Sorry for Your Trouble by Richard Ford

Published by HarperCollins/Ecco on May 12, 2020

Sorry for Your Trouble collects stories of loss, usually caused by death or divorce. Many of the characters have ties to Louisiana or Ireland, although Maine and Paris seem to be their preferred vacation destinations. They have generally reached (or at least are approaching) an age that permits sober reflection on mistakes made and reckonings to come.

My favorite entry in this nine-story collection, “Second Language,” is one of the longer ones. After his wife’s sudden death evicts him from his “infallible, magical, irreplaceable world,” a businessman moves from Idaho to New York and meets a divorced woman who feels her life is “composed of some strange, insubstantial paper that she couldn’t quite keep hold of.” They marry, but he depended on his first wife to invent the “workable, reliable mind-set” that made him feel married, and is disappointed that his second wife has a more independent view of partnership. His new wife, on the other hand, understands that her husband “believed in greater and greater closeness, of shared complications, of difficult-to-overcome frictions leading to even greater depths of intimacy and knowledge of each other,” while she simply isn’t that kind of person. Ford dissects the lives and philosophies of the two principal characters, their relationship and its aftermath, exposing hidden barriers to the kind of understanding (of life, ourselves, other people) that we expect or hope to achieve.

I also give high marks to “The Run of Yourself.” After the death of Peter Boyce’s Irish wife, Peter rents a summer house in Maine near the one he and his wife used to rent. He rents a different house — not the one in which his wife died — so he can revisit pleasant memories without being haunted by thoughts of the crusty person his wife became after she fell ill. A visit from his daughter only underscores the distance between them. He has come to realize that he only needs to make small adjustments in his life because, at his age, there is “nothing further to learn or imagine or re-invent.” Doing a favor for a troubled young woman might change his mind about that.

With two exceptions, I enjoyed all of the remaining stories, although to a slightly lesser extent. In “Nothing to Declare,” a relatively young Sandy “nonchalantly loved” Barbara when they traveled to Iceland together, but the emotion was fading by the time he left her there. “She was, he felt, pretentious and self-infatuated. Leaving was a fine idea. What he’d been missing was miss-able. In the stark light her face bore a coarseness he hadn’t noticed, but supposed he would come to dislike.” A couple of decades later, when Sandy kisses Barbara in New Orleans during a chance encounter, Sandy’s feelings are ambiguous, but it isn’t clear that either Sandy or Barbara have fundamentally changed.

The transplanted Irishman in “Happy” dies after living an intellectual’s life. Bobbi “Happy” Kamper, his “surviving paramour,” joins friends for end-of-summer cocktails in Maine, a gathering that represents “a reversion to some way of being that pre-dated everything that life had sadly become.”

In “Displaced,” a 16-year-old boy who lost his father hopes to bond with an older Irish boy, but the friendship only increases his confusion about life. A divorcing American in “Crossing” who encounters brash American tourists in Ireland before he visits with his solicitor wonders whether he would be pathetic if he were to let a tear leak out in remembrance of the past.

In “Jimmy Green — 1992,” the disgraced former mayor of a small Louisiana town winds up in Paris for no particular reason. He watches the results of the American election in an American bar with a French woman and, because of his slight preference for the winning candidate, learns that Americans abroad can be even more obnoxious than Americans at home. The unpleasant episode is easily written off as an inevitable advance in the disassembling of his life.

 “Leaving for Kenosha” struck me as a story of less substance. The friend of the daughter of a divorced man is moving to Kenosha with her family. The divorced man has “a feeling of impendment” as he thinks about his daughter one day growing up and moving away. “A Free Day,” the story I liked the least, briefly follows a woman who is having an affair of convenience.

Ford has achieved a perfection of style, a fluid and harmonious voice that few writers manage with such consistency. His characters have a fundamental decency that allows them to grieve their losses without anger. They are civilized if a bit too restrained for their own good. They aren’t the kind of people who make headlines, for reasons good or bad, but they remind the reader that people who are capable of using their intellect are always striving for a balance of intellect and emotional awareness that is incredibly difficult to achieve.

