Redemption by Mike Lawson

Published by Atlantic Monthly Press on April 5, 2022

Jamison Maddox’s mother and uncle are wealthy, but he is proud of his independence. He makes a healthy salary on Wall Street until he goes to prison for insider trading. When he gets out, his mother won’t support him and he’s too proud to ask his uncle. Felons can’t easily get jobs in finance — not unless they’re connected, anyway — so Jamison grudgingly accepts an unsolicited offer to work in Redemption, Illinois for a low six-figure salary. Jamison’s job is to do financial research and to keep the results confidential. Very confidential.

Jamison is never told a client’s identity or why he’s conducting the research. He’s on the second floor and has no access to the third floor, where employees presumably have those answers. The first floor is devoted to security, which is tight: regular polygraph tests, periodic searches of cellphones and home computers. The first rule of working at Drexler Limited is don’t talk about Drexler Limited. Not even to other employees of Drexler.

Having little else to do in a small town, Jamison begins an affair with his boss’ beautiful wife, who also works at Drexler. About the time that Jamison learns some dark secrets about Drexler, Gillian Lang convinces him to run away with her. They need to abandon their lives and find new identities because, if Drexler catches them, they’re dead. Why they face that threat is not immediately clear, although it is obvious from the start that Drexler is a shady operation.

Some readers might have sympathy for Gillian. She was raised in (and feels stifled by) a life of crime. She is, however, rather manipulative and has internalized the belief that crime is an appropriate means of achieving personal comfort. If Drexler would let her out more, she’d probably be fine with her life.

Some readers might have sympathy for Jamison. He’s a bit spoiled and entitled but he’s minor league as financial criminals go. He’s also dealt with his circumstances — both his privileged life and his downfall — in ways that suggest he is governed by a loose code of decency. I was indifferent to both characters apart from admiring their remarkable luck as they endeavor to stay alive.

A few other characters are differentiated by their personalities. The ruthless head of Drexler feels no remorse but is grateful for the good life that Drexler has given him. Jamison’s rich mother is self-centered and loathsome; his rich uncle is friendly and helpful; his uncle’s daughter is autistic and resourceful. Jamison’s uncle is probably the only character in the novel a reader might want to know.

The story suffers from a weak ending and an improbable premise. The novel’s resolution seems too easy given the turmoil that precedes it. A character’s ability to negotiate immunity with no evidence that he has anything of value to offer suggests a failure to understand how federal prosecutors work. The full truth about Drexler, revealed in the novel’s last pages, is difficult to swallow. Those weaknesses aside, Mike Lawson sustained my interest by never making the novel’s direction or outcome obvious. I would give the novel a wavering thumbs up, but Redemption is not in the same league as Lawson’s recent Joe DeMarco novels.

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Ocean State by Stewart O'Nan

Published by Grove Press on March 15, 2022

Marie Oliviera narrates pieces of Ocean State from an adult perspective as she recounts formative events of her childhood. Her family lived and had generational roots in Rhode Island. When she tells the story, Marie is the only family member who has not fled from the small town where she grew up.

At 13, Marie had a child’s “overdeveloped sense of justice.” She wanted everyone to be happy, “despite our actual lives.”  Marie had a reasonably close relationship with her mother Carol (despite Carol’s unsuccessful efforts to curb Marie’s overeating) but Marie wasn’t thrilled about Carol’s drinking or the men she dated. Marie had a slightly better opinion of Russ, who at least spent money on Carol, than she had of Wes, who owned guns and throwing stars and did cocaine. Marie’s father was mostly absent, but that didn’t stop him from getting into a dust-up with one of Carol’s boyfriends. It's that kind of family, which might explain why events unfold as they do.

Marie's narrative revolves around her older sister Angel. From almost the first page, the reader is aware that Angel killed a girl named Birdy Alves. Much of Birdy’s story is told from the perspective of a third person narrator. The first- and third-person narration combines to explain the escalating tension between Birdy and Angel. After about two-thirds of the story has has been told, Birdy disappears. The rest of the story addresses the aftermath of Birdy’s death.

Stewart O’Nan is an adult male, but he crafts a convincing portrayal of the drama that is so often central to teen female lives. Birdy is insecure, demanding, and driven by uncontrollable desires. After dating Hector for some time, she begins fooling around with Angel’s boyfriend, Myles Parrish. Birdy is willing to risk her relationship with Hector, in whom her interest has waned, to satisfy her craving for Myles’ attention. When an incriminating photo of Birdy and Myles appears on social media, Angel realizes that (1) she needs to keep Myles on a much shorter leash and (2) Birdy needs to be punished.

