Category Archives: Reviews

The Fifth Witness, by Michael Connelly


“I just don’t know why you can’t have it both ways. You know, give unbridled effort in your defense but be conscientious about your work. Try for the best outcome.”

“The best outcome for who? Your client? Society? Or for yourself? Your responsibility is to your client and the law, Bullocks. That’s it.”

I gave her a long stare before continuing.

“Don’t go growing a conscience on me,” I said. “I’ve been down that road. It doesn’t lead you to anything good.”

I’ve said before that, although I’m a big fan of Michael Connelly, I’m not a big Mickey Haller fan. Mickey, Connelly’s street-smart defense lawyer hero, is just a little shady. His aspirations are mostly monetary, or so he believes – though in the crunch he tends to learn he’s not quite the scoundrel he fancies himself.

I consider it a tribute to author Connelly’s storytelling skill that I found myself generally irritated with Mickey all the way to the end of The Fifth Witness, where a sudden reversal won me over completely.

When the story begins, Mickey has diverted his legal practice to a field currently more lucrative than criminal defense. That’s contesting mortgage foreclosures. Among his new clients, the most annoying is Lisa Trammel, who has turned her personal property fight into a crusade, and has started a protest movement. She’s pushy and entitled, and Mickey doesn’t like her at all.

But when Lisa is arrested for the murder (with a hammer) of a bank officer she’s been blaming for her troubles, she calls on Mickey to defend her. Sure, there’s blood DNA evidence to link her to the crime, but how did five foot three Lisa kill a man well over six feet tall with a hammer blow to the very top of his skull? And who sent thugs to beat Mickey up?

As he works through the evidence, Mickey begins to suspect he may actually be defending an innocent woman – something that troubles him more than an assumption of guilt would.

Very well done. Michael Connelly played on my emotions like a master all the way through.

Cautions for the usual, but nothing major by contemporary standards.

Don't wash your hands before you touch that!

Today was the first genuinely nice day of the year. I have a window (one) open as I sit here.

Sadly for you, there was no camera present to record the hauntingly beautiful “Welcome to Spring” interpretive dance I did this morning.

On Facebook, I had a short conversation with a truly remarkable man, Norwegian artist Anders Kvåle Rue. We’re Facebook friends, but there is a division between us. Despite the fact that we’re both Christian Viking aficionados, which puts us in a fairly small minority, he’s a supporter of St. Olaf, and I’m a supporter of Erling Skjalgsson. The feud of two men a thousand years dead lives on in our hearts.

I kind of like that.

Anyway, I went on to ask him about the video below (it’s in Norwegian) done by my translation publisher, Saga Bok. It’s about their trip to Iceland to examine the Flatey (Flatøy) Book, one of the great lesser-known troves of saga material in existence. Saga Bok is doing a Norwegian translation and Anders did the art. They wanted to get a look at the original artifact so he could match colors.

I asked him about something that may have surprised you too, if you watched it. He handles this precious object, well over a millennium old, with his bare hands. “Didn’t they want you to wear gloves?” I asked.

No, he said. The Flatey Book is written on parchment, made from animal skins. Unlike paper, which deteriorates from the acid in your fingerprints, parchment actually benefits from the body oils you deposit on it.

Amazing.

From the English Spectator, a review by the great Paul Johnson of Alister McGrath’s new C. S. Lewis biography. I might note that Johnson makes one mistake. He says Mrs. Moore was Lewis’ friend Paddy Moore’s widow, when she was actually his mother. Tip: First Thoughts.

Have a good weekend!

Free Fall, by Robert Crais

I’m pretty sure I’d read this one before, but I’d forgotten it enough to enjoy a second reading. Free Fall is one of Robert Crais’ earlier Elvis Cole novels. I personally think the later ones are richer, but this is a good mystery by a skillful author.

Jennifer Sheridan comes to see Elvis in his office. She’s young and beautiful and fresh, and Elvis half falls in love with her at first sight, but her mind is on her fiancé, Mark Thurman. Mark is an LA cop on an elite squad. He’s been acting strangely recently, and she’s grown convinced he’s gotten himself involved in something illegal.

