Dark Places by Reavis Z. Wortham

Published by Poisoned Pen Press on September 1, 2015

In an introduction to Dark Places, Reavis Wortham mentions that the first two novels (the best in the series) were darker than their successors, and that Dark Places is intended as a return to the darkness. I don’t think Dark Places achieves that goal -- it isn’t dark in the sense of chilling or spooky, as are the first two -- but it is still a good entry in the series.

For some time in these novels, Pepper has been expressing her dissatisfaction with small town life and yearning for the excitement of San Francisco, where (at least according to the radio) all the interesting people live. Pepper hits the road in this novel (much to Top’s displeasure), leading to the first of the novel’s plotlines. The plot branches off, sometimes following Pepper and other times following Ned and Pepper’s dad as they become involved in drama of their own after hooking up with a fellow named Crow, who joins them in their search for Pepper.

Another plot thread involves two young men who (accompanied by a third as an unwilling bystander) commit a murder. That crime occupies Sheriff Ned and his new deputy, Anna, who gives most of the local residents their first exposure to feminism (in the limited sense of a woman doing “a man’s job”).

In addition to larger issues like the civil rights movement and the Vietnam War, Reavis Wortham evokes a sense of time by reference to television shows and songs that were popular during the early 1960s. That creates a sense of nostalgia for those of us who are old enough to be nostalgic about that era. Given that his characters range in age from older guys like Ned to kids like Top and Pepper, Wortham’s novels have appeal for readers of every age.

The story moves quickly, the characters are believable, and the intersecting plots hold a fair amount of excitement. None of the Red River Mysteries have met the standard of the first one, but Dark Places provides an entertaining opportunity for series fans to spend time with familiar characters.

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Crucifixion Creek by Barry Maitland

Published in Australia in 2014; published by Minotaur Books on November 10, 2015

This 2014 Australian novel, recently published in the United States, is my first exposure to Barry Maitland. I like the book’s atmosphere. The characters have plausible depth for a fast-moving thriller. The plot has a satisfying number of twists, but the novel doesn’t stand out as an original or exceptional contribution to the “cop turns avenger” genre.

Harry Belltree’s father was the first Aboriginal judge of the New South Wales Supreme Court. Harry is a police detective. His parents died in a traffic accident and Harry is obsessed with the belief that they were the victims of a murder or, at least, a hit-and-run. Part of the novel concerns Harry’s pursuit of those suspicions.

For a time, Harry is investigating murders in a Sydney neighborhood with an unfortunate history that is known as Crucifixion Creek. He is a witness to the first murder. The second victim is his brother-in-law. Also dead are an elderly husband and wife who committed suicide together for reasons that reporter Kelly Pool finds mysterious.

It soon becomes apparent that related, nefarious activity by a biker gang has a political connection. More brutality follows, the body count rises, and Harry, assisted by his blind wife, finds the violence coming uncomfortably close to home -- as does Kelly Pool.

Much of the story will be familiar to thriller readers. As a cop, Harry is told to back off, and so of course he doesn’t. As a man with a sense of justice, Harry doesn’t always play by the rules that the police should follow. Harry isn’t quite Dirty Harry but he does take the law into his own hands, making him about the billionth law enforcement officer in crime fiction to do so. Kelly is the typical intrepid reporter who puts herself at risk while following her nose for a story. The reason underlying the murder turns out to be a crime scheme that thriller writers rely upon too often. None of that is particularly imaginative. The ending, on the other hand, comes as something of a shock, although the shock is weakened in the final paragraphs.

Still, the Sydney setting is a nice departure for American readers who are looking for something different, and there are enough twists here to add intrigue to a familiar plot. Maitland’s prose is crisp and the pace is appropriate for a crime thriller. Unanswered questions set up the next book. While I might hope for more creativity in the second novel, this one made me want to read it.

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Beatlebone by Kevin Barry

Published by Doubleday on November 17, 2015

It’s quite a conceit when a writer puts himself into the mind of a famous subject, particularly one who is as complex as John Lennon. “This is the story of his strangest trip,” we are told. The result is an intimate psychological portrait of Lennon at a particular point in his life, with snippets of a biographical portrait of the man and his era.

