Detective Fiction Set in Laos, Australia and Spain

In keeping with my recent, brief remarks about the books I've been reading, some gems from SOHO press are presented here. My reviewing is far behind my reading, so there's still plenty more to come.

Thirty-Three Teeth
by Colin Cottrell. One doesn't normally expect to end up in the "recently liberated" Communist Laos of 1977, especially in the company of a very elderly doctor who serves as national coroner. However, what a delight Dr. Paiboun is- he takes us on a journey through the ancient and semi-modern traditions of a country trying to establish a "proper" Communist bureaucracy... what an ambition to have... but the ambition is not shared by the good doctor or most of his friends and acquaintances. The book stays away from overt politics for the most part, though there is reference to a Washington delegation that demands access to American MIA's, in spite of continued insistence that there never were U.S. troops in or over Laos.

An important character in Cottrell's novel is Nurse Dtui, whom her boss thinks highly of, but who is consistently underestimated by everyone except her mother. The combination of Paiboun and Dtui, both independent, one old and the other young, ends up being formidable. Add traditional Laotian spirits into the mix as Cottrell did, and a rich, unusual story results. The wonderful journey is far more important than the satisfying conclusion.

Death by Demonstration
by Patricia Carlon is not the masterpiece that I found her novel The Unquiet Night to be (see my review of that great thriller here). Death by Demonstration seems dated in its treatment of "naive" student protesters and in its rather blind respect for government authority, a respect that one would be hard-pressed to find these days in most places I'm familiar with. The story itself does involve an excellent mystery, a clever detective, and a cast of rogues, bystanders and victims who are not all what they appear to be. Carlon writes well, as usual, and reading for the words, paragraphs and characters is satisfying. Things droop only when the misplaced moralizing pops up in the text; it is quite organic to the story, but very much in the wrong, as we know now (in my opinion). A product of its time, Death by Demonstration is recommended with only minor reservations.


Death of a Nationalist (Soho Crime)
by Rebecca Pawel. This is a remarkably emotional story (it was, for me, anyway). Pawel's novel is about a fascist soldier/member of the guardia civil in Spain, and takes place immediately after the conclusion of Franco's takeover. Sergeant Tejada is a committed fascist, a believer, who is stationed in Madrid after taking part in some of the war's most terrible battles. He dispenses the fascist version of justice swiftly and without remorse, calmly shooting a woman dead for her suspected role in the murder of a fellow officer. However, Tejada is not a fool (in every way), and he doggedly, even creatively, continues his investigation of the murder, in part because the victim was a close friend.

The trail of evidence leads to the black market and provides some disturbing and seemingly out of character revelations about Tejada's former comrade-in-arms. As things progress, Tejada surprises even himself by developing an admiration for some enemies of the state. There is no middle ground, of course, and the parallels between Franco and recent US administrations are disturbing: you are either on their side or you are not a patriot. Of course, in post-war Spain, the punishment for dissent was brutal.

This terrific first novel recreates Spain in the aftermath of civil war and describes the deprivations of regular citizens who suffered through food shortages, purges and burgeoning totalitarianism. Death of a Nationalist is a remarkable story of a character development that occurs against all odds, as the truth keeps showing its inconvenient self through the investigative work of the diligent and dogged Sergeant.

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The Hidden Assassins by Robert Wilson: terrorism and crime in Spain

A thriller and police procedural with international intrigue and espionage all included just as part of the story, The Hidden Assassins (THA) is Robert Wilson's third novel about Chief Inspector Javier Falcon, lead murder investigator for the historic city of Seville, which is located in Andalucia, southern Spain. The novels are intertwined, sharing many characters in addition to the Inspector himself. To understand the relationships that Falcon is embroiled in (and you will want to), the stories should be read in order of publication, starting with The Blind Man of Seville (TBMOS), followed by The Vanished Hands (TVH).

The beginning to this series, The Blind Man of Seville, is a tour de force, an astonishing novel of byzantine family history, pride, violence, jealousy, love, betrayal and "all the other departments." As I have previously mentioned, The Vanished Hands is very good, but pales somewhat in comparison to its predecessor. With The Hidden Assassins, however, Wilson has given us another masterpiece. This time, the story is both personal and global in scale, and it is very much a novel that reflects today's post 9/11 world. THA manages to reflect so many different aspects of the world that the story is a true gem.

