Category Archives: Reviews

Fiction, Reviews

‘Very Good, Jeeves,’ by P. G. Wodehouse

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He was fat then, and day by day in every way has been getting fatter ever since, till now tailors measure him just for the sake of the exercise.

It’s kind of a waste of time to review a P. G. Wodehouse book. The intelligent consumer knows the quality of the product. But it’s possible some reader (for some incomprehensible reason) has resisted the delights of “Plum’s” work to date, so here goes.

Very Good, Jeeves!, a story collection, is obviously a Jeeves and Wooster book, so there’s no mystery about what we’re getting. Idle London clubman Bertie Wooster – or one of his equally dimwitted friends – gets into some kind of ridiculous trouble. In the end, they turn to Bertie’s valet (not butler), Jeeves, of whom Bertie testifies: “There are no limits to Jeeves’s brain-power. He virtually lives on fish.”

The basic scenario is consistent (we’d be disappointed if it weren’t) but there are minor variations from story to story – sometimes Bertie turns to Jeeves at the very beginning, but unforeseen complications stretch the problem out. Sometimes Bertie delays resorting to Jeeves because some coldness has arisen between the two of them, over a disagreement about socks or golf attire or something. Once Jeeves is absent on holiday, and on another occasion Bertie’s imperious Aunt Agatha refuses to ask help from a mere servant.

But in the end Jeeves comes through, and the sun shines once again on the Edenic world of Wodehouse.

There are plenty of familiar characters in this collection – Bingo Little, Tuppy Glossop, and – most dramatically – Bobbie Wickham, the beautiful, red-haired, walking attractive nuisance.

Also, I noted, with interest, that at one point Bertie describes a portrait of himself as featuring a monocle. Bertie used to be portrayed with monocles in illustrations all the time, but I don’t recall actually finding one in a story before (there are probably others I’ve overlooked, though).

I think several of the stories in Very Good, Jeeves were actually new to me, which was delightful. The ones I’d read before were also delightful, though, so I had a thoroughly good time.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Departure 37,’ by Scott Carson

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He didn’t answer. The sun was to the west, across the pond, putting a glint on the face of his father’s watch. The wind stirred crimson leaves, scattered a few to the water like flower petals tossed into a bride’s wake as she passed, honeymoon-bound.

As Scott Carson’s (Michael Koryta’s) Departure 37 begins, on an October morning later this year (2025), the skies over the entire US are empty of air traffic – early this morning, every pilot in the country got an impassioned phone call from his mother, begging him (or her) not to fly today. Some of these mothers are dead, which does not reduce the calls’ effect at all.

On a remote peninsula in Maine, a 16-year-old girl named Charlie Goodwin is dissatisfied with her life. Her widowed father has brought her here from Brooklyn to build a brewery, but she’s bored to death with small town life. Her only amusement is filming an old local named Abe Zimmer, who has a thousand conspiracy theories to share, centered on a famous military bomber crash that happened nearby in 1962. She posts these films online, and is getting considerable attention. She’s less happy about the presence of Abe’s grandson Lawrence, whom she considers a hopeless dork.

On this particular morning, Charlie’s father is away, which leaves the three of them the only human beings on the peninsula, in the area of the old airfield, when the military cordons the area off and a plane that’s been missing for 60 years suddenly appears in the sky over the airstrip.

Departure 37 is actually a complex story, following not only contemporary events but the events and characters that led up to the original 1962 air crash – the true story of which has never been revealed to the public.

The story gets pretty technical, in terms of theoretical and science fiction technology, and I have to admit I had trouble following it sometimes. It seemed to verge on technophobia at points. And I’m not entirely sure how to think about part of the story’s resolution.

But the characters were fascinating, the plotting tight (as always with Carson/Koryta), and the drama level high. This wasn’t really my kind of book, but I’m sure many will like it more than I did – and I liked it pretty well.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Those Who Wish Me Dead,’ by Michael Koryta

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You’ve got to observe the world you’re in to understand what parts of it may save you. At first, it may all seem hostile. The whole environment may seem like an enemy. But it isn’t. There are things hiding in it waiting to save you, and it’s your job to see them.