The story takes place in May 1978. Lennon is 37. He has fame, wealth, children, and a small island off the coast of Ireland that he visits now and then so he will have a secluded place to scream, a place he can be “so fucking lonely that I’ll want to fucking die.” To help him get to the island without being noticed, he hires a fellow named Cornelius O’Grady who often seems to be pursuing an agenda that does not include transporting Lennon to the island.

Cornelius is a blend of philosopher, advisor, and father-confessor. He is a representative of Temptation and Absolution. His wisdom, based on experience and common sense, is deeper than that of the well paid therapist who has advised Lennon to scream his troubles away.

Blending history with fiction, Lennon’s journey with Cornelius takes him to pubs and various other locations, including the Amethyst Hotel, where the Beatles had stayed nine years earlier. Other guests at the Amethyst draw Lennon into one of those confrontational circles where people rant at each other but Lennon has been there, done that. Lennon has learned that “the examined life” is “a pain in the stones.” That segment of the book, however, gives Kevin Barry a chance to dig more deeply into Lennon’s history and psyche.

When about two-thirds of the novel has passed, the author intervenes and, from a first-person perspective, begins to explain his methods of seeking inspiration for the novel. The narrative turns into the history of western Ireland weirdness in the 1970s with bits of literary criticism of Lennon’s writing, details of Lennon’s life, snapshots of Liverpool, the author’s own experience on the island, and the author’s contemplation of the connection between Lennon’s Irish ancestors and his attempt to find a place in the world.

And then, just as jarringly, we’re back to Cornelius and the world of fiction. The setting changes again as the novel nears its conclusion, when we see Lennon in a recording studio. Lennon rambles about his island experiences during a less-than-successful recording session as he tries to capture something new or true, something meaningful in a world where separating meaning from background noise is a daunting challenge.

Barry’s writing style put me off before it drew me in. The opening pages seem aggressively experimental, as if composed on acid, before the prose settles into a purposeful rhythm. I was particularly taken by the dialog, which often delivers low-key hilarity. Most of the novel is written in short paragraphs, save for the ending ramble and occasional extended paragraphs that impart the details of Lennon’s isolated home life, his paranoia, and his inability to write new songs.

I’m not sure that everything works perfectly in Beatlebone (the author’s intrusion struck me as self-indulgent), but most of the novel works quite well. It is a convincing examination of a gifted but troubled mind, a romp through psychology and philosophy, and an astonishing collection of unexpected sentences. The abundant humor (like Lennon) is wry but the novel (like Lennon) suggests that despite past and present struggles, there is always hope for a brighter tomorrow. Of course, as Barry must have intended, we read the novel with Lennon's fate in mind. Hope and reality, the novel reminds us, do not always coincide.

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Night Music by John Connolly

Published by Atria/Emily Bestler Books on October 6, 2015

Night Music is the second volume of Nocturnes, collecting John Connolly’s short horror fiction. In fact, it collects every short story Connolly has written since the first volume was published in 2004.

Two of my favorite stories concern a peculiar library. A man who is eased into retirement after the death of his mother sees a woman throw herself in front of a train, but since no body or blood can be found, the police suspect that isolation and loneliness may have had an impact on his mental health. The man is inclined to question his own sanity after he realizes that the woman in the scene was imagined, although she is not the product of his own imagination. “The Caxton Private Lending Library & Book Depository” taps into the secret fear of all avid readers that the line between reality and fiction might be uncomfortably thin. Fans of fantasy, serious literature, and libraries should all enjoy the story.

The Claxton library is also the setting of “Holmes on the Range”, this time hosting Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, who have made a premature appearance at the library after Holmes’ death (later rescinded) in “The Final Solution.” This is a fun story, maybe my favorite in the volume. Apart from its fun factor, it reminders readers why they read: for the opportunity to become lost in a great story, to occupy -- if only momentarily -- a different, more intriguing world.

