All posts by Lars Walker

Fiction, Reviews

‘Suspicion,’ by Joseph Finder

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Suspicion

Some time back a commenter on this blog recommended that I read Suspicion, by Joseph Finder. The suggestion fell through the cracks (in my head), but I’ve read it now. It is indeed a powerful, compelling thriller. Maybe too compelling for my delicate nerves.

The set-up is a classic Hitchcockian dilemma, in which a regular, decent guy gets caught up in criminal matters way beyond his experience. Danny Goodman, the hero, is a writer, not outstandingly successful. He’s missed a book deadline, but for good reason. His ex-wife died and left him with the care of his teenage daughter, Abby. Abby loves the private school she’s been attending, but it’s way beyond Danny’s means. He dreads taking her out of it, after the trauma of losing her mother.

And then he gets thrown a life preserver. Abby’s best friend is the daughter of a fabulously wealthy money manager, Tom Galvin. Tom considers Abby a much-needed good influence, so he offers Danny a large loan. After struggling with his pride, Danny accepts. It helps that he genuinely likes Galvin as a friend.

And then the hammer falls. Danny gets pulled in by a couple DEA agents. They tell him Galvin is working for a drug cartel, and Danny’s acceptance of his money makes him a co-conspirator under the law. He has a choice – work with them to build a case against Galvin, or go to prison himself.

Danny now has to be a spy and an informer, balancing his love for his daughter against his conscience and his friendship with Galvin. Gradually he will learn that there are wheels within wheels, and that the situation is more complicated – and dangerous – than he had suspected in his greatest fears. He will also learn that he’s capable of things he never dreamed of.

Suspicion is a well-written thriller, one that pulls you in like a shirt wrapped around a washing machine agitator. I found the perils and dangers genuinely distressing, and I empathized deeply with Danny Goodman. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll read another from this very accomplished author, just because I’m not sure I can handle the tension.

But if you’re looking for a really compelling thriller, Suspicion delivers big time. The usual cautions for adult themes apply.

Uncategorized

For your Spectation

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I wrote a new piece for The American Spectator Online, and they published it today. I called it Not a Defense of Bill Cosby.

Fairly controversial stuff. They tell me the comments are burning the place up. I, of course, never read them.

Religion

Ascension Day

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Ascension Bamberg Apocalypse
“The Ascension of Christ” from the Bamberg Apocalypse, 11th Century

Today is Ascension Day in the Christian calendar. I won’t tell you what it’s called in Norwegian, because you’ll laugh.

All right, I’ll tell you if you insist. But don’t laugh.

Kristi Himmelfartsdagen.

Ascension Day is one of those sadly neglected church festivals that’s actually pretty meaningful. Ascension Day ties up the bow of the Resurrection, you might say. It finishes the operation, resolves the chord.

It has a number of implications. I saw a list today, and there were more than I’d ever thought about.

But I’ll mention the one that I remember, one Francis Schaeffer mentioned in one of his books.

Ascension Day verifies the physicality of Christian faith.

If you believe (and if you don’t, you’re not really a Christian) that Jesus rose from the dead with a body – a functioning body that could be touched and that ate food – then where is that body now?

The Ascension tells us that it’s with God in Heaven. Not some “metaphysical other.” Not the land of spirits and ghosts and legends. Some physical place. You can’t hide a body in a myth.

A place, as He promised, where we will be also someday.

Happy Ascension Day!

Fiction, Reviews

‘Flotsam and Jetsam,’ by Keith Moray

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Flotsam & Jetsam

It’s nearly pointless to do a review of yet another Torquil McKinnon mystery by Keith Moray. Torquil, as you may recall, is police inspector on the fictional Hebridean island of West Uist. He is a motorcycle enthusiast and a bagpiper, and the nephew of the local priest. He is supported by some likeable constables, and the local newspaper man (off and on).

Flotsam & Jetsam is a rather complicated story, involving the drowning of a young woman, the murder of a famous entomologist, abused cats and dogs, professional sports gambling, a popular television show along the lines of “Antiques Roadshow,” drug smuggling, burglaries, and several other themes. Also a couple members of the cast of characters fall in love above their leagues, and enjoy success – because these are essentially happy stories.

Oh yes – Torquil acquires a pet. You can’t get more cozy than that.

Good fun; nothing much to caution you about. Recommended for light reading.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Killer Lies,’ by Chris Collett

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Killer Lies

This mystery is part of a series of police procedurals by Chris Collett, starring Inspector Thomas Mariner, who operates in Birmingham, England. Mariner, the hero of Killer Lies, is a divorcee, involved in a new relationship with a remarkably patient woman. She needs to be. It’s not that he’s a bad man, but he has issues. He was raised by a single mother back before single mothers were cool, and his personal list of deflective habits makes it hard for him to sustain a relationship, especially under the kinds of pressure this adventure ushers in.

The story begins with the murder of Sir Geoffrey Ryland, a prominent government official who worked to uncover old police misbehavior and reverse miscarriages of justice. He and his wife are shot in their car one night, but the police believe the real target was their chauffeur, a man once convicted of drug dealing, but whom Ryland had gotten released. Mariner gets involved in the investigation when he learns, through a friend, that there was a puzzling connection to himself.

