Bad Day Breaking by John Galligan

Published by Atria Books on September 13, 2022

Cults, killers, human trafficking, prison pen pals, corrupt cops, and sexual assaults are among the themes that John Galligan shoehorns into Bad Day Breaking. Galligan also mixed multiple crime story elements in Bad Moon Rising; perhaps the leftovers made it into Bad Day Breaking, the fourth novel in the Bad Axe County series.

Bad Axe is a rural county in Wisconsin. The county sheriff is Heidi Kick. When Heidi and Melissa Grooms were teens, they did a lot of drugs. Heidi got clean and told the truth about their supplier, Roman Vanderhoof, a truth that sent him to prison for 14 years. After his release, he contacted Melissa (who never got clean for long) and came after Heidi.

The story begins with Deputy Mikayla Stonebreaker roughing up Jerome Pearl in a Walmart parking lot. Jerome and his wife Ruth are the leaders of the House of Shalah. County residents view the House of Shalah as a cult and want its members gone. Heidi makes herself unpopular by suspending Stonebreaker because even cult leaders have civil rights. Unfortunately, the Police and Fire Commission has little use for legal niceties. It agrees with the community about the cult and reinstates Stonebreaker. She makes it her mission to force Heidi out of office.

Vanderhoof and Stonebreaker each thirst for revenge, setting up two subplots. A third involves Duke Hashimoto, an ATF agent during the ATF’s disastrous response to violations of gun laws by Branch Davidians in Waco. As older readers might recall, the ATF attempted to execute a search warrant at the Branch Davidian compound despite knowing that cult members were aware that ATF was coming. Four ATF agents were killed in a failed attempt to search the compound. The ATF later embarked on a full-scale retaliatory siege that ended with the deaths of 76 Branch Davidians, including 20 children. Hashimoto was devastated by those losses and by the government’s later attempt to excuse its incompetent decision-making and to rewrite history in its favor.

Hashimoto was running an informant in the House of Shalah cult. Before he could get a warrant to search the Bad Axe County storage units that cult members have occupied, ATF lost interest. Hashimoto retired and his informant was killed. He returned to Wisconsin when Fernanda Carpenter called him about pornographic pictures that cult members had taken of her daughter.

The subplots swirl around like snow on a windy Wisconsin winter afternoon. Two of Heidi’s deputies seem to have ambiguous (possibly improper) relationships with prison pen pals. Released prisoners seem to have a relationship with the cult, which seems to be engaged in the kind of crimes involving women and children that keep Hashimoto from sleeping peacefully. Somebody with embalming skills seems to have disguised a corpse while a different dead body is implicated in a crime to mislead the police about the reason for the murder. Like any good cult, there also seems to be a plan to have members drink the kind of Kool-Aid that induces a permanent sleep. More murders ensue, as well as an attempt to murder Heidi that might cause Heidi to face a murder charge of her own.

The subplots all link together but the sheer number of stories makes it difficult to invest in any of them. It’s all a bit much. At some point, crime plots can become so complex that they lose any semblance of plausibility. I think that happened here. I kept hoping that Galligan would pick a plot and give it some flesh instead of throwing multiple plots against the wall to see if any would stick. Still, the story remains coherent.

Action scenes are creative (diving into a pond of pig manure is an image I won’t soon forget) and Heidi’s character development suggests a real person who has made some mistakes and is doing her best to overcome obstacles and live selflessly. Whether she has a future in law enforcement after this novel is unclear (and perhaps unlikely). I don’t know what that means for the Bad Axe County series, but I hope Galligan’s next novel (whether or not it is in this series) involves a less robust mixture of plot elements.

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Two Nurses, Smoking by David Means

Published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux on September 13, 2022

The stories collected in Two Nurses, Smoking depict the rawness of life, a savagery of experience that is occasionally tempered by love. Many of the stories involve characters who respond to circumstances beyond their control. Some make choices they will regret, but the future holds open the hope for better choices as the characters isolate what has gone wrong in their lives. The stories can be hard to read but a spark of hope or redemption or love softens most of them.

