Marilyn's Mystery Reads

Archive for April, 2010

Disclaimer: I’m from Crown Heights, Brooklyn, and my late father was a police captain, for a time working out of the 71st precinct in Brooklyn; his father was a Russian immigrant.   Jack Leightner, the protagonist of Neptune Avenue, works out of the 71st precinct in Crown Heights, Brooklyn; his late father was a Russian immigrant.  Could I pass up this novel?  No way!

Leightner is an unhappy man, recovering from a two-year-old gunshot wound and the resultant stay in a hospital and a very recent betrayal by the woman he wanted to marry.  In the hospital he shared a room with a Russian immigrant, Daniel Lelo, and now, two years later, Lelo was shot again and this time it was fatal.

The case draws Leightner into a neighborhood that is both familiar and strange to him. Familiar because although Brooklyn has a population of 2.72 million people, it’s made up of neighborhoods.  People, especially immigrants, tend to stay in comfortable environs, surrounded by those who speak their native language and share their Old World customs; as a child Leightner spent a lot of time in this part of the borough.  Strange because the detective has been living outside of his old neighborhood for years, and his only contact with it has been his late father’s brother, with whom he has a somewhat strained relationship.

Lelo’s death brings Leightner into contact with his friend’s wife, a beautiful Russian woman to whom Leightner is immediately attracted. He is irresistibly drawn into a sexual relationship with Zhenya, but he feels she is hiding something.  Is it guilt over their affair so soon after the death of her husband?  Is it fear of a Russian mob boss who may have had ties to her husband?

The novel starts off with an unrelated case of two young black women who are found hanging, one in an apartment and the other in a garden.  Although this crime is solved, the author seems to have been glad to leave it behind and concentrate on the Russian connection.  I’m not quite sure why he began the book with that crime, perhaps only to show the different groups living within a relatively small neighborhood, sometimes getting along and sometimes at war.

Cohen makes Leightner a complicated man with an interesting back story. His father was a longshoreman in Red Hook, a notoriously tough neighborhood in Brooklyn, a man who was fine when sober but vicious when drunk.  Leightner’s mother was passive, afraid of her husband.  He had a much loved brother who died young.  And he’s divorced, with a grown son with whom he has a very tentative relationship.  He’s a man with a lot of baggage, and he knows it.  But so too has Zhenya, and perhaps that’s what brings them together.

Neptune Avenue pulls the reader right into Brooklyn, its streets, criminals, and ethnicities.  Leightner’s uncle asks him at one point, “How is it that you work so close to here but know so little about (your own people)?”  Leightner’s response is, “Your own people-–it sounded like such a burden.”  Coming back to Little Odessa, as Brighton Beach is called, has brought back memories he would just as soon have kept buried.

You can find out more about the author at http://www.gabrielcohenbooks.com.

I want to go to Italy.  I want to go to Venice.  And I definitely want to read more Guido Brunetti mysteries.

I had seen Donna Leon’s mysteries in my local library and on bookstore shelves many times, but somehow I never picked one up.  I love novels that take me to faraway places, and I knew that this series was set in Venice; nevertheless, I passed them by and found other books to read.

A few months ago, a close friend and mystery connoisseur recommended the series to me.  I promised myself I would get one the next time I had a chance, and returning home this weekend from New York City I bought a copy of Through A Glass, Darkly and read it on the train back to Boston.  My only regret is coming to the series so late because it’s obvious that Guido Brunetti has had a long life as a member of the Venetian police department.  At this point in the series he has a wife and two children, and I wish I could have met him earlier in his career and gotten to know him at an earlier age.   Well, better late than never, and I plan to go back to Venice and spend more time with Signore Brunetti.

As the story open one of his colleagues asks Brunetti to meet with a friend of his who has been arrested in a demonstration outside a factory in Venice.  The police are eager to release the man as no charges have been filed against him, and when the three men exit the police station they are accosted by the man’s irate, out-of-control father-in-law.  The father-in-law hates his son-in-law and has been heard to threaten his life.

