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Reviews

Netflix review: ‘War Sailor’

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Another film project on which I worked as a script translator is now available in the US. War Sailor, a Norwegian film released last year (the most expensive movie ever made in Norway, I’m informed), has been expanded into a three-part miniseries for Netflix. I binged it last night and wish to recommend it to you.

After an opening set in Singapore after World War II, we go back to 1939 and observe our two main characters, Alfred (“Freddie”) and Sigbjørn (“Wally”). Freddie is a hard-working family man in Bergen, and Wally is his bachelor friend. Jobs are hard to find, and Wally encourages Freddie to join him in signing on to a merchant ship. Freddie’s wife Cecilia is concerned about the danger, as the war is going on, but Wally reassures her that they’re only going to New York. As both Norway and the US are neutral there’s minimal danger, he reasons. Anyway, he promises to keep Freddie safe.

By the time they reach New York, Germany has invaded and Norway is at war. The Norwegian government has nationalized the country’s merchant shipping (one of their major industries) and put it all at the disposal of the allies for carrying war munitions and supplies. The sailors are suddenly de facto members of the Navy (albeit unarmed), without the privilege of resigning.

What follows is a season in Hell. German U-boats are taking a desperate toll on the Norwegian ships (fully half of them were sunk over the course of the war) and casualties are high. Freddie takes an underaged sailor under his wing as a sort of surrogate son, and gives up a chance to escape from the service in order to protect the young man. When their ship is torpedoed, Freddie and Wally find themselves sharing a raft with a dying man and a madman.

Meanwhile, Freddie’s family at home is struggling to make ends meet, is worried sick about him, and is facing dangers of their own from Allied bombers. It all culminates in one of those bureaucratic snafus that start in mixed signals and end in ravaged lives.

It’s tempting to call the story a tragedy, but in fact it’s better described as aggravated irony. In the world of this war, virtue is never rewarded, and no good deed goes unpunished.

Brilliantly filmed, directed, and acted, War Sailor is not light entertainment. Be prepared for strong language, horrific violence, and dark themes. Not for the kids, but well worth watching for adults.

Authors, Fiction, Religion

Snow and hope

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Photo by hideobara. Unsplash license.

Disclaimer: You did not mistake the date on your calendar. This is a rare Saturday post by Lars Walker. Due to a certain weirdness in my life right now, I’m posting book reviews every day (two yesterday). What you’re reading now is a personal post, so I’m squeezing it in on the weekend.

March did not go out like a lamb in Minnesota last night. It went out like Mike Tyson, or Chronos the Titan, or a Frost Giant, or any kind of large, brutal mythological creature you might want to imagine. Yesterday the spring melt was well underway. Today it’s underway too, but with a difference. Nearly ten inches of snow fell overnight, even though the temperatures only slipped below freezing for a few hours. We woke to piles – sometimes towers – of thick, heavy white precipitate, already congealing into a dense, waterlogged mass. My neighbor with the snow blower cleared the driveway. But I had to clear the steps, front and back. And that meant hacking through knee-high piles of white stuff that looked like Styrofoam but weighed like sandbags.

But I cleared it out, and didn’t have a heart attack. I went to a restaurant for lunch (went to the farther Applebee’s rather than the closer Applebee’s, because they just closed the closer Applebee’s forever. More fruits of scientific, infallible Progressive governance). It was a strange environment in the parking lot. The sky is clear and the sun shines with full force, producing that wonderful effect (it’s called “apricity”) in which one feels warmer than the actual temperature, due to the intensity of the light. Yet all around us were mountains of snow. Kind of an alien, fantasy world for a day, where the physical laws are different.

Anyway, that’s not what I came to post about. Just thought I’d mention it.

Thursday night I attended a lecture in St. Paul. I don’t generally go out at night anymore; I have gained that wisdom of age that tells me very little good is likely to happen to me after dark in the urban area. But a friend invited me and urged me to come, so I acquiesced. In the end I was glad I did.

The lecture was held at the Cities Church on Summit Avenue, which is the Beacon Hill of St. Paul. It’s where James J. Hill and F. Scott Fitzgerald lived. Where the governor has his mansion. (The roads, by the way, are full of potholes. Even plutocrats can’t get basic services in that city.) The lecture was part of a series sponsored by Bethlehem College and Seminary, a small Baptist school.