The case seems to have solved itself a few minutes later, when Mark himself, along with his sleazy partner, walks into the office. He tells Elvis he knows why Jennifer was there, and that it’s all very simple. He’s fallen in love with another woman, and is just waiting for the right moment to break up with her. Elvis passes this on to his client, but she doesn’t believe him. She insists he look a little closer. That closer look eventually uncovers police brutality and a cover-up and gang violence, and leads to the deaths of innocent people and Elvis’ arrest. He’ll need all the help he can get from his fighting machine friend, Joe Pike, before he can get himself out from under a very nasty conspiracy.

Pretty good. There’s a strong element of morality in this story that pleased me a lot. Elvis informs us that LA cops respect and admire anyone who helps put a crooked cop away, which strains credibility a little, but that’s a small point. Minor cautions for the usual stuff, but nothing heavy.

A Grim review

It’s snowing again. Coming down pretty heavy. The weather man says five to eight inches this time.

I was going to call it an insult, but no. The last one was an insult. This is the one there’s no alternative to laughing over. Even if it puts down a foot, I declare here and now I won’t shovel it. It’ll be gone in a couple days anyhow.

I’m beginning to think we need to draw lots to figure out who offended the Almighty.

Only I’m afraid it’s me.

Anyway, our friend Grim at Grim’s Hall has posted a review of Hailstone Mountain, with a call for discussion on a theological point which I, frankly, had never actually connected to the scene in the book he’s talking about. But now that he mentions it, I guess he’s right.

A Throne of Bones, by Vox Day


When I wrote my article on Christian Fantasy for the Intercollegiate Review, I made a disparaging comment about “wanabee George R. R. Martins.” I received a friendly e-mail shortly thereafter from none other than Vox Day of the Vox Popoli blog, wondering if I had had his novel Throne of Bones in mind. I hastened to tell him that I hadn’t. I’d seen the book on Amazon and thought about checking it out, but hadn’t done so yet.
The upshot was that I sent him a copy of Hailstone Mountain, and he sent me a copy of A Throne of Bones. It should be noted for the record that if our reviews of each other’s books are positive (I don’t know whether his will be, assuming he does one) that we have both received free books in the deal and may have been corrupted thereby.
Most anyone who starts reading Throne of Bones will realize that it’s very much the same sort of thing as George R. R. Martin’s Song of Fire and Ice books, and Vox makes no denial of this. But he’s trying to do the same sort of thing in a very different way, which for me makes all the difference.
The story takes place in an alternate world called Selenoth (it has two moons). The general situation seems to be something like that of the Roman Empire in the late Republican period (as best I can figure out), though there are differences. The time period seems more medieval than Roman, and the Amorran Empire (spell Amorr backwards) has believed in a religion which seems pretty much the same as Christianity for four centuries. The two most powerful houses in Amorr are the Valerians and the Severans, conservative and liberal respectively. The Valerians want to preserve the old form of the empire, while the Severans want to expand citizenship to the provincials. But General Corvus of the Valerians sets off a break within his own family through a necessary act of military discipline.
Meanwhile the Sanctiff of the Amorran church dies, and the conclave convened to elect his replacement is massacred by some kind of demonic attacker, something that’s not supposed to happen in Amorr, where magic is strictly prohibited.
Far to the north, the Viking-like Dalarans are being driven from their home islands by the Ulven, a race of wolf-men. They agree to submit to the king of Savondir (a heathen land where magic is legal) if he will give them refuge and help them reconquer their homeland. But strange shape-shifters have appeared among the Ulven, and pose a threat to Savondir as well.
And Corvus’ soldier son Marcus survives an army coup, managing to wrest control from the mutineers and finding himself, though woefully inexperienced as a commander, the general of an entire army, facing not only orcs and goblins but rebel Amorrans.
And there are dragons. And dwarves. And elves.
Pretty much all you could ask.
I enjoyed it immensely. Vox Day isn’t the prose stylist George R. R. Martin is, but he’s not bad. On the plus side we have a complicated, complex story with interesting and sympathetic, fully rounded characters. There are few out-and-out villains – everybody is doing what they think right. And unlike Martin’s stories, the fact that someone is virtuous and noble does not guarantee them a painful and ignominious death. In terms of pure story, Vox Day’s book is much more rewarding. And Christianity is treated not only with respect, but as a true part of the cosmos.
Much recommended.

