Friendly Fire by John Gilstrap

Published by Pinnacle Books on June 28, 2016

Scorpion begins Friendly Fire by rescuing a congressman’s daughter who has been kidnapped (the details of how he finds her are conveniently unreported). Ethan Falk begins Friendly Fire by murdering the man who abused him as a child. He was rescued from that man eleven years earlier (by Scorpion, of course), but since there is no record of the kidnapping or the rescue, the police don’t believe him. That puts Scorpion, who keeps his daring and extra-legal rescues confidential, in a sticky situation.

Scorpion is Jonathan Grave, who sometimes accepts assignments from Irene Rivers, a/k/a Wolverine, who also happens to be director of the FBI. Calling in a favor, Grave wants Rivers to explain why the man Falk killed, James Stepahin, appears never to have existed. That leads to an improbable storyline about terrorists and their hired guns who plan to cause havoc in Virginia.

I don’t hold its improbability against Friendly Fire because improbability is the new norm in the world of thrillers and the novel is not so outlandish as to be laughable. The fuzziness of the background (neither the team of killers/kidnappers who cause havoc throughout the novel nor the people who hire them are well developed) is offset by the action scenes, which are tense if fairly standard for an action thriller. Scorpion and his sidekick Big Guy manage to kill dozens of bad guys without breaking a sweat, about what you’d expect from the action genre. Fortunately, the quality of John Gilstrap’s prose is better than average for the genre, making Friendly Fire a fast and pleasant read.

The strength of the novel lies in a subplot involving Falk who, while confined to jail, grudgingly agrees to open himself up to the therapist who wants to explore his story about being kidnapped and abused before being rescued by Scorpion (a story that people in authority regard as a fantasy, except for a lone cop who does the legwork to dig up corroborating evidence). The facts underlying the kidnapping and the mystery surrounding the kidnapper again veer toward the improbable, but the scenes involving Falk and the therapist are quite compelling. They are, I think, the glue that holds the novel together and that distinguish Friendly Fire from the glut of action thrillers that scream for a reader’s attention.

RECOMMENDED

Universal Harvester by John Darnielle

Published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux on February 7, 2017

Jeremy Heldt works in a video store in Iowa in the late 90s, when video stores still exist. Customers are complaining that the videos have scenes that don’t belong in the movie. The scenes generally don’t amount to much, but they are unsettling. Jeremy becomes a bit obsessed about the scenes, which are vaguely chilling but mostly just vague. One of the customers, Stephanie Parsons, shares that obsession. The owner, Sarah Jane Shepherd, doesn’t know what to do. Reporting the problem to the police would be a waste of time because the scenes, while ominous, don’t actually show any illegal activity. Or at least, nothing that they notice right away.

For some time, this is a story of people in a small Iowa town who are trying to work out what to do with their lives. From time to time, however, a first-person narrator intrudes — a change of pace from the voice that relates most of the events in the novel. The narrator’s identity is not immediately clear, but enough clues are planted to allow the reader to make an eventual guess. At some points, the narration seems to change from that of an omniscient observer in the present to an historian who is relating facts that are known and commenting on facts that might never be known. I liked the way the jarring changes in narration contribute to the puzzling nature of the story.

The novel alters course when it begins to describe the small town life some years earlier of a woman named Irene Sample, who eventually marries, has a daughter, and begins to receive religious tracts that clearly (to the reader, if not Irene) have special significance. As Irene begins to pay attention to what might be a religious cult, it becomes clear that a character in Irene’s story also played a role in Jeremy’s story. And then the novel changes again, to a time that is relatively current.

Universal Harvester creates the suspense of a horror story without delivering the predictable scenes of a horror story. In the novel’s last section, the reader’s questions are answered in surprising ways.

The novel reminds us that life is filled with sad moments. If they aren’t necessarily horrifying, if they do not involve gore and malice, they can nevertheless have lasting impacts. This isn’t really a horror novel because horror is a manifestation of evil, and Universal Harvester isn’t about evil. Some of the characters might be misguided, some might be mentally unsound, but they are not truly evil. Rather, Universal Harvester is about good people making the best they can out of life. It is about how much people have in common even when they seem to have nothing in common. The novel is surprising and heartening and distressing. It is, in other words, a reflection of life.

RECOMMENDED

What You Break by Reed Farrel Coleman

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on February 7, 2017

The prolific Reed Farrell Coleman has developed or contributed to six series of novels. What You Break is the second installment of the Gus Murphy series. Enough background from Where It Hurts appears in What You Break to make it easily read as a standalone book.

Gus is a retired cop who works hotel security in Suffolk County, New York, which sometimes requires him to drive a hotel shuttle. The doorman, Gus’ good friend Slava Podalak, has a mysterious past. Gus is trying to rebuild his life after his son’s death. He regrets the end of his marriage but he knows better than to pretend he can save it.