Myles is from a more affluent family and is probably out of Birdy’s league, but the same could be said of his relationship with Angel. He’s cheated on Angel before and apparently finds satisfaction in shagging Birdy. At least, he doesn’t seem capable of choosing between them until Birdy and Angel force the issue. Myles is a typical teenage male who goes along to get along, mindlessly following the directions of whichever girl he happens to be with when she gives him an ultimatum.  

Birdy spends much of the novel feeling humiliated as a consequence of her own choices (and of the tendency of teenage girls to shame each other). She gets emotional support from her married sister Josefina and from a clueless mother who means well. As a tale of two similar small town families, Ocean State makes the point that parents have little influence when they take on the impossible challenge of raising a teenage girl.

Ocean State also explores the theme of family secrets. Marie doesn’t want her mother to know about her secret snacking. Marie’s mother doesn’t want Birdy or Angel to know about her overlapping relationships with Russ and Wes. Understandably, Angel doesn’t want Marie or her mother to know about the conflict with Birdy that preceded Birdy’s disappearance. Yet secrets are impossible to keep from teens who relentlessly search bedrooms and eavesdrop on conversations to uncover hidden truths.

O’Nan creates palpable tension at the end of the novel as Angel’s lawyer negotiates her fate. As a teen, Angel is incapable of imagining the future. Any amount of time away from Myles is unthinkable. The idea that Myles might serve more time because he’s a male strikes her as monstrously unfair (which, in fact, it is). Angel’s internal struggle is fascinating because, from a standpoint of morality or practicality, she’s always focused on the wrong thing — a transitory love that adult readers understand is both meaningless and the root cause of her problem.

O’Nan managed the difficult trick of turning a teenage tragedy into a real tragedy — one that an adult can appreciate from an adult perspective while recognizing that the teenage perception of facts is vastly different. He makes the wise choice of all but ignoring the murder. A less mature writer might have sensationalized the story with tabloid details. O’Nan keeps the focus on the characters and how they respond to the drama of their own making. That choice brings literary merit to trashy content.

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The Missing Piece by John Lescroart

Published by ‎ Atria Books on March 29, 2022

The Missing Piece is unlike most Dismas Hardy novels in that Hardy makes only an occasional cameo appearance. The plot is initially carried by his law partner, Wes Farrell, before their investigator, Abe Glitsky, begins to carry the load.

Farrell was a prosecutor for most of his career and prosecution is still in his heart. He assumes defendants are guilty. He assumes cops are telling the truth. He really has no business being a criminal defense lawyer and he’s starting to realize that. Hardy invited Farrell into the firm in a past novel and is willing to let him leave if that’s best for Farrell.

As he ponders that decision, Farrell agrees to handle a murder case. Paul Riley answered his door and was shot in the face. Riley’s father saw a man leaving the scene. He identifies the killer as Doug Rush. Riley went to prison for murdering Rush’s daughter but was recently released due to the efforts of a fictional version of the Innocence Project. Farrell got to know Rush when he was prosecuting Riley for the murder of Rush’s daughter.

The police quickly decide that Rush killed Riley to exact vengeance against his daughter’s killer. Although Riley’s father gives a shaky identification of Rush, the police do what they can to bolster the weak identification because it’s easier than identifying and ruling out alternative suspects.

Farrell thinks the case against Rush is weak but he also thinks his client is guilty. He gets Rush out on bond. That turns out to be a bad strategy when Rush is murdered.

The plot combines a whodunit with a police procedural. Glitsky is ex-police, although he works with the cops when they occasionally show interest in capturing the killer of Farrell’s dead client. Glitsky’s investigation take him to Rush’s motorcycle gang, to a couple of women who were sleeping with Rush (perhaps raising the ire of other lovers), and to a long list of prisoners who, like Rush, were exonerated while serving their sentences.

The plot holds together and is reasonably credible. The novel is noteworthy for its examination of the biases held by cops, prosecutors, and criminal defense lawyers. Cops think that everyone they arrest is guilty. Prosecutors think that everyone they prosecute is guilty. Criminal defense lawyers know that most of their clients are guilty, but they also believe that cops and prosecutors are willing to cheat to get convictions, a practice that sometimes causes the innocent to be convicted. Events in the story force characters on both sides to confront their biases.

The primary characters will be familiar to fans of the series. John Lescroart keeps the series fresh in The Missing Piece by moving Hardy to the background and placing two supporting cast members on center stage. As Glitsky and Farrell recognize that their assumptions stand in the way of serving their clients and finding the truth, they gain an illuminating perspective on the work they are doing.

