Category Archives: Fiction

A flattering review of ‘King of Rogaland’

“Dangerosa Jones” at the Regular Rules on Substack has posted a highly flattering review of King of Rogaland:

This combination of history and myth produces a ripping yarn. There is no other way to put it. Father Ailill and Erling are by no means perfect. They are holy warriors only in the most flawed and human of ways — this makes them interesting, multi-dimensional, and armed, a compelling combination. I do not like the popular form taken by current fantasy novels, most of the time, as I find the characters shallow and the conflicts contrived. These books are the exception that proves the rule.

Read it all here.

‘Ice in the Blood,’ by Kevin Wignall

She sighed and said, “He’s quite sweet, actually, beneath all the company bluff and bluster. I kept thinking of Graham Greene the whole time I was with him.”

Jay didn’t get the reference.

“I don’t follow.”

“I mean, I think he’ll end up dead, sooner than later.”

I think of Graham Greene myself, actually, whenever I read a Kevin Wignall novel. The difference is that I find Greene wholly opaque to my comprehension, while I quite enjoy Wignall. On the other hand, Greene has a moral center (though I may differ with his judgments), while I’m never sure what Wignall wants me to think about his characters.

Jay Lewis, hero of Ice in the Blood, is a former CIA agent, now working freelance private security. Currently he’s living on the French Riviera, heading up security for Vitali Petrov, a Belorussian general who’s planning a coup in his home country. He has the support of the US and Britain. However, Jay is in fact a double agent, working for an undisclosed employer to thwart the coup.

Jay’s seen and done most everything, but he’s not prepared for the sudden appearance of a former girlfriend who has brought along a ten-year-old boy whom she says is Jay’s son (Jay never knew he existed). She’s a peaceful person, a career relief worker. She doesn’t know how to handle a boy like this Owen, who is obviously Jay’s son to anyone who looks at them both, and possesses what seems like an innate talent for intrigue and violence.

The woman disappears before Jay can figure out a way to put her off, leaving Owen in his care. Well, he’ll have to find someone to look after him, but that will take a few days to arrange. In the meantime, he lets the boy tag along with him. Owen clearly hungers for a male role model, and Jay quickly warms to him, even finding him useful as camouflage and as a source of information. Especially when Owen makes friends with Petrov’s son. A plan begins to gel in Jay’s mind – but it will involve putting Owen at some degree of risk.

But what if Owen wants to be just like his dad?

In a story like this, one expects the hero to learn heartwarming lessons about love and responsibility as parenthood changes him inwardly. And that does happen to some extent. But it’s a lot more complex than that, and in the end I wasn’t sure what to make of the story’s resolution.

But it was a good story, well-told, vivid, and exciting. I enjoyed it, but I’m not sure it didn’t corrupt me a little.

‘Madison P.I.’ by Brian Clements

We’re dealing here with a book I got as a free sample (not an uncommon thing). Madison P.I. is the third book in a series by Brian Clements starring Joe Bamberg, a former local news reporter in his home town of Madison, Alabama. Having solved a couple crimes in previous books, he’s now set up as a private eye.

The first client to come to his office is an eighteen-year-old girl named Riley Evans. Riley is concerned about her mother, who’s been missing for three days. Turns out the woman is a degenerate gambler with a drinking problem, and Riley has been more or less mothering her mother. She came to Joe because her mother told her she’d dated him briefly as a young woman. This is true, but it doesn’t make Joe any more comfortable.

Things get puzzling when the local sheriff, instead of cooperating or even giving him the cold shoulder, actually bars Joe from having any contact with the police. Joe will have to intrude on some of the seediest locations in the area in order to find Riley’s mother. And the girl insists on accompanying him most of the time. Surprisingly, she’s actually helpful sometimes.

The writing in Madison P.I. wasn’t bad. The plotting was a little rough, but also not bad. I did have trouble with some moments when Joe seems to act out of character, as when he subdues a professional thug with a few moves learned in a self-defense course.

Still, this wasn’t a bad book. I probably won’t read any more in the series, due to the author’s somewhat sanctimonious liberalism, as when he repeatedly denigrates the Second Amendment, yet has his hero save his life more than once with a concealed carry weapon. Also, I disliked Joe’s opinion that it’s always okay to steal from insurance companies.

