Category Archives: Fiction

Night Vision, by Paul Levine

This wasn’t bad. Although I found things to dislike in Paul Levine’s second Jake Lassiter novel, Night Vision, I also found things that pleased me. So I may possibly read another.

In this outing, Miami lawyer Jake Lassiter, having (apparently) recovered from the tragic loss of the love of his life in the last book, so completely that he now never thinks of her at all, is called in by an ambitious district attorney to act as special prosecutor in the murder of a local female TV reporter, strangled while engaging in sex talk over the internet. Jake, along with Charlie Riggs, his retired pathologist friend, is soon embroiled in a serial killer investigation, and along the way Jake meets a beautiful English psychologist who becomes a romantic interest. But who can he trust? Somebody’s telling a lot of lies and laying a lot of false tracks. Continue reading Night Vision, by Paul Levine

Odd Interlude, 1, 2, and 3, by Dean Koontz


Such genuine trust, so sweetly expressed, bears witness to an innocence in the human heart that endures even in this broken world and that longs to ring the bell backward and undo the days of history until all such trust would be justified in a world started anew and as it always should have been.

There’s a large company of readers for whom a new Dean Koontz book is always cause for rejoicing. But more than that, a new Odd Thomas book is cause for double rejoicing. The wandering fry cook from Pico Mundo, California is Koontz’s greatest creation, one of the most perfect depictions of actual saintliness ever conceived by an author. Not the common conception of saintliness—stuffy and judgmental—but the actual, biblical kind—humble, gentle, and quietly courageous.

Odd Interlude is an “odd” entry in the series. It’s a novella, offered in three installments, One, Two, and Three, sold for Kindle at $1.99 each, partly to raise interest in Odd Apocalypse, a new novel coming later this year. As if we needed motivation. Continue reading Odd Interlude, 1, 2, and 3, by Dean Koontz

Where’s My Son? by John C. Dalglish

Where’s My Son? by John C. Dalglish is a police procedural with a terrific premise. It also has the virtue of being (judging from a few hints in the text) a Christian novel that doesn’t preach. Unfortunately, it also exhibits a number of first novel weaknesses. I think the author may be capable of much better stuff.

The story starts well (from one perspective), balancing three horrifying plot strands. An amoral operation in false adoptions retains a felon to find and steal a baby for them. A childless couple suffers the heartbreak of multiple miscarriages. And a pair of loving new parents do not know they are being watched, and their lives are about to be torn apart.

It’s only once the kidnapping has been committed that the book’s hero is actually introduced (this, by the way, is in most cases a mistake. Authors are usually well advised to bring the main character in as early as possible). Here the hero is Detective Jason Strong who, sadly, does not live up to his surname. He’s hard-working and compassionate, but he comes off pretty stiff. No back story, no private life. Some readers don’t care about such matters in a good puzzle mystery, but this isn’t a puzzle mystery. It’s a police procedural in which we know whodunit before the detective does. Another problem is that Detective Strong doesn’t actually do much detecting. He follows leads, but his big breaks come from luck. That may be true to life, but it weakens a novel. The fact that he prays for guidance at one point is what tipped me off that this is a book by a Christian.

There are also a number of stylistic problems. At one point, two characters meet and just waste time:

“Hi, Wade. How ya doing?”

“Good, you?”

They shook hands.

Tip for authors: Unless some major clue is going to be dropped in the course of two characters greeting each other, just say, “They said hello and shook hands,” or something like that. Or skip the greeting altogether. The reader will know they went through the pleasantries. It just slows your story down.

At another point, a character is thinking about his wife, and in the next paragraph we’re told the same character “let his mind wander” to her. It doesn’t need to wander that way if he’s already thinking of her.

Most disappointing is the ending. Sudden and spare, it reads more like a synopsis point than a fiction passage. This relates to the weakness of Det. Strong’s character. If he had a life and friends, he’d have someone to bounce his decision off, and the scene would have a lot more resonance.

All in all, a good try. I wish the author the best as he improves his craft. Caution for a few passages of strong language.

As the Crow Dies, by Ken Casper

I found Ken Casper’s As the Crow Dies a competent mystery. I neither loved it nor disliked it. I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t like it more than I did. The characters are well drawn, the prose professional (always a pleasure, that), and the mystery puzzling (though I did guess the murderer before the end).

Jason Crow, son of a successful local restaurant owner, comes home to his West Texas town in 1968, a double amputee from wounds received in the Vietnam War. Once an NFL hopeful, he’s self-conscious about his disability, and insecure about his future with his girlfriend, Michiko.

His reunion with his wise, supportive father, to which he’s looked forward greatly, is not to be. He comes home to find police cars in the driveway, and he’s told his father has shot himself in his office—with Jason’s own gun.