I keep saying I’m cutting back on reading thrillers, but then I get sucked in by good authors like Michael Koryta. And wowee, what a ride Those Who Wish Me Dead (which has since been made into a film with Angelina Jolie) was.

Jace Wilson did nothing wrong. The boy was in the wrong place in the wrong time, and he witnessed a murder. The two murderers didn’t catch him at the time, but now they know about him, and they want him dead. His parents decided, for his safety, to send him to Montana, to Ethan Serbin, who runs a sort of bootcamp program for troubled boys. The program involves camping up in the mountains, far off the grid. He ought to be safe there.

But no one is safe from men smart enough, and wicked enough, to figure out who to torture and what questions to ask them. Before long Jace will be alone in the wilderness, armed with just a little survival training, the prey in a seemingly hopeless game. Only he’s not quite alone. Outside his awareness, people who care are going to do more than anyone should ever be asked to do, to save his life – and perhaps their own souls.

I might not have read Those Who Wish Me Dead had I been aware that it involved two elements that particularly trouble me in stories – danger to children and danger to women. But I persevered, and got my reward in the end. Koryta is a master plotter, and he pulls all the tricks here – each new level achieved turns into a deadfall; there are traps within traps. Heart in your mouth stuff.

Highly recommended, but intense. Cautions for language, violence, and torture.

Fiction, Reviews

‘It Dies With You,” by Scott Blackburn

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It appears that when we read It Dies With You, by Scott Blackburn, we are dealing with an author’s first novel. That does affect my evaluation – new authors get some slack from me, especially when they show promise. Which is certainly true in this case.

Hudson Miller is a boxer, temporarily suspended from the sport, surviving on bouncer gigs. He hasn’t talked to his father for years, so when he misses a couple of his calls, he doesn’t return them. Not long after, he learns his father has been murdered, shot to death in the office of his auto salvage yard.

To his astonishment, Hudson soon learns that the old man left him some rental properties and the salvage yard itself. He figures he might as well learn what he can about the yard before he sells it off, so he travels the short distance to his home town, and moves into one of the rental houses. His guide to the world of auto salvage is Charlie, an old curmudgeon who worked for his father. Hudson is not greatly concerned about his father’s murder, as he seems to have been trafficking illegal guns.

Then Charlie digs up a crushed car, buried behind the shop, and finds a human body in it. The body proves to be that of a young, missing Hispanic man. Soon the young man’s feisty teenaged sister shows up, asking embarrassing questions, determined to find her brother’s murderer, because the cops aren’t doing anything. And Hudson and Charlie are shamed into helping her – in part just to protect her.

I quite liked It Dies With You at the beginning – partly because I’ve become such a timid reader. Author Blackburn provided good writing, interesting characters, and good dialogue, without a lot of dramatic tension, and if the mystery of Hudson’s father’s murder didn’t carry a lot of weight, that suited me fine. But once the teenaged girl appeared, the story (in my opinion) went downhill. She was such a stereotypical “spunky girl,” and so prickly about her ethnicity, that I had trouble liking her, or believing in her. The final scene where the mystery is revealed was theatrical and implausible, and the murderer’s identity no great surprise.

On the other hand, the Christians (except for the Baptist pastor) are treated pretty respectfully.

So, my final judgment is that It Dies With You was, it’s an imperfect book by an author who shows promise. You might enjoy it.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Tricky Business,’ by Dave Barry

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When I saw a deal for a comedy mystery written by Dave Barry, I figured it was worth a try. Who doesn’t enjoy Dave Barry, in moderation? In my innocence, I imagined something like an updated Wodehouse story, maybe with dirty words.

And I won’t say Tricky Business wasn’t quite funny – in places. But mainly what I found myself reading was a gritty crime story, with plenty of killing and torture, plus a lot of potty jokes.

It’s a little difficult to identify the main character in the complicated plot, but I guess it would be Wally Hartley, an otherwise unemployed guitarist in a gig band, currently living in his mother’s house. His band plays regularly on the Extravaganza of the Seas, a sleazy cruise ship that does the popular three-mile run from Miami into international waters, for legal gambling. Then there are Arnold and Phil, a pair of bickering buddies from a retirement home. They take the short cruise just to ease the boredom of their lives. There’s Fay, a struggling single mother working as a cocktail waitress. And there’s Lou, a mobster who’s on board to oversee the drug smuggling that is the ship’s real reason for operation.

They’re all a little concerned this time out, because a hurricane is blowing up, and the authorities are telling everyone to stay at home. But somebody insists that the Extravaganza has to sail tonight.

I laughed more than once reading Tricky Business, but I was a little embarrassed to do so. I’m extremely uncomfortable with very black humor, where real cruelty is juxtaposed with buffoonery. I read the book all the way through, but honestly I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

It did come out all right in the end; I feel obligated to admit that.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Envy the Night,’ by Michael Koryta

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“Thank you,” she said. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Frank said, “You know what he does. You know what he is. So how the h*ll do you love him so clean?”

“Hon,” she said, “whoever said anything about it being clean?”

Frank Temple III, hero of Envy the Night, by Michael Koryta, is the son of a former hero, a decorated US marshal who disgraced himself and his family when he was revealed to have become a killer-for-hire. He killed himself, leaving his son – who had adored him, and whom he had trained in the martial arts – disillusioned and rootless in the world.

Frank III kept possession of the cabin in the north woods of Wisconsin that held some of his favorite memories of his dad, though he never visits. His father’s old friend Ezra also maintains the nearby island cabin belonging to Devin Matteson, the colleague who corrupted and betrayed Frank’s father. They left Devin alone, but they have an agreement – if Devin ever tries to come back, they’ll kill him.

Now Frank has gotten the word – Devin is on his way. So Frank is headed to Wisconsin, to a showdown with Devin, and with the truth of his father’s life and death, and to his own destiny.

You want to learn how to write mystery thrillers? Read Michael Koryta. Reading Envy the Night, I marveled at the way every story element – prose, characters, dialogue, plot – all worked together to produce a perfect payoff. I find no fault with this book (except for Koryta’s idiosyncratic approach to paragraphing, which seems to be a lost cause).

Highly recommended.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Silent Hour,’ by Michael Koryta

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“I’ve got to live with that,” he said, “and all I can do, the only way I know to cope with it, is by looking for atonement. Because while his blood might be on my hands, I didn’t kill him—and if I can see that whoever did kill him is punished? Perry, that’s the closest thing I’ve got to redemption.”

The Lincoln Perry detective series by Michael Koryta comes to an end with The Silent Hour – though the conclusion is open-ended, and I imagine there could be more coming down the line.

The great pleasure in these books, I think, is the plotting – these are the kinds of stories where you think you have the solutions, and then further mysteries open up, like petals in a flower, till you finally reach the shocking heart of things. In this case – and I may be being pretentious here – I thought I saw the same thing going on, on a subtextual level, making this a meta-mystery.

Lincoln Perry has had a rough time in his most recent big cases. He got his partner shot and nearly killed. He got his girlfriend into danger. He isn’t much interested when a quiet man named Parker Harrison comes to him – repeatedly – asking him to look into a twelve-year-old mystery. A couple named Cantrell had run a rehabilitation program for ex-convicts – one of whom was Harrison himself. Twelve years ago they disappeared. Harrison wants to find out what happened to them.

Lincoln isn’t much interested in the case – even less so when he learns that the missing wife was sister to one of Cleveland’s chief crime lords. But Harrison gets through to him at last. He agrees to look into it.

Before too long, someone Lincoln likes is dead. Lincoln goes sour, not only on the case, but on the very idea of being a private investigator. Should he just pack it in? Is the game worth the candle?

The question is an existential one – why do we feel the need to solve mysteries? To learn the truth? At what cost? Is it worth people’s lives?

I wish there were more Lincoln Perry novels to read after The Silent Hour. As it is, I’ll go on to other Michael Koryta novels, as well as his Scott Carson books.

I wish he’d work out his paragraph protocols, though. The breaks in the text are unnecessarily confusing.

Fiction, Reviews

‘A Welcome Grave,’ by Michael Koryta

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I’ve reached Book 3 in Michael Koryta’s Lincoln Perry detective series, A Welcome Grave. Lincoln, our hero, has a girlfriend whom he loves, but he also has a past. Once he was engaged to a woman, but she broke it off, later marrying an older, millionaire lawyer. Lincoln responded in character – he punched the guy in the face, ending his own police career.

Now, years later, that man is dead – tortured to death. Lincoln gets a call from the widow, who wants him to locate her stepson, who ran off some time ago and has a substantial inheritance coming. Lincoln isn’t happy about the job, but feels obligated to take it. He finds the young man, too – but he’s not prepared for his shocking reaction. Nor is he prepared for the local cop who decides that Lincoln Perry will be the chief suspect in the father’s murder case. Suspicions are increased as clue after clue pops up to frame him, neatly orchestrated. Lincoln will have to work fast, and be very smart, to keep out of jail. And then the stakes will be raised yet again.

The Lincoln Perry books are simply very good. Well written and engaging. There’s plenty of action, but the emphasis is on the characters.

A Welcome Grave is highly recommended, with the usual cautions for grownup stuff.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Sorrow’s Anthem,’ by Michael Koryta

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I am finding, in Michael Koryta’s Lincoln Perry novels, a pleasure I haven’t enjoyed (at least to this extent) since I first read Andrew Klavan’s under-appreciated Weiss/Bishop novels – a series of free-standing stories that nevertheless form a larger, coherent narrative in which the main characters develop. Sorrow’s Anthem is the second book in the series.

Ed Gradduk and Lincoln Perry were best friends as boys. They lived in the same neighborhood, played together, made mischief together. But Lincoln grew up to be a cop, then a private investigator, while Ed got into trouble and went to prison. Worse than that, it was Lincoln who sent him down. He didn’t mean to – he offered him a chance to get off if he’d testify against his associates, but Ed kept mum and did his time.

But now he’s out and in trouble again, charged with murder and arson. Lincoln goes to look for him, and finds him. But Ed has something he wants to explain before Lincoln takes him in. Except that he’s dead before he can finish his story. Agonized by his guilt over failing his old friend, Lincoln sets about discovering Ed’s secret, and the reason why someone thought he had to die. He’ll find himself up against crooked cops, crooked politicians, and organized crime before he blows it all open.

Koryta writes a great story. He generally doesn’t produce the kind of memorable prose that makes Raymond Chandler or John D. MacDonald so quotable, but every line does its job and the final effect goes directly to the heart.

My only quibbles are first (as I’ve mentioned before) paragraph breaks are inconsistent and confusing. Prose of this quality deserves better page setup. Also, Koryta is one of those writers who thinks a semiautomatic pistol uses a “clip” rather than a magazine.

Doesn’t matter, though. These are great books, and Sorrow’s Anthem is a great (and memorable) read.

Fiction, Reviews

‘His Last Lie,’ by Erik Therme

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Ryan Driscoll, point-of-view narrator of His Last Lie, by Erik Therme, is a young man in difficulties. He wants to get married to his live-in girlfriend, but has lost his job and is having trouble getting another one. He gets little support from his parents – his mother is distant and disengaged, and his father has never said a kind word to him in his life. Yet Ryan still does them favors, out of a sense of obligation.

He’s just given his father a ride home when the old man shoots himself to death. All he leaves Ryan is a shoebox, which turns out to be full of money. Only it’s not for him. It’s for somebody named Jamie Norton, of whom Ryan has never heard. When he starts asking family and friends about this person, it starts him on a journey of confrontation and discovery, in which everything he ever believed about his life will be turned upside down.

I never entirely made up my mind about His Last Lie. The writing was quite good (in spite of the present tense narrative). My problem with it was that it was highly psychological, and I had trouble judging how realistic the portrayals were. It gets pretty extreme, and maybe implausible in some parts – though I’m not sure.

But all in all, I thought it was pretty good for a small, family mystery story. It certainly kept me guessing. I think I can recommend it, with cautions for language and very disturbing themes.