Belfast Noir by Adrian McKinty and Stuart Neville (eds.)

Published by Akashic Books on November 4, 2014

I don't know if Belfast is the noirest city on Earth, as the introduction to Belfast Noir claims -- surely Berlin provides strong competition -- but many of the Belfast-based stories collected here are fine examples of noir. Not all of the stories are dark, but the collection establishes Belfast as a fertile setting for crime fiction.

The Troubles and their continuing impact on life and culture in Belfast provide a background for many of the stories. Phrases like "wearing more jewellery than a Turf Lodge wide boy after a ram-raid at Lunn's" can make a Belfast story difficult to follow for readers who are unfamiliar with the city and its linguistic twists, but the local color (mostly gray as neutral ground between the hues of competing flags) shines through.

Some of the stories are true noir that showcase true writing talent:

The missing-presumed-dead father in Ian McDonald's "The Reservoir" returns to Belfast for his daughter's wedding and to confront the man who shot him. In Brian McGilloway's "The Undertaking," a wry story of crime gone awry, the undertaker of choice for Belfast's organized criminals is recruited to drive a hearse carrying a coffin bearing unknown cargo. A PI rescues a hooker and takes on a London crime boss who has designs on Belfast in Sam Millar's "Out of Time."

Murder, blackmail, and a wealthy man's dalliance with a teenage prostitute provide the ingredients for a juicy but dangerous story for a crime reporter in Garbhan Downey's "Die Like a Rat." The only noir story about dog fighting I've ever seen (a difficult but ultimately satisfying read for dog lovers) is "Pure Game" by Arlene Hunt. Alex Barclay wins the award for best prose in "The Reveller," a story of a son seeking revenge for his father's murder.

These stories are a little less noir but they are nevertheless excellent:

Lee Child's "Wet With Raid" is an audacious story of a dirty American agent who travels to Belfast to conduct dirty business. A barrister in Steve Cavanagh's "The Grey" defends a salty old con artist who claims to be innocent of a murder committed 30 years earlier. Perhaps the most unusual story in the collection, Eion McNamee's "Corpse Flowers" is told from the perspectives captured by surveillance cameras.

Two exceptional works are psychological profiles set against a background of crime:

Ruth Dudley Edwards' chilling "Taking It Serious" is about a mentally disturbed teen, his loving mum, the hidden secrets of his family, and the legacy of the IRA. In "Ligature," Gerard Brennan gets inside the tormented head of a troubled girl who does everything she can to get outside of her own head while she's locked up in a juvenile jail.

One story is just plain funny, proving that humor can be found everywhere, even in Belfast:

Claire McGowan's "Rosie Gant's Finger" features a boy detective of mixed religious heritage whose office is his mother's living room. He pedals his ten-speed to solve the mystery of a missing girl who got involved with a Belfast hoodlum.

Not so noir but still reasonably interesting stories:

Fascinated by the young woman who took up with her high school Spanish teacher, a student in Lucy Caldwell's "Poison" tries to give life to a fantasy. In the story I liked the least, Glenn Patterson's "Belfast Punk Rep," a writer explores the death of punk in Belfast by interviewing a prisoner. Even that story, however, isn't bad.

In fact, there isn't a bad story in the book.

RECOMMENDED

Bathing the Lion by Jonathan Carroll

Published by St. Martin's Press on October 21, 2014

I didn't know what kind of book Bathing the Lion was before I started reading it. A quarter of the way in, I still didn't know, but that's a good thing. By the midway point I understood that Bathing the Lion is sort of a comedic science fiction novel with some elements of fantasy that makes some serious points about reality.

Much of Bathing the Lion is about the vagaries of memory, its unreliability, its tendency to reshape reality into something more pleasant. Bathing the Lion is also about transformative experiences and the impossibility of predicting what -- a book, a song, a person, an idea, a place -- will transform us. But by the end Bathing the Lion proves to be about humanity, about the qualities that make us human.

Dean and Vanessa Corbin are married, although they do not like each other much. Kaspar Benn, Dean's friend and business partner, who may or may not be having an affair with Vanessa, agrees that Vanessa is an unlikable drama queen. But she may also be a gifted lounge singer (and diva wannabe) who may or may not have saved Jane Claudius' bar from going under.

