Infrared by Nancy Huston

 

Published by Grove Press/Black Cat on July 3, 2012

Infrared is a contemplation of love, sex, family, and survival, but it is fundamentally a gradually developing snapshot of Rena Greenblatt. Over the course of a weeklong vacation in Tuscany with her father (Simon) and her father's wife (Ingrid), Rena comes into focus. Nancy Huston builds Rena's life by layering opinions upon memories until she becomes whole, as crisp and detailed as the photographs she takes. Rena is an introspective snob, a sensitive woman tormented by guilt, a free-thinking photographer who captures the heat of sex using infrared film. Her running commentary -- thoughts often triggered by her observation of art and architecture -- touches upon religion, genitalia, male sexual performance, prostitution, pornography, photography, beauty (which she feels compelled to "smother with erudition"), motherhood, sodomy, and the geographical history of sexual violence. Rena's opinions as much as her memories give breadth and depth to her character.

Rena's memories are far from pleasant. She has a complicated relationship with her father (a former disciple of Timothy Leary). Rena's mother (a feminist lawyer) died under circumstances that still cause Rena grief. Rena's brother abused her during her childhood. Rena tells us that infrared film captures warmth, the ingredient missing from her childhood. At the age of 45, Rena has had a multicultural assortment of husbands and lovers. She also has a long-standng internal voice, an alter-ego named Subra, with whom she is in constant conversation.

By using infrared film, Rena believes she is capturing an invisible world, "the hidden face of reality." It falls to Ingrid to remind Rena that her photography reveals only half the truth. Ingrid argues that Rena deliberately omits the pleasant, not just from her photography but from her life. While Rena's erotic memories and fantasies -- never far removed from her thoughts -- might fairly be regarded as agreeable (some of them, at least), Ingrid has a point. Perhaps with good reason, Rena is not a particularly happy person, and it isn't clear that she ever will be.

Huston has a gift for crafting unexpected sentences. There is, in fact, nothing predictable about Infrared. The novel's exploration of sexuality and "the theatre of masculinity" is fascinating, but even more absorbing is Huston's construction of Rena. Layered in memories, shrouded in opinions, the "hidden face" of Rena's reality is starkly revealed in all of its brutal complexity.

RECOMMENDED

Advent by James Treadwell

Published by Atria on July 3, 2012 

I'm not usually a fan of novels that feature witches and mermaids -- they just aren't my thing -- but I picked up Advent because it purported to have literary merit.  The plot creatively joins two legendary figures -- the prophetess Cassandra of Greek mythology and the 16th century Faust -- and brings them both into the present, threatening the modern age of reason with a return of dark magic and evil spirits.  In the end, despite James Treadwell's graceful writing style, I just didn't care.

Young Gavin Stokes has an imaginary friend named Miss Grey.  To Gavin, Miss Grey is far from imaginary -- she is annoyingly real and has gotten him kicked out of school.  When Gavin's parents send him off to spend some time with his aunt, Gwen Clifton, Gavin encounters Gwen's neighbor, the eccentric Hester Lightfoot, on the train.  Arriving at his destination, Aunt Gwen is nowhere to be found, but Gavin meets a thirteen-year-old named Marina who, like Gavin, sees people who aren't really there.  It turns out that Heather has the same gift.  Marina's friend from across the river, Horace Jia, has seen the missing Gwen but he's not about to tell any adults where she is.  Trouble begins when Marina and Gavin go searching for Gwen and find something that's not quite the Gwen of Gavin's fond memories.

Meanwhile, in 1537, the world's greatest magus, Johannes Faust, acting on a whim, asks his spirit servant to show him the most beautiful woman of all time.  To his surprise, it is another woman, Cassandra, standing behind Helen of Troy, who captures his attention.  Cassandra gives Faust a gift that turns out to be a curse.

The cast having been assembled, Gavin has a series of frightening supernatural encounters before he partially comes of age (he only vaguely understands his linkage to another legendary figure with a similar name) and confronts Faust, who is now in a 20th century guise.  The transition between the two stories takes place in an oddly expository chapter positioned midway through the novel.

The novel's structure is strange.  Faust's story alternates with Gavin's.  That's not a problem, but Faust's story begins at the end and works it way back to the beginning for reasons that are unclear.  I'm not bothered by nonlinear structures if they serve a purpose but I'm not sure that this one does.  After the stories join they often seem muddled.

Treadwell's writing style is exceptional.  His evocative prose brings the night alive, creates a strong sense of place, and is generally a joy to read.  The characters in Advent (as you might expect from people who are touched by the supernatural) are quirky and eccentric and often a bit rattled, characteristics that make them interesting even if they never seem fully developed.