Oh yes — it ends in a cliffhanger, which annoys me.

But Madison P.I. isn’t bad at all for a self-published mystery.

‘The Supremacy License,’ by Alan Lee

(Back from Høstfest in Minot. No incidents to report, and my book sales were excellent. Remind me to tell you someday about being a “Høstfest VIP,” which isn’t as good as it sounds.)

I have complained more than once about novels that seem intended to compete with mindless Hollywood thrillers – stories where the hero races from one violent confrontation to another, shrugging off “flesh wounds,” shaking his head and recovering immediately from head trauma, crashing cars and blowing up buildings rapidly enough to prevent the reader from pondering the improbability of the whole frothy concoction.

However, it’s possible for the Hollywood thriller novel to work as light entertainment – if the author has writing skill and a sense of humor. Those qualities won me over almost immediately as I read The Supremacy License.

Our main character is Manny Martinez, code name “Sinatra,” whom I knew previously from author Lee’s Mackenzie August novels (which I also like very much). Manny is an improbable character, a former gang member, drug addict and convict who has cleaned his life up to become the most gung-ho, super-American US Marshal ever. He has devils he wrestles with, but his friendship with Mack, his job, and his love of country keep him on the straight path. He is also, we are reminded, devastatingly attractive to women and a deadly fighter.

As the story opens, Manny is summoned to a meeting with high-level FBI agents. They offer him a job – not full time but sort of on-call – as a special agent for a super-secret domestic black ops group. He would be helping to eliminate criminals so dangerous the government can’t even acknowledge their existence. His partner, oddly, would be Noelle Beck, a demure Mormon data analyst who harbors a secret crush on him.

Manny’s all in from the word go. Anything he can do to serve the USA he’ll do, and the more dangerous the better. His first job is one for which he’s uniquely qualified – to arrest or kill a powerful Honduran terrorist who happens to be his former girlfriend.

Two things made The Supremacy License a lot of fun – Manny’s personality, a blend of tongue-in-cheek arrogance and genuine moral nobility, plus his complete, reckless fearlessness in action. I liked Manny a lot, and I look forward to following his further preposterous adventures. Well done.

‘Romeo’s Justice,’ by James Scott Bell

This will be a short review – probably shorter than the book deserves. But I’m busy playing Viking in Minot, snatching a few minutes before bedtime, and I’m kind of tired (the festival is going fine; thanks for asking). Anyway, I love all the Mike Romeo books, so what is there new to say about Romeo’s Justice?

Mike Romeo, erudite Los Angeles private eye working for Ira, an ex-Mossad attorney, beats up an obnoxious type at the very start of the book, just to set the tone. The guy deserved it. Then he has a date with his girlfriend Sophie, who is learning to coexist with Mike’s forceful ways.

Ira asks Mike to take on a case from Noel Auden, a mother whose son recently (ostensibly) committed suicide. He had left their Catholic faith to explore spirituality at a school called the Roethke Spiritual Center, out near the Salton Sea. According to his suicide note, he did it because of global climate change, but Noel wants to be sure, in light of the seriousness of suicide in Catholic doctrine.

Mike goes out and starts poking around, asking questions. As you’d expect, there is pushback from some nasty characters, as well as from the police, most of whom are in the pay of a local energy tycoon. But that’s all in a day’s work for Mike Romeo.

Romeo’s Justice was not full of surprises, but it was full of Mike’s personality and Bell’s prose, the things that bring us back. Important issues are addressed. A resolution is found in the end.

Good book. Well worth the price.

Coming Soon in the Cameron Winter Series

We’ve raved about Andrew Klavan’s series … well, we’ve raved about almost everything he’s written and about him personally. We can’t hide our admiration. We’re crazy about him.

A couple years ago, he released the first novel in the Cameron Winter series, When Christmas Comes. Lars said, “If Graham Greene had written A Christmas Carol, it might have turned out something like [this].”

Last year, the second novel was released. A Strange Habit of Mind is a compelling story of justice and love. My fear is that “Poetry boy” is going to get it in the teeth next time around. (If you know, you know.)

And by the end of October, book three will be upon us. Publishers Weekly calls The House of Love and Death “complex,” “gripping,” and “a penetrating mystery with a plot that cuts straight to the dark heart of some of modern America’s most pressing issues.”