A second thread is the story of a worker in the father-in-law’s factory whose daughter suffered severe birth defects.  Is it, as the man believes, that the defects were caused by poisons discharged into the water by the factory owner, or is the truth that the father, in his insistence on a home birth against the advice of doctors, is responsible for his daughter’s physical and mental condition?

Is there an Italian word for mensch? This Yiddish word literally means a man, but it has come to mean someone who is good, kind, caring, empathic.  All those words fit the commissario.  Brunetti’s interactions with his wife and children are beautiful to behold.  No loner, no tough-talking cop, Brunetti is a warm man trying to do a difficult job.  It’s obvious that there are several recurring characters in this series whom the reader would enjoy meeting again and again, but that does not include his sly, out-for-himself superior officer, Vice-Questore Patta.

Ms. Leon’s descriptions of Venice make the reader want to hop on the next plane and rush to the canals of the city.  The food, too, is described wonderfully, and the love of the author for her adopted city comes through.  Through A Glass, Darkly is the fifteenth novel in a series that now numbers nineteen.  I look forward to meeting Comissario Brunetti again.

You can find out more about the author at http://www.randomhouse.co.uk/minisites/donnaleon.

Perhaps some readers of this blog have noticed that all my reviews are positive.  Are you asking yourself, “Is Marilyn so fortunate in the books she chooses to review that all of them are winners?” or “Does the woman like everything she reads?”

Well, the answer to both questions  is negative.  I’ve read plenty of mysteries that I don’t enjoy.  But I decided to write reviews only of books that I believe are worth reading. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m exasperated when I read a review and at the very end I find that the reviewer tells me not to bother reading the book.  I don’t want to find out what not to read–there are too many novels in the world that aren’t worth the time it takes to turn the pages.  I want to find out what I should read, or at least what someone whose opinion I respect suggests that I read.

This past week I read two mysteries that were so poorly written and so completely unconvincing that I was amazed that they were published.  I’m sure that this has happened to everyone at one time or another.  But I don’t want to waste valuable internet space and your time by reviewing them.  I’ll just chalk it up to a waste of time (my time, not yours) and pick up another book and hope for the best.

I used to have a sweat shirt with the logo, “So many books, so little time.” So let’s not waste time reading about mysteries that aren’t worth reading.  Our time is more valuable than that.

Marilyn

The Garden of Beasts is a fascinating read!  It is definitely a crime novel, but it goes outside the genre to become a historical work as well.

It takes place in 1936 in Berlin, immediately before the Olympics that Hitler hosted. Paul Schumann is a New York City free-lance hit man. He’s a third generation German-American from a family that emigrated to the United States before The Great War.  When his father was killed because he refused to give his printing business to some local mobsters, Schumann seeks revenge by killing the men.  He’s then approached by various gangsters in the city to be a “button man,” a killer of the enemies of Manhattan mobsters, and that’s what he has been doing for the past dozen years or so.  He’s meticulous in his work, which he justifies to himself by killing only criminals, never innocents.

One slip-up, however, gets him noticed by federal officials.  They make him an offer he can’t refuse–go to Germany, pose as a journalist covering the Olympics, and kill Colonel Reinhard Ernst, a Nazi official in charge of rebuilding Germany’s military.  Schumann is chosen both because of his excellent marksmanship and his fluency in German.  If he succeeds in killing the colonel, his criminal record will be cleared and he will receive $10,000 with which to restart his life.

I started out disliking Schumann intensely.  How could anyone feel anything positive for a man who has killed over twenty times, even if those he killed were killers themselves?  What gave him the right to be the executioner?  But as the novel progressed and I got into Schumann’s head, I came first to respect him and then to admire him. He’s smart, quick on his feet, and begins to understand exactly what is happening in Germany.

