Bad Houses by Sara Ryan

Published by Dark Horse on November 12, 2013

I never thought much about (or paid any attention to) estate sales until I read this graphic novel. The contents of houses tell stories about their owners, the choices they made, what they held dear. People cling to possessions they don’t really want. Professional and amateur vultures devour the things left behind by the dead. One person’s junk becomes another person’s treasure, an endless cycle of acquisition and disposal.

Bad Houses is a story of ordinary people in an ordinary town (aptly named Failin). A bitter son puts his aging mother in a dilapidated assisted living center. He begins to date Danica, one of the center’s employees. Danica is a hoarder. Her daughter Anne feels suffocated by her mother’s obsession with the objects from her past. Anne begins to date Lewis, a young man who wants to escape his mother’s vice-like grip. Lewis works for his mother, conducting estate sales. He’s never known his father. In the midst of all this family drama, we learn things about relationships among the characters that they don’t know themselves.

Can people change their lives? One of the characters says that lives change all the time, and that’s true, but they don’t always change according to our plans. Some of the characters want to leave Failin but feel trapped by their circumstances. When should we hold on to things … or people? When should we let go? Sara Ryan examines these questions in a surprisingly moving, thought-provoking story.

The lives of the characters weave together in a graphic novel that is elegant in its simplicity, insightful in its complexity. The sketchy illustrations add nuance to the text.

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Border Angels by Anthony Quinn

Published by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road on October 22, 2013

Borders and what they represent form the underlying theme of Border Angels. Women from Eastern Europe are smuggled across borders to work in Western European brothels, while a shadowy underworld populated by immigrants, legal and illegal, operates close to the borders in case the need arises to flee. Border Angels opens in a brothel in Northern Ireland, where a shady businessman named Jack Fowler promises to rescue Lena Novak from a life of prostitution. Before the rescue can occur, however, Lena's pimp drives her away from the brothel. The police become involved when they find the shell of a burned-out car and the pimp's charred remains. Lena's footprints lead from the car to the riverbank, where they disappear. The river marks the border between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, once a crossing place for terrorists (or freedom fighters, depending on your point of view).

Celcius Daly is called upon to investigate the pimp's death and, soon thereafter, Fowler's drowning. As was true in Anthony Quinn's previous Daly novel, a former IRA member plays a role. Ashe is trying to make a "journey away from violence" but the journey takes a U-turn that brings him back to Ireland. Lena is the strongest character, an empowered woman who doesn't need rescuing, who has the wits and the guts to rescue herself. Daly is relegated to the role of observer for most of the novel, caught between Lena's schemes and his Commander's wrath.

Unlike many modern crime novelists, Quinn tells a credible story and doesn't waste words doing it. He imbues his characters with honest emotions while avoiding melodrama. His thoughtful commentary on Northern Ireland never overshadows the story. While the story isn't particularly original, it's well told. Quinn develops Daly's character less than he did in the first novel, but I'd rather read a story with limited character development than a story with mindless action and needless padding. Border Angels left me looking forward to the next Celcius Daly novel.

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The Exodus Towers by Jason M. Hough

Published by Del Rey on August 27, 2013

Camp Exodus has been overrun by a militia of immunes commanded by a less than angelic Gabriel, stranding Skyler in the wilderness where he's at risk of being attacked by subhumans. But even worse than subhumans are a new breed of ... armored subhumans? That won't make sense to you if you haven't read The Darwin Elevator, and even then it might not makes sense. In any event, since The Exodus Towers picks up the plot where The Darwin Elevator dropped it, you won't get much out of the second novel in this trilogy if you haven't read the first.

The troubles at Camp Exodus occupy the first half of this lengthy novel. Much of it seems like filler. One meandering plotline focuses on Samantha Rinn from Skyler's old scavenger crew, who spends much of the novel on a sort of wok release from her imprisonment in Darwin. A better plotline focuses on the ongoing power struggle between Tania Sharma, who is in charge (more or less) of the Orbitals -- some of them, anyway -- and Russell Blackfield, who is in charge (more or less) of Darwin -- part of it, anyway. Blackfield is in a power struggle of his own with a dude named Grillo, who has mustered a private army of religious zealots.

The story derails for quite a long time as Skyler takes on the immune militia. Significant plot advancement is relegated to the novel's final quarter. While those events are worth waiting for, they bring us no closer to the resolution of the mysteries that drive the trilogy: Why did aliens build the space elevators? Why did they release a disease that killed most humans while turning most survivors into zombie-like subhumans? What do the aliens plan to do next?

It's a given that science fiction depends upon a willing suspension of disbelief. The Exodus Towers occasionally tested my willingness, particularly when a group of immunes decides to engage in strange genetic experiments involving subhumans. As was true in The Darwin Elevator, I'm not sure the whole subhuman subplot works very well, even though it's central to the story. Perhaps the final installment will explain why subhumans are central to the story.

Characters are the strength of the first two novels in the trilogy, although it's best not to get too attached to anyone because Jason Hough kills them off rather freely. Relationships between the characters are convincing. The Exodus Towers is always interesting, including the chunks that add nothing to the overall story. It's good enough to persuade me to move on to the final installment, but it would have been better with fewer words.

