The Morels by Christopher Hacker

Published by Soho Press on April 30, 2013 

The Morels might be summarized as a book by Christopher Hacker about a writer named Arthur Morel who writes a book titled The Morels. Yet that summary, while accurate, would not do justice to Hacker's stimulating novel. The Morels is actually two absorbing novels merged into a successful whole. Alternating between philosophy and storytelling, the first half of The Morels is an examination of art: the purpose of art; the meaning of applause; whether the creation of literature should be driven by readers' demands; the difference between literature (solitary in its performance and reception) and most other art (experienced communally and offering immediate feedback to the artist); the extent to which the act of writing literature can be blended with artistic performance. The second half is an examination of an artist. It tells the riveting story of a writer who becomes lost in the blurry gap between the real and fictional worlds he inhabits. What is the difference, Hacker asks, between reality and its artistic representation?

In his desire to create an emotional impact that his audience will experience honestly, Arthur Morel, an accomplished but socially inept student of the violin, does something shocking during a performance. His friend Chris (the novel's narrator), playing the cello in the orchestra, does not see Arthur again for fourteen years. While Arthur seems to have fallen into an ordinary domestic life, complete with wife (Penelope) and child (Will) in Queens, he's also authored a best-selling book -- a fortunate development since, according to Penelope, he's otherwise "barely employable." Chris, a struggling filmmaker who feels adrift and craves guidance, renews his friendship with Arthur with the hope that Arthur will become his mentor. Yet the roles are reversed when Chris tries to become Arthur's teacher, an advocate for responsible limits on artistic license, limits that Arthur dismisses as evidence of limited taste.

The first half of The Morels poses penetrating questions and challenges the reader to form his or her own answers: Is art worthwhile if it fails to provoke, if it appeals only to people who have weak stomachs? Should a writer be shunned for depicting, without judgment, an act that society would universally condemn? Are decency and moraltiy essential components of enriching literature? Is it the obligation of literature (as John Gardner argued) to promote moral conduct? Or is (as Arthur argues) "the death of transgression" also "the death of art"?

Most of the story's drama surrounds Arthur's second novel, The Morels, a book that is about "the dilemmas of everyday life." In other words, like much contemporary fiction, "there's little story to speak of." It is a self-referential novel of "exquisitely rendered scenes, well-observed prose." It also has a shocking ending. Its publication causes repercussions that drive the story's second half.

Does this description of Arthur's novel also apply to Hacker's? Yes and no. Arthur is portrayed as a literary genius. Hacker is not quite of that caliber, although his skills are admirable; his prose is wonderfully descriptive and he wields it to tell a compassionate, intelligent story. Arthur's book "uttered what can't be said" while Hacker found a way to write about provocative art without actually producing it. Arthur reveres and emulates writers like Gass and Barth and Burrows, precisely the writers Gardner eviscerates. They are (Arthur tells us) writers who don't try to make us feel good, who leave us feeling confused about who we are rather than confirming our understanding of ourselves. Hacker straddles the line: he allows the reader to feel good by making it possible for the reader to understand why the artistic representation of depravity might have value -- and to understand why an artist might be driven to produce it. Hacker's novel might be less "courageous" than Arthur's, but that doesn't diminish its worth. And, unlike Arthur's version of The Morels, Hacker's has a plot (in addition to, but intertwined with, unraveling "the puzzle of Arthur Morel"), although it doesn't blossom until the novel's second half. This isn't a courtroom drama, but it does generate dramatic tension as Arthur and his family become entangled in the criminal justice system as it engages in the difficult and error-prone task of separating fact from fiction. And if the ending of Hacker's novel isn't shocking, it is sufficiently surprising to cast the entire story in a new light.

The Morels pulls no punches. It isn't the right book for a reader who craves sunny characters and upbeat endings. Arthur, tortured by the past, learns something meaningful about living in the present, but this isn't a story about someone who learns a valuable lesson and lives happily ever after. No character emerges unscathed (although, as one character learned in Vietnam, "given time, even scorched earth recovers"). While Arthur, Chris, and Will each learn something about how to live a life, the true lessons of The Morels are more subtle. Mining the depths of this memorable novel to unearth them is an enriching experience.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

The Darlings by Christina Alger

Published by Viking Penguin - Pamela Dorman Books on February 16, 2012

Carter Darling is a principle in a money management firm called Delphic. His daughter Merrill is married to Paul, recently hired as Delphic's general counsel. One of Delphic's hedge funds is heavily invested in an outside fund managed by Carter's friend, Morty Reis. When Reis apparently commits suicide, Paul's ex-girlfriend, an SEC lawyer, warns him that Reis' fund is under investigation. Delphic's future may depend upon a power struggle at the SEC between an idealistic enforcement lawyer named David Levin and his ambitious boss, Jane Hewitt. Events reach a climax in a whirlwind of activity during a Thanksgiving weekend.