I give Lescroart credit for writing another fair and balanced novel that emphasizes the importance of following evidence to wherever it leads, rather than basing decisions on pro- or anti-police prejudices. He even presents a balanced view of cops who overreact to suspects who resist their authority, while making it clear that (at least in San Francisco) needlessly violent behavior by police officers is intolerable.

As always, the story moves at a good pace, strengthened but not bogged down by characterization and relationships. Glitsky is the victim of violence a couple of times, adding some action that enlivens the story. False leads create multiple potential solutions to the whodunit. The correct solution does not strain credibility to an unacceptable degree. In short, this is another enjoyable Dismas Hardy novel, one that should not disappoint series fans.

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Hammer by Joe Mungo Reed

Published by ‎ Simon & Schuster on March 22, 2022

Russian oligarchs are in the news, making this novel timely, at least in the limited sense that the most significant character is a Russian oligarch. Oleg Gorelov took advantage of the chaos caused by the breakup of the Soviet Union and Russia’s transition to capitalism by starting and growing a business, then by purchasing and closing factories after selling their manufacturing machinery to China, then by buying a mine and making an investment deal with the KGB. Now he conducts his businesses from London, where he devotes a tenth of his income to acquiring art. Some suspect that he has engaged in ruthless acts to obtain some of the works. His apparent lack of concern when he learns that another Russian expat died might suggest a naïveté about the deal he believes he struck with Putin’s people about his ability to transact business in London.

Martin works in an auction house. Martin’s roommate James is a piano player. When Martin and James were in college, James was dating a woman named Marina. Marina’s parents were party members in the USSR before they moved to England. In London, they tried to raise her to be “a completely different person from themselves.” Her father disappeared when she was 21. He might have drowned or been murdered. He might have abandoned his family. The uncertain fate of Russians who take their wealth out of Russia is one of the novel’s themes.

Marina now works in financial services. She is married to Oleg. Martin becomes reacquainted with Marina in 2013 when Oleg brings her to an art auction. As Martin begins to spend time with Marina, he becomes acutely aware that Oleg is a dangerous man. Just how dangerous he might be weighs on Martin's mind.

Initially, Hammer’s focus is on Martin. The focus shifts to Oleg when Oleg travels to Moscow to witness his mother’s lingering death. Oleg responds to a cousin’s letter by visiting her in an eastern region of Russia. The visit is a revelation that opens his eyes to the way ordinary Russians live, as if he has never seen them before. He is also disturbed that Putin has started a war to annex a portion of Ukraine (as I said, the story is timely, although the 2014 war was fought for control of the Crimean Peninsula). Oleg feels compelled to run for office against Putin. This is before it became clear that Putin would be president for life, but it is still a remarkably dangerous thing to do. Oleg is told of the risk that Navalny was taking to oppose Putin, and that was before Putin threw Navalny in prison after trying to have him killed.

Relationships change rapidly during the two years in which the story unfolds. None change is for the better. Marina has come to believe that Oleg doesn’t see her. “The first she knew him, she felt so closely seen, yet he was attending only to his own reflection in her eyes.” Martin’ friendships with James and Marina and his relationship with Oleg are all affected by decisions that impair trust.

Hammer doesn’t have the same impact or emotional complexity as We Begin Our Ascent, Joe Mungo Reed’s brilliant first novel, but the characters have a convincing degree of depth and the twin storylines are interesting. The story involving Martin’s role in the art industry (and the characters’ art commentary) will appeal to fans of the kind of art that shows up in galleries, but that story peters out when the focus shifts to Oleg.

Oleg's story has a feeling of inevitability that might deprive it of suspense, but the novel isn’t intended as a thriller. Reed certainly put me into the head of an oligarch in way that thriller writers and spy novelists haven’t managed.

Hammer has something to say about how money changes people and how people can change despite their money. Martin’s boss, for example, understands that acquiring wealth is only “the first part of being rich.” The art gallery helps the rich confirm “the actual materiality of being rich” by selling rich people things they do not need or necessarily appreciate but purchase because others cannot afford them. Martin has rejected his parents' hippy attitude toward money, an attitude they seem to abandon themselves when they have the opportunity to acquire modest wealth. Marina understands that wealthy people expect their children to "earn for themselves" because "further acquisition signals seriousness." Money changes people, Reed seems to say, even when its recipients deny that they have been altered.