Gus has a history with a priest who saved his life by killing someone. The priest introduces Gus to a wealthy fellow named Micah Spears, whose granddaughter, Linh Trang Spears, has been murdered. The police arrested the murderer but they don’t understand his motive. Spears wants Gus to find out why the crime was committed.

Quickly enough, Gus encounters a professional hit man, gets beaten up by a big guy, gets beaten up by a cop, dodges Russians who are trying to find Slava, is chased by thugs in a car, and has a conflict with his girlfriend. It’s a dangerous life Gus leads, although his tour of Long Island pizza joints might make it bearable.

Gus eventually decides that he won’t learn anything until he learns more about Micah Spears, who turns out to be at least as mysterious as Slava. Coleman makes a big deal out of the contrast between Slava, who did something bad and carries enormous guilt, and Spears, who did something bad and feels no remorse. Both of the characters seem contrived, created expressly for the purpose of demonstrating that contrast, but neither of them has much substance.

Gus reminds us about once every three pages that his son died and that the death changed him. That’s a fine characterization, but I got it the first time. By the tenth time, I was ready for Gus to find something else to talk about. Unfortunately, Gus is too dull to talk about anything interesting. The other main character, a former priest who lost his faith, is a standard stereotype too often found in crime fiction to be interesting.

The plot is plausible and reasonably entertaining. I liked the ending. The novel’s merits outweigh its shortcomings but this certainly isn’t Coleman’s best work.

RECOMMENDED

The Best of Adam Sharp by Graeme Simsion

First published in the UK in 2017; published by St. Martin's Press on May 2, 2017

The publisher classifies this as women’s fiction and, not being a woman, I would have given it a pass except for my enjoyment of Graeme Simsion’s two Rosie novels. The Best of Adam Sharp isn’t anything like the Rosie novels, which might trouble readers who expect an author to keep writing the same book over and over (as many successful authors do). On the other hand, since the Rosie novels were hilarious and this one is only slightly amusing and only moderately interesting, it’s difficult not to make a comparison and find Adam Sharp wanting.

Adam is pushing past the boundaries of middle age but not yet a senior citizen. His partnership with Claire is at the friendship stage, passion having fled long ago. So when Adam gets an email from Angelina, more than 20 years after he last saw her, he wonders if it might change the world. That seems unlikely, since the email says “Hi” and nothing else.

The first half of the novel is largely the story of Adam and Angelina — how they met, how Adam met Angelina’s husband (a total jerk, of course), why their relationship failed — with occasional returns to the present, in the form of an email or instant message. Of course, Adam and Angelina are both in new relationships, but they are apparently reaching out to each other in search of the spark that their lives are missing.

The first half is familiar, even a bit ordinary. It occasionally relies on cliché (Adam and Angelina tell each other “the story of us,” a phrase and concept that has been seriously overused). Fortunately, a respectable amount of character development adds some freshness to a tired plot. Still, for all his charm — he plays the piano and sings and he’s considerate and respectful, who wouldn’t love the guy? — Adam is more a fantasy male than a real one. He’s too perfect, too sensitive to needs of the women he adores, too willing to adore them at the drop of a hat. And too willing to recognize his faults and change them, which as we all know, is the sort of good intention that guys manage to make good on for about two weeks before reverting to their true selves.

The second half, told in the present, is more interesting, even a bit daring at times, but the story is told in such a dispassionate, detached voice that I found it hard to make an emotional investment in Adam’s evolving life. The second half offers more insight into the characters, but not enough to make me care much about them. That’s an issue that can be overcome with a fascinating story or scintillating prose, but neither of those are present here. There are also several sex scenes that are too clichéd to be anything other than dull. The ending is safe, and in that sense predictable.

Putting aside everything else, the book is a tribute to the power of music, and I enjoyed reading about songs I love and a couple that I listened to for the first time after Adam mentioned them. There’s even a playlist at the end of the book, heavily weighted to 1960s artists, which explains my familiarity with most of the songs. That isn’t enough to save the novel, but it is enough to boost it toward a very cautious recommendation.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

Beyond Human by Eve Herold

Published by St. Martin's Press/Thomas Dunne Books on August 16, 2016

The title Beyond Human implies a discussion of posthuman existence, which might be defined as the next stage of human evolution, either naturally or in combination with technology that drastically enhances knowledge or intelligence while eliminating (or drastically altering) the frail and troublesome bodies that humans now inhabit. There’s almost none of that in this book.

The nature and timing of posthuman existence is purely speculative, but in between human and posthuman existence is transhuman existence. Transhumanism generally refers to the nanobiotechnological enhancement of human beings. That ground is partially covered, in cursory fashion, in Beyond Human. Eve Herold’s book should not be confused with other books of the same name (a couple for sale on Amazon seem to have religious or self-help themes), including science fiction author Gregory Benford’s, which is subtitled “Living with Robots and Cyborgs.” Herold’s book is subtitled “How Cutting-Edge Science is Extending Our Lives,” which has precious little to do with the main title.