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The Wasteland Saga by Nick Cole

Published by Harper Voyager on October 15, 2013

The Wasteland Saga is a post-apocalyptic trilogy. The first and best of the novels, The Old Man and the Wasteland, follows a scavenger known as the Old Man as he takes a journey of redemption. Carrying a Hemingway novel and engaging in an internal monologue with the character Santiago from that novel, the Old Man is tested as he engages in conflicts with nature, with other people, and with himself. The second novel, The Savage Boy, focuses on a young man who is overcoming a disability while taking his own journey of self-discovery.

The third novel, The Road and the River, doesn't seem to have been separately published. It contains echoes of the first novel -- too many echoes, perhaps, as I was left with the feeling that I'd read this novel before. The Old Man is on a mission (rescuing people trapped in a Colorado bunker). He travels through the Wasteland. He talks to, and takes advice from, Santiago. He's introspective. He faces his fears. He perseveres. He learns to trust himself. Sacrifices are made. Good conquers evil.

The primary difference between the third novel and the first (apart from the fact that the Old Man is driving a tank instead of walking) is the addition of the Old Man's granddaughter as a traveling companion. She sees the world with the clarity of innocent eyes and helps focus the Old Man's conscience. Also joining the Old Man is the Savage Boy from the second novel. Like the granddaughter, the Savage Boy is an archetype of purity. That's good in the sense that he's admirable, but the complexity of his character that we saw in the second novel is missing here.

Perhaps due to the story's familiarity, the first half of The Road is a River lacks the intensity of the first two novels. The novel begins to build dramatic tension in the second half and it springs a surprise at the end of the Old Man's journey. The surprise isn't particularly convincing but it sets up a high-impact ending.

As was true of The Old Man and the Wasteland, the most memorable aspect of The Road is a River is the Old Man. Forty years after the bombs fell, he's forgetting the past. He can't remember what a feather duster is called, or the name of the canned stew he always made when he was a student. He wants to return to a past that no longer exists, not because he longs for its comforts (he can't imagine any home other than his little shack) but because he longs for its values. He wants life to have meaning. He wants people to have dignity. He wants people to care about each other, to behave unselfishly. He wants a better world for his granddaughter than the one into which she was born.

While not as emotionally affecting as the first novel, The Road is a River has some touching, resonant moments. Nick Cole has modeled his writing style in these novels after Hemingway, and emotional honesty was Hemingway's strength. The story could easily become maudlin, but honesty saves it. On the other hand, the "story of salvage" theme is reprised from the first novel so often that it becomes tiresome, and I could have lived without the epilog. Still, The Road is a River is a fitting end to a strong trilogy.

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Identical by Scott Turow

Published by Grand Central Publishing on October 15, 2013

The identical twin crime novel has been done so often it's become a cliché, but Scott Turow knows that. Just when I thought I had it figured out and was disappointed that the story followed an obvious path, the plot twisted. Then it twisted again, becoming a different story altogether. Kudos to Turow for taking a familiar plot device and doing something new with it. Unlike some of Turow's other novels, Identical isn't a courtroom thriller. It is instead a novel about the intersection of politics and law. That's been done before too, but few writers do it better than Turow. Identical is set in the familiar legal terrain of Kindle County and features several secondary characters (including Sandy Stern) who are well known to Turow's fans.

Paul Gianis is a brand new attorney who, as the novel opens in 1982, will soon become a prosecutor in Kindle County. Paul is attending a picnic where several of the novel's principle characters are gathered, including Paul's twin brother Cass, his mother Lidia, his brother's caustic girlfriend Dita, and Dita's father, Zeus Kronen. After warning us that the day of the picnic will change Paul's life, Scott Turow jumps ahead to a 2008 parole hearing, where we meet Dita's brother, Hal Kronen, a wealthy real estate developer. Cass has nearly finished serving his sentence for Dita's murder. Also attending the hearing are Kronen's vice president for security, Evon Miller, and his private investigator, Tim Brodie. Paul, having departed the prosecutor's office for a lucrative personal injury practice, is now the majority leader in the state senate and a candidate for mayor. He isn't happy when Kronen publicly accuses him of playing a role in Dita's murder, an accusation that threatens to derail his campaign if Paul doesn't neutralize it.

Turow crams a lot of story into a few pages, and that's just the beginning. Turow sets up the central mystery, common to identical twin crime novels, early on: which twin did what? Occasional flashbacks to 1982 lead to an eventual answer. The answer is complicated by a present day plot twist (revealed about two-thirds in) that is relatively obvious, but Turow clearly intends the reader to guess some of what's happening. At roughly the same two-thirds point, Turow shocks the reader with several revelations that force Miller and Brodie (and the reader) to rethink the mystery.

The meat of the novel comes after Paul files a lawsuit for defamation against Kronen. Much of the story is about dirty politics and the ability of people with money to smear candidates they dislike. Turow adds a bit of drama to each character's life without sidetracking the main story, which contains enough family drama to drive a multigenerational saga.

Identical isn't quite as clever as Turow's best novels, but lesser Turow is still better than most writers of legal thrillers can manage. The story kept me guessing and my attention never wavered. Strong characters and a strong plot are enough to earn Identical a strong recommendation, even if it isn't my favorite Turow.

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