Dogfight, A Love Story by Matt Burgess

Published by Doubleday on September 21, 2010

Dogfight, A Love Story was a love story for me in this sense: I loved reading it. The novel is fresh, very funny, occasionally morbid, and always energetic. It is the product of a very talented writer. In its setting and characters it reminded me of Clockers (a book I greatly enjoyed) minus the cops and with added humor, but the writing in Dogfight is of a higher quality. Burgess' writing style is exactly right for a literary crime novel: sharp and zestful and evocative. The dramatic climax (coming just before an ending that is essentially an epilogue) is frenetic, explosive, intense: powerful stuff that made me utter an involuntary "wow."

Dogfight follows Alfredo Batista during the days before and after his brother Tariq (f/k/a Jose Jr.) is released from prison. While Tariq has been serving his sentence, Alfredo, a small time drug dealer in Queens, has taken up with Tariq's girlfriend, who is now pregnant with Alfredo's child. Worried about his brother's tendency toward violence, Alfredo wants to give him a homecoming present. To that end, he engineers a robbery from a Russian street dealer -- a poor decision that will soon lead to unexpected trouble. He also tries to arrange a dogfight, despite never having seen one (dogfights not being the competition of choice in Queens).

Matt Burgess does a masterful job of merging the plot-driven demands of genre fiction with the character-driven sensibility of literary fiction. Some readers won't like Alfredo or some of the other characters because they commit crimes. But even readers who generally want to read about morally pure characters might find Alfredo to be worth their time. He's imperfect (aren't we all?) but he isn't thuggish. Despite doing something during the novel's course for which he will probably never forgive himself, he has a conscience and he experiences some personal growth, if not full redemption, by the novel's end. In any event, all of the central characters in Dogfight have distinctive, fully realized personalities. It is easy to understand their actions even if the reader might disapprove of them. At least to me, they were all interesting, filled with credible emotions, self-doubt, yearnings, regrets -- all the stuff that makes us human.

Finally, lest you be alarmed by the title, be assured that no dogs were harmed in the writing of this novel. This is a work of fiction, after all. Speaking as someone whose best friend is a golden retriever, I can safely predict that most dog lovers will recognize that this novel does not glorify or glamorize dog fighting. Quite the opposite, in fact. Animal lovers should not avoid this excellent book because of its unfortunate title.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Public Anatomy by A. Scott Pearson

 

Published by Oceanview on March 7, 2011

The word I would use to describe Public Anatomy is: fun. It takes an amusing, irreverent look at medicine and doctors while delivering an absorbing, fast moving story. Primary characters have engaging personalities while minor characters are summed up in two or three sharp sentences that bring them to life. That's a talent I wish more thriller writers would develop.

Public Anatomy opens with a robotic hysterectomy -- robotic in the sense that the surgeon, Dr. Liza French, controls robotic instruments from a remote station. The operation is webcast in what amounts to an extended commercial for the hospital, a potentially lucrative advertisement until a mishap covers the video camera in the unfortunate patient's blood. Dr. French blames the machinery for the patient's death -- the second time she's done so. The novel's starring role, however, goes not to Dr. French but to Dr. Eli Branch, who was apparently featured in A. Scott Pearson's last novel, Rupture (which I have not read). Rather improbably, the FBI recruits him (more or less against his will) to look into the botched robotic surgeries -- a job that is complicated by the relationship that Branch had with French when they worked together as interns.

Meanwhile, murder victims are turning up in the city. A foot bone has been removed from one, a tongue from the next, and the pattern continues in subsequent killings. The killer is dubbed "The Organist." Branch gets pulled into that investigation as well, this time working with a Memphis police detective. Initially, it appears that the connection between the Organist's victims should be obvious to any cop doing even a minimal investigation, but Pearson employs some clever misdirection; the link is less clear than it seems. The relationship between the murders and the surgical deaths is more puzzling and the resolution was unexpected: I didn't see it coming.