What begins as an ordinary domestic drama takes an odd twist when a little girl named Josephine tells Kaspar "everything happens today." She encourages Kaspar to find William Edmonds, a recent widower. Edmonds has been lamenting his inability to recall more details of his happy life with his wife, but (according to Josephine) the true nature of Edmonds' life has been hidden from him. Yet Edmonds isn't the only character whose true nature is concealed from the reader in the novel's first half.

Separating what is real from what isn't is part of the reader's challenge as the story moves forward. It is even more of a challenge for the characters as they encounter chaos, a force in the universe that seems unstoppable -- unless they can find a way to stop it.

Many people believe that they benefit from divine guidance. Bathing the Lion imagines that we receive interventions rather than guidance and that the interveners (who view Earth as something of a backwater) are less than divine. They're more like cosmic technicians -- they are, in fact, called mechanics -- although some behave less professionally than they should.

I won't reveal anything else about the surprising plot. It gains steady momentum as it moves along and eventually proves to be absorbing, even if I had the sense that Jonathan Carroll was making it up as he went along with no overarching plan to guide the narrative. I have often thought that every work of fiction is made better by the inclusion of a dog; the two dogs in Bathing the Lion contribute additional humor.

Molecules of wisdom float through the story, waiting to be absorbed, as do its humor molecules. The capacity for wisdom and humor are part of the human experience (the novel reminds us), as are generosity, hope, fear, sadness, and all the mortal emotions that blend within us. The cacophony of human experience seems chaotic but Jonathan Carroll argues that it produces a harmonious whole that keeps chaos at bay. Bathing the Lion is itself a surprising blend of literary qualities.

RECOMMENDED

Sleep in Peace Tonight by James MacManus

Published by Thomas Dunne Books on October 7, 2014

Most of Sleep in Peace Tonight takes place in the months leading up to Pearl Harbor. All but one of the significant characters are real people. I can't say whether the novel is historically accurate but in a work of fiction that really doesn't matter, as long as the broad strokes are rendered faithfully. I suspect, however, that the novel hews closely to history -- perhaps too closely, as it sometimes reads like an academic text. At other times it reads like a biography. Although the novel is written with admirable elegance, it only partially succeeds at breathing life into history.

Harry Hopkins, a special envoy from FDR, travels to England in 1941 to act as "a back door to war diplomacy." As Hopkins tells Ed Murrow in a hotel bar on his night of arrival, FDR opposes America's entry into the war. Churchill wants to change Roosevelt's view. He labors to enlist Hopkins in that cause.

Most scenes in Sleep in Peace Tonight focus on Hopkins as he interacts with Murrow, Churchill, or FDR. A few focus on FDR as he interacts with his advisors (who tend to resent Hopkins' influence) or on Leonora Finch, who has been assigned to Hopkins as a liaison officer and protector. Finch, who normally works as an assistant to British spies, has been charged with learning what she can about Hopkins' view of the war and reporting his feelings to the British government. Murrow's affair with Churchill's daughter-in-law and an affair between Hopkins and Finch seem like an attempt to add spice to a story that is surprisingly lacking in drama. A late section of the novel gives closer attention to Finch as her desire to join the front lines is fulfilled.

James MacManus' descriptions of London during the war -- the desperate attempts to overcome fear, to ignore the bombs and hardships -- are vivid. In addition to those scenes, the novel's greatest interest lies in Churchill's efforts to manipulate Hopkins, and thus Roosevelt, to support Britain's cause. Roosevelt, who feels pressure from voters and influential isolationists who see no reason for Americans to intervene in a European conflict, is no fan of Churchill's desire to maintain the British Empire. Even the controversial Lend-Lease legislation is unappealing to voters who see it as a giveaway of tax dollars to British imperialists. Roosevelt feels similar pressure from his wife Eleanor, who does not want to sacrifice domestic reforms for another foreign war.

I admire the elegant style in which Sleep in Peace Tonight is written, although occasional biographical passages about key characters are too expository. Every American dispatched to London seems to have an affair but that information is presented so clinically that it adds little to the story. The ending is probably intended to have a strong emotional impact but I felt too detached from the characters to be moved by the story's resolution. A key passage at the end is nevertheless inspirational in its summation of greatness and personal sacrifice. To a large extent, the novel's strengths outweigh its weaknesses, but its failure to involve me in the lives of its characters prevents me from giving it an unqualified endorsement.