The lecturer was one of their professors, Professor Matt Crutchmer, who looked impossibly young to me. He spoke on “Hope Beyond the Walls of the World” in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.

The core of his theme – as I understood it – was the nature of Christian hope, as portrayed by Tolkien. Hope for the Christian, he said, is not attached to any particular thing in this world (I wish I could recall the word he used for this idea, but it’s slipped my mind). Our hope isn’t for a good election result, or a military victory, or for rain or a successful business deal or a stroke of luck. Our hope is a more basic one – like the star Earendil that Sam spied through the clouds on the way to Mordor. Our hope is just there. It’s part of God’s creation and immovable. We may be defeated; we may suffer; we will surely die. That affects our hope not at all. “It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo.” We believe that God shapes all ends, regardless of what we do or what happens to us now. In that lies our peace.

I needed that message just now, for reasons I won’t detail. I was just glad I heard it.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Dark Lies,’ by Elliot York

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I do love a story of lost love and old mysteries. I found Elliot York’s Dark Lies a fascinating police novel, though not entirely successful.

Logan Cooper is a detective in Santa Cruz, California. He’s a good cop, but he has a tendency to lose control when he faces a particular kind of criminal – the kind who victimizes the innocent. In those cases he tends to black out and use his formidable fists pretty brutally. His superiors have ordered him to see a counselor. They’ve also assigned him to a new female partner, Reggie, and for the moment he’s reserving his judgment on her.

Then he gets called to view a body. A woman has been found in a local lake, drowned in a car with her hand cuffed to the steering wheel. Logan notices a tattoo on her wrist – it’s his own name. He recognizes this woman as Becca, the girl he fell in love with in high school. The girl who, up until today, he understood to have committed suicide more than 20 years ago.

As Logan and Reggie investigate the murder, clues will begin appearing that point to a single suspect – Logan himself. Even he will begin to wonder whether it might be possible that, in one of his blackouts, he might have killed the greatest love of his life.

Sometimes harrowing, Dark Lies kept me fascinated all the way through. Only at the climax did it fall into the pedestrian and predictable (in my opinion). Cautions are in order for foul language and expressions of contempt for religion.

Still, it was 90% a good novel. The follow-up volumes might be good too.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Machinations of a Murderer,’ by Peter Zander-Howell

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I was surprised to find an authentic, old-fashioned British mystery, set in the 1940s, when I picked up Machinations of a Murderer by Peter Zander-Howell. A very original book, I thought, in an un-original form. It’s a plain, point-by-point police procedural, following first the murderer as he plans and carries out his crime, and then the detectives as they deconstruct his too-clever-by-half alibis.

Dr Robin Whittaker is an Oxford PhD, once a promising scholar. But his weaknesses for alcohol and gambling doomed his academic career, and now he works at a lowly job in a provincial museum. His wife, who has some money of her own, keeps him on a short leash. He chafes at the clean living she forces on him, and decides his only reasonable course is to murder her. Confident in his superior intellect, he’s certain that the alibi he constructs, along with the frames he constructs for hapless alternate suspects, will fool the stupid police, leaving him free to drain the funds he’ll inherit.

It’s not at all certain that even the ordinary police would actually fall for his hubristic scheme, but in the event local detectives are not available, so the police call on Scotland Yard for help. They send Chief Inspector Bryce (himself an Oxford-trained barrister) and his assistant, Sergeant Haig. They quickly recognize the doctor as a wrong ‘un, and put themselves to the task of breaking his rather neat alibi. It would disappoint Whittaker to know that one of the key clues in the case will be uncovered by a young, fairly inexperienced policeman who’s assisting Bryce and Haig.

There are no mysteries here. The reader observes everything as it happens, step by step. The great pleasure of this book (and it was a great pleasure to read) is the moral thrill of watching as a prideful and thoroughly unlikeable criminal slowly weaves for himself the rope of lies that will eventually hang him.

In all of Machinations of a Murderer I detected only one hint of a modern sensibility, and that was an intentional irony. Otherwise the author plays it straight from the 1940s. This absence of wokeness and political correctness was entirely refreshing. Aside from the narrative being fascinating in itself.

I highly recommend Machinations of a Murderer. Thoroughly enjoyable.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Suit,’ by Colin Conway

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Even though Matt was younger, Craig admitted his brother was the smarter one. Now, many years after high school, Matt still read books when no teacher was making him.

Another novel in the 509 series by Colin Conway, which I’m enjoying very much. This is Number Four, and it’s called The Suit.