I just finished listening to the Highbridge audiobook of A Strange Habit of Mind, and the memory of it is pressing me to pre-order The House of Love and Death. Klavan’s writing is gripping, especially when I compare it to my other recent reading. He doesn’t just communicate efficiently, like I might do sometimes. He draws you in. I can’t quote him precisely, but there’s a moment when an adorable student is praising Prof. Winter’s lecture and she pauses to choose just the right word to describe her impression then uses the same word every other student uses in that situation. I love it.

If you pre-order The House of Love and Death, you’ll help push it on to the NY Times bestseller list which will help sustain the series for many books to come. I’m sure you’re the kind of person who would want to do something like that. The generous sort. A warm-hearted, salt-of-the-earth type, that’s you.

‘The Concrete Ceiling,’ by Peter Rowlands

I’ve written mixed reviews of Peter Rowlands’ Mike Stanhope novels in the past, and my criticisms of his plotting actually attracted the author’s personal attention in our comments. So I’m happy to report that The Concrete Ceiling, the fourth novel in the series, is (in my opinion) far better than the previous offerings.

Mike Stanhope, freelance English journalist in the Logistics field, is troubled on two fronts. First of all, he’s convinced his relationship with his girlfriend Ashley is dead on its feet. Not only do they seem to be avoiding each other lately, but his commute between Wales (where he’s moved to be with her) and London, where his work is centered, is interfering with his ability to support himself. His second concern is with his self-published novel, which resolutely refuses to leap onto the bestseller lists. (I hear that.)

He’s also thinking more and more about Samantha, a girl he met on another of his adventures. But she’s engaged now, to a go-getting young man who seems to be on his way to bigger things.

Mike is contacted by a cousin of Samantha’s, who has also self-published a novel. He’s wondering whether he should hire a web-based service that promises to promote his book. Mike looks into the service, finding that it looks too good to be true. Nevertheless, in a moment of desperation, he signs on with the service himself. Time passes, and nothing seems to happen. But when Mike goes to see the service’s owner in his home, to try to find out what’s happening, he finds the man dead – and the police suspect him.

This is just the beginning of a complex story, in which many threads converge at last. Author Rowlands does a pretty good job of bringing it all together logically, and I’m delighted to report that this plot depends a whole lot less on “dumb luck” to rescue the hapless hero than previous stories did. One plot twist actually made me laugh in pleasure. Also, as always, the prose is very good.

It’s a personal thing, but I always dislike it when a series hero meets the love of his life in the first story, then drops her for another woman. This probably says more about my personal hangups than about the real requirements of a good story. I’m just mentioning it.

All in all, I was pleased with The Concrete Ceiling, and I recommend it. Only minor cautions for rough language.

‘The End of the Night,’ by John D. MacDonald

And I suddenly realized that I had gone well beyond the point of choice. Even if I changed my mind and decided to fall in step with everybody else, it was now too late. Only in the animated cartoons could a small creature fall off a mountain, look down, register surprise, and climb back up through the empty air to safety.

As great a fan as I am of John D. MacDonald’s work, there are some of his books I’m not going to read again. Some of them are his explicitly environmental stories – though much of what he says is true, especially in deploring the over-development of Florida. But in that regard I’m like the people who say, “My parents dragged me to church every Sunday when I was a kid, and I’m never going back.”

The other MacDonald books I avoid are ones that just left too intense an impression. Dark stories with dark accounts of the suffering of the innocent. MacDonald is never a slasher writer, but his very skill makes the sorrow and the pity harder to bear.

The End of the Night is a book I hadn’t read before now, and I won’t be reading again – for that reason alone. But it’s still an excellent story of its kind. Part thriller, part horror tale. Dark, but excellently done.

The End of the Night opens in a way that informs you from the start exactly what you’re in for. We read a description of the executions, by electrocution, of four young people – a quirky, maladjusted mastermind, a big, thuggish Hispanic man, a slatternly girl, and a nice-looking young man from a “good family.” We learn that they were captured in the midst of a multi-state murder spree during which they killed several men and kidnapped and murdered a lovely, wealthy young woman a few days before her wedding.

The story is told in the words of several story participants, but mainly through the self-conscious memoir of the defense attorney and the final written confession of the “nice” young man. Chapter by chapter the story unfolds, evoking a rising sense of horror in the reader.

