs government assistance.

The delegation needs to cover travel expenses, so Wood Mountain participates in a fund-raising boxing match against his rival. Wood Mountain is sweet on Patrice, a virgin who is curious about sex but can’t decide whether she should try it with Wood Mountain or one of the other men in the tribe. Patrice is smart and independent, representing the future of Native American women as they blend the best of native and non-native cultures.

Another key woman is Millie, who has already left the tribe to pursue an education. Millie authored an economic study of reservation life. Thomas wants her to present the study to Congress in support of the tribe’s objection to termination. Millie is shy, but leans on Patrice to help her overcome her fear.

A couple of Mormons add comic relief as they try to persuade the Chippewa to abandon Catholicism or their native religion and embrace what they refer to as the only religion that originated in America. Thomas, whose religious beliefs were passed down from Native Americans long before the land came to be called America, knows better. The Mormons make it their business to lecture others about sin until temptation leads them to pray “to bear the intolerable fire of life.”

Dark comedy comes from Patrice’s trip to the Twin Cities to look for Vera. She takes a job as an underwater performer, sort of like a mermaid except her costume is a blue ox. That job turns out to be dangerous in many ways, but she comes home with Vera’s baby, to whom Wood Mountain is instantly attached. What happens to Vera isn’t amusing at all, but she proves to be another strong, resilient woman.

The novel confronts the stereotypes and prejudices that led to the devastating termination and relocation of tribes during the 1950s. The congressional efforts drove some tribes to extinction. In Erdrich’s novel, as in history, Senator Watkins questions the morality and virtue of Indians, an ironic position for a man who wants to break a sacred promise that the government made to the tribe. Patrice notes that white people see Indians as savages, yet she sees more violence in Washington and in the Twin Cities than she ever saw on the reservation.

Erdrich’s novels have long confronted prejudice by telling personal, relatable stories about love and loss, laughter and sadness, all the qualities that humans share regardless of their birthplace or skin color. At the same time, her novels refuse to stereotype either whites or Indians. A selfless white man, for example, helps Vera in her time of need. Her strongest characters exemplify how all humans should treat one another.

Erdrich gives depth to a varying cast of characters and encourages readers to understand their fears, hopes, pain, and joy. The story is sweet and sad and funny. It reflects a reverence for nature, respect for ancestral history, and gratitude for a shared place on the Earth. The ending ties up all the plot threads in ways that are heartwarming without becoming saccharine.

RECOMMENDED

Into the Fire by Gregg Hurwitz

Published by Minotaur Books on January 28, 2020

The Orphan X series has evolved into an enjoyable interpretation of the tough-guy action thriller. The series began by combining two unoriginal premises. The first positioned the protagonist, Evan Smoak, as a hero in the Jason Bourne mold: trained from an early age to be a deadly force in the service of a shadowy program. The second had Smoak giving away his services to victims who find themselves in threatening situations, in the manner of the Equalizer and other vigilante heroes. Two eye-rolling premises is at least one too many.

Thankfully, Gregg Hurwitz laid the Bourne premise to rest, at least as a plot-driver. Smoak extracted himself from the clutches of his would-be masters in Out of the Dark, putting an apparent end to Smoak’s concerns about being assassinated by the conspiratorial forces of evil that created him.

What used to be a subplot — helping the unfortunate by smiting their oppressors — turns into the main plot in Into the Fire. The series benefits from the new focus.

The story begins with a fellow named Terzian (a/k/a “the Terror”) bringing Grant Meriwether to the hospital for treatment after torturing him. He resumes the torture after killing the doctor who patches Grant up. Terzian wants a name from Grant, which he finally gets: Max Meriwether, Grant’s cousin. In an effort to avoid the same fate as Grant, Max contacts Smoak, who goes by the name The Nowhere Man.

While Smoak started the series as a fairly standard action hero (the kind of tough guy who isn’t known for depth), he has become a contemplative, self-questioning tough guy, giving him a more interesting personality than someone like Reacher, who has never had a moment of self-doubt in his life. Smoak became the Nowhere Man to seek something like redemption, an “imperfect word” to describe his need to confront the world “with his own code, illuminating the darkness with the guttering light of his own morality,” a process of becoming “less sharp. More human.” To that end, he is thinking that helping Max might be his last mission.

Smoak is attracted to a neighbor named Mia, although she is appalled when she learns just how much violence he exercises to solve the problems he confronts. Mia is a law-and-order prosecutor, but she becomes more forgiving of Evan after he does her a violent solid involving her endangered son.

The attention that Hurwitz gives to characterization does not shortchange the action. The story moves crisply as Smoak unravels the mess that Max inherited from Grant. After stumbling upon the corpse of a journalist who had been communicating with Grant, Max gives Smoak an envelope that contains an object the Terror would like to retrieve. Smoak successively battles Terzian’s thugs, a dogfighting ring, Terzian’s boss, a couple of bent cops, and the top boss, who is safely imprisoned and not easily killable. Each time Smoak solves one problem (violently), another pops up. Along the way, he sustains a concussion, and then another, creating the practical problem of which bad guy to shoot when he’s seeing double.

Smoak’s young hacker friend (and former Orphan) Joey Morales adds some youthful snark to the story, while a dog rescued from the dogfights softens the characters of both Smoak and Joey. I always say that the addition of a dog makes every story better. Of the various ways to manipulate readers into caring about characters, portraying a character as a dog lover is the best.

Will Smoak give up being the Nowhere Man and retire to a life that doesn’t require him to kill people every day? It looks that way until Smoak gets a startling call in the last chapter. I assume that means the series will continue. In my judgment, that’s a good thing.

RECOMMENDED