After a brief interlude in London, The Hidden Assassins starts with the discovery of a body, but this is no ordinary discovery, even for a murder squad, because all distinguishing marks have been removed from the dead man by a variety of techniques that I'll leave to the imagination. The novel is propelled in a multitude of directions by this discovery, like the Universe after the Big Bang. Occasionally, we follow Falcon's thoughts backwards in time, to events familiar from the previous novels, which are revealed even more clearly now, before we can move forwards and try to catch up with the flood of investigative information needed to solve the present-day mystery.

Before long, the trajectories of the novel's various plots are deflected by another significant explosion, this time not metaphorical at all: a huge detonation completely destroys an apartment tower in a poor section of town, devastating families and putting the entire city on edge. A mosque in the basement of the tower block is the epicenter of the explosion, and this fuels public suspicion of the Islamic community. The Islamic population originally arrived in Seville in 711 AD, and flourished until King Ferdinand III expelled them in 1248. Even today, those years can be referred to as the Arab Occupation. The Jews were later expelled by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella in 1492. During The Hidden Assassins, talk of once again expelling the Islamic population begins to gain steam, especially with the poor, who are courted by xenophobic, nationalistic, right-wing political forces. This time around, it appears that the Jews are safe in Seville, at least for the moment, but Fascism is being embraced by some prominent Roman Catholic citizens, and, in addition to stirring up the crowds with tabloid propaganda, these minority extremists may have infiltrated as far as the National Intelligence Agencies themselves.

Falcon's investigators, who include a former nun, react with varying but significant degrees of distaste to the "need" for a simple story and an identifiable, preferably Islamic scapegoat. However, we can be sure of one thing: the police investigators want to identify all of the criminals and all of the victims with great specificity and detail, and then treat them accordingly. There will be no rush to judgment by these investigators, but will they move fast enough to satisfy a growing civil unrest? Will powerful forces in politics, the intelligence services and business gain the upper hand and control the outcome of the investigation?

To complicate things, the massive scale and terrorist nature of the bombing means that the police now have to contend with the appearance of two feuding Spanish National Security agencies who, at times, do as much to hinder as to help. Simultaneously, the city grows more restless and angry, with most of the anger reserved for the Islamic minority (and some for the police and government). Has the explosion possibly revealed an Islamist plot to "liberate" Andalucia and return the region to Islamic rule? This theory is popular in the tabloids, but it doesn't seem credible to the investigators.

Trying hard to keep an open mind, Falcon directs his team and the forensic investigators through the painstaking work of sorting through the rubble for clues, identities of the victims, and a time-line of events. Relentless in the face of a chaotic assemblage of information, Falcon manages to keep his focus on the facts in spite of political pressures and the stone walls that are constantly being erected by the security agencies.

Breakthroughs in the case can only occur in fits and starts, especially because, though Falcon's intuition tells him that the parallel murder and bombing investigations are linked, evidence of the links is sorely lacking. Unfortunately, this evidence is needed to create a path forward. However, things do begin to take shape around certain key events, like the suicide of a counter-terrorism agent and the discovery of a mysterious group that had the basement mosque under surveillance for some time. This group has intimate ties to pockets of the Roman Catholic community and to some major corporations. Oddly, these corporations don't hire women and seem to do all of their recruiting after prayers at church.

In addition to a grueling work schedule with grim deadlines, Javier Falcon has family problems to deal with and personal demons to struggle with: Falcon's ex-wife is now (unhappily) remarried to a prominent Judge; the woman Falcon loves refuses to see him; relationships become increasingly complex with Falcon's recently-discovered Islamic family in Morocco. All of these matters conspire against a decent night's sleep. However, the story's exceptional balance mirrors Falcon himself. In many ways, Falcon's respect and understanding of Islamic culture allow him to see through smoke screens and around corners, bending light through a multicultural prism to find the truth.

In a familiar role, the CIA makes brief appearances and doles out information according to its own interests and perceived needs, and this is a case where the American agency can and does help with vital intelligence. However, nothing comes for free, and Falcon's Moroccan family connections attract all of the spy agencies, who try to elicit Javier's help with under-cover work. In some cases, these agencies are spying on each other as much as on the nominal enemy, but such paranoia may turn out to be justified, especially if the actions of the right-wing Nationalist groups have become indistinguishable from the deeds of Islamist killers... indistinguishable without great forensic and investigative teams, anyway.