Herold begins a number of her sentences with phrases like “It may seem like science fiction, but ….” In fact, science fiction fans will be familiar with the more futuristic life-extension and life-enhancement techniques that Herold discusses. Using nanobots to cure disease, augmenting vision with biotechnology, improving memory by wirelessly connecting the brain to the internet, avoiding accidental death with the help of self-driving cars and robotic servants -- it’s all a given to science fiction fans. And while these technologies aren’t all just around the corner, they’re coming. That makes it imperative to think about the practical and ethical problems that the technologies might create, because it’s better to avoid a problem than to contain it after it begins to spread. Unfortunately, Herold’s book doesn’t demonstrate much original thought in those areas.

The first few chapters deal with hearts and other organs. Transplants are nothing new, although Herold finds promise in rapamycin, a drug made from a fungus found on Easter Island that has proven useful in deterring tissue rejection and may soon be used to slow aging and extend lifespans. Herold also talks about artificial organs (again focusing more on current rather than future technologies) and on the medical uses of nanotechnology. The latter is truly a future technology, and one that sf writers have explored in greater depth than Herold manages.

Later chapters discuss anti-aging drugs and gene manipulation and stem cell treatments. Herold again mentions the potential of nanomedicine without providing enough detail to grasp its implications. Herold does recognize that granting immortality to old people (like me) will crowd the planet with seniors yelling “get off my lawn” while limiting the ability of young people to innovate -- a sure recipe for stagnation, followed by disaster.

More interesting are Herold’s summaries of ethical issues surrounding artificial life extension. Some of those issues exist now (when is it ethical to turn off a pacemaker or an implanted defibrillator in a dying patient?) and others will eventually arise. If a failing heart is only beating because hundreds of nanobots have been programmed to emulate heart functions such as oxygenating blood, is it ethical to turn off the nanobots if they are extending the suffering life of a critically ill patient?

Herold also explores brain enhancement, including potential cures for Alzheimer’s and various devices that might improve cognitive ability through brain stimulation. We’re told that “very little is known” about memory-enhancing brain implants so their impact on society can’t be predicted, which seems to defeat the purpose of a book that is predicting the future of life extension and enhancement. Herold nevertheless addresses the future of brain-computer interfaces. She recognizes the Borg problem (talk to a Trekkie if you don’t know what means) that could result from the creation of an artificially intelligent hive-mind, and nods to Ray Kurzweil’s prediction of the Singularity. Readers who really want to understand the risks and benefits of a future in which artificial intelligences develop themselves into a superintelligence should probably read Kurzweil, Vernor Vinge, or other writers who do the concept justice. Herold’s discussion is too superficial to be a useful introduction.

When Herold engages in philosophical discussions of artificial life extension or enhancement, she sometimes draws upon Our Posthuman Future by Francis Fukuyama, which sounds like a deeper and more useful book than Beyond Human. Many interesting questions are posed -- Should we prolong life if we are just prolonging suffering? Shouldn’t aging people just get out of the way of generations that are more capable of producing and reproducing? Does technology replace humanity in transhuman life? -- but Herold’s answers are again superficial. I suspect Fukuyama addressed those questions more meaningfully. I had the same reaction to the provocative material she drew from James Hughes’ Citizen Cyborg.

Herold seems rather dismissive of the concerns addressed by “bioconservatives” but offers little evidence to support her more Pollyannaish take on the future (although she does acknowledge that the gray goo problem is worrisome). The final chapter tells us to embrace transhumanism (at least in the medical field) and to reject the “blind prejudice” of fuddy-duddies like Fukuyama. Get rid of that stinkin’ thinkin’, she seems to say, and everything will be fine. (In that regard, Herold’s tone is similar to that of nonscientists who tell us not to worry about climate change.) I’m not a conservative, bio or otherwise, but I didn’t find Herold’s unsupported optimism to be all that persuasive.

A chapter on social robots is sort of funny, and her discussion of the potential usefulness of robots (particularly as doctors, cars, and soldiers) is straightforward but not particularly illuminating. I did enjoy the discussion of whether robots should have rights, although I have enjoyed pondering that question in decades of sf novels, beginning with my first exposure to Isaac Asimov. I also appreciated the thought that robots should be required to carry insurance. Tons of insurance, since moviegoers all know that robots will eventually run amok and kill lots of people.

Readers who want a very simple overview of how technology can extend and enhance life will find it here. Science fiction readers will have been exposed to more stimulating discussions of the transhuman future and the ethical issues that accompany it. If the book had included more original thinking, it might have been an engrossing read. As it stands, I would recommend it only as a very basic overview for readers who have had little exposure to the subject matter. And even those readers might be better served by reading works of science fiction by Charles Stross, Vernor Vinge, Greg Egan, and dozens of other authors who illuminate the issue more brightly than Herold managed.

NOT RECOMMENDED