Jason cannot believe his father would ever do such an insensitive thing. So, relying on his army buddy Zach, who has become a sort of personal attendant, he sets about discovering who among their friends and relations hated his father—and him—enough to commit murder in this way.

There are lots of leads, pointing in various directions. There’s enough infidelity, old hate, and bigotry in the town to provide a snake’s nest of motives. The depiction of Jason’s growing maturity as he learns to live a new kind of life is one of the book’s strengths.

I think my main problem with As the Crow Dies was that something I usually like in a story—lots of well-drawn, well-rounded characters—in this case produces soap opera moments from time to time. I was worried about anti-Christianity, but although a cultish “church” does provide some suspects, that church is so unorthodox that it doesn’t really come close to home.

You may like it more than I did. I don’t disrecommend it. Cautions for language and adult situations. As is so common nowadays, premarital sex is generally taken for granted.

Jeff Shelby’s Noah Braddock novels

I reviewed Jeff Shelby’s Killer Swell a while back, and reported my surprise at finding such quality in a novel about a surfer detective, something that just struck my prejudices as inevitably lightweight.

Recently I got the opportunity to pick up Drift Away free or very cheap (I forget which) for Kindle, and I read that. It turned out to be a minor mistake. The problem is that Drift Away is the fourth novel in the series, and a very important character had died in the third novel. So that was spoiled for me.

Nevertheless, I went back and bought two and three, Wicked Break and Liquid Smoke.

And my conclusion is that Shelby is a very good author indeed, producing a substantial series here. Noah Braddock, the hero, is a tough guy with serious life issues (his mother is an alcoholic and his felon father abandoned them). But he works hard to live with integrity and be useful through his detective work (which, it must be admitted, he only does when he feels like it). He’s capable of great empathy and great courage. There’s a mix of nobility and cynicism in his character that’s worthy of classic hard-boiled. His relationship with his dangerous giant friend, Carter, is great buddy stuff.

The direction Shelby chose to take in the third Noah Braddock novel raised it, in my opinion, to the level of tragedy, and Drift Away, which entirely alters the setting, follows that up very effectively.

I found a few flaws; homonym errors and a tendency to fall back on stock (minor) characters and detective story tropes. But all in all I was most impressed, and sometimes genuinely moved.

As usual, cautions for language, violence, and adult situations.

Two Shots, by Joe Albert

For e-book readers only, here’s a mystery with the chops to go up against the big guys in the outdoor thriller genre. It’s not without weaknesses, but it’s a solid book and well worth the minimal price.

Two Shots begins with the assassination by sniper, at a Minnesota deer hunting camp, of a Republican political operative. Game warden Tony Leach, a former Minneapolis policeman, is among the first on the scene, but it’s properly a police matter. Only, as time passes, nothing seems to be happening in the case, and some clues Tony himself reported aren’t being followed up. Then Tony’s superior asks him to do some poking around on his own, at the request of someone high up in state government.

Tony’s tracking and detective skills make it possible for him to begin finding answers where no one else has. But some people don’t want the answers found, and they’ll do anything—anything at all—to keep the truth from coming to light.

Author Joe Albert, a Minnesota outdoors writer, seems to know his stuff when he writes about nature. But he handles human beings pretty well too. Tony Leach is a good, solid hero, and his supporting characters also come to life. The neighborhood of Bemidji, Minnesota is described with loving attention. Albert’s prose slips from time to time (he refers to “a smattering of homes” at one point, for instance), but generally it’s good, plain writing and does the job. I always like to promote a readable Minnesota author, and Joe Albert is one.

A particular delight (for me) was that, although Albert doesn’t rant much on political issues, he had the courage to make one of the villains a high ranking Minnesota Democrat. You don’t see bad Democrats very often in fiction. But let’s face it, if there’s a machine in Minnesota, it’s a Democratic machine, and that’s where you’re going to see most of the corruption.

I recommend Two Shots, with moderate cautions for language and subject matter.

To Speak for the Dead, by Paul Levine

In the opening novel of a series of legal thrillers that appears to be doing quite well (and deservedly, judging from this volume), To Speak for the Dead by Paul Levine introduces the character of Miami lawyer Jake Lassiter (I don’t like the name; sounds too much like the hero of a cowboy movie). Jake is a former football player with a self-deprecating sense of humor that adds a lot of charm to his narration.

When the story begins he’s defending a surgeon from a malpractice charge in the death of a successful real estate developer who left behind a seductive young wife. Jake gets him off, but he’s soon defending him against murder charges in the same case, and a complicated (I’m pretty sure I still don’t understand it all) plot unfolds, involving greed, obsession, and lots of kinky sex. There’s also a heartbreaking subplot concerning a romantic near-miss, which adds considerable depth to the story. And the ending was pretty chilling.

