Independence Square by Martin Cruz Smith

Published by Simon & Schuster on May 9, 2023

Arkady Renko is one of my favorite protagonists in the world of crime fiction. Renko has long struggled (with surprising success) to maintain his integrity in a corrupt land. In Independence Square, his indirect adversary is the most powerful man in Russia, if only because all corruption in Russia eventually pays its dues to Putin.

The story takes place shortly before Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. A Moscow racketeer who goes by the nickname Bronson wants to hire Renko to find Karina Abakov, his missing daughter. As a Moscow police detective, Renko knows his perilous career will be over if he is caught taking money from Bronson, but he agrees to help for free.

Karina was affiliated with a social movement called Forum for Democracy. When Renko asks if the movement is anti-government, the response he receives is “Isn’t everybody?” Whenever the group has a demonstration, motorcycle thugs known as the Werewolves break it up. The Werewolves are Putin’s version of the Hell’s Angels. How they know the Forum’s movements in advance is a mystery.

Renko has an adopted son named Zhenya who happens to know Karina. Zhenya knows Karina’s friend Elena better. Zhenya’s friend Alex is sweet on Karina, so Renko visits with Alex and Elena to see if either of them has a line on Karina’s current location. Alex apparently learns something about Karina and sends Renko pictures of three Russian authors as a coded clue. Before Renko can meet with him again, Alex is assassinated. Renko is assigned to investigate the death, giving him cover to poke into Karina's disappearance.

The story involves multiple loosely related assassinations. Renko’s search for Karina takes him to Kyev and Sevastopol, where some of those assassinations occur. The plot twists a couple of times and generates at least one genuine surprise. Fortunately, Martin Cruz Smith doesn’t follow the path of outrageous twists that are common to lesser thriller writers. The story never sacrifices plausibility to create suspense, but Smith does generate tension as the plot moves toward its conclusion. Independence Square isn’t as compelling as Smith’s best novels, but I am always captivated by the stories he tells.

Although the story precedes the invasion of Ukraine, it is timely. Renko views Putin’s Russia as “Stalin’s Great Terror updated for modern times, with disinformation, legal machinations, indiscriminate violence.” While Putin is a monster lurking just beyond the novel’s perimeter, much of the story focuses not on the forthcoming war but on Crimean Tartars, an ethic group that has been oppressed for centuries. Through a Tartar living in exile in Kyev, Smith offers a quick lesson in the group’s history before and after the most recent Russian occupation of Crimea.

Renko’s life changes a bit with every novel in the series. In Independence Square, Renko becomes involved with Elena just as Tatiana, the journalist who used to be his lover, crosses his path again. Tatiana is the woman he can’t forget. Her loss is one of the many events that has left Renko with a tortured soul. His discovery that he is in the early stages of Parkinson’s only adds to his sense of resignation. Whether resignation will be offset by hope and whether newfound hope will be shattered are always questions in Renko novels. Where Renko’s life will go next is a question I hope Smith will answer soon.

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Quantum Supremacy by Michio Kaku

Published by Doubleday on May 2, 2023

Quantum Supremacy is nonfiction, although it explores a topic that might interest fans of science fiction. The book’s premise is that quantum computers are the key to unlocking the mysteries of life and solving many of the world’s problems. Most of the book consists of bite-size descriptions of big problems and barriers to fixing them, barriers that might be overcome by greater computing power.

Quantum computers are in their infancy. They have the potential to dwarf the ability of digital computers to analyze vast amounts of data. They do this by dancing on top of many atoms simultaneously. Okay, that’s not what they do, but that’s my interpretation of a fascinating topic that is far too complex for my simple mind to wrap around.

Michio Kaku discusses the history of computing before he explains quantum theory. Science fiction fans know quantum theory posits that two particles can be in two different places at the same time and, no matter the distance between them, can be in instantaneous communication. That’s a pretty good trick.

No matter how many times I try to digest simple explanations of quantum mechanics, I fail. That's not a knock on Kaku. I give him credit for writing a simple, cogent explanation. I only wish I could understand how the cat in the box can be both alive and dead until someone opens the box. But as Kaku explains, a theory isn't necessarily wrong simply because it intuitively seems nonsensical.