With all of these plot elements, a lesser writer would eventually have succumbed to stereotypes and stock solutions. However, the author Wilson and his man Falcon keep all of the balls in the air like master jugglers and refuse to settle for the cheap and easy solutions that the tabloids and growing rabble crave. Along the way, we meet vicious opportunists, cold-blooded killers, grief-stricken parents, genuine (if naive) politicians, corrupt would-be king makers, and men and women of great strength and outstanding character, more often in the poor Muslim and Catholic communities than in the upper echelons of society.

As the mysteries unravel under Falcon's guidance, new problems are revealed, and the suspense mounts: can the investigators identify, locate and thwart the next terrorist plot? Can any of the high-society Christian fascists be brought to justice? Can Javier Falcon survive his battle with the twin monsters of Christian and Islamic terrorism and find his way back to normalcy through the labyrinth of his frayed emotions?

The Hidden Assassins reward us with rich detail, panoramic vision, plenty of suspense, terrific pacing, a compelling, thrilling and horrifying set of story lines, and a view of the world that is, to my eyes, balanced from very many perspectives. In the end, the reader sees violent religious and political fanatics for what they are, regardless of their ethnic origins: common criminals who leave innocent victims dead and broken in terrorism's wake.

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Death in Spain, Murder and Race Relations in Boston and Philly- Part 3

The Flanders Panel (TFP) by Arturo Perez-Reverte was written by one of my favorite authors. I have read about 80% of his novels that have been translated into English. The writing is always outstanding. Unlike with many authors, these novels span genres, styles and subject matter, and have settings that are modern or historical, or both.

Chess plays a big role in TFP. Earlier this autumn I read and discussed Katherine Neville's cult classic, The Eight, in which the game of chess is also central to the story. TFP isn't a stuffy book by any means, however. We experience a world of Madrid's beauty, love and betrayal in distant the past and present, modern dance clubs and vices, art galleries, collectors and dealers, threatening businessmen, fast-living bums and studious academics. Oh, and plenty of murders that don't seem to make sense.

In TFP, first we meet Julia, a beautiful art restorer who is working on The Game of Chess, a painting from by the Flemish master Van Huys that needs some work before it can be auctioned. Julia has just received a set of X-ray photographs of the painting, and they reveal a surprising and startling secret. Underneath layers of paint, yet dating to the time of the original painting, is a Latin inscription visible only via the X-ray results:

Quis Necavit Equitem

The translation she immediately carries out yields "Who killed the knight?" It turns out that other slightly different translations are also possible, and perhaps valid.

Although "The Game of Chess" had been known for 500 years, and even hung in the Prado during the early part of the 20th century, the discovery of a hidden inscription has the chance to increase the painting's value greatly at auction, so the wolves start circling immediately. An auction is planned shortly in order to raise money for the once-patrician, and currently dysfunctional, family that owns the piece of art and history.

I like the idea of a place, Spain is this case, where a stunningly beautiful woman devotes herself to restoring and researching art and who has the background to read Latin with aplomb and write brilliant summaries and analyses of the provenance and authenticity of classical paintings. In such a place, I could perhaps live happily, maybe with a job as museum guard. Even though this seems like one idiot's version of paradise, the idiot being me, Julia is in for an extended patch of stormy weather. However, she may turn out to be one of the lucky inhabitants of this intriguing place where new and old worlds collide.

One of the pleasures of this book is the chess puzzles, the first of which is the puzzle left by the painter on the the canvas, one that does not require X-rays to be revealed. The painting shows a chess game between two men, a nobleman and a soldier, being played while a woman sits in the background reading a book. The whole scene is reflected in a mirror, and the floor tiles of the room represent the pattern of a chessboard. The actual chessboard used for the game is placed between the two male subjects, who are rendered precisely, as are all of the details of the room. The artist painted in an intricate style, and even the room's reflection in the mirror can be seen. The chess pieces and their placement on the board are clear, and the game has progressed quite far, though not very conventionally.

The first part of the puzzle is to work the painting's game in reverse and determine which piece took the white knight. Why? Because the painter seems to have constructed the entire painting to be a set of clues to a centuries-old murder. Julia solves this puzzle and its sad secrets with help from friends- an old family friend and a new recruit from a local chess club. The chess puzzles in the book are enhanced by pictures of chess boards, so you can try to work out the next (or previous) moves on your own.