Link sausage 4/12/13

Just a couple links tonight.

First of all, Kevin Holtsberry of Collected Miscellany has posted a review of Hailstone Mountain.

Also, it isn’t often I see personal acquaintances in national stories. There’s been some outrage on the conservative side over an article in Rolling Stone Magazine about how the firearms industry is supposedly seducing kids to buy guns (which of course they can’t actually do legally). Patrick Richardson of PJ Media deconstructs the article here.

The little girl with the pretty pink AR-15 in the Rolling Stone photo is Morrigan Sanders, daughter of my friend, Baen author Michael Z. Williamson. I met Morrigan once, long ago, when she was very small. I paid little attention to her at the time, but remember thinking she was likely to break some hearts in a few years.

Little did I know she’d become a celebrity.

Mike Williamson is a libertarian, so we agree on some things and disagree on others. But he’s a powerful writer, and he’s always encouraged me. Good luck to him and Morrigan both.

Fade Away, by Harlan Coben

Myron Bolitar, Harlan Coben’s sports agent mystery hero, is primarily a sports agent and (supposedly secretly) a former FBI agent. Once a top NBA draft pick, almost guaranteed a highly paid career and all the perks, he got injured in a pre-season game and never had the chance to play in a major league game.

But in Fade Away, he is to get his chance. A team owner who is also an old friend asks him to join his team temporarily – not actually to play (much), but to sit on the bench, schmooze with the players, and try to figure out what happened to Greg Downing, one of the stars, who has disappeared.

Myron agrees and begins an investigation that will lead to threats and further murder, and will uncover secrets involving drugs, old 1970s radicals and a betrayal in his own life. The plot gets pretty complicated.

But the great joy of this book – even for someone as apathetic toward sports as me – is Myron’s personal character arc. Though established in his new career, a competent, successful, and even dangerous man, once he’s on the basketball court it’s (emotionally) as if he were a kid again. The passion, the love of the game, the competitive instinct, are all back in full force, and his inevitable disappointment is all the crueler for it. This gave the book a genuine poignancy that made it moving indeed, simply as a piece of literature.

As usual with Coben, there are adult themes, but they’re handled in a fairly civilized manner. Highly recommended.

Kill Your Darlings, by Max Allan Collins


“I’m jealous,” she said, pretending not to be. “You could have had room service with me.” She said that flatly, without stressing the innuendo – but the “nuendo” was in there, all right.

“Kill your darlings” is writers’ jargon for one of the hardest lessons of the craft – that the particular passage you worked hardest on and are proudest of is very likely the one you need most to cut.

Max Allan Collins’ early novel Kill Your Darlings is another of his Mallory books, about an Iowa mystery writer who gets involved in real life mysteries. This is the second I’ve read of this series, and I liked it very much. Collins (it seems to me) writes meta-mysteries, mysteries that work on the surface level, but also comment on the genre and its conventions. This particular book is literally about a convention – Bouchercon, an actual writers’ and fans’ convention, fictionalized here. Collins takes the opportunity of writing about hard-boiled mystery authors to place his hero in a genuine hard-boiled adventure. As hero/narrator Mallory notes to his own amusement, every event in the story follows hard-boiled conventions plot point for plot point, until he himself decides to break the pattern, in a scene that might irritate some fans but pleased me greatly.

Anyway, in this story Mallory goes to Chicago for Bouchercon, and there reunites with his mentor and hero Roscoe Kane, a sort of Micky Spillane-esque writer who’s fallen on hard times. When Kane is drowned in a hotel bathtub, Mallory has suspicions, but he can’t convince the police to look closer. He suspects a sleazy publisher with mob connections whom he hates, and uncovers a literary fraud inspired by greed and arrogance, traits not uncommon in gatherings of writers.