The ability of distant particles to have the same immediate experience is known as quantum entanglement. Quantum computers, as I understand it (or, more likely, misunderstand it), compute using atoms rather than transistors, which allows them to perform computations simultaneously rather than serially. Entangled atoms interact with each other, allowing a bunch of atoms to get in on the act, processing problems more quickly than a bunch of 0s and 1s can manage.

So what does the quantum revolution promise? Chapter by chapter, Kaku discusses problems that are too complex for digital computers to solve, then speculates about the ways that quantum computing might produce breakthroughs. He suggests that quantum computer might help scientists:

•   discover how life originated;
•   understand photosynthesis;
•   develop more efficient ways to produce food;
•   develop batteries with more efficient energy storage;
•   cure cancer, dementia, and other complex health issues;
•   increase lifespans;
•   solve the problem of global warming; and
•   understand the universe.

Now, science fiction fans have read plenty of stories about artificial minds becoming so smart that they decide to control or wipe out primitive humans. Kaku doesn’t explore the potential downside of quantum computing, which I count as a significant strike against a surprisingly pollyannish book. He discusses the wonders that ever-smarter Artificial Intelligences will bring without saying much about the difficulties that AIs are currently causing, beginning with lazy students who have an AI write their term papers. As tradeoffs go, I’ll put up with sneaky students gaming their teachers in exchange for curing cancer. Still, it seems to me that there must be potential downsides to quantum computing that are worth acknowledging.

My other knock on the book is that Kaku is a physicist who, while obviously a very bright scholar, spends much of his time talking about issues of science that are outside his field: medicine, biology, agriculture, climate science, and so on. We are thus fed basic information that most of us have already seen about the health and environmental challenges our civilization faces. This seems to me to be a way to turn an essay about the physics of computation into an expansive book that often relates to physics only tangentially.

The book is informative, but less than half of it directly addresses quantum computing. I might have preferred a shorter essay without all the extraneous information about (for instance) how cancer develops and how carbon dioxide emissions are affecting climate. The book provides an overview of many familiar subjects when what I wanted was a book that would drill down on the topic of quantum computing.

We’ve all learned from the computer age that information is priceless. I can’t condemn a book for being informative, so I’m recommending Quantum Supremacy. I only wish I could connect a quantum computer to my brain so I could make sense of the fascinating world of quantum mechanics. Maybe that’s next on the horizon.

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The Ferryman by Justin Cronin

Published by Ballantine Books on May 2, 2023

The Ferryman surprised me. More specifically, I’m surprised I liked it. While I was reading it, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. The story makes little sense until about two-thirds of it has been told. Once everything came into focus, my mind unclenched and I realized that Justin Cronin had been hiding the real story.

I can’t describe what the novel is really about without spoiling the surprise, so I’ll try to convey a sense of what it seems to be about. The first 300-plus pages introduce about a dozen characters whose shifting roles are likely intended to puzzle the reader.

The protagonist, Proctor Bennett, is a ferryman. Proctor lives on an archipelago called Prospera. At the age of sixteen, he became the ward of his guardians, Cynthia and Malcolm. Adopting a ward is something that people in their position are expected to do. At some point after becoming Procter's guardian, Cynthia did something Prosperans aren’t expected to do. She rowed into the sea, wrapped an anchor around her ankle, and jumped into the water.

Prosperans don’t have children in the usual, biological way. Children are raised on a separate island called the Nursery and brought to Prospera. Not having to raise kids — never having to worry about protecting or losing an infant — might be why their lives are so good.

Everyone in Prospera is hardwired to a gadget that is implanted in their arms. The gadget calculates something like a wellness score. If a resident’s score becomes too low, a Writ of Compulsory Retirement is issued and a ferryman arrives to escort the resident back to the Nursery where they undergo a regenerative process. They aren’t supposed to remember their old lives when they are reborn. As a child, Proctor had dreams that were explained as echoes of a former life. Dreaming is uncommon among Prosperans.