Every now and then, Pearson tosses in a very funny scene: Branch flushing maggots from a patient's head with a WaterPik; police officers sharing a moment of silence in mutual respect for Kojak. Much of the novel has a lighthearted tone. Some readers might think that tone is inappropriate for a thriller, but I thought it worked. Pearson doesn't inundate the reader with medical jargon but he doesn't dumb down the narrative either. The middle of the novel includes a mercifully brief lesson in the history of anatomy and a mini-biography of a Sixteenth Century anatomist. Pearson made those subjects sufficiently interesting to hold my attention. In the midst of all this Pearson makes a significant point about how modern medicine has shifted from a hands-on approach that maximized interaction with the patient to a technological (even robotic) approach that detaches the practitioner from the patient.

So the novel worked for me, but it isn't perfect. Pearson is better at medical drama than police procedure. The detective gives Branch a critical piece of evidence without logging it into evidence or placing it into an evidence bag, a breach of protocol that would risk the loss of a real world detective's job. The FBI's use of coercion to enlist Branch's assistance is perfectly credible but its desire for Branch's help isn't. Nor does it make sense that the FBI would investigate the death of French's patients. Even if the agents had reason to suspect that the deaths were due to anything beyond negligence, it's difficult to see what federal crime they were investigating (as opposed to their investigation of corruption in the biotechnology industry, which is more in line with what the FBI actually does). The implications of robotic technology that might malfunction seems like one of the book's driving themes until it's inexplicably dropped in favor of other storylines. Since these flaws don't detract significantly from the story, however, I recommend Public Anatomy to readers looking for a fun, lighthearted medical thriller.

RECOMMENDED

Blowback by Peter May

Published by Poison Pen Press on March 1, 2011

In 2003, restaurateur Mark Fraysse, rumored to be in danger of losing a Michelin star, invited the press to hear an important announcement. Fraysse did not talk to the press that day. Instead the press reported his death, his body having been found near his restaurant after he failed to return from his afternoon run. Fraysse had been shot to death. Blood splatter "blowback" from the entry wound was found on the back of his hands. In 2010, forensic scientist Enzo Macleod sets out to find the killer, the fifth of seven cold cases he has undertaken to solve. The earlier cases were chronicled in Peter May's previous Enzo Files novels, although this is the only one I've read. In the first novel, Enzo apparently made a bet that he could solve them all.

Who would kill a beloved chef? Enzo begins by visiting the crime scene, speaking with Fraysse's mother and brother (the latter was also his business partner), and inspecting the restaurant's sterling kitchen and capacious wine cellar. Through much of this lively novel, eating and drinking plays a more important role than forensic science. Peter May writes lovingly of haute cuisine, wine, and the French countryside. Blowback is as much a celebration of fine dining as it is a mystery. It provides an inside look at the kind of restaurant (together with its food and wine) that earns the highly coveted three star Michelin rating. Reading it made my mouth water; I would have gained ten pounds sating my stimulated appetite if the novel had been longer. Of course, being in France, Enzo's thoughts turn to romance; Dominique, the police officer who was first on the scene of the crime, catches his eye. Food, wine, and desire: who knew solving murders could be such fun?

Blowback is a clever mystery novel. As Enzo investigates (in between meals and drinks and romantic interludes), several suspects with potential motives for homicide come into focus. The first half of the story proceeds at a leisurely pace but it picks up a bit after Enzo learns (via a near death experience) that his life is in danger. Peter May is a capable writer; his prose isn't stirring but it is better than average for the genre. The resolution is satisfying, with the kind of twist ending that mystery fans should appreciate.

The novel does have its faults. May gives Enzo an overwhelming amount of family baggage that apparently accrued during the course of the series. Enzo's uncertain relationships with siblings and children and former lovers take the phrase "complicated life" to a new level. Perhaps that adds depth to his character for the reader who is familiar with the earlier books. For me, it was too much; Enzo's family issues eventually became a distraction from the plot, slowing the pace just as suspense was building (fortunately, it rockets along at the end). I was also annoyed by the convenient parallels between Enzo's family issues and those of the Fraysse family -- parallels that were a bit too coincidental to be credible and too manipulative to add the drama that May likely intended. Finally, Enzo discovers what purports to be a memoir but it is written in the same voice as the rest of the novel. Still, despite its imperfections, Blowback is an entertaining novel that most mystery fans and nearly all foodies should enjoy.