RECOMMENDED

The Goodbye Man by Jeffery Deaver

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on May 12, 2020

Colter Shaw is a reward hunter, as opposed to a bounty hunter, but of course he turns down or gives away rewards because he’s just so darn good. Shaw starts the novel by tracking down a young man who has disappeared with a friend after being accused of participating in a shooting. Of course, the accusations are false, but before Shaw can prove their innocence, the young man’s friend commits suicide for no apparent reason.

Jeffery Deaver picks easy targets in The Goodbye Man and magnifies their evil to make sure the reader loathes them. Before the suicide, local law enforcement agents decide to murder the two young men simply because they are undesirable outsiders. They practically salivate at the idea of killing them. There are plenty of people in law enforcement who don’t deserve a badge, but killer cops aren’t usually as depraved as the ones depicted in the novel. Sure, Shaw is a good guy because he doesn't think that cops should commit murder, but there's a certain lack of subtlety in portraying villains as the worst people a reader can imagine.

To get to the bottom of the suicide, Shaw travels to the young man’s destination, which turns out to be a cult called The Osiris Foundation. Nobody likes cults, making it another easy target. Its founder, Master Eli, is David Koresh, Warren Jeffs, and Jim Jones rolled into one. Deaver wraps up the very worst tendencies of cults into one neat package, giving Shaw no choice but to infiltrate and destroy it.

That nobody else has discovered the cult’s malevolence is even more difficult to believe than the malevolence itself. Deaver tells us that the cult is secretive, but it needs members to sustain itself, so it can’t be all that secretive. Yet nobody notices that people who join the cult are victimized in ways that would surely be noticed by the outside world? I didn’t buy it.

Nor did I think that anyone would view Master Eli as anything but a joke. In just three weeks, his followers are so devoted to him that they are willing to sacrifice themselves because they believe his silly promise of a better future. All cult leaders are con men, but they succeed because they have charismatic appeal. Deaver didn’t make me believe that anyone would believe a single preposterous word that Eli utters.

On two occasions, cult enforcers physically abuse people where Shaw can watch. A cult that is trying to convince members that it offers the path to peace and serenity would hardly engage in such public displays of violence. Yeah, Shaw is not making his presence obvious on either occasion, but how convenient it is that Shaw happens to be in a place where he can see the violence going down? Writers who rely on improbable coincidence to advance a plot need to try harder.

Oh, and for all the security measures the cult takes, there is an unguarded gate that Shaw happens to find, giving himself easy egress and ingress to the compound. Too convenient? Yeah, just a bit.

Some aspects of The Goodbye Man are interesting, or at least amusing. Master Eli exaggerates his accomplishments, talks about fake news, encourages his followers to chant slogans and attack anyone who questions him, and is a “raging narcissist.” He reminded me quite a lot of Master Donald, on whom I am guessing he was modeled. Shaw pretty quickly sees through the Foundation’s self-help scam, but one of the therapists who engages Shaw gets him to take a deep dive into his real issues (involving his unresolved feelings of guilt about his absent brother), adding a moment of unexpected depth to a fairly simple plot. None of that is quite enough to earn a recommendation.

I expected The Goodbye Man to earn a guarded recommendation until the final chapters — maybe the last quarter of the book — went it rolled completely off the rails. Parts of the story that are supposed to be touching are too contrived to have an emotional impact. Apart from a weak plot, Shaw has developed all the personality of a comatose actuary. Shaw's habit of following his father’s tedious rules and assigning arbitrary percentages of success to his action plans are supposed to be interesting traits, but they only makes him annoying.

About half of last 50 pages weave in an ongoing story about a conspiracy that Shaw’s father was trying to unravel. That storyline began in the first novel and will probably unfold over several books. The conspiracy seems almost as ludicrous as the Osiris Foundation’s scheme. It doesn’t encourage me to believe that the next installments will be worth reading. That’s disappointing, since I have generally enjoyed Deaver’s Lincoln Rhyme books.

Deaver performs all the thriller writer tricks to make the novel seem to move quickly — short chapters, lots of white space — but the book loses momentum as it nears the end. I enjoyed the first Shaw novel (The Never Game) but this one is a step down.