Prospera exists behind an electromagnetic barrier called the Veil that shields Prospera (representing the best of the world) from the worst of the world. Nobody has ever passed beyond the veil and returned.

Prospera seems to be a utopia. For a time, it put me in mind of Erewhon. Both novels begin with a detailed description of a society that is very different from ours before it becomes apparent that the differences are not as great as they appear. At times, Cronin almost adopts Samuel Butler’s formalistic writing style.

As is true in Erewhon, the reader realizes that Prospera is far from utopian. The wealthy citizens live extraordinarily good lives. The servant class lives in squalor. Wealthy Prosperans don’t seem to notice.

Prosperans need a servant class so they can devote themselves to creative and scholarly pursuits. Proctor’s wife Elise is an artist. Her mother is someone important. Procter’s career as a ferryman is a bit disappointing to his family, although he is a managing director of the Department of Social Contracts.

Procter meets a female child who seems to come from nowhere. She wants Procter to teach her to swim. When she disappears, Procter realizes that she seems to tie into the dreams he used to have.

As the story progresses, life in Prospera becomes unsettled. Watchers use drones to maintain surveillance on protestors and use cattle prods to keep them in their place. A woman named Thea is part of a social or religious movement that uses the slogan “Arrival come.” The word Arrival conjures an event like the Rapture. Procter’s life and marriage also become unsettled. Things look bleak when his wellness score falls into the single digits.

Late in the novel, long after we learn what the story is really about, we discover that the story hinges on a morally dubious choice that Procter made, a choice that causes many to despise him. Did he make the right choice? The question is intriguing because it isn’t easily answered. In any event, Procter evolves into a multifaceted, sympathetic character who, in the end, must make a difficult choice that will define his future in a world that, for most of the novel, he didn’t understand.

A theme of haves versus have-nots ends in a way that should please most readers (I assume most readers will take the side of the have-nots, but I might be mistaken). I suspect that the novel’s transition to a story that requires the reader to adopt a new understanding of Prospera will also please readers. I have to admit that I didn’t see it coming.

I was certainly glad the change came because a story that seemed to be falling apart suddenly became clear. The story is structured to fall apart and then to be rebuilt in a way that gives new meaning to the fallen pieces. I give Cronin props for his creative misdirection. I also give him credit for crafting such a fresh and original plot. The novel might be wordier than necessary, but I enjoyed the words.

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Latah by Thomas Legrain

First published in France in 2023; published in translation by Europe Comics on April 26, 2023

Latah is a graphic novel. Thomas Legrain is a Belgian artist/writer. The original edition is in French.

Huyn Tran, an AP reporter, is dropped off in a Vietnamese jungle where he joins a squad of American soldiers. When he sees the figurine a soldier is carrying, he says “Latah.” The expression refers to an affliction caused by shock or trauma. Sufferers go wild, change physically, and inspire fear. But Latah is also a spirit incarnated in a man that people in the region worship because Latah bears the burden of the suffering that people would otherwise experience. When the suffering becomes too great, Latah goes on a killing spree until it finds a new host. The soldier’s figurine is a talisman that protects against Latah.

A couple of soldiers are lost in a firefight before they find their way to a field of corpses. The mangled bodies remind Tran of stories about the war with the French. The soldiers soldier on until they stumble into a place where the sun never sets, where their compasses don’t work, where they die one by one. Not a good time to be a soldier, as if there was ever a good time to be carrying weapons through the jungles of Vietnam.

The squad was involved in something bad before the story starts, something they don’t want to talk about and that seems to be tearing them apart. Readers who remember the Vietnam War will guess what they did. The story raises collateral issues of race, primarily in the form of Black soldiers who bicker with each while white soldiers mock them. Tran is subject to the racist attitudes of American soldiers. At the same time, a white soldier wonders whether a Black soldier who attended the March on Washington would ever be willing to listen to a redneck from Alabama.