RECOMMENDED

Born Again by Kelly Kerney

Published by Mariner Books on September 5, 2006

Mel is an alienated eighth grader. As a Pentacostal Revivalist Born-Again Christian, she feels persecuted by the other kids at her secular school, yet she's annoyed by her peers at Sunday school, who strike Mel as being either self-righteous or dull-witted. Her only friend is Beth, for whom she feels sorry because Beth is a Methodist and that's "like having no religion at all." As the novel progresses, Mel faces two crises of conscience: she needs to read Darwin for academic camp and wants to refute his observations about evolution but finds herself agreeing with much of what he writes; and she wants Beth to be "saved" but feels guilty about pushing her toward a life that she is beginning to question.

Ultimately, Born Again is a tribute to reason and to intellectual curiosity. Mel is too intelligent, too inquisitive, to continue blindly accepting the teachings and restrictions of her pastors and parents when they no longer make sense to her. Mel's parents and pastors want to shield her from information: they restrict the books she can read and won't allow her to listen to secular music. As Mel struggles to understand Darwin, she feels conflicted when her pastor preaches that "it is a sin to try to find answers to things we are not meant to know." Throughout the novel, Mel wonders why knowledge is ever a bad thing to have: knowledge of science, of sexuality, of music and literature.

The characters in Born Again are well drawn: from Mel's abusive, mentally ill mother to her ineffectual father and rebellious siblings, Kerney creates multi-dimensional characters with unique, believable personalities. Unlike some people who have set aside a particular religious affiliation, Kerney (who was raised as an evangelical fundamentalist) displays no bitterness when writing about Mel's struggle with an intellectually intolerant version of Christian faith. Instead, she tells Mel's story with gentle humor and honesty. Born Again is a very funny book, and at times a very powerful one. Readers need not fear that it is anti-Christian, although it is anti-intolerance. It's a strong first novel that should appeal to anyone who values good writing and open-mindedness.

RECOMMENDED

A Perfectly Good Family by Lionel Shriver

First published in 1996

When so many modern novels are about dysfunctional families, why read another one? There are several reasons. Lionel Shriver brings a unique wit to her storytelling. Her tale is fresh and funny. She gives her characters depth but isn't oppressive about it.

The "perfectly good family" in question consists of Corlis, Truman, and Mordecai McCrea, three siblings who must come together to deal with their inheritance after their mother's death. The will leaves each child a quarter of the estate (consisting mostly of the family home) with the remaining quarter going to the ACLU. Truman (the youngest, who has always lived with his parents, even after his marriage) feels entitled to keep the house for himself. Mordecai (the oldest, pushing 40, with three broken marriages and a drinking problem) wants to sell the place and use his share of the money to revive his cash-poor business. Corlis (who was invited to leave her flat in London after her two male roommates discovered that she was splitting her affections between them) has decided to stay in North Carolina but finds herself in the middle of the dispute between the brothers, neither of whom can buy out the other's interest without her help.

A Perfectly Good Family was first published in Great Britain in 1996. Shriver's sixth novel mixes comedy with drama, but there isn't much dramatic tension in the conflict between the children. The drama increases toward the end, as the deadline for selling or refinancing draws near (the ACLU wants its money and isn't inclined to wait any longer), but the mood remains lighthearted. The reader has little reason to invest in either brother; in their separate ways, they are equally childish. Corlis, who provides the novel's point of view (and who seems to be something of a stand-in for Lionel Shriver, who grew up with two brothers in Raleigh, where the novel is set), is a more sympathetic character, although so often adrift and indecisive that it is difficult to cheer for her success. The novel ends on an up note that quickly follows a tragedy, but none of that created an emotional impact that would lead me to recommend the novel as a satisfying family drama.

As light comedy, however, the novel succeeds. The characters are amusing and in broad terms are recognizable as members of typical American families. Shriver's pithy observations about their roles in the family and in life make the novel worthwhile. For instance, Truman looks forward to finishing a product (shampoo or whatever) so he can buy a new one, leading Corlis to wonder "if this delight in dispatching products in order to re-acquire them wasn't a functional definition of the middle class." It's that kind of gleefully irreverent writing that gives the novel its edge, and thus its value. A Perfectly Good Family didn't generate any belly laughs while I was reading it, but it produced enough knowing nods and soft chuckles to make me recommend it as a better-than-average comedic exploration of a family dynamic.

RECOMMENDED