Then Mariner experiences a devastating event that leaves him shaken and a friend injured. He has never entirely worked through the challenges of his childhood and the death of his mother. Now he’s suffering from full-blown PTSD and refusing all offers of help. If he can’t get some answers and fill in some blanks in his own history, his relationship and his career may be ruined.

I was fascinated by Killer Lies. The plot was complex, and Thomas Mariner was a compelling character. It’s always kind of frustrating when you read a story where a large part of the challenge comes from the main character simply refusing to do some “simple” thing. Mariner might have been very annoying, but author Collett manages to convey his essential vulnerability and fear. At least for me, it made the story a grabber.

Recommended, with the usual adult cautions. Mariner is portrayed as an agnostic, but there’s a decent Catholic priest in the book. The first novel in the series is Deadly Lies, and I’ll be reading that.

Fiction, Goofing

A Friday spot of Wodehouse

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From the brilliant BBC series of Jeeves and Wooster adaptations, starring Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry. This moment stands in literary fame along with Johnson meeting Boswell, Holmes meeting Watson, and Ailill meeting Erling.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Murder Solstice,’ by Keith Moray

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Murder Solstice

We’ve come to volume three in Keith Moray’s Torquil McKinnon semi-cozy police procedural series, set on the fictional island of West Uist in the Hebrides. I find the books unchallenging, but entertaining. Inspector McKinnon, motorcycle rider and champion piper, has had tragedies in his life, but overall he’s cheerful and optimistic, as are his colleagues. That makes a nice change in the mystery genre.

In Murder Solstice, the laird’s manor on West Uist, which has gone through three hands in as many books, is now home to a New Age cult group. The group anticipates some form of spiritual enlightenment in connection with being present at the Hoolish Stones, a local henge, during the spring solstice. They’ve attracted the attention of national television, but also of a local historian who is livid at their leader’s theories about the stones. Also suspicion is rising that some local farmers are running a dog-fighting operation.

Meanwhile, the police force has been lumbered with a new officer, sent by a resentful and devious chief superintendant on the mainland. But she’s young and attractive, and Torquil possesses certain skills that may help win her over to his side.

Murder Solstice won’t change your life, but it’s an interesting and engaging mystery novel. I enjoyed it. Cautions for mild sexual content and mature themes.

Music

‘Les Bicyclettes de Belsize’

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When spring comes, I generally think of this song. It came out about the time I graduated from high school, and followed me into college, performed by various artists. But this is the original version, from the short film of the same name, “Les Bicyclettes de Belsize.”

The film (which I’ve never actually seen) is about a young man in London who falls in love, in rather improbable fashion, with a fashion model. Why is the title in French? I have no idea.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Sandman,’ by Lars Kepler

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The Sandman

I took a chance on another Scandinavian Noir novel which looked to be a little different from the usual run. The Sandman, by Lars Kepler, is certainly different.

Joona Linna is a police detective in Stockholm (his exotic name is Finnish). 13 years ago, he faked the deaths of his wife and daughter, and sent them away so that he would have no knowledge of them again. He did this to save them from Jurek Walter, a serial killer who scares him to death, even though he’s confined to the mental ward of a high security prison.

Joona was the one who arrested Walter, when he found him exhuming a living woman from a grave where he’d been keeping her prisoner, with just a minimum of air and water. That is Walter’s modus operandi – to kidnap the loved ones of people who have offended him, and bury them alive. Walter promised to do the same to Joona’s family – and Joona believes him, in spite of his being locked up.

Now another of Walter’s victims, the son of a famous novelist, is found stumbling, disoriented, over a railroad bridge on a winter night. He is malnourished, freezing, and sick. Joona and his team are given the opportunity to investigate, and Joona jumps in. If he can figure out Walter’s crimes and locate his victims, maybe he can settle things and contact his family again.

But is Jurek Walter just a flesh-and-blood psychopath? Or does he possess supernatural powers? How is it that people have seen him looking in their windows at night, even though he’s in prison? Why are his guards warned never to speak to him, for fear that he’ll gain power over them just through a conversation?

The Sandman reminded me of nothing so much as The Silence of the Lambs. It had the same creepy fascination, the same quality of depicting a villain so freakishly intelligent that everyone else is always two or three moves behind him. The book kept me fascinated, and it sucked me in. If I don’t read any more books in the series, it’s just because I don’t care much for horror.

Recommended, if this is your kind of story. Cautions for language, sex, and violence.

By the way, “Lars Kepler” is the pseudonym of a husband-wife writing team, Alexandra Coelho Ahndoril and Alexander Ahndoril.

Writing

Writing update

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I missed blogging on Friday, because I was caught up in… something. I forget what all. Part of it was working on the novel, though.

Tonight I had an obligation at work, and had to stay late.

But I’ve dropped in to tell you that I finished the first draft of my new Erling book, provisionally titled The Elder King. I had feared that the translation work would interfere with the book, but it was not so in the event. In fact, the discipline I’ve had to summon up to produce paying work on the translation seems to have “translated” into remembering how to work when I don’t have a bilingual project going. Thus, I’ve made steady progress on the book.

Now you recall, if you’ve been reading this blog, my dictum that “First drafts are meant to be dreck. Just write it. Worry about making it good afterward.”

That’s where I am now.

But I’ll say this — as I wrote the climactic scene, I got the old thrill. My heart beat faster. I was in the zone. I remembered that writing could be fun.