However, while further researching the painting and its refractory inscription, odd events begin to occur around Julia, and several of her friends are murdered. It seems that she and her friends have to solve a new chess puzzle based on the game in the painting. The new puzzle is being set for them by some sort of deranged chess master, and it seems to encompass the lives and deaths of the painting's subjects and of Julia et al. The killer starts playing the painting's game forwards, and the taking of pieces corresponds to more murders. Anticipating the next move becomes a matter of life and death.

Will Julia survive? Is she the White Queen? Which of her friends are represented by the other pieces on the board? Which themes from Greek tragedy will play a prominent role? Perhaps the day be will be saved by Julia and an unlikely hero, an introverted chess master who never wins a game, but settles for showing his opponent that he could win if wanted to. At least this one time, settling for a moral victory could prove fatal. With all the confusion, possible betrayals, accelerating pace, and substantial odds against Julia's coterie, perhaps the game will will be lost. Read The Flanders Panel to find out.

Note added afterwards: I forgot to mention that I especially enjoyed reading that Julia listens to the music of Michael Edges! Mr. Hedges was never edgier.

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Murder in Scotland, Spain, Portugal, West Africa and Berlin

We have to add key books and people to the discussion right away, so I'm publishing without all the links that should be added (I'll edit them in later):

1. Ian Rankin, whose Inspector Rebus novels like Fleshmarket Alley (Fleshmarket Close in Britain) are truly excellent. I can't say the same about the Jack Harvey novel Blood Hunt- I found it to be pedestrian. But, nobody is perfect, and we should be thankful that Rebus is on the prowl in Scotland. I also know too much about the chemical and agricultural issues that formed the foundation of the crimes in Blood Hunt to find their treatment very satisfying in the book. But, hey, this just shows the danger of too much learnin'. Read it and enjoy! Perhaps enjoyment, or at least suspension of disbelief, will be easier if your aren't an industry insider.
   
   
2. The Blind Man of Seville, A Small Death in Lisbon, The Company of Strangers and The Vanished Hands represent one type of Robert Wilson's work, the intricately plotted, remarkably dark stories of murder, family, betrayal, pride, patriotism, spying, manipulation, secrets, weakness, love and pain. Pretty good territory for a rainy day, eh? These are works of literature,* though I wouldn't lend them to my kids. The Vanished Hands seemed to me a little weaker than the others, but it was married to political and social messages about repression in South America (by South Americans and the US) that needed to be published, so I give it some leeway. The first three I listed here are strong stuff, and are nothing short of brilliant. Rarely do I react as viscerally to the printed page, and rarely am I so engaged in the puzzle, as when I read this side of Wilson's writing.
   
   The other part of Wilson's work that I am aware of is the series of Bruce Medway novels, including The Big Killing, A Darkening Stain, Blood is Dirt, and Instruments of Darkness, all of which should be read. Soon. These books are less ambitious than the first set is some ways, and somewhat less satisfying, but still excellent. Although frequently violent and filled with betrayals and much sadness, there is a bit of optimism in these books, if seen through the boozy haze. The brotherhood of mankind has not completely broken down. Also, with the books being shorter, the characters are less fully developed (we don't know about three generations or more for each person's family, including all lateral genealogy, nor all GPS waypoints in everyone's lives for the past 85 years- just teasing a bit, here!), and the depths of depravity are somehow slightly less horrifying than in, say, The Blind Man of Seville.
   
   I'm not complaining about the characters at all: Medway and Co. form a terrific ensemble cast that sometimes stays a step ahead of crooks, sometimes a few steps behind, but mostly survives, to drink too much, another day. They ply their trade in West Africa, which is fully as foreign to me as any distant locale.
   
   Actually, it is a difficult to decide why the violence is less horrifying here, in Medway's world, than say in Inspector Falcón's world, because it really isn't. I hope the different affect is because somehow everything is less personal, life being painted with a broader brush in the Medway books, making events easier to accept and move on (to one's own life). However, it must be difficult to craft a great read in one third the number of words of the other books, so I'm not trying to be a jerk here, because they are great reads, and we should all know more about West Africa (at least where I live). It's not that I don't respect the Medway books in the morning, it's that I don't think about them as much in the morning, or find myself haunted as much by them at night, as I do with Seville, Lisbon, et al. "Bruce Medway"
   
   I strongly recommend reading each subset of Wilson's books in the order of their publication, given that aspects of character development can carry over from one story to another. I believe that the books are written by the same person, but the two have really nothing in common. That both sets of novels are very successful is impressive.
   