Even more remarkable than the insights Deaver gives the reader into Schumann’s mind is his ability to make the reader understand the thinking of the various Germans involved.  There are high level Nazis, anonymous members of the S.S. and Gestapo, and non-Party police investigators trying to solve a killing that leads them to Schumann without knowing the greater purpose that brought him to Germany.  The humiliation that Germany suffered during the War has warped the minds of its leaders, and they must find scapegoats to hold responsible–the Jews, the gypsies, the communists, the pacifists.  They are all viewed as guilty in a conspiracy against the Aryans, and now the Aryans must rid the country of these enemies of the state to begin the Thousand Year Reich.

America’s blindness during the early Hitler years is explained as well.  From lack of interest in the fate of the Jews and other minorities in Germany, to the desire to avoid a European war so soon after the “war to end all wars,” to a monetary interest from those who have invested in rearming Germany, the reader gets inside the minds of the characters in the book.  And all the bad guys aren’t on one side, much as we would like to think so.

Both the characters and the plot make this novel an extraordinary read.

I have read several of Deaver’s Lincoln Rhyme mysteries and enjoyed them, but The Garden of Beasts is a deeper, more thoughtful book than any in that series.  The subject it explores makes it so.

You can learn more about Jeffrey Deaver at his web site.

Say the name “Dr. Crippen,” and every reader of crime novels, thrillers, and detective fiction will know who you’re talking about.  Hawley Crippen, M.D., was one of the most notorious criminals in British history. Although he is accused of murdering “only” one person, that person was his second wife, and the thought of a medical man committing such a crime shocked 1910 Edwardian society to its core.  But was he guilty?

Dancing For The Hangman is told mostly in the doctor’s voice, using the journals he kept in prison plus some newspaper articles.  As the story opens, Crippen has just been tried and convicted for his wife’s murder and is awaiting death by hanging.  The book goes back and forth in time, starting with Crippen’s early life in America, his first marriage, and his romance and marriage to Cora Turner, an aspiring if not very talented singer/actress.  At first, after his unhappy marriage with his first wife who died of a stroke while pregnant with their second child, the relationship with Cora fulfills his sexual dreams.  He leaves (perhaps abandons is a more accurate word) his young son with his parents and he and his new bride leave for Europe to pursue his desire for wealth and social position.  He’s a homeopathic physician with little compassion for his patients and a great desire to push pills to enrich himself.

After a few years living with a bipolar Cora who herself was unfaithful, he begins a relationship with a young typist in his office, Ethel LeNeve.  And that leads to murder.  Or does it?

To the very end Crippen was certain his death sentence would be reversed, that it was a miscarriage of justice.  His wife’s death was an “accident,” his dismembering her body and burying part of it in their garden was a “necessity,” his flight with his lover to Canada was done only in “self-defense.”

Edwards does an excellent job bringing the doctor to life.  Crippen has so many blind spots and faults that it’s hard to know where to begin.  To me he was narcissistic, self-absorbed, unprofessional, an unscrupulous business partner, an uncaring father and son; I could go on and on.  But was he a murderer?

To this day, there is dispute over Hawley Crippen’s guilt or innocence. What weighed most heavily against him was his common-law marriage to the young Ethel, some 17 years his junior, and their flight aboard the S.S. Montrose, with Ethel disguised as a young boy.  But as they approached Father Point, Quebec, Scotland Yard’s Inspector Dew came out on deck to arrest Crippen.

An afterward by the author gives the reader the follow-up of what happened to the various personae in Crippen’s life–the ship’s captain, who alerted Scotland Yard; Inspector Dew; Ethel Le Neve, among others.  But as Edwards notes, no one knows for certain what truly happened at the infamous 39 Hilldrop Crescent, Camden Road, Holloway, London, England.

You can find more information on Martin Edwards at his web site.

“For years, I envied my friend Jeff Conklin, who, at the age of eleven, found a dead guy.” I ask you, who could resist a line like that?

Bad Move, by Linwood Barclay, has that as its opening line.  And it just gets better.

Writing a humorous mystery is obviously very hard to do since so many writers fail at doing it.  Barclay, in what was his first novel, does a perfect job combining laugh-out-loud humor with a cleverly plotted story.  There are so many seemingly throw-away lines in the novel that end up tying the story into a perfect package that at the end I was truly impressed by Barclay’s cleverness.  Backpacks thrown down where they shouldn’t be, a teenager’s desire for a tattoo, a man lacking a sense of smell–the items of real importance are mixed so cleverly with the red herrings that I didn’t recognize them for what they were. Barclay must be familiar with Anton Chekhov’s line, “One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it.”  All of Barclay’s rifles were aimed well and fired.

Zack Walker and his family have moved from Toronto, although that city isn’t named in the book, to the suburbs for what he views as a safer life.  Zack sees danger everywhere–keys left in the car in the driveway (a car thief might be lurking), a hair blower in the bathroom sink (possible electrocution), a front door left unbolted (a burglar’s dream).  But his every effort to try to impart cautionary tales to his wife and teenage son and daughter lead them to see him as a paranoid control freak, if not worse.  But, unable to stop himself from “teaching them a lesson,” he blunders on and eventually lands in the middle of corruption and murder in his safe, suburban environment.

It’s clear that Zack only wants to teach his family important lessons, but each one makes him appear more foolish than the one before. In his attempt to show his wife that she shouldn’t leave her purse in her shopping cart when she moves to another aisle, he slips the bag under his jacket and goes to his car to hide it in the trunk.  He waits there for his wife to leave the store, upset that her bag has been stolen.  But when she gets into his car, she has no purse and isn’t upset.  She tells him that she’s realized that wearing a fanny pack is easier than carrying her heavy purse while she’s shopping, so in fact she didn’t have her purse with her at all.  So who’s purse does Zack have in his car?  The story goes on from there.

Chapter 15, in which Zack and his son attend a parent-teacher meeting with the son’s science teacher, is the funniest piece of writing I’ve read anywhere in years. The beauty of it is that it’s totally a part of the story.   It’s not humorous lines gratuitously thrown in to make the reader laugh but rather a deeper look into the mind of the hero and his total obliviousness to how his son and the teacher view his actions during the meeting.  It’s funny and true at the same time.

My only regret after reading Bad Move was that I had never heard of the author until he was recommended to me a couple of weeks ago.  He’s a top-selling novelist in Canada and the United Kingdom and the author of several more books following Zack Walker, in addition to stand alone thrillers.  I guess I’ve got a lot of catching-up to do.

You can learn more about Linwood Barclay at his web site.

Snow Angels is the first in a new series by James Thompson, an American author who has been living in Finland for many years.  I must confess to having a strong desire to visit Lapland, the northernmost part of Finland, where this mystery is set.  This is despite the fact that during kaamos, the polar night, it’s totally dark for months at a time and the temperature can fall to -50 degrees Celsius, and my favorite season is summer.  The only reason I can give to explain my fascination with the country is that I did a report on Lapland during my elementary school days.  Somehow the foreignness of the place has always stayed with me.

So of course I thoroughly enjoyed reading Snow Angels.   The story takes place during the above-mentioned kaamos, right before Christmas.  Police detective Kari Vaara is called to the scene of the murder of a Somali movie actress who has been living in Lapland. A racial epithet is carved into the stomach of the actress, leaving little doubt of the racial hatred that was at least part of the motive for her death.  When Somali immigrants first came to Finland in the 1990’s, there was a lot of good feeling among the Finns; they saw themselves as welcoming a band of people fleeing a murderous country.  But, as Vaara notes, racial intolerance soon reared its ugly head, as the hard-drinking Finns began to distrust the alcohol-abstaining Muslims and resent the government aid they received.

Looking into the private life of the actress, the police learn that she has been intimate with more than one man, including the lover of Vaara’s first wife.  Is it her adultery that got Sufia killed or is it a racially motivated murder?

Vaara is also dealing with the emotional upheavals of his second wife, an American who fell in love with Lapland during the summer but now is having problems living in a land where the sun doesn’t rise for weeks at a time and the language and customs are so different from what she is used to in America.  Plus there’s the not-so-subtle political pressure of the police commissioner who can’t decide which will be more detrimental to the country’s image now that the crime is receiving international attention–leaving Vaara on the case or removing him.

There’s a lot of Lapland lore in this novel, probably written to explain a culture quite unfamiliar to many readers.   Did you know that ninety-five percent of murders in Lapland are solved?  That the sami (the preferred name for natives of Lapland, as Lapps is somewhat derogatory) rarely call each other by name?  That the usual gift for a child confirmed in the Lutheran Church (to which nearly all Finns belong) a generation ago was a set of dentures because by the time of their confirmations, most teenagers had lost their adult teeth due to nonexistent dental care?

There’s a lot going on in this novel–past and present wives, sexual encounters, political pressures, racial bigotry, rampant alcoholism, and more.   Sometimes it’s a bit overwhelming and a bit over the top.   Could so much be going on in such a small community?  But Thompson pulls it off.  His writing style is enjoyable, and he keeps you turning the pages.  All in all, you’ll want to read the novel to get a glimpse of this land touching the Arctic Circle.  And, like me, you’ll be waiting for another visit to northern Finland.

You can learn more about James Thompson at the Penguin web site.

It’s strange how one series by an author can capture your interest from the beginning and another one can’t.  I read one or two of  the novels in the Sigrid Harald series by Margaret Maron, but they somehow didn’t catch fire for me.  But as soon as I read Bootlegger’s Daughter, I was hooked for the rest of the Deborah Knott series.  And I haven’t been disappointed yet.

The series started out with Deborah as an attorney/investigator, but over time she has become a judge on the circuit in Colleton County, North Carolina.  She’s the only daughter and the youngest child of the infamous bootlegger of the title in the first novel in the series; the bootlegger was married and widowed twice and the father of eleven sons before he met the woman who would become his third wife and Deborah’s mother.

This is definitely a series you want to start at the beginning because it follows a time line for Deborah’s life and loves.  Spoiler alert–in this book Deborah is married and a stepmother.  You need to start reading the series if you haven’t already, because Hard Row is number thirteen and you’ve got a lot of catching up to do!

Deborah and Dwight, who is the country sheriff, were married just a few weeks when Dwight’s ex-wife was murdered and their son came to live with the newlyweds.  At home, Deborah is finding that being a stepmother is definitely a learning curve.  Although she and Cal generally get along well, having an eight-year-old child was unexpected and provides a number of challenges that she hadn’t anticipated.

On the bench, the judge is dealing with a very hostile divorce case in which the husband can’t be found, while at the same time a number of body parts are strewn around the county.  I don’t think I’m giving too much away when I say I wasn’t surprised to find out who the dismembered corpse was, but the motive for this gruesome crime was quite ingenious.  Also, there’s tension between the native North Carolinians and the newly arrived Latinos who are working in their fields.  These two issues seem to have nothing to do with each other, but Maron ties them together very neatly and believably.

There’s a definite down-home feel to the Deborah Knott books, partly because of the rural North Carolina setting and partly because of the heroine’s family.  There are a passel of family members–brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces, nephews, aunts, and uncles, to say nothing of the family’s patriarch.  Although most of them do not play major roles in these books, they do give balance to Deborah’s life.  As I wrote in my March 9th column, www.marilynsreads.com/about/, I find I enjoy books more when I know the back story.

There’s a similarity here to the Marcia Muller books about Sharon McCone, with that heroine also having a large family who sometimes play a part in the mystery.  But each author has her own voice, and the differences in the settings between country North Carolina and city San Francisco definitely add to the differences between the two female protagonists.

One of Margaret Maron’s greatest strengths is the way she makes her characters so vivid. You feel as if you’d know Deborah if you met her anywhere and you’d like her right away.  Her characters are human, believable, and fit comfortably in their own skin.  They make mistakes, but they  learn from them, and they have a code that keeps them true to their values.  You’d like to meet them and get to know them, and that’s the highest praise a reader can give to an author.

You can learn more about Margaret Maron at her web site.