Kill Your Darlings is a thoughtful, well-written, fun mystery with only mild objectionable language or subject matter. Mallory mentions at one point that his politics are not conservative, but that’s all there is about that. Highly recommended, especially if you enjoy the golden age of Hard-Boiled.

January Justice, by Athol Dickson


The bomb was interesting. I thought about the fact that it was interesting, and my first encounter with Vega and Castro had been interesting, and being followed by the guy with the medallions and the other guy was interesting, and I decided it was a good thing to be interested in something. It was a relief, and I had a feeling I should try to make it last.

Is there anything Athol Dickson can’t do? I’ve already praised his magical realism novels, like River Rising and The Cure, so you can imagine my delight to discover he’d written a mystery, my favorite reading genre. I downloaded it (got a free review copy), and it was no surprise – though a delight – to discover that January Justice is very good indeed.

The hero is Malcolm Cutter, a marine veteran. He got a dishonorable discharge under circumstances that made him briefly famous, and left him with a horror of the public eye. He’s not exactly a private detective now – he’s actually a chauffeur and bodyguard. But sometimes he looks into things for people. He worked for a top movie star named Haley Lane, and their relationship developed into something closer than employer/employee. But Haley’s dead now. Somebody drugged their food, and Malcolm himself barely survived. Today he’s still fighting flashbacks, struggling to find something real he can hold on to, so that he can orient his thoughts when they go crazy, and deal with his guilt over Haley’s death.

Malcolm is approached by two men from Guatemala, former rebels, now “politicians.” Their government has been accused of the kidnapping and murder of a former leader of the previous Guatemalan junta. The leader was married to a famous American movie star, who was kidnapped, the ransom drop used as an opportunity to assassinate him. They tell Malcolm their government was not involved, and they want him to prove it. He doesn’t like the men much, but when other men start pressuring him to stay away from the case it raises his curiosity, and he plunges into an investigation that will get him shot at, beaten up, and arrested before he figures it out. He’ll also meet a nice girl.

Dickson writes with all the style and macho you’d expect from the best in the hard-boiled genre. Malcolm Cutter is an appealing hero, with interesting vulnerabilities and flaws. His relationships with his two fellow employees at Haley Lane’s estate are sketched with wry humor and sensitivity. The Christian message is subtle and organically part of the story. I hope very much there will be more Malcolm Cutter novels.

Highly recommended. Mild cautions for adult themes.

Sometimes There Really Are Monsters Under the Bed, by Will Graham

Once again, we contemplate a novel with promising writing and some good elements, but the the author doesn’t know how to bring it up to its potential. Sometimes There Really Are Monsters Under the Bed is mostly a disappointment, except for a surprise appendix. (Also the title’s too long.)

Former FBI agent Michael O’Leary left the agency in despair after failing to save the life of a little girl. Later the girl’s mother, the wealthy Annabelle Reardon, pulls him out of his self-destructive funk by giving him a job in her new foundation, devoted to rescuing children in danger – and, incidentally, marrying him. Their work is aided by a psychic empathetic gift that Annabelle possesses – she can learn a person’s secrets by touching their hand. It’s through this gift that she gets a clue to something terrible going on at an orphanage run by a wealthy philanthropist. Going to investigate, they encounter danger and uncover a horror.

There’s not enough story here, in my opinion, for what the author’s trying to do. The book is really a novella, and the story arc is too steep. Annabelle’s “gift” really does little for the story beyond providing a shortcut to giving the heroes a reason to investigate. Some real detective work would have lengthened a story that badly needs lengthening. Also there’s too much emotion here, and the characters talk about it too much. Some of the boy-girl material was moving, but more time should have been spent developing the couple’s relationship in more subtle ways.

In contrast, the short story appended to the back of the book – “Perception” – was excellent. Tight, well-drawn, terrifying, and it provided a neat twist ending that T-boned me completely. That story’s really the best reason to buy Sometimes There Really Are Monsters Under the Bed.

Some intense situations, but no really objectionable material.