Intrigue abounds in The Darlings, from office politics in the SEC to divided loyalties in Carter's family to the inevitable clash between the press and everyone else. At times the novel's dramatic tension and brisk pace give it the feel of a thriller (albeit without the action and violence that thrillers provide). The response of Carter and his lawyer to the threat of criminal prosecution is deliciously Machiavellian. Paul eventually faces a moral crisis that provides the novel's most interesting moments, one that forces him to choose between self-interest and the interests of the Darling family.

Carter's wife, Ines, is a model of repressed efficiency. She is at the center of a perfect storm as her long-standing (and long-ignored) grievances against Carter merge with the financial crisis that threatens to destroy the family. Her daughter Merrill is a securities lawyer who is painted just a little too brightly. She's ultra-competent, friendly, likeable, always willing to pitch in and help others during late night hours despite her own overwhelming workload. (One wonders whether the author modeled Merrill upon an idealized version of herself.) On the other hand, Merrill isn't perfect: she recognizes and regrets her attempts to turn her husband Paul into her father. Some of the novel's best drama arises when Merrill must choose between them.

The Darlings (at least the older ones) value illusion over reality, appearance over substance. They don't talk about their family problems because that would require acknowledging that the family has problems. The social lives of New Yorkers with old and new money (and, more often, their hangers-on) fill out the novel. This is usually a subject matter that tempts me to start skimming, but Cristina Alger is equally adept at portraying the declining expectations of investors and of New York's single women. Her grasp of the novel's subject matter is masterful, and the story she tells is often unexpectedly moving. The Darlings is a novel that should appeal equally to fans of financial thrillers and family dramas. For that matter, it should appeal to any fan of strong, sensitive writing.

RECOMMENDED

Close to the Bone by Stuart MacBride

Published in the UK in January 2013; published by HarperCollins on May 14, 2013 

The connection between a body that has been wedged into a tire and set ablaze and a movie called Witchfire being filmed in Aberdeen isn't immediately apparent to Acting Detective Inpector Logan McRae, although the reader knows that the connection must exist or Stuart MacBride wouldn't have included both events in the novel's opening pages. In another apparently unrelated incident, two eighteen-year-olds have gone missing, and while Logan assumes they are lovers who ran away together, his boss makes him investigate to placate the girl's bothersome parents. The reader soon learns that the girl is a big fan of "Harry Bloody Potter, Twilight, and that stupid Witchfire book." Then there are the neighborhood pranksters leaving chicken bones at Logan's front door ... or so he assumes.

About a third of the story has passed before the connections become reasonably clear. The seasoned reader will expect more deaths to follow and will not be disappointed. This is only a wee bit of a whodunit, but the plot does take a surprising twist at the end that will satisfy whodunit fans. Not everything is as it seems, but the various storylines come together in the end. No loose ends are left to dangle.

In a pleasant departure from most police procedurals (and from earlier novels in the McRae series), MacBride doesn't take his characters or his story too seriously. Humor permeates the novel and the tone is nearly always light-hearted despite the serial killings. Logan is often carrying on multiple conversations at once, talking on the phone at the same time he's speaking to investigators at a crime scene, with amusing results. A thug who "looks like someone took a burning cheese grater to his face" comes to Logan's door and punches him in the nose, but the Grampian police not only take their time finding the thug, they don't have much interest in looking for him. Logan's oversexed boss is unreasonably demanding and keen on taking credit for Logan's work. A new detective sergeant named Gertrude Chalmers drives him crazy with her cheery gung-ho attitude and bad driving. A crime boss wants to make Logan the administrator of his will, leaving Logan the task of parceling out his criminal empire. Too many women are telling Logan what to do, one of whom can't even speak. It's no wonder Logan always feels stressed.

Sometimes the characters are slightly over-the-top, but not so far over that I stopped laughing at them. MacBride takes his time developing the plot and the characters, but the pace is never slow. Minor characters have the distinct personalities you'd expect from series regulars, and the beleaguered Logan is easy to like. The novel stands well on its own; it isn't necessary to read the earlier books in the series to get the full flavor of this one.

RECOMMENDED

When the Devil Drives by Christopher Brookmyre

First published in Great Britain in 2012; published by Atlantic Monthly Press on May 7, 2013 

Where the Bodies Are Buried introduced readers to actress-turned-detective Jasmine Sharp. In When the Devil Drives, Jasmine has inherited her uncle's detective agency. Alice Petrie hires Jasmine to find Alice's sister, Tessa Garrion, from whom Alice has long been estranged. Tessa was last known to be working as an actress before she dropped out of sight. As Jasmine tries to track down Tessa's past, it becomes clear that some or all members of a short-lived production company, now thirty years defunct, are concealing a dark secret about their past. A second storyline follows DS Catherine McLeod as she investigates the shooting of an arts patron that occurred during a production of Shakespeare at a castle in the Highlands.

When the Devil Drives has an interesting structure. The novel opens with a confession of murder, but we don't know the identities of either the confessor or the victim. The story eventually journeys back in time before, returning to the present, the two storylines converge. Toward the end, Christopher Brookmyre ratchets up the tension, adding the elements of a thriller to a murder mystery.