I half expected this book to be a plain condemnation of the death penalty, but it’s more complex than that. Although we know the ending, the road to that ending includes more than one surprise. What look, to the modern reader, like echoes of the Manson Family killings are actually unwitting prophecy, as the book was published in 1960.

Recommended, with cautions for intense, mature situations.

What’s a Bit of Fascism Between Friends?

Fascism is a 1921 word that came from the Italian name for Mussolini’s anit-communist party, Partito Nazionale Fascista. The word Fascista actually means “political group,” but fascism has come to mean a particularly nasty political group because of its connection to the Mussolini’s policies. They were the Black Shirts, dedicated to what my 1953 Webster’s defines as a “program for setting up a centralized autocratic national regime with severely nationalistic policies, exercising regimentation of industry, commerce, and finance, rigid censorship, and forcible suppression of opposition.”

Curious that today the word seems mostly applied to those who rally for beliefs with which we disagree. No forcible suppression, just public argument, and—boom—you’re a fascist. A whole political party is committed to overregulation of industry and commerce, but no, it’s the homeschool moms who are fascists. Climate change is the reason they want to take away your gas stove, but is that fascism? Stop being silly. It’s only fascism with other people do it.

This word like many others is used without meaning, showing our society to be closer to Orwell’s 1984 doublespeak than anyone wants to believe.

Book Banning: Maybe the problem isn’t that someone complains about a book, but that public schools exist at all. Neal McCluskey writes, “The very idea of ‘neutral’ education—education that favors no idea or worldview—is not itself neutral. Elevating ‘neutrality’ over worldviews that believe that some things are inherently good and others inherently bad, and that children should be taught what those are, is a values‐​driven decision, concluding that neutrality more valuable than teaching some things are right and others wrong.”

Banning Books: The American Library Association asks why they have to hide their efforts to indoctrinate our kids.

In the PEN America report, they state, “Hyperbolic and misleading rhetoric about ‘porn in schools’ and ‘sexually explicit,’ ‘harmful,’ and ‘age inappropriate’ materials led to the removal of thousands of books covering a range of topics and themes for young audiences.”

Author: Anti-racistism author Ibram Kendi has used several million dollars on plans that have not materialized. Now, he’s laying off staff.

But enough of that stuff.

Poetry: This is delightful, the poem, the painting, and the recording of the poet’s voice. “My Wife, Sewing at a Window” by Eithne Longstaff

Comic books: Penguin Classics is publishing a Marvel collection of $45 hardback reproductions of the silver age stories of X-Men, The Avengers, and Fantastic Four. But wait, there’s more! They released three such editions last year: Captain America, Black Panther, and The Amazing Spider-Man. Gosh! Who could’ve thought they’d do something like that?

(Photo: The Donut Hole, La Puente, California. John Margolies Roadside America photograph archive (1972-2008), Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.)

‘Safety Valve,’ by David Chill

Former football star, current private eye Burnside (no first name given) once vowed never to take a job just for the money. But that was before he fell in love with a woman whom he’s now planning to marry. And weddings cost money. At the beginning of Safety Valve, Cliff Roper, an arrogant and abrasive sports agent Burnside has tangled with before, offers him $10,000 to find out who fired some shots at his former partner, Gilbert Horne, with whom he broke up publicly and angrily. The police suspect Roper, and he’s got the NFL draft coming up; no time for this. So Burnside swallows his pride and agrees to look into the matter.

What he finds is a hive of southern California drama. The rich and beautiful are seducing one another, cheating one another, jockeying for status, and nurturing all the criminal motives any crime writer could ask for. And when Horne turns up murdered, even Burnside comes under suspicion. Now solving the crime is a matter of survival.

I’ve read other books in the Burnside series. Safety Valve is only the fourth, and it seems to me author David Chill still hadn’t quite hit his stride yet. The prose isn’t bad, but he occasionally falls into errors  like “a myriad of” or “hold the reigns.” There’s some lazy phrasing too, that could use closer editing.

I also thought the plot in this one a little loose. Still, I enjoyed the book as I’ve enjoyed the others in the series. Burnside is a sort of cut-rate Spenser, but the books are competent and entertaining. And they get better as they go along.