Given the skill with which the story is told, why am I not a fan of Advent?  Ultimately, Advent left me unmoved.  Faust's story is tragic by nature yet I felt no compassion for the unfortunate character.  Gavin and Marina undergo harrowing experiences yet I did not share their terror.  In short, I felt no connection to the story or its characters.  The novel did not absorb me, did not trigger my willingness to suspend disbelief.  The ending struck me as silly.  Perhaps diehard fans of the genre will appreciate this novel more than I did, but readers who don't make a point of seeking out supernatural fiction will probably not want to pick up Advent.

RECOMMENDED WTH RESERVATIONS

Burrows by Reavis Z. Wortham

Published by Poisoned Pen Press on July 3, 2012 

The first Red River Mystery, The Rock Hole, is a novel I strongly recommend to thriller fans. In addition to its spectacularly creepy villain and almost unendurable suspense, the novel introduces richly textured, immensely likable characters. While it is mildly disappointing but not surprising that the second Red River Mystery doesn't warrant the same high praise, Burrows tells an exhilarating story, creates a strong sense of time (1964) and place (the Oklahoma-Texas border), and further develops the characters who were central to the first novel.

Ned Parker has retired as Constable (a decision he regrets) but local folk are used to calling him when there's trouble. A headless body in the river qualifies as trouble. Before Ned and the new Constable, Cody Parker, can get a handle on the murder, more bodies (some headless) turn up, leading officers to investigate booby-trapped tunnels that lead through the mountains of trash that have piled up in the Cotton Exchange (a rather extreme case of hoarding). Since the building is on the wrong side of the color barrier, the town's all-white power structure has studiously ignored the problem. The job of ferreting out the killer from the rubbish falls to Cody, based on his experience as a tunnel rat in Vietnam, with an able assist from John, the black sheriff's deputy whose job is to enforce the law in the black community.

Cody plays a much larger role in Burrows than he did in The Rock Hole. Ned plays a significant role, but the real stars continue to be Ned's grandson Top and Top's foul-mouthed cousin, a girl named Pepper. Top has some trouble of his own -- his cussing and smoking and hooky playing do not sit well with Ned -- but (thanks to Pepper's "encouragement") Top always finds himself near the dangerous situations that Ned and Cody and John encounter. When he isn't getting in the way, Top contributes to the effort to catch the killer.

Dialog is authentic, the pace is lively, and the story entertains. Burrows is a less effective mystery than The Rock Hole (the killer's identity is never a mystery in Burrows, although his true nature comes as a bizarre surprise), and while Reavis Wortham tries to duplicate the horrific elements that made The Rock Hole so chilling, he doesn't quite pull it off. The social issues that worked so well in The Rock Hole are less prominent in Burrows. Still, Burrows is a fun reading experience. The story generates suspense but the characters give the novel its charm. While I would recommend reading The Rock Hole before Burrows to gain a deeper appreciation of the characters (and because The Rock Hole is a better book), I can recommend Burrows to fans of The Rock Hole -- with the caveat that readers shouldn't expect the same level of intensity.

RECOMMENDED

Caliban's War by James S.A. Corey

Published by Orbit on June 26, 2012 

Sometimes the second book in a series is a let-down, particularly when it follows a strong initial entry. The good news is that Caliban's War advances the story that Leviathan Wakes began, introduces appealing new characters, adds depth to a familiar character, and reconfirms the authors' ability to tell an energetic, engrossing tale.

Ganymede has been in crisis since Marines from Earth and Mars started shooting at each other. But how did the hostility begin? Only Gunnery Sergeant Bobbie Draper knows the truth: they weren't shooting at each other, but at the monster that was killing them. Since the "monster" could be the protomolecule last seen on Venus in Leviathan Wakes, the Outer Planets Alliance sends James Holden and the crew of the Rocinante to investigate.

Meanwhile, Prax Meng is upset because his daughter Mei was apparently kidnapped during the fighting. Mei has a genetic disorder that puts her at risk of death if she doesn't receive regular treatment. Is there a connection between the snatch and the coincidental timing of the monster's attack? It's up to Holden and his crew to find out.

A third storyline involves Chrisjen Avasarala, an elderly, foul-mouthed UN official whose job is to keep the peace between Earth and Mars, a none-too-easy task. Her story eventually merges with Draper's and becomes one of political intrigue.

I wouldn't recommend reading Caliban's War without first reading Leviathan Wakes. Caliban's War assumes a familiarity with the events that took place in the first novel. While Caliban's War doesn't have quite the same poignant human drama as Leviathan Wakes -- largely due to the absence of Miller, a memorable character who was central to the story in the first novel -- it does replicate the fun factor: engaging characters, low-key humor, and exciting action. Yet there is enough human drama, enough genuine emotion, in Caliban's War to fuel the reader's compulsion to move on to the next chapter ... and the next, and the next.