The plot is a multiple whodunit. In the tradition of mystery writers, Brookmyre sets up several suspects who may have committed murder. When one of those suspects is killed, the reader wonders whether that suspect murdered Tessa and was killed by someone else, or whether a different suspect murdered them both. The story is realistic, avoiding the over-the-top motivations that mar so many murder mysteries, while at the same time employing the sort of misdirection that has the reader wondering just how over-the-top the intricate plot might turn out to be. As Brookmyre peels apart his cast of flawed human beings, they all seem capable of murder -- and at the same time, they seem like people we might know.

Theater provides the novel's thematic setting. Jasmine trained as an actress and sometimes yearns for that life rather than the one that has been thrust upon her. The Scottish branch of the world financial crisis -- where, as everywhere else, bank executives eat caviar as the economy goes down the toilet -- furnishes the secondary setting. Although the worlds of theater and finance are miles apart, Brookmyre showcases the arrogance and passion that are prevalent in both.

Catherine plays a lesser role than Jasmine, but she's an equally intriguing character. Like Jasmine, she's capable of rethinking her positions, of listening to others and benefitting from their wisdom. Catherine dominates her passive husband, who (in a minor subplot) disagrees with her insistence that their son be forbidden from playing violent videogames. Whether imaginary violence begets real violence is a theme that animates the novel.

When the Devil Drives includes some flashbacks to the previous Jasmine Sharp novel that aren't particularly relevant to the story. It isn't necessary to read the last one to enjoy its successor. Both novels are infused with local color and written in effervescent prose. This one is slightly more enjoyable than the first (the conclusion left the trace of a smile on my lips), and I'm looking forward to the next.

RECOMMENDED

Deep Space by Ian Douglas

Published by Harper Voyager on April 30, 2013

Deep Space, the fourth entry in the Star Carrier series, is a solid example of military science fiction. While characterization is a bit weak, Ian Douglas excels at writing vivid battle scenes. By adding political intrigue and credible aliens to the mix, he's produced a novel of greater interest than the "humans versus space bugs" shootout that too often characterizes military sf.

Some of the Sh'daar client species -- perhaps joined by some hitherto unknown aliens -- are attacking Earth outposts and ships, but nobody knows why. The Sh'daar are alien Luddites, fearful of alien races who might be approaching a technological singularity, but the Earth Confederation has lately been at relative peace with the Sh'daar. For Lt. Donald Gregory, a Marine from Osiris, the fight is personal: he wants to liberate his homeworld. The fight is equally personal for Lt. Megan Connor, but for a different reason: she's been captured. When the Earth Confederation confronts the enemy, it discovers that the aliens are using technology that's more advanced than anything humans have encountered before. To make matters even more vexing, something called the Black Rosette might endanger both the Sh'daar and the Earth.

Deep Space is a high energy novel that builds excitement as battles rage on multiple fronts, but it isn't just an action novel. In a significant section of the story, a deep space battle gives way to diplomacy -- an unusual development in military science fiction, but a welcome relief from predictable scenes of interstellar war. Whether diplomacy is possible with an alien race that humankind doesn't fully understand is the novel's most interesting question.

Deep Space is also notable for its carefully considered political intrigue. Conflicts abound as the Earth Confederation seeks to put North American ships under Confederation command -- an act that doesn't sit well with North American President Koenig or with Captain Sandy Gray, who has no desire to surrender control of the Navy's flagship. At the same time, the Confederation is making a power grab on the moon, a prelude to civil war on Earth. The twin plot threads, in space and on the Earth, assure that the story always proceeds at a lively pace. The most immediate threads are resolved by the novel's end but Deep Space leaves enough collateral threads dangling to provide fertile ground for the series' continuance.

Although always written in the third person, the story frequently shifts its focus from one to another of several characters who are integral to the plot. None of the characters are developed to the same degree as the military technology but this isn't a character-driven novel. Stock characters with unsurprising personalities who behave in expected ways serve the story capably, even if their lack of depth is disappointing.

As you would expect in a series novel, there are some sections of expository writing that revisit events from earlier novels in the series. Although they slow the story for awhile, they are bearable. More disturbing is the expository writing that interrupts action scenes, explaining the physics of the action and the astronautics of spaceflight, discussing the history of the Marine Corps, reviewing the ways in which alien races communicate, and describing the operation of weapons in loving detail. I welcome the injection of credible science into science fiction and I'm always happy to learn new things, but it's possible to impart information without pausing the narrative flow. Douglas needs to learn how to do that. He also has a frustrating tendency toward redundancy. This isn't such a long novel that readers need to be reminded of things we've already learned.

Some aspects of the novel are quite creative, even if they sometimes place a clever spin on familiar ideas: an alien's attempt to make sense of human anatomy; the aliens themselves; the planet-killing technology; the improvised tactics that Gregory and Gray devise to fight the aliens; the different philosophies of war that drive humans and aliens; the prejudices that exclude from military advancement those who cling to widely rejected traditions and beliefs; the possibility that Earth is at war against aliens who shaped (or instigated) human evolution. Other aspects are fairly typical of military science fiction, but this is a particularly well-conceived addition to the genre. In the end, it is the novel's intensity as much as its creativity that captured my imagination.

RECOMMENDED