Books also play a key role in most of the five tales collected under the title “The Fractured Atlas — Five Fragments.” The first tale takes place in the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century and involves a number of people in different locations who experience misfortune when a book comes into their hands. The book contains worlds, but those who dare to touch it wish they had not. The second tale features a disagreeable bookseller in nineteenth century London who seeks the help of an occultist to learn the true nature of a book that attacks other books. The third and fourth installments take place in the World War I era. The relatively brief third tale, concerning the mud in which fallen soldiers dwell, sets up the fourth, which is more of a detective story involving a missing person who had been attempting to track down a rumored book of the occult that was known by many names, including The Fractured Atlas. The fifth is basically an epilog to the fourth. In the end, the five tales can be read as a story about how books change the world, although not always for the better.

“Blood of the Lamb” is a short, surprising, aptly named, and remarkably creepy story about a girl who has a miraculous power that, to her parents’ dismay, is both revered and feared. The need to feed the woods-dwelling Razorshins with bootleg whiskey during prohibition is the subject of “Razorshins.”

With the help of a … something … the rape victim in “The Lamia” gets revenge. Only a page long, “A Dream of Winter” is as chilling as its title implies.

“The Hollow King” goes off to fight an annual battle with the forces of evil, but each time he returns, the single tear shed by his Queen renews him … but how many tears will the Queen shed when she learns the truth about her King? “Lazarus” arises from the dead and is a disappointment to all, including himself.

Two men who rob the houses and bodies of the dead in a time of war realizes they’re looting the wrong house when they meet “The Children of Dr. Lyall.” An old man checks into a hotel room in “A Haunting,” finding it occupied by a younger version of his dead wife.

The story behind a gruesome painting that might not exist is told in “On The Anatomization of an Unknown Man (1637) by Frans Mier.” It is the least successful entry in the collection.

The collection ends with an engaging essay in which Connolly traces his history as a reader, viewer, and writer of horror. I often skim or skip nonfiction essays in a collection of fiction, but this one -- like the collection as a whole -- is both insightful and entertaining.

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The Clasp by Sloane Crosley

Published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux on October 6, 2015

The Clasp is the kind of novel that reunites a bunch of old friends who show up for a special occasion. In some novels that occasion is a reunion or a funeral. In The Clasp, it is a wedding. That event is the jumping off point for the story, although it takes some time before the plot leaps forward. When it does, it involves jewelry, Guy de Maupassant, and an odd love triangle.

Victor Wexler has been fired (with good reason) from the company that operates the seventh-largest Google competitor (the one nobody uses). His college friend Kezia Morton, who rejected his college advances, now works for a jewelry designer, Rachel, whose jewelry is getting a lot of buzz that might soon turn negative since the latest batch has defective clasps. A third college friend, Nathaniel, writes for television when he is lucky enough to get hired, giving Sloane Crosley a chance to lampoon the plasticity of Hollywood, an admittedly easy target.

Since they are at a wedding, Victor and Kezia follow the tradition of hooking up with random sex partners. After the wedding, Victor’s hookup’s jewelry becomes the focal point of his life. Following comic logic, Victor goes to France on a quest involving Guy du Maupassant and, yes, a necklace. Nathaniel and Kezia also happen to be in Paris, giving Crosley a chance to make sport of the French, another easy target although perhaps a less inviting one in light of recent events.

None of the characters quite know how they feel about each other. Nathaniel, in particular, has ambivalent feelings about Kezia, who (as he sees it) swoops into his life every few months for the purpose of making him feel bad about himself. Nathaniel and Kezia are in each other’s company for most of the novel (as Victor pursues his quest), giving their relationship a chance to come into focus.

The Clasp is an assemblage of amusing moments. They occur at parties, in classrooms (I particularly enjoyed a professor who projected her woeful self into the character of the wife in “The Necklace”), in restaurants, and in the workplace. I kept reading because I enjoyed the amusing moments and the clever phrases, but I also kept wondering what the point was of a plot that seemed forced. It works as a vehicle to give the characters opportunities to make snarky observations about their respective worlds, but it doesn’t work as an actual story. Victor's quest is too silly to be credible, which shouldn't be a problem in a comedy, but Crosley's attempt to play that part of the story straight falls flat.

There are inevitably parallels between this story and “The Necklace,” but they seem thin and stretched. Still, the story’s value lies not in deep meaning but in insightful and funny observations of characters who can’t quite get over their pasts or move on with their futures.

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