NOT RECOMMENDED

Hammer to Fall by John Lawton

Published by Atlantic Monthly Press on March 10, 2020

Hammer to Fall is the third Joe Wilderness novel, but I have not been so fortunate as to read the first two. John Lawton has an unusual take on the spy novel genre. Wilderness (whose birth name is Holderness) is a bit of a rogue, a patriot when necessary and a hustler when opportunity presents itself. Spying suits his personality because he’s a born deceiver, but so does filling his safe with ill-gotten currency. The story is amusing for that reason, but it is far from a comedy. Hammer to Fall creates suspense in the best tradition of spy novels, including a couple of classic prisoner exchanges on bridges.

The novel has many moving parts and covers a significant span of time. Central characters weave in and out of each other’s lives as the story unfolds.

Joe begins the novel as a Schieber (black marketeer). In 1948, Joe is a Russian-speaking British corporal who does business with Eddie Clark and an American named Frank Spoleto, selling stolen coffee to a Russian named Kostya Zolotukhin. Kostya’s mother is a general in the NKVD known as the Red Widow. She rips off Joe and the Schiebers in a deal for peanut butter, leaving Kostya to face their wrath.

Spoleto goes on to be a CIA agent. Joe’s lover at the time is woman named Nell Burkhardt who was “raised by thieves and whores back in London’s East End” yet has a moral compass that Joe lacks.

Fast forward to 1966 and Joe is a field agent for MI6 who has seemingly misplaced a Soviet agent named Bernard Alleyn during a prisoner exchange. What actually happened to Alleyn plays a key role in the novel’s resolution. As punishment for apparently bungling his mission, Joe is sent to Finland, where nothing is happening. Joe passes the time by reengaging with Kostya in a black-market vodka operation until he stumbles upon information that might suggest an actual Soviet plot against the West. Along the way Joe gives a career assist to a bright woman named Janis Bell.

Joe next travels to Prague after the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, posing as a tractor salesman. The Prague station chief, whose wife slugged a Russian spy, is spirited away and replaced by an old friend of Joe. Another old friend, Freddie Troy, who also has a feisty wife, goes to Prague as the UK ambassador. All of this leads to the story’s culmination, which circles to the beginning and brings back characters from Joe’s past in another tense scene on a bridge between East and West.

Lawton’s characters have a realistic (not to say cynical) view of the world that they sometimes express with a bit of snark. For example, when Troy is told that his mission in Prague is to show support for democratic rebels while quietly turning most of them over to the Russians because “we can’t put up tents on the embassy lawn” to house them all, Troy asks why it is important to demonstrate support publicly if “in private you’re getting ready to dump them.” Of course, Troy’s wife promptly puts up tents in the embassy lawn.

The plot is also realistic in that it doesn’t involve a series of chase scenes and shootouts. Joe is bored much of the time because spying involves a good bit of waiting and watching. There’s little chance for the reader to be bored, however, because Joe fills his time in interesting ways. And moments of fast action arise with sufficient frequency to give the book a good pace.

Complex characters, a fascinating and wide-ranging plot, and a terrific sense of atmosphere make Hammer to Fall a pleasure to read. The book is self-contained, but the ending sets up the next installment with a mini-cliffhanger.

RECOMMENDED

Hard Cash Valley by Brian Panowich

Published by St. Martin's/Minotaur Books on May 5, 2020

Dane Kirby has lung cancer. It’s at stage two, but he doesn’t plan to get treatment. Years earlier, he lost his wife and daughter in a car accident after he hit a deer. Kirby has lost his enthusiasm for life. He is living with a woman but hasn’t told her about the cancer. He isn’t quite sure how to break the news, and saying it out loud would make it real. In any event, he never let go of his wife and has never fully invested in the new relationship.

Kirby works for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation after spending most of his career fighting or investigating fires. He’s happy to end his years with a nice, obscure desk job. That plan goes up in smoke when FBI Assistant Director August O’Barr summons him to a crime scene in Florida. Arnie Blackwell was murdered in a motel room and his body was set on fire. The case appears to have a connection to Georgia, so Special Agent Roselita Velasquez is temporarily detached from her partner, Geoff Dahmer, and assigned to work with Kirby. Velasquez isn’t happy about the assignment. She’s a feisty, interesting character who makes some surprising decisions as the story unfolds.