I enjoyed reading To Speak for the Dead. A few hints suggested to me that the author’s politics are considerably to the left of mine, but that wasn’t intrusive at all. Jake was sometimes more imprudent than I found plausible, but those mistakes were there to set up action, so I can’t complain much.

Recommended, with the usual cautions for language and adult themes.

Falling Up the Stairs, by James Lileks

You’re probably aware that I’m a major fan of Minneapolis writer James Lileks (though you probably don’t know—because I’ve been so discreet about it—that I once did a half hour of radio with him in studio). So when he re-released his first novel, Falling Up the Stairs, as a Kindle book I snapped it right up.

How shall I express my reaction? It’s not a bad book. If you’re a fan of Lileks, you’re likely to get a lot of entertainment from it, as I did.

But it’s not a particularly good novel.

It suffers from a congenital disorder of first novels—too much showing off. The author is eager to throw everything in, to demonstrate his range and complexity. And this being Lileks, the range is broad and the complexity variegated.

But the book can’t figure out what it wants to be, and the reader ends up with narrative whiplash.

The story’s narrator is Jonathan Simpson, who when we meet him is “social editor” of a newspaper in a small Minnesota town. He’s depressed because his career is going nowhere and his girlfriend (whose career is going somewhere) has left him to move to New York.

His life gets quickly shaken up when, almost all at once, he gets fired from his job and learns that he has inherited a Minneapolis mansion from his eccentric aunt, whom he never much liked. He drives to the city in his AMC Pacer, throws his parasite cousin out of the house, and comforts his senile butler and motherly cook. Then a series of fatal poisonings begin, the work of a health food terrorist group (!)

You may have intuited the problem. You start with a comic premise and comic characters (I thought the beginning fully worthy of Wodehouse), and slide into terrorism and the death of the innocent. Wodehouse morphs into Saki, who becomes James Patterson. I’m not saying such a transition is impossible, but it’s pretty hard, and a debut soloist should probably stick to one or two octaves.

There’s also a serious problem with the classic Kindle formatting glitches. Lileks announced the other day on his blog that he was pulling the book temporarily to fix the problems, but it’s still up on Amazon. So I’m not sure what you’ll be getting if you buy it today. My copy had serious problems with paragraph breaks in the wrong places, something that interferes with dialogue passages. There were also a couple points where stretches of text got duplicated.

So I can’t wholeheartedly recommend Falling Up the Stairs. On the other hand it’s only three bucks for the e-book, and it’s Lileks, so it’s probably still good value for money.

Praise from Caesar

I had the pleasure of getting my review of Andrew Klavan’s novel Crazy Dangerous (not here, but in its The American Culture incarnation) linked today by Klavan himself. In the course of the linkage he refers to me as “my colleague.”

That’s kind of the apotheosis of the concept of generosity, right there.

I’m Klavan’s colleague in more or less the same way I was Sir Anthony Hopkins’s colleague when I was doing community theater down in Florida. Or in the same way I was Christopher Nolan’s colleague when I cobbled together my West Oversea trailer. Or in the same way that guy in the subway station who plays with his instrument case open for spare change is Yo Yo Ma’s colleague.

But the fantasy is appreciated.

Yesterday was Svenskarnasdag (Swedish Day) at Minnehaha Park in Minneapolis. As usual, the Viking Age Club & Society was there for the entertainment, enlightenment, and moral uplift of the community. I fought a few fights, and never did better than a mutual kill. I’ve come to accept the fact that that’s more or less my calling.

Talked to a fellow who asked me about the Vikings in Scotland, and I was able to unload a lot of the stuff I learned in The Viking Highlands.

The subject didn’t stray as far as the Battle of Kringen, in 1612, whose 400th anniversary is today. Information here. (Thanks to Tim Eischen for bringing this to my attention.)

In brief, King Gustav Adolf II of Sweden wanted to attack Denmark by way of Norway. He hired a group of Scottish mercenaries under the command of George Sinclair (ironically, the Sinclairs are one of those Highland clans with Norse roots. But I doubt if that bothered them much) to march across Norway. An irregular force of Norwegian farmers ambushed them in a narrow mountain pass at Kringen, killed most of them by causing an avalanche, and slaughtered most of the rest. A few survived, and numerous Norwegians in Romsdal take pride in being their descendents.

We Norwegians have relatively few military victories to celebrate in our history, so this event looms large in our cultural tradition.

Imaginary Books

Mark Bertrand, whose novel Nothing to Hide (A Roland March Mystery), the third in that series, comes out in a few days, refers in an imaginary work of non-fiction written by a journalist about the novel’s main character, Roland March. “It’s a 2003 true crime book by journalist Brad Templeton, covering March’s most famous early case,” Bertrand explains. The characters in his novel refer to the book repeatedly, which led Bertrand to write portions of the book in order to keep everything straight. You can read those portions through the link on this post.