New Crime Fiction (Paranormal Threads, Of Course!) from John Connolly, THE FURIES

 [Originally published at New York Journal of Books]

“The story of the story—the remarkable production and author–reader loyalty during a global pandemic—makes the book a must-have for Connolly readers and fans of New England paranormal twists.”

 

The cover of The Furies announces a thriller—and the title page presents “Two Charlie Parker Novels.” To find the reality of this pair of short novels, turn to the Acknowledgments: John Connolly wrote The Furies out in public, five days a week, as the Covid pandemic gripped the lives of his readers. Starting with a notion of vengeance and a pair of sisters (it’s called The Sisters Strange, and for Connolly, “strange” is a keyword for dark and dangerous), this writer of the macabre and historically haunted added a mystic rune. And then, like a gambler dealt a hand she can’t discard, Connolly resolutely attached one short chapter after another in devotion to entertaining and distracting his readers.

 

The author explains: Whatever plot items he’d quickly inserted on one day (and these chapters circulated in five languages!), he had to live with and build from. No going back for changes, when each chapter launched as soon as it had been written. Fortunately, this is Connolly’s 22nd Charlie Parker novel or novella, so in that sense, the deepest ground work already existed.  

 

Focused in the classic Parker locale of Portland, Maine, The Sisters Strange offers a returned-to-town criminal, the sisters he’s romanced, and a hoard of valuable old coins that at one point all belonged to a single aging collector. The menace and evil of that collector, named Kepler, should have prevented anyone from stealing his goods. But some thieves don’t know what’s good for them.

 

Parker get called into the hunt for the thieves: A man he likes and respects is in love with one of those sisters, and can’t bear to see her threatened. Seeing women as victims needing rescue, Charlie Parker is as likely as anyone else to fall for the call.

 

By the time the strands are painfully untwisted, Parker’s recognition of who’s masterminding both the crimes and the brutality is running a bit too late to prevent damage.

 

The second novella in this package, The Furies, invites Charlie Parker to rescue another damsel in distress. He’s overloaded; he tells his buddy Dave, the local bar owner, to tell the woman to leave a number and he’ll get back to her.

 

“I heard a woman’s voice in the background. Dave spoke again, repeating what had been said. ‘She asked me to tell you that it’s urgent,’ he said. ‘Also, she says her name is Sarah Abelli, but she used to be Sarah Sawyer. She’s Nate Sawyer’s widow.’”

 

When Dave asks Parker about that name, Nate Sawyer, Parker warns him away from the Mob connection. But for the sake of both Dave and that mythical woman in distress, Charlie Parker will take the case.

 

This time, as in many other Connolly tales, there’s a dead child involved, and perhaps a ghost, not a very nice one. That should be an opening for Charlie Parker’s dead daughter, who haunts him, to make an appearance. But she doesn’t. And although Parker’s fascinating and complex friends Angel and Louis, well known to series readers, do appear, they’re not essential and they don’t reveal more about themselves—niggling disappointments for those who always hope for more from these “familiar faces.”

 

Neither novella on its own would compel re-reading: Go once through and head toward a deeper Connolly novel in other covers. But the story of the story—the remarkable production and author–reader loyalty during a global pandemic—makes the book a must-have for Connolly readers and fans of New England paranormal twists.

 

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Powerful New Cold Case Investigation from Michael Connelly, DESERT STAR

On November 8, the newest Michael Connelly crime novel will be released, and it features both Renée Ballard and Harry Bosch. Deftly plotted, neatly twisted, and with sharp stakes and risks, DESERT STAR proves again that Connelly's crime fiction goes much farther than "just" a crime and the hunt for the criminal—it investigates the human heart.

As the book opens, Harry's lining up pills next to a glass of water, and it's not for a good reason. In classic cop shorthand, he's thinking he's ready to "let it go." But Renée Ballard, his one-time partner who couldn't stop his job from collapsing, is at the door demanding that he open up.

Unexpectedly, after a year of her own collapse, Ballard has risen to head a new form of cold case department, one that (oh, what we learned from the pandemic) is using all volunteers and contract players to confront the monstrous backlog. She's got the ultimate lure for Harry Bosch: a stack of "murder books" all related to a family homicide that haunts him, and carte blanche to work the case properly.

"Do I get a badge?"

"No badge, no gun," Ballard said. "But you do get that desk with the six books. When can you start?"

Despite his well-fueled angers and resentments about both Ballard and the Los Angeles police, Bosch can't resist. And when he shows up at the unit the next day, there's his own mantra, painted over the entrance: "Open-Unsolved Unit. Everybody Counts or Nobody Counts."

Bosch shook his head. Everybody counts or nobody counts was the philosophy he always brought to homicide work, but it was his personal philosophy. It wasn't a slogan and especially not one he liked seeing painted on a wall. It was something you felt and knew inside. Not something advertised, not something that could even be taught.

Whether he likes it on the wall or not, it's still driving him. Nobody in the new unit recalls his cases solved, his commitment to the job—they're all new in some way—except Renée. And she's trying to manage the unmanageable and bring Harry back for the sake of what he does so well.

To Harry Bosch's disappointment and frustration, there's another case he and Renée need to solve, in full view of the rest of the team: the murder of the daughter of a city councilman. That unsolved crime is what put the councilman behind re-starting the cold case unit. So as Bosch scrambles for traction on the crime that's dogged him, he's also got to cuddle up to the new tools available, like DNA connections, and wrap up the simpler case as well.

The plot's great, a classic Connelly spinning of how police work tangles and wrestles and sometimes succeeds. But at the heart of DESERT STAR is the mentor relationship Harry has with Renée, along with his adjustment to her fully capable investigative skills now in place. So, scrap any father–daughter images, if he had them. In fact, one of his first actions in the new "team" environment undercuts Ballard badly, as he takes off out of the office like a lone dog on the trail.

Renée Ballard's quick realization is, "Putting him on a team did not make him a team player. That was not in his DNA." She intends to patch the gaps he's creating.

But her own insecurities surface in wrestling for control with Bosch and making clear that he's got to do the councilman investigation at higher priority. When he concedes, he tells her, "By the way, you're not a shrew, whatever a shrew is. Okay? More like a desert star." "Whatever that is." "It's a flower that's undaunted by heat and cold. By anything. Even an old guy set in his ways."

While Ballard accepts this half of an apology and tugs gently at the leash to get Bosch on track again, it's still clear that he's exactly what he's said: an old guy set in his ways. And that may jeopardize the cases underway, the renewed existence of the investigative unit, and his life.

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Mystery from Vermont Author Ann Dávila Cardinal, Puerto Rican Coming of Age: THE STORYTELLER'S DEATH

 [Originally published at New York Journal of Books]

“A good gift for readers over a wide spectrum, especially those who like their exploration laced with a hint of mystique, mystery, and the mystic in a tropical locale.”

 

Earlier novels by Vermont author Ann Dávila Cardinal have aimed for young adult readers, and the first few chapters of The Storyteller’s Death offer a child and then adolescent’s point of view: Isla Sanchez surfs a confusing childhood in which her alcohol-abusing mother regularly sends her to Puerto Rico each summer to live with maternal relatives there, in modest comfort and with cousins to play with—but most importantly, a stern grandmother who’s also a gifted storyteller (cuentista) and a great-aunt who loves and comforts the very lonely girl.

 

When the grandmother dies, Isla is 18 years old and begins to have powerful visions of the stories she’d been told—yet with frightening new details added. Experiment teaches her that to write the story down in complete detail can halt the invasion of the related vision. One family death after another, Isla struggles to master this unwanted gift of stories from the dying.

 

At the same time, adulthood even in her ultra-protective and conservative Puerto Rican family mean that Isla feels a powerful attraction for a young man she’s been prevented from socializing with, because of his dark skin color and lower status on the island. His kindness and tenderness have drawn her since childhood, but now those characteristics stir a new response. While she’s trying to handle this, and to keep up with her more sophisticated and elegant Puerto Rican cousins, the visions feel invasive. They can take over when she’s with others, regardless of her willingness.

 

Her mother finally learns about these storyteller visions, and at first offers sympathy, but it doesn’t last:

 

“When my mother’s eyes finally swung my way, just a glance into their glassy surfaces told me I wouldn’t be finding help there. But I had to try; there was no. one else to turn to. Not anymore. .. ‘That thing we talked about yesterday? What if it happens again?’”

 

From this point, about halfway through, The Storyteller’s Death becomes a mystery, with Isla seeking the truth of her family’s past and struggling to right their connections with others on the island. And, of course, the thread of romance continues. After the slow pace of the first half of the book, the second half feels lively and intriguing and is laced with Puerto Rican customs and phrases, offering a delightful visit to what will be a fresh new setting for most readers.

 

The book’s promotion as an adult novel may not be well chosen; it is, at heart, a coming of age piece, often sweet and touching. And this will make it a good gift for readers over a wide spectrum, especially those who like their exploration laced with a hint of mystique, mystery, and the mystic in a tropical locale.

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.