More importantly, I think, the novel has something to say about how ordinary people with ordinary money relate to people who are swimming in wealth, and about the outsized importance that wealth has on the way people of ordinary means think and behave. If the novel is a bit uneven in its juxtaposition of Martin’s story with Oleg’s and with its attempt to bridge the two worlds with Marina, its strengths easily repay a reader’s investment of time.

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The Rising Tide by Sam Lloyd

First published in Great Britain in 2021; published by Penzler Publications/Scarlet on March 15, 2022

Relationship drama bubbles through the backstory in The Rising Tide. Lucy and Daniel Locke are married. At the 18th birthday party of their daughter Billie, Daniel’s friend Nick Povey made a pass at Lucy. That same day, Daniel learned that Nick betrayed him in a way that will jeopardize the continuing existence of Daniel’s business. By the time the story begins, Daniel and Lucy are about to lose their home in Skentel, a village on England’s North Devon Coast.

In the present, Daniel takes their boat into the sea despite storm warnings. The boat is found adrift but sinking as the storm is building. Nobody is aboard. Lucy soon learns about the boat and realizes that Daniel and their two kids are missing. She joins the local boat owners as they perform a search-and-rescue operation.

As Lucy is searching for her husband and children on a violent sea, all she can think about is yelling at Daniel. At least that gives her a break from thinking about Jake Farrell, who agreed to take her on his boat to search for her family. Jake is Lucy’s ex.

At another point in the story, Lucy runs into the ocean and nearly drowns just to “see what it was like.” This is just hours after she was drenched in seawater after the boat in which she was searching for her family nearly capsized. Fear that a parent’s children are dead (although Lucy never believes that because “mother’s instinct”) might well motivate a parent to engage in bizarre behavior, but Sam Lloyd never managed to make me sympathize with Lucy’s hysteria.

On the other hand, perhaps the reader is not meant to like Lucy, at least not while the plot is taking shape. As the mystery of the missing kids deepens, collateral characters make unflattering statements suggesting Lucy might not be likable at all. Lucy has ambiguous thoughts about “what happened in Portugal.” Those moments add a layer of intrigue as the reader begins to wonder whether Daniel, who seems to be the villain, might have acted in response to something Lucy did.

Detective Inspector Abraham Rose investigates the suspicion that Daniel scuttled the boat, drowned his kids, and threw himself overboard. The evidence all points in that direction, which is enough to make the reader believe it isn’t true.

Rose has lung cancer. He’s also having a crisis of faith that leads him to believe in Satan but not so much in God. He nevertheless believes his investigation is compelled by “a higher authority” than the law. Since he isn’t delusional, it isn’t clear why he harbors that belief. Rose’s thoughts often turn to a mother who suffers from dementia and a girlfriend he lost long ago. Those thoughts inspire him to feel sorry for himself, particularly when prayer doesn’t make him feel any better.

Lloyd follows the common convention of adding first-person narratives to the story without identifying the narrator. Since it is clear that the narrator dislikes Lucy, and given the positioning of the narratives within the story, the reader is encouraged to assume that the narrator is Daniel. Seasoned readers will suspect that they are being played.

Part of the truth is revealed somewhere around page 250 (of 350). Another part (perhaps derived from a famous book that became a famous movie) is revealed a dozen pages later. If the truth seems a bit contrived, that’s the way the modern thriller goes. The story then becomes a whodunit that challenges the reader to guess the identity of a villain who has contributed to Lucy’s mess. The villain’s motivation is thriller-standard and not particularly imaginative or credible. On the other hand, the villain’s identity is not easily guessed (at least not by me). But on my third hand, I didn’t buy the ending because the villain’s actions are cartoonish. On my final hand, those are common flaws in modern thrillers and not sufficient reason to advise against reading the book.

The “mother’s fierce love for her daughter” theme is overdone, although I give Lloyd credit for writing an intensely moving scene at the end of Part I. The long walk to the ending feels padded, as though Lloyd wanted to avoid rushing to a climax and instead dragged the story to its conclusion. Characters share thoughts they had shared several times already. Regrets and loss of faith and memories of “a life that no longer exists” and just get on with it, can’t you? Even after the climactic moment arrives, another 50 pages await. A tightening edit could have enhanced this thriller’s sense of urgency and kept tension from dissipating.

Still, the novel places interesting characters in difficult situations, keeps the reader guessing about whether protagonists are good or evil, and creates a reasonable amount of suspense. The suspense wanes and the characters are problematic, but Lloyd’s prose is vivid and the story has enough strong moments to make it worth reading.

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