Times are tough for cocaine dealers in Spokane just now. The cops have shut their supply down, and nerves are frayed. One frustrated junkie, Craig, takes it into his head one day to stick a knife into a random guy walking past, a guy in a suit. But the “suit” surprises him by defending himself quickly and efficiently, leaving Craig with a broken nose. Video of the incident goes viral.

Craig’s brother Matt, meanwhile, is trying to keep his “crew” of coke dealers under control. To focus their attention, he suggests they play a game. It begins with “the knockout game,” a fad from a few years back where street punks punched strangers, trying to knock them out with one blow. But Matt adds a new wrinkle. They pool their money, film each attack, and then award points by vote. The winner takes the pot.

Detectives Quinn Delaney and Marci Burkett are on the case, but it’s a tough one. The attacks are random, scattered all over the city. But once the game finds a focus – once the attackers start targeting “suits,” men in business attire, alone, they begin finding a few leads. Which will lead them to, among other people, the original hero “suit” of the video – a man with secrets.

Another good book in an outstanding series. I personally enjoyed The Suit a little less than the previous books, because it required the reader to spend a lot of time with Matt and his “crew,” who are not pleasant company at all.

I also have to admit – and this will surprise no one who follows these reviews – that I have a little trouble with Detective Marci Burkett. I dislike the cliché of the kick-butt female cop who can beat any man. Marci is definitely one of those – I still insist that size and strength count for something, and such characters often seem to deny the laws of physics.

On the other hand, Marci is a better crafted character than most of her sisters in literature. It’s clear she has anger management issues, that her emotional ducks aren’t all in a row. That helps.

But mostly I put up with her because the books are so good otherwise.

Minor cautions for the usual stuff. Good book.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Shooting Gallery,’ by Stuart Doughty

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I sometimes complain that action novels are written like movies – that is to say, the action is implausible if you stop to think about it.

Stuart Doughty’s Shooting Gallery was (in my opinion) more like a TV show. The plausibility was even less plausible.

I’d read one of Doughty’s John Kite novels before, and liked it more than not. I found it insubstantial but fun. Shooting Gallery, seventh book in the series, is much the same, but it struck me as a little formulaic and (possibly) shopworn in concept.

John Kite’s specialty is recovering stolen works of art. At the beginning of Shooting Gallery, he’s in Massachusetts, attending the unveiling of a stolen Modigliani painting that he recently recovered. But during the ceremony, an intruder starts shooting a gun from a balcony, in the general direction of the front stage. Nobody is seriously hurt, but John (with the reckless disregard for danger that seems to be his style) pursues the shooter on foot, though he does not catch them.

Shortly thereafter, he learns that the recovered painting is a fake. As he asks questions and digs into the records, he begins to suspect that one of the most important figures in the art world, a man on the verge of an important government appointment, is a fraud, a murderer, and very likely something worse.

The writing in Shooting Gallery was generally good – not great, but better than average in this degenerate age. The attempts to render American dialogue could have been better, but I probably couldn’t do any better writing British dialogue. (I might add that there were opportunities to criticize American gun laws, and the author — to his credit — did not take advantage of them.)

What bothered me most was John Kite’s TV-style heroism. More than once he rushes to confront armed opponents with no weapon of his own, and walks into obviously perilous situations without a plan for survival. TV characters act like that, but not, I think, real people, even heroes. If they do, they don’t last very long.

Shooting Gallery was okay as pure entertainment. Read it if it seems like your cup of tea.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Ruse,’ by Pete Brassett

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One of several quiet British police procedural series that I enjoy is the Scottish one starring Inspector Munro, by Pete Brassett. I have to admit, though, that I have trouble telling them apart from the Inspector Skelgill series set across the border in England. The central figures and supporting casts are highly similar, but I like both of them.

In Ruse, the latest Inspector Munro book, we find Jim Munro newly retired, but still meddling in investigations. This is not resented at all by his old team of detectives, who are happy for his input.

Tam McDonnell has retired from his career and bought a pub, but isn’t doing very well. Then a young man approaches him and offers his services as a DJ. He promises to deliver a big crowd for one night, in return for a percentage of the night’s takings. It all seems to go splendidly, until a young woman’s body is found in a restroom, stabbed to death.

