Hmm, three detective novels in a row is something of a
record for me: it’s a mystery in and of itself that I pulled the books off the
shelves that way. Here’s a post with all three, to get caught up…
I’ve had a soft spot for detective Hank Palace, the narrator
of Ben H. Winters’s World of Trouble, ever since I read The Last Policeman (previous post),
the first novel in a trilogy that ends with World
of Trouble. Palace is a down-to-earth, loyal guy who continues
investigating crimes despite the fact that an asteroid is hurtling toward earth
and about to destroy everything. In World
of Trouble, Palace and his ailing dog, Houdini, have come to Ohio to find
Palace’s sister, who’s disappeared. Disappearances aren’t unusual in these fictional
end days: people have been going “bucket list” for ages but Palace knows
something bigger is amiss. There are lots of plot threads to pull in World of Trouble: an attempted murder, a
search for a concrete worker, and, of course, Palace’s relationship with his
family, ethics, and impending demise. Winters finds a near-perfect balance of
humor, grieving, and realism, and he finishes the book in what I think must be the
best possible way. Yes, I laughed and I cried, and [mild spoiler] I love the
fact that Palace remains true to himself and the social compact ‘til the end.
He doesn’t even yell “Police!” near the end of the book, “because I’m not a
policeman anymore, I haven’t been for some time now.”
Commissioner Nicolas Le Floch, the investigator in Jean-François Parot’s The Man with the Lead Stomach, the second book in a series,
isn’t quite as endearing or imperiled as Palace but this historical detective
novel set in 1761 France made for worthy entertainment. I admit I was more
interested in atmosphere than the mystery itself, which involves the rather
grisly murder of a courtier’s son. That murder leads to another. Of course. But
about that atmosphere: it’s a nice change of pace when there are no
fingerprints taken, the investigator travels by horse-drawn carriage, and the detective
drinks chocolate for breakfast and lots of wine with his meals, some of which
are described in detail, this being a translation from the French. (I opened
the book randomly to a page where a cook describes how to cut a rabbit for
making pâté…) There are also smells in this early passage describing
theatergoers: “There was a disconcerting contrast between their luxurious
clothes, and the foul-smelling remnants of wax, earth and horse droppings with
which they were soiled.” Michael Glencross’s translation from the French was
particularly fun to read because it had some obscure words and terms in common
with the book I was working on—this was a perfect way to see them in action in
another setting and translated from another language.
Finally, a second book that originated in French: Joël
Dicker’s The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair, which I read in Sam
Taylor’s translation of La Vérité sur l’affaire
Harry Quebert. The truth about The
Truth is that it’s an unholy mess, a blend of a writer coming of age (well,
in a sense, two writers coming of age), a satire of the publishing industry,
and a murder mystery, with whiffs of Peyton
Place and Lolita tossed in. In
any case, Marcus (“The Magnificent”) Goldman, a blocked writer who was the
toast of New York a year or so ago, comes to the aid of his former writing
teacher, Harry Quebert, after Quebert, author of a much-praised novel, is
accused of killing a teenage girl, Nola Kellergan, back in 1975; the accusation
comes after Kellergan’s body is unearthed in Quebert’s seaside yard nearly
twenty years after her disappearance. Quebert lives in Somerset, New Hampshire,
so Goldman is dealing with all sorts of small-town relationships, oddballs, and
secrets as he interviews townspeople in his quest to free Quebert. Dicker
throws in everything from the 1998 ice storm that “paralyzed” lots of New
England to the first Obama presidential campaign to lots of seagulls in what
feel like attempts to create verisimilitude and capture a time but The Truth is just too filled with
extraneous pages, clichéd dialogue, and bits and pieces of disparate genres to
come together as a full-fledged novel. Even so, damn it, the book is moderately
entertaining and I did read every page. Part of the reason was probably inordinate
curiosity after hearing Dicker and his editor from Penguin, John Siciliano,
speak at BookExpo America in late May… but I think I’m even more curious to see
how writers—not just Dicker but also Winters and Parot—adapt and adjust the
detective genre’s typical casts, aesthetics, and plot turns to fit their
interests and readers. For a very detailed account of The Truth, check out The Complete Review, here.
Disclaimers: I
received review copies of all three books, thank you to the publishers and/or
publicists: Eric Smith of Quirk Books for World of Trouble, which will be
officially released on July 15; Meryl Zegarek
Public Relations for The Man with the Lead Stomach, which
was published by Gallic Books; and the nice man at the Penguin booth at BEA,
who pointed me to a finished copy of The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair masquerading as a galley. Thank you to
all!
Up Next: Xu
Zechen’s Running through Beijing.
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