Many of the characters draw upon familiar stereotypes but that, at least, gives them the benefit of well-defined personalities. In any event, there is a complexity to Holden that rises above the stereotypical. Holden confronts a range of internal conflicts and fears in Caliban's War while proving to himself that he's capable of growth. Holden is an idealist who needs to learn something about pragmatism, but he's also a fundamentally peaceful guy who is morphing into something else after all the horror he's experienced.

Holden is fond of taking his message directly to the people via a futuristic version of the internet. The theme of using direct communication to bypass the government and take control of destiny plays a large part in Caliban's War, just as it did in Leviathan Wakes. That theme is expanded with the addition of Avasarala, who proves to be an adept manipulator of the media.

Caliban's War isn't for science fiction fans who like their novels to reflect world-building or carefully considered technological advances or imagined applications of theoretical physics. Caliban's War is quite the opposite. The writing team known as James S.A. Corey cares more about story-building and character-building than world-building. The result is an absorbing story about memorable characters that some fans will regard as too light-on-science to be taken seriously. Yet not all novels need to be taken seriously; some work on a more elemental, less intellectual level. I don't need to be convinced that "this could really happen" to appreciate the entertainment value of a science fiction novel, but others do, and this might be the right novel for them.

RECOMMENDED

The Infinite Tides by Christian Kiefer

Published by Bloomsbury USA on June 19, 2012 

An astronaut returns from a mission to find that his wife has left him, emptying their house of all its contents -- all except a sofa that he hates. As is often true in a marriage, the characteristics that attracted Barb to Keith Corcoran are those that drove her to have an affair: his ambition and dedication, his drive to excel, his sense of destiny. Her complaints are common: he's never around, he doesn't talk to her. Keith understandably believes her complaints to be unfair; he hasn't changed, these are things she knew about him when she chose to marry him. But Barb has found a man who "listens" and the accidental death of their daughter while Keith was orbiting the Earth has only strengthened Barb's desire to leave their marriage. She tells him of her decision while he's still in space -- in the same space station where he learned of his daughter's death. Having finally returned to Earth, Keith isn't coping well. He has severe headaches. He's taking unwanted time off from work while he "adjusts." He has numbed himself into forgetting his last unpleasant conversation with the daughter who drifted away from him before she died.

The novel's other significant characters are a transplanted Ukranian named Peter Kovalenko, a mother named Jennifer who lives across the street from Keith, the mother's precocious daughter and Peter's wife. Peter, like Keith, is challenged by the need to begin a new life. He's a more interesting (and believable) character than Jennifer, whose behavior didn't strike me as credible.

Keith, on the other hand, is a convincing if not particularly likable character. A talented writer can make a reader understand and even empathize with an unlikable character, and that's exactly what Christian Kiefer does in The Infinite Tides. Keith is a man more at home with equations than people, a man who understands the relationships between numbers more than his relationships with his wife and daughter. Numbers make sense to him; people don't. His life had seemed to unfold with the clarity of an equation until it became "a faded ghostly scrawl impossible to read." Keith feels guilt for being an absentee father and for pushing his daughter to become another math whiz even if he can't admit his guilt to himself. Burying himself in numbers is no longer cutting it but reaching out to others is not his strength. Unable to cope with his sense of failure, he hides inside the comfort of a meaningless daily routine. Unable to return to work, he yearns to escape the pull of gravity, to float above the problems that chain him to his Earthbound life. I found his predicament and his reaction to it to be unexpectedly moving.

Kiefer writes sentences that crash forward with the power and rhythm of ocean waves. At other times his sentences drift quietly "like a moonlit boat on a flat and silent sea" (to borrow one of Kiefer's phrases). His best passages stabbed me like a stiletto. Dramatic images enliven The Infinite Tides: Keith tethered to a robotic arm that swings him in an arc over the space station, a moment that he repeatedly recalls to memory but lacks the words to describe; Keith and a retired naval officer wrestling a drunken, passed-out Peter into a car shortly after Peter proclaimed his love for a teenage barista at Starbucks; Keith and Peter star-gazing in a field; Keith getting caught with Jennifer in a compromising position.

Caveat: This may be a "man's novel," or at least a novel that speaks to men more than women. Two of the three significant adult female characters are presented in an entirely unfavorable light. If we saw Keith's marriage from Barb's perspective we would likely have a different take on Barb, but this is Keith's story and it therefore seems fair that we see Barb only as Keith sees her. That Barb comes across as uncaring, domineering, and even a bit cruel is entirely understandable, but readers who aren't sympathetic to Keith may disagree. Another caveat: Readers looking for a happy smiley domestic drama in which good things happen to good people should stay far away from The Infinite Tides. Although the novel offers moments that feel redemptive and guardedly optimistic, this is a vivid and uncompromising portrait of a man in agony, a man who is only starting to come to terms with his losses and, in the process, to understand himself. Keith's is not a comfortable head to occupy, but it's worth the effort.

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