Category Archives: Reviews

‘The Oceans and the Stars,’ by Mark Helprin

“How many orchids are there in the Amazon? Trillions? They’re beautiful. No one ever sees them, but they’re there. Value is independent of recognition. It must be. If a tree falls in the forest, of course it makes a sound. What kind of idiot would think it wouldn’t? A sound is not defined by its being heard.”

“This may be the most difficult and perhaps for some the last thing you will ever do. You’re doing it for others, for principle, for decency, and, in essence, out of love. Our actions and imperfections will always be with us. It’s impossible to kill a man, no matter how evil he may be, without a perpetual debit to one’s own conscience and a trespass against God. Anyone who tells you otherwise is blind to himself and the world. But we take on such a burden so that those at home need never bear it, nor even understand that for the sake of the innocent we protect, we accept the stain….”

Mark Helprin has released a new novel, and it hardly needs saying that it’s wonderful. I think The Oceans and the Stars may be one of my favorites from his pen.

Stephen Rensselaer was once a staff officer under the Secretary of the Navy, but he couldn’t resist telling the president what he really thought. So he was demoted and condemned to serve as commander of the innovative small ship whose design he defended to the commander in chief – the PC, a fast, nimble, heavily armed vessel intended for coastal service. When war breaks out with Iran (it was weird to read this in the wake of recent events in the real world), Stephen is assigned to the Athena, the only PC in existence, and dispatched with his crew to the Middle East.

This is awkward, because Stephen, in middle age, has just found Katy, the love of his life. But duty is in his blood, and he must go to war.

Under Stephen’s inspired command, the Athena punches well above its weight, even destroying a much larger ship. It takes a while for his crew to warm to him – they think him old, they don’t understand his jokes or his Shakespeare quotations, and sometimes his actions make no sense to them (as when he forbids porn aboard his ship). But when a group of Somali pirates hijack a French cruise ship off the horn of Africa, and begin executing prisoners at the rate of one per hour, Captain Rensselaer and the Athena meet their destiny. Because their orders are to stay out of it, but there’s a higher law – a law that may demand the highest price from a warrior.

I saw echoes of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness in The Oceans and the Stars, and also of Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago. No doubt there were other references I missed. The book engaged me entirely, keeping me up when I wanted to go to sleep. It bears comparison with Helprin’s excellent earlier anti-war novel, A Soldier of the Great War. But that book focused on the futility of war, where the finest souls and most heroic deeds were thrown away in a meaningless cause. In The Oceans and the Stars, the cause is not meaningless, but the souls and the deeds are unappreciated or even punished. Nevertheless, there is no question that right is right, and that moral choices matter in a Higher Court.

I loved it. I recommend it highly. Cautions for chilling descriptions of terrorist atrocities.

‘Detective,’ by Arthur Hailey

I’m old enough to remember when the late Arthur Hailey was riding high on a string of bestsellers, some of which (like Airport) were made into big movies. I never read any of his books myself, though. When his final novel, Detective, became available cheap, I figured I’d give him a try.

Final judgment: By all accounts this is his weakest novel, but even so it leaves me with no desire whatever to read any more of them.

Malcolm Ainslie is a Miami police detective. He’s headed out of the station to start a much-needed family vacation one day, when he gets an urgent call. Elroy Doil, a convicted serial killer Malcolm helped to put away, is scheduled for execution that evening. He’s announced that he wants to make a confession, but he’ll only talk to Malcolm.

The timing is terrible, and it demands a long, fast drive up to the prison in Raiford. But Malcolm can’t resist going. When he and his partner arrive, they have just a half hour to talk to Doil, who admits he committed most of the vicious torture killings he was accused of. But he swears one of them wasn’t his work.

Before being led to execution, Doil begs Malcolm for absolution, knowing that Malcolm is an ex-Catholic priest. Malcolm no longer has any faith, but he says a few words to comfort him.

This sets Malcolm on a course of investigation to learn whether one of the killings was actually a copycat. The answer to that will be a shock to the city and the nation.

Okay, what was good about Detective? I guess I’d have to say it’s educational. This is a police procedural and a half. Hailey was famous for researching the bejeebers out of a profession and then describing all its facets in detail in a book. He does this here.

And that’s about all I have to say positive about the book (though I did finish it). First of all, Hailey was a dull stylist. There’s not a spark of wit or lyricism in the whole manuscript. There were moments of excitement, but that was pure plotting, without the benefit of prose effects.

The fulsome, overstuffed quality extends to character descriptions. Whenever a character of any importance is introduced, we get treated to a few paragraphs of info dump about them. We learn, all in one gulp, about their childhoods, their careers, and what traumas made them what they are. This is an industrial, interchangeable-parts approach to storytelling – and it’s boring.

The big thing that annoyed me was that the book was preachy – from the negative side. The author has satisfied himself that all religion is bunk – though important, for some reason. But all sensible people have rejected organized religion. He wants you to understand that. The one priest in the book who actually believes the Faith is – of course – a strident caricature.

Also, the self-conscious political liberalism of the narrative is kind of amusing, considering what’s happened in the decades since the book was published in the 1990s. We’re treated to a sort of old Disney fantasy of an egalitarian society where racial integration is succeeding beautifully, and everybody coexists happily. Little did Hailey expect that this model would not satisfy the Left, who’d soon be calling for the whole cultural edifice to be incinerated.

Detective was not a very good book.

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.

‘Old Songs,’ by Olga Sedakova

If you know boldness, you know mercy too, because they are like sisters;
boldness is lighter than all things on earth, but compassion is lighter than anything.

It’s not my custom to review poetry on this blog; I write it poorly and read it with only middling comprehension. But the description I received of Olga Sedakova’s recently released volume, Old Songs, intrigued me enough to accept the offer of a free review copy. As might be expected, the poems baffled me a little, but they nevertheless left an impression. The translation is done by Martha M. F. Kelly, and seems excellent so far as I am able to judge.

Olga Sedakova is a Christian Russian poet, a survivor of the Underground in Soviet times and today a major critic of her country’s war in Ukraine. Old Songs was published only a few weeks ago, and still awaits its first Amazon review.

Speaking from my limited perspective, these poems seemed resolutely Christian in a realistic way. No easy answers. No assumption that rewards will come to us in this world. The poet knows suffering and placidly expects to suffer more. All temporal hopes are likely to fail; we believe anyway.

I felt like a child trying to follow an adult conversation through most of the poems (it’s not a long book), but certain passages definitely resonated. I particularly liked the one I placed at the head of this review. Here’s a couple other good ones;

Ah, I’ve watched people a long, long time, and strange things have I learned: I know that the soul is an infant, an infant until its final hour, 
that it believes absolutely everything, and it sleeps in a den of thieves.
The dead don’t need a thing,
not houses nor dresses nor hearing.
There’s nothing they need from us.
Not a thing, save everything on earth.

Those are good lines. Recommended. I was impressed.

‘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.

‘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.