What do “Two Nurses, Smoking” talk about on a smoke break? A nurse who serially kills patients. Patients they expect to die. Medical equipment and the pain of kidney stones. Patients who are junkies. The scar a nurse earned in Iraq. Lonely roads and lonely people. Eventually, they talk about each other. All those topics, the reader realizes, are connected. Perhaps the smoking nurses aren’t all that different from the serial killer or junkies or doomed patients. Perhaps they can connect in ways that go beyond stories, beyond their common pain, to set their lives on a different path.

Grief and coping with loss, often manifesting in bitterness and incivility, are the subjects of “Stopping Distance.”  The reader might wonder how support groups that encourage parents to be stuck in a loop of loss, telling the same stories again and again, help anyone, yet a bereavement group allows two people to make a connection through mirrored pain. The story’s value lies in its insight about living with loss.

“The Red Dot” is a kayak in the distance that, as it nears shore, resolves into a kayak paddled by a Karl’s former wife, Debbie, who before she became an ex was afraid of the water. Karl talks about the argument they had when he saw her in the kayak. A character who knows Debbie wonders if the story is true because Debbie is an excellent swimmer. Did Karl make up the kayaking story or did Debbie tell Karl, for reasons of her own, that she was afraid of water? The narrator tries to unpack the truth as he considers the mystery of Karl’s life while attending his funeral and again years later. The story explores the concepts of trustworthiness and image as they apply to people we don’t really know.

“First Encounter” A man whose daughter saw him kissing another woman in a hospital parking lot is saved from exposure by the side effects of his daughter’s medication. The reprieve does not last because the truth never really goes away.

“Are You Experienced?” While cleaning their dope on the cover of a Hendrix album, Billy explains to Meg why he is justified stealing money from his uncle. Keeping money in the family isn’t really a crime and the money itself came from many years of farming, honest “money that came from sunlight and air and dirt, nothing else.” As they discuss the crime, Meg sees parallels between Billy and his uncle in their tendency to ramble about the past, traits that will one day make Billy just as vulnerable as his uncle. David Means illustrates the “what goes around, comes around” principle in a way that suggests the inevitability of karma.

“I am Andrew Wyeth!” is narrated by an artist who tries to become Andrew Wyeth. He requests a nondisclosure agreement from an assistant whose duty is to watch him work, record her observations in her head, and never tell anyone what she saw, all to create “the implicit secretiveness” of the artist’s endeavor. The agreement creates a sense of glamor and the impression that something interesting has been kept at bay, but it also shields the artist against his impulse to confess and the rumors that impulse might inspire.

The narrator of “Vows” looks back on his life and marriage and the lives and marriages of his friends through conversations and observations preserved in memory, “singular moments of astonishingly framed light.” “Lightning Speaks” is written as a series of fragmented paragraphs. The fragmentation might reflect the mental illness of characters who form connections and share memories or visions in an institution.

Nearly every paragraph of “Depletion Prompts” begins with the phrase “Write about,” followed a scenario — a kid confronted by a bully; wandering the woods to escape family drama; a baby born in a closet to a teenage girl afraid to disclose her pregnancy; your mother sneaking into a mental hospital to visit your sister — or a topic: toxic masculinity; the rage of feeling isolated during the pandemic. The paragraphs include notes about how the scene should be written, suggestions for happy and sad endings, how to connect the scene to others or “Use just the whispers, fragments of tense language, to build the fuzzy narrative that you carried.” The scenarios have whatever literary value a writer’s notebook might have, but the story works as a window into a writer’s mind.

My favorite story addresses the sadness of human existence through the eyes of a dog. Norman goes into the woods with a gun after his wife dies. He lets his dachshund off her leash and the dachshund gets lost chasing a rabbit. After a long adventure that includes a new family, we learn how losing his dog changed Norman’s life. The point of view is amazing and the story is heartening. “Clementine, Carmelita, Dog” is one of the coolest dog stories I’ve ever read. It’s worth the price of the volume.