The redneck is more mature than most of the other soldiers; he questions the morality of dropping napalm and ruining the lives of innocent farmers in the hope of driving the Viet Cong to more favorable fighting terrain. He’s the only soldier with the decency to feel guilt about the squad’s earlier actions. Fortunately for the redneck, he’s carrying the figurine. Unfortunately for him, another soldier wants to take it from him.

The art is gritty and atmospheric. The olive drab coloring in the background of most panels sets the right mood. The detail in jungle backgrounds is meticulous, although the detail of soldiers ripped to shreds might be a bit too detailed for weak stomachs. I particularly like the monsoon rains that last for panel after panel. The art gives the story a cinematic feel.

The story loses some of its power with a predictable flashback at the end. After arriving at a conclusion, the story seems incomplete, perhaps because the horror of the supernatural is overshadowed by the horror of the Vietnam War. I nevertheless appreciated the way the art enhances an unmemorable story.

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Cloud Girls by Lisa Harding

First published in Ireland in 2017; published by HarperVia on April 25, 2023

Cloud Girls is an account of sex trafficking told from the perspectives of two girls. It’s the kind of book that is likely intended to call attention to a social problem. While the novel might raise a reader’s awareness, it falls short of telling a compelling story.

Nicoleta Zanesti is from Moldova. Nico’s father sells her at the age of twelve, as soon as she has her first period. Her parents tell her that they have found her a husband, a wealthy man who will give her everything she wants, but it seems likely that her father knows (and her mother fears) the truth. Nico’s mother makes a timid show of resistance but she has been trained to defer to her husband. Her younger brother is too small to protect his sister.

Nico is the best student in her class, but the transfer of her ownership from father to “future husband” must be kept from school authorities who might interfere. Nico begins to suspect that she has been deceived when she learns that the man she expects to marry already has a wife. When the van in which she is riding picks up more girls, she realizes that marriage is not in the cards.

Samantha Harvey lives in Ireland. At fifteen, Sammy is sexually experienced, having been pimped out by her boyfriend to his friends. Sammy’s mother is a lush. To avoid returning home and to keep her friend Lucy out of trouble when they stay out all night, Sammy injures herself with a bottle to simulate a sexual assault. When the plan does not work as she expected, she flees from home and turns to alcohol and prostitution.

Eventually a woman in a brothel gives Sammy a phone number and she joins a prostitution ring with the expectation of being paid. Instead, she finds herself in a group of trafficked girls. Sammy is given drugs and condoms that men won’t wear and promises of eventual compensation, but she isn’t given freedom.

As a young virgin, Nico is viewed as a valuable commodity. She’s sold on to the Irish prostitution ring, a transaction that is only explained in the broadest terms. I suppose that makes sense since Nico is telling the story from her perspective and isn’t privy to how or why she’s destined to work in Ireland. In any event, Nico is put to work with Sammy and a few other girls. When Nico tries to run — not to escape, but just for the joy of running — the girls learn that leaving is not an option.

The plot follows an expected arc, taking the reader through a sanitized version of the lives of girls who are forced to have sex. The novel’s descriptions of sexual abuse are not graphic, but Lisa Harding makes clear that the girls are the victims of the men who use and abuse them in varying ways. Perhaps the censored portrayal of sexual encounters with children is an act of mercy or a sensible way to avoid any hint of prurience, but it also detracts from the story’s power. It may be for that reason that the narrative often comes across as a story that has been imagined rather than one that has been lived. The story’s conclusion splits the difference between an ending that is relatively comforting and one that is unresolved.

Sammy is surprised when she recognizes a couple of respected family men from Dublin at one of the gatherings where she is offered as entertainment. Much of the book consists of Sammy and Nico being disappointed that men do not live up to their expectations of decency. To some extent, this is a novel of innocence shattered.

Harding explains that the story is based on firsthand accounts of trafficked girls. In this case, reading the actual accounts might be better than reading fiction that filters the emotions of the trafficking victims through an author. Still, the novel creates a sense of what it must be like to be sold as an Eastern European child or to drift into a forced prostitution ring as a troubled Western European teen. The story tells an important truth and Nico and Sammy are, simply by virtue of their circumstances, sympathetic characters.

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