   
   *Did I just break a Nick Hornby rule? Or am I about to? See here. "Nick Hornby"
   
   
3. Philip Kerr is a cypher to me, or perhaps not, maybe I grok his fullness. What I can say is that he has written some of the best murder mysteries ever (see Berlin Noir), but he seemed to "go commercial" a while back and I don't connect too well with him any more in a consistent manner, though I don't deny the man his right to make a living. So where do I draw the line and why? I guess on another day."Philip Kerr"
   
   
   Question: is Philip Kerr coming back into the fold?

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Queen of the South, Club Dumas, Fencing Master, Seville Communion, Nautical Chart

Let's step away from Tibet and China for a moment to discover and briefly discuss Arturo Perez-Reverte, Spain, Mexico and a wild ride across the continent of Europe. This selection of books spans the very broad range of this master storyteller from Spain.

(a) The Fencing Master is a period-piece swashbuckler, with a twist or two or ten- a joy to read, a thrilling ride, and offering a secret fencing move. I read it a while ago. Having fenced on foil for a short while in college, and on epee in graduate school, betrays a lifelong fascination with the sport and the art that makes me readily susceptible to such stories: as a youngster I read The Scarlet Pimpernel and other books, like the Prisoner of Zenda, that hark back to days when evil men left scars on the faces of their antagonists, and Royalty was going in and out of favor throughout Europe. The Perez-Reverte book is more detailed about life, politics, history and its characters than Pimpernel or Zenda were, and is written with much richer language, though the latter two books remain a good summer reading (and the Scarlet Pimpernel will show you a thing or two about the French revolution). Perez-Reverte's book was apparently made into a feature film in Europe, but that doesn't seem readily available. A pity, perhaps, because little goes together as well as a good sword, a beautiful and mysterious woman who fences brilliantly, and an old master with all the moves.





(b) The Club Dumas is a contemporary supernatural thriller with antiquarian leanings, also brought to the silver screen, with temptation lurking around every corner and salvation perhaps nowhere to be found. It rushes through Europe faster than a middle school class on Spring Break: I used an Atlas a few times (and I've lived in Europe). It was made into a film starring Johnny Depp and directed by Roman Polanski (a favorite director of mine). The movie is entertaining. The book is intriguing- it pulled me into its riddles and mysteries, and a very good read.







(c) The Nautical Chart, a contemporary story of greed intertwined with sunken treasure from the Spanish empire, a ne'er do well sailor cut from the same cloth as Philip Marlowe, and museum curators: it contains some of the most brutal and tragic betrayal imaginable, along with wonderful seafaring, diving, that ever-elusive Jesuit treasure, and navigational mysteries and histories around the treacherous waters off Spain and Gibraltar.




(d) The Seville Communion, a story where where Vatican enforcers battle (apparently) a small parish church in Seville. Defending the church may be a set of miracles along with those parishioners who would like to prevent it from being sold off knocked down in the name of progress. Is the church really protecting itself? Are the results of miracles being witnessed? Who is the brilliant computer hacker who has penetrated Vatican accounts, and what prices must be paid when you do get want you want? How many bodies will be sacrificed? To what lengths will the church, the enforcer and the ladies of of the church go? Read it and find out!


e) The Queen of the South, is my pick for book of your book of the year (it already was mine a while back). The story starts with drug running from Mexico to the US, in a world where dying well enough to earn a personal folk song (corrido, or narco-corrido) is the highest ambition of many of the foot soldiers. Things move abruptly to North Africa and Spain, and eventually return to the scene of the first page, back in Mexico. The story does not have a linear timeline, it begins at the end, or just before the end, and then backtracks through the long journey from home, abroad, and back again. We follow the rise of a remarkable woman from naive drug moll, running scared with good reason, to the greatest heights of the international drug trade. Much of her education comes from a stay in Spanish prison after yet another of her men has died on the job (running drugs around treacherous coastlines while dealing with fast pursuit from naval ships and helicopters). Being her friend is exhilarating until it ends your life, one way or another, but there may be no greater glory than do die in the service of the Queen. Your song will be forever sung.

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