The investigation will uncover links to drug dealing, Meanwhile, there’s been a string of robberies in high end shops in the town of Ayr. The proprietors find themselves suddenly unconscious, to discover on awakening that valuable goods are missing. In time, a link between the murder and the thefts will become apparent.

Ruse is standard Brit, Midsomer-esque police procedural stuff – the gruff older detective showing his younger subordinates the way. But it’s solid standard stuff too, well-written, reassuring and fun. I enjoyed it. No major cautions for subject matter.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Blind Trust,’ by Colin Conway

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Sheriff Tom Jessup is investigating the death of an elderly man, a loner, in Whitman County, Washington state, as The Blind Trust begins. It could be natural causes, but something doesn’t seem right. His investigations will put him in touch with Detectives Quinn Delaney and Marci Burkett in Spokane, who are investigating another death. Gradually a picture develops of an extremely dysfunctional family, of five siblings who haven’t communicated in years, suddenly dying out at the same time. What no one can figure out is why anybody would go to the trouble of killing them.

As the story unrolls, they’ll cross paths with another Spokane detective named Morgan, a corner-cutter neither Delaney or Burkett likes. They have the same objectives, but will their mutual mistrust delay the resolution of the case?

As with all the books in Colin Conway’s The 509 series that I’ve read so far, I relished The Blind Trust. I especially enjoyed the fascinating, layered characters. I was particularly intrigued with the dubious Detective Morgan – a lesser writer than Conway might have made him a caricature, but when we spend time in his head, his thinking makes perfect sense – from his own point of view.

Only mild cautions are in order for language and mature subject matter.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Side Hustle,’ by Colin Conway

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“The 509” is the eastern, more rural part of Washington state, where Spokane is the big town. I’d already read one of the books in Colin Conway’sThe 509 series, The Long Cold Winter, and liked it very much. So I picked up the first installment, The Side Hustle.

Quinn Delaney and Marci Burkett are homicide detectives in Spokane. When they’re called to view the body of Jacob Kidwell, online financial guru, they find him with his neck broken at the bottom of a stairway in his apartment building. It could easily be an accident, but the detectives suspect he was pushed. The suspicion is increased when they learn that one of his two computers has disappeared.

Young Kirby Willis, an Uber driver and budding entrepreneur, idolized Jacob, who was his friend, and can’t resist making his own investigation. In theory, the cops should resent his interference, but he has sources of information unavailable to them, and anyway, Marci thinks he’s kind of cute.

Quinn, meanwhile, is having trouble concentrating on his work because of personal problems that he won’t discuss with Marci. When he does finally open up to someone, it’s almost the last person you’d expect… but that could be the very person who can offer him hope.

Author Colin Conway excels at portraying three-dimensional characters. I liked Quinn, Marci, and Kirby very much, and followed their adventures with just as much interest as if the book had been a blood-and-thunder thriller. The Side Hustle has the added value of actually offering good advice for living, at no additional charge.

I liked The Side Hustle even more than The Long Cold Winter. I’m officially a fan of this series.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Trick Question,’ by Tony Dunbar

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I’m still getting accustomed to Tony Dunbar’s Tubby Dubonnet novels, set in New Orleans. They’re not my usual kind of fare; I like my heroes to have a little more existential angst and shining armor on them. But the series is growing on me.

In Trick Question, Tubby gets a desperate plea for help from a fellow lawyer. That lawyer is working a murder case as a court-appointed advocate. His problem is that he’s a hopeless lush, and he’s done almost no prep work, and the trial is about to begin and the judge won’t postpone. Tubby’s a sucker for an old friend, and he hates the idea of a defendant getting railroaded, so he agrees to do the best he can in the few days available.

The defendant, Cletus Busters, is the janitor at a medical research facility. One night he opened a freezer door, and a man’s frozen body tipped out onto him. The body was that of a scientist who’d been using that laboratory. He had complained in the past about Cletus playing with the laboratory mice. Also, drugs stolen from the lab were found in Cletus’ apartment.

In addition, Tubby is doing some estate work for a young female boxer, and he gets a peek into the world of that rising sport.

The whole subject of women’s boxing gives me the willies, personally, so that was uncomfortable. But eventually (spoiler alert), Tubby comes over to my view, so that was OK.

Cletus the defendant turns out to be a voodoo practitioner, but that’s played mostly for laughs, so I didn’t mind that too much either.

Trick Question was entertaining. Still not exactly my cup of jambalaya, but I can see why people are fans. Only mild cautions for subject matter are in order.