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The Bad Angel Brothers by Paul Theroux

Published by Mariner Books on September 6, 2022

Paul Theroux always takes me to worlds far from my own. Surfers in Hawaii (Under the Wave at Waimea). The jungles of Honduras (The Mosquito Coast). High-end escorts in London (Doctor Slaughter). The Bad Angel Brothers is set in more familiar terrain — the East Coast and Arizona), albeit with trips to Alaska, Columbia, Zambia, and the Congo — but the subject matter — prospecting for gold and jewels in the modern world — is well beyond my experience.

Still, after scenes are set, the novel becomes a domestic drama, the kind of drama most readers have either experienced or closely observed: sibling rivalry, failed marriages, the acquisition and loss of money. I enjoyed the settings and the prospecting more than the core story, but I never lost interest in the protagonist’s plight.

The Belanger brothers are polar opposites. Frank is a successful lawyer, admired by most residents of his small community, apart from the clients he cheats. Frank is a hypocrite who pretends to help his neighbors while only helping himself. Cal leaves his brother and the community behind after earning a degree in geology. He becomes a prospector, finding peace in solitude. He discovers enough flakes of gold in Arizona to support himself before contracting with mining companies in South America and partnering in a small emerald mine in Zambia. His hometown views him as an outsider, even when he returns to visit his mother. Frank is seen as the reliable brother, the one who stayed in time to share his success.

To please his mother, Cal endures uncomfortable lunches with Frank, but Frank is insufferable. Frank steals Cal’s stories and envies his success. When he loses his assets in a divorce, Frank borrows money from Cal and tries to swindle Cal out of repayment. When his mother wants to give the family home to Cal, Frank persuades her to add his name to the deed to assure that the brother with a secure job will always be there to pay the mortgage. In fact, Frank is not to be trusted — a lesson Cal learns when his own divorce rolls around, despite his hope that he has been giving his brother insufficient credit.

The domestic drama has a contrived feel. A competent lawyer could put a stop to Frank’s shenanigans and probably have Frank disbarred, circumstances that detract from the story’s credibility. Cal’s grievances about Frank are legitimate but they become redundant. Theroux piles on evidence that Frank is dishonest and a bad brother long after the case has been made.

More interesting is the arc of Cal’s life: his marriage, followed by prolonged absences from home to pursue business opportunities that he hides from his wife; his chance encounter in the Arizona desert with the member of a Mexican drug cartel; his relationship with a woman in Zambia; his dangerous trip to the Congo, where he placates his wife by investigating Chinese companies that put children to work in cobalt mines. Cal experiences more adventure than most of us could manage in five lifetimes.

One of the novel’s highlights is Cal’s comparison of rocks to people: undifferentiated aggregate surrounding an occasional unpolished emerald that is distinguished by its impurities as much as the “glittering and verdant garden” of its interior. Cal compares the inclusions in precious stones to Frank in the way they devour the light. That’s clever writing.

Theroux strives for a suspenseful ending but given the nature of Cal’s character, it never seems likely that the story will proceed to its telegraphed destination. I suppose Cal is blinded by anger, but the final pages had me wondering why it took him so long to devise the obvious remedy to his problems. While the journey in The Bad Angel Brothers is better than the destination, the journey is too rich in detail to be spoiled by the disappointing ending.

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About Face by William Giraldi

Published by W.W. Norton & Co./Liveright on September 6, 2022

 “Some days you get up, you get going, and before you know it, you get lost, all your meanings muddled.” Seger Jovi (a pen name based on his two favorite rock stars) has a string of those days after he writes a scathing celebrity profile of Val Face for a Boston magazine. Seger is summoned to meet Face and, within minutes, succumbs to the man’s charisma, apologizes for even thinking of writing a harsh word about him, and signs on to be Face’s scribe. Seger narrates About Face. Although Seger makes hapless attempts to change his wardrobe and blend in with Face’s entourage, Seger allows the reader to evaluate Face from an outsider’s perspective.

When he was young, Valentino Detti stumbled upon a plaque in Boston’s Copley Square commemorating Kahlil Gibran. Valentino read The Prophet and mastered Gibran’s talent for “glib paradoxes.” He began to preach a philosophy of self-help on street corners. As it evolved, his motivational speeches involved finding a purpose or meaning — something he called your “devotion,” the thing that will define you. Valentino, a supernaturally handsome lad, rebranded himself as Val Face and became a celebrity. He is 33 when he meets Seger.

Seger notes that Face says “fairly obvious stuff” when he’s saying anything that isn’t a glib paradox (“Unhappiness results from your rush to happiness.”). While Seger recognizes Face as a charlatan and grifter, he’s also drawn to the man’s charisma. As Face observers, “If dollar signs are the great American language, then happiness is the great American religion.” Seger sees Face promising both while denying the importance of either.

About Face explores themes of self-improvement, celebrity, and family. Face has spirited his family away from public view and installed them in a country mansion. His mother worships him and feeds him meatballs; his father has never gotten around to reading Face’s memoir or attending his events. Face’s sister Talia declined an opportunity to share his wealth because she refused to sign a nondisclosure agreement. Talia represents the authenticity that Face has abandoned.

Face has achieved celebrity status for no obvious reason, much like Dr. Oz. Seger wonders whether Face will inevitably follow the path of Elvis, becoming “a drugged glutton” and “perspiring self-parodist.” Yet Face sees himself as a man of the people. He accepts the trappings of celebrity (he hasn’t turned down the fruits of merchandising) because (he claims) he has a large staff of people who depend on him, but he admits that he feels breathless trying to keep up with his Big Bang. His dark secret is that he must be what people want to see, not what he wants to be.

Face preaches the importance of authenticity, but celebrity compromises his authenticity by impairing his ability to make untainted connections. Solitude may be necessary to recognize and cultivate the benefits of an inner life (at least that’s what Seger argues), but Face never has a moment of solitude. Apart from his followers, Face is always surround by assistants who have assistants who have assistants. How is it possible for Face to be the person he claims to be? The answer to that question is found in the novel’s climax.

While the novel’s themes are serious, the mood is light. Tongue-in cheek humor pervades the novel. Celebrity self-improvement gurus are easy to mock and families are typically a fertile source of humor. Some of the humor flies in from left field, as when Face’s bodyguard and father debate the relative merits of Barry Manilow and Neil Diamond.

Music also fuels the novel’s serious moments. One of the highlights is a spirited argument about the relative merit of Springsteen’s older and later albums. The discussion starts with Seger’s observation that Springsteen’s raw voice in the 1970s and 80s is more of a treat than his grunting in the 2000s. The argument morphs into a track-by-track comparison to determine whether Born to Run or Darkness at the Edge of Town is his best album. All of this leads to a discussion of the philosophy underlying Springsteen’s work. Is “Thunder Road” advocating escapism as a remedy to “a town full of losers” (escape as a means of avoiding responsibility and compromise with family and community) or is it about a man who is taking the initiative to enlarge his life, to cast off anchors and pursue ambition? The same questions could be asked of Face. Did he run away from his life instead of dealing with it or did he have the courage to make his life into something bigger? As Seger sees it, Springsteen got back to his roots in Darkness while Face has turned his back on his roots. Face's disagreement may explain why he prefers Born to Run.

William Giraldi suggests the possibility of feeling compassion for certain celebrities, at least those (like Elvis) who might have been caught up in something they can’t control, as opposed to those (like Dr. Oz and Tony Robbins) who are phony from the start. The theme of celebrity nods at the phenomenon of celebrity melodrama — the public glee when celebrities suffer a meltdown, all the better if it produces a viral mugshot. Seger believes that the reaction to melodrama is driven by the belief that celebrities are spoiled and deserve whatever misfortune befalls them, and by the “Aristotelian formula” that “the witnessing of tragedy, in its stirring of pity and fear, endorses the catharsis of those emotions.” But we forget (or don’t care) that the suffering celebrity is still a human.

