[Cover art omitted, because it might embarrass some of our readers.]

I liked the way her hips swayed hard. She was a chiropractor’s dream.

I’m rooting for David H. Fears. He’s attempting to revive the classic hard-boiled mystery in his Mike Angel novels. On the basis of Dark Quarry, the first in the series, I’d say his reach still exceeds his grasp a bit, but he’s close enough to persuade me to come back and see how he progresses.

Dark Quarry is set around the year 1960. It starts, in a sense, where The Maltese Falcon ended, if you imagine that Sam Spade had agreed to “play the sap” for Brigid O’Shaughnessy. New York private eye (he later relocates to Chicago) Mike Angel finds Kimbra Ambler, a woman he’s been shadowing for a client, standing over the body of her abusive husband, whom she’s just shot. Instead of turning her in, he lets his heart guide him and assists her in getting rid of the body.

Later she comes back to try to kill him, but he disarms her, then just sends her on her way, still starry-eyed about her.

Because that’s the kind of mug Mike is. Continue reading Dark Quarry, by David H. Fears →

When Rick Dewhurst’s new P.I. Jane Sunday is first hired, she is asked to acquire evidence on her senior pastor, who is alleged to be adulterous. For the good of his daughters and the congregation, the pastor must be found out. Within days, the junior pastor of the same Vancouver church is found naked and dead in his swimming pool. As the ugly church politics unravel, Jane uncovers some very twisted people in a large network of corruption.

Dewhurst’s third novel isn’t a comedy like the other two. Jane’s sarcasm spices up almost conversation she has, but the story is serious, straight-forward detective fiction mixed with 1/3 cup of chick lit romance. It all weaves together pretty well. The villains have too much vinegar, particularly the boss of the pack. He comes across as Jabba the Hut.

But I’m not sure this novel is essentially about the murder mystery or the development of the 40-year-old female detective. It’s title, The Good Book Club, draws attention to the dozen or so pages that describe a women’s book discussion group. They chatter about The Great Gatsby, The Shack, and The Grapes of Wrath while the mystery unfolds, each from distinct perspectives which may be meant to represent the schemes in the visible church. Continue reading The Good Book Club, by Rick Dewhurst →

Disclaimer: Darwin Garrison, the author of For Conspicuous Valor, is a friend and a reader of this blog.

A novelty in publishing which has come in with the e-book, almost unremarked, is the e-story. Where we used to go to the pulp (and slick) magazines for our short science fiction, today we can often find such stories at low prices for downloading to our Kindles or Nooks. The downside is that, in the absence of traditional editorial apparatus, we’re often not sure whether we’ll be getting good work or vanity-published dreck.

For Conspicuous Valor is good work.

The main character is Megan Williams, a 17-year-old girl growing up on a farm on a distant earth colony planet. The daughter of a war hero killed in combat, she dreams of being a Ranger herself, fighting the “Pexies,” or “Post-Expansionists,” a ruthless enemy that seems to be analogous to the Communists of our time.

As the story begins, she is babysitting her younger sister and baby brother when a genetically-engineered “direfox” sneaks into the yard and drags her brother off. Megan pursues them at a run, followed by her one-legged uncle Nate, who has been looking after the family. The peril is overcome, but Megan doesn’t cover herself with honor.

Her decision, later that evening, to go out and hunt the direfox down on her own leads to a frightening discovery and a night of personal testing.

My only problem with the story rises from my personal objection to the idea of women in combat. Other than that, the story is well-told and engaging, the characters realistic and multi-layered. I enjoyed it, and recommend it for all readers.

I have to assume that Lise McClendon, author of Nordic Nights, must be of Norwegian ancestry, partly because “Lise” is the Norwegