The town of Cold Storage, Alaska, is John Straley's best invention: a place where almost any sort of humane criminal activity can and does happen, with a steady twang of Alaskan country music in the background and a slew of strong women enjoying cash-poor life as much as the men around them. The minute you aim for this locale, you give up control of what makes sense -- and ride with a mix of wild characters for the duration. Earlier Cold Storage novels began with The Big Both Ways, then Cold Storage, Alaska, and What Is Time to a Pig?
It's crime fiction ... sorta. Remember the scene in The Godfather with the horse's head? That could happen in Cold Storage, on the chilly and salty coast. Except it could be a grizzly head. Still attached. And the person who held the door for the bear to come in would still be standing nearby, tipping back a beer (not the "craft" kind).
There was still no road into or out of Cold Storage, but somehow, in 1968, the world had arrived. In March, Lyndon Johnson announced that he had decided not to rub for president. Some said it was because of the Tet Offensive in the first part of the year. Boys from Cold Storage had gone to the war and three of them had died ... All of the boys had fished with their families and were memorialized on a hill off the road to the dump.
But the tale gets into gear with one of the boys who made it home, Glen Andre, with long hair, a tendency to not speak much, and an army jacket "with a bronze star pinned on the front." Because this is, after all, Cold Storage, you should simply nod hello with the rest of the crowd when the Kentucky anti-war monk Thomas Merton also arrives in town ... followed by a couple of obviously nasty criminals, and a probable FBI agent.
Still, even in Cold Storage, if a person wants privacy he can sort of get it, and if Thomas Merton wants to call himself Brother Louis, and teach something about God, that's up to him. The trouble is, he's explaining it to a striking young woman named Venus, who never met a boundary she didn't want to cross. Or a man who wasn't fascinated by her.
[The brother] began to see Venus not as an American teenager, but as a sprite from A Midsummer Night's Dream. On that night he followed Venus and the lights on her helmet up the hill, where at the summit he would try to reveal the mystery of both God's omniscience and His absence as Louis's heart beat like a steam engine in his chest.
By this point, either you devoutly want to read this novel, or you wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot bookmark. If you've embraced Donald Westlake, Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series, or the Junior Bender books from Timothy Hallinan, I hope you're already ordering a copy of BLOWN BY THE SAME WIND. You're going to have a lot of fun and an occasional moment of thinking maybe you just figured out something you care about, a lot.
Published, of course, by the boundary-challenging Soho Crime, an imprint of Soho Press.
PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.