Perhaps someone like Face deserves our sympathy. Is it possible that celebrities like Face might learn to be a better person because of misfortune? In the spirit of celebrity melodrama, the novel’s ending offers an encouraging but ambiguous answer. And the last paragraph offers a bit of self-help advice for readers who didn’t grasp the point of the amusing story.

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Has Anyone Seen My Toes? by Christopher Buckley

Published by Simon & Schuster on September 6, 2022

The fear of dementia probably strikes most people as they age, at least those who have a mind they would miss if they lost it. On the theory that humor conquers fear, Has Anyone Seen My Toes? could be a therapeutic read for older readers who wonder whether they should end their lives before they forget the combination to the gun safe.

The nameless protagonist is a writer. He’s staying in a small community in South Carolina, the location of his disastrous movie about patriotic prostitutes during the Revolutionary War (a movie that still sells well in hotel pay-for-views). He’s gained weight during the pandemic. In fact, he put on so much weight he can’t see his toes when he stands on the scale and his I-phone no longer recognizes him (he believes the phone is fat shaming him).

The protagonist’s behavior is becoming increasingly erratic. His wife complains when he sits in the dark at night, prepared to shoot moles that are ruining his yard (he suspects her of siding with the moles). He has started a screenplay that turns out to a version of the movie The Eagle Has Landed, substituting Roosevelt for Churchill. He is certain that he has seen attack ads in an election for coroner, but his inability to recall his conversations about the ads with the candidates suggests that he is suffering from the onset of dementia.

On the other hand, a different sort of mental disturbance might be to blame, one that counts paranoia among its symptoms. The writer is convinced that Putin is trying to sway the coroner’s election and that only he can thwart Putin’s dastardly plan. At the same time, he’s certain that the mortician running against Putin’s favored candidate has been burying people alive. It’s no surprise that the writer visits a psychiatrist before the story ends.

Has Anyone Seen My Toes? is a novel of digressions that magically add up to a plot. The progtagonist is always looking things up. We learn obscure details about Gone with the Wind, Carl Reiner, and celebrity deaths. We learn that Donald Sutherland’s tongue is periodically ravaged by parasites. We learn the etymology of several fun but useless words. We learn about writers who committed suicide. We learn the many reasons why the protagonist (like me) has never been able to force himself to finish reading Proust’s unbearably dull Remembrance of Things Past (or whatever they’re calling it these days).

It might not be politically correct to build a comedy around dementia (or any other disease) but Has Anyone Seen My Toes? is awfully funny. And no spoilers here, but maybe the writer’s problem isn’t quite what it seems. In any event, confronting the fear of dementia with humor might be the best approach to mental health, given the failure of expensive but profitable drugs like Aduhelm.

While the novel’s focus is on the fear of dementia, its humor is wide-ranging. The writer pays $7500 a year for a concierge doctor because, for that price, the doctor won’t hassle him about his bad habits. Christopher Buckley makes fun of the South, “where people start driving at fourteen and by eighteen are competing in NASCAR.” He mocks plantation tourism and its tendency to overlook the slave quarters.

Buckley also has fun with Trump and the far right. The doctor responds to COVID by prescribing whatever drug Trump has most recently mentioned. The writer goes along with it, although he would draw the line at “injecting Clorox or shoving a lightstick up my ass.” And when the writer takes the 5-word memory test that Trump regarded as proof of his genius, he comes up with a 5-word phrase from his screenplay, possible proof that he is even more demented than the last president. Quotations from Mein Kampf illustrate how American propagandists on the right are following Hitler’s advice: tell bold lies, repeat them endlessly, appeal to emotion rather than reason, and wait for weak minds to bow to your authority.

Buckley’s political humor scores bullseyes because he aims at unmissable targets. For the most part, however, the story is apolitical. The pandemic, with its toilet paper shortages and spreading bellies, is the source of familiar humor. By giving his protagonist an addled mind, Buckley takes the story a step or two beyond the familiar, sometimes reaching toward the absurd, but he never has to reach far to get a laugh.

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