RECOMMENDED

On the Edge by Edward St. Aubyn

Published in Great Britain in 1998; published by Picador on October 14, 2014

On the Edge satirizes self-absorbed gurus who try to save the world by attending conferences where they can praise each other, people who mistake shallow thought for mindfulness, vision quests, Wicca, crystals, tantric sex, and pretty much all things associated with the marketing of New Age lifestyles. Edward St. Aubyn develops an appealing ensemble cast but doesn't do as much with the characters as I had expected.

Wealthy Brooke pays for New Age teacher Adam's San Francisco apartment and helps finance the book Kenneth is writing on a philosophy of his own invention called Streamism. Jason is a Brit also wants to start a world religion but not before he starts a successful rock band ... a project that, at age 33, seems unlikely. Angela has no boyfriend and thinks a tantric workshop would be a logical place to find one. Stan and (particularly) Karen Klotwitz are old-aged New Agers who, having retired to Santa Fe, are in California for the trantric workshop. Crystal and Jean-Paul do psychedelics in a canyon, ponder madness and mantras, and babble about language and culture. Peter has traveled from England to American to participate in the New Age scene because he wants a German woman named Sabine to believe the universe has brought them together again ... if only the universe will allow him to find her.

The plot, to the extent that one exists, brings the characters together as they explore their inner and outer selves. The meandering story has no discernable purpose beyond poking fun. Humor is an end in itself but it is difficult to sustain a one-note tune. While Edward St. Aubyn almost pulls it off, some lulls in the story felt like padding rather than character or plot development. My attention wandered during some of the lectures given by workshop teachers. The ending is also a bit abrupt.

Still, many books make me smile or chuckle but not many make me laugh. On the Edge provoked frequent laughter. Yes, some of its satirical targets are easy bull's-eyes, like the superficial pap that New Age workshop providers package and sell as profound thought. Yet even obvious humor can be funny if the humor is sufficiently witty. On the Edge is steeped in wit.

St. Aubyn's book is also filled with striking sentences. An example (the reference is to a woman's history with New Age workshops and gurus): "Again and again Crystal saw her [mother] set out with fawn-like credulity, only to end up stalking disappointment like a tigress, bringing it down expertly and living off it for days; ferocious, possessive, alone, while it putrefied beside her." The substance of On the Edge does not match the quality of the prose, but the prose -- and the laughs -- make the novel worthwhile.

RECOMMENDED

The Whispers by Lisa Unger

Published digitally by Pocket Star on October 27, 2014

"The Whispers" is a short story (not nearly long enough to be called a novella), the first of a trio that are intended to promote Lisa Unger's new novel. An excerpt from that novel comes with the story. This review is of the story, not the excerpt.

Eloise is a stay-at-home mom; her husband teaches algebra at Hollows High; one of her daughters is in a goth phase. Eloise survives a family tragedy and is still in a grieving period when a girl, or an apparition, appears in her living room and asks for help. When Eloise sees a picture of the missing child on television, she knows she must help her ... but how? The rest of the story follows Eloise as she exercises what appears to be a newfound psychic talent for "seeing" missing or endangered children and for hearing the whispers from beyond that guide her.

In a novel, Lisa Unger has room to overcome her excesses. She does not do that here. Unger crowds the story with trite observations ("The river of life kept flowing; and one must swim or drown" and "Life is not fair. We just do our best. We have each other"). Clichéd expressions can be buried in a novel but they stand out in a short story, particularly when they come three-in-a-row.

Too much of Unger's prose in "The Whispers" is overwrought ("She would never be whole again"), including a hallucinated/dreamed/imagined "saying goodbye" scene that is meant to be gut-wrenching but, like a couple of other scenes, comes across as sappy. This kind of writing plays well with many readers and if you are one of those, you'll be happy to have your heart strings tugged. But Unger doesn't just tug; she yanks. I prefer a style of writing that is more subtle and original than Unger displays in this story.

The story makes good points about the need to release anger, to forgive others their faults even when those faults cause harm, to avoid sitting in judgment of people whose lives we have not lived. Unfortunately, the plot is insubstantial and covers ground that has been well plowed by bad television shows. I wouldn't necessarily call this a bad story but I would call it forgettable.

NOT RECOMMENDED