An ordinary murder doesn’t seem like a federal crime, but a large amount of cash was stolen from the victim. The money was won in a cockfighting event in Georgia. Arnie managed the improbable feat of betting correctly on every contest. To discover the secret of his success, he was tortured and killed by two mobsters from the Philippines, where gambling on cockfights is a way of life.

That setup sends Kirby and Velasquez on an investigative path that leads to unexpected destinations. Their primary goal is to find Arnie’s autistic brother William, a goal shared by a formidable Filipino killer and a mysterious figure who occasionally commits a murder of his own.

The plot offers an intelligent blend of action, mystery, and suspense. Hard Cash Valley is one of those rare thrillers that actually thrills, in part because the story never loses its credibility. The threats that Kirby faces always seem genuine, and he’s not the kind of hero who is going to fight his way out of a jam. Kirby has to rely on his smarts, and he has just enough of those to do his job well.

The plot is sufficiently complex to keep the reader guessing but not so byzantine that the reader will lose track of details. A subplot involves Kirby’s estranged friend Nat Lemon, who seems to have committed a murder that is unconnected to the main plot. Connections eventually develop that tie the stories together.

Characterization is well above average for the genre. Velasquez is a lesbian so she doesn’t enter into a predictable romance with Kirby. That’s one of many good choices that Brian Panowich made to tell a fresh and convincing story. The resolution might depend on more karma than the world generally offers, but it’s difficult for a reader to complain about feeling good at the end of a novel.

RECOMMENDED

The Paladin by David Ignatius

Published by W. W. Norton & Company on May 5, 2020

A CIA cyberintelligence agent named Michael Dunne is assigned to infiltrate a group called Fallen Empire, which is suspected of engaging in WikiLeaks-like activities. The main person of interest is an American named Jason Howe who claims to be running a news organization. The CIA regards it as an enemy intelligence service, in part because it is assisted by a team headed by an Italian computer nerd. Dunne understands that the assignment is probably illegal and against CIA policy because (1) the CIA isn’t supposed to spy on Americans and (2) the CIA has promised not to mess with journalists. But the DDO, George Strafe, assures Dunne that the CIA will have his back so he breaks the law anyway.

Before the operation goes sideways, Dunne falls into a honeytrap and finds himself on the wrong end of a video camera with his pants down. After the operation goes sideways, the video gets sent to his wife (whose image is also deepfaked into a separate salacious video) and Dunne is prosecuted for a couple of federal crimes. Dunne’s pathetic excuse for a lawyer wants him to plead guilty before he conducts an investigation. The only good advice that the lawyer gives Dunne is to apologize for being a bad boy at sentencing. Dunne does just the opposite, protesting that his misfortune is all the fault of his superiors, which predictably results in a year in prison rather than probation. He loses wife and daughter and emerges from prison a bitter man, but at least he has connections.

Dunne starts his own cybersecurity firm and promptly makes it his mission to seek revenge. His primary targets are Howe and Strafe. Along the way he discovers a scheme to disrupt financial markets using nasty technology, including the deepfake tech that was used against his wife. The plot is a moderately interesting variation of stories that have told many times before.

I assume David Ignatius wants the reader to feel some sympathy for Dunne, but I felt none. He broke the law and blamed his bosses for his decision to do what he knew was wrong. Then he fell into an obvious honeytrap and blamed the people who videoed him. Only rarely and reluctantly does Dunne acknowledge that he is at least partially responsible for his own misfortunes. Just a few chapters into The Paladin, I gave up caring about Dunne. He constantly portrays himself as a victim, but he’s primarily a victim of his own selfishness and stupidity.

Near the novel’s end, I thought Ignatius might be setting up a truly daring ending, but the actual ending is predictable. The Paladin moves quickly and the story isn’t dull, but a mediocre plot, a disagreeable protagonist, and Ignatius’ lackluster prose offer little reason for thriller or spy novel fans to spend time with the novel. The Paladin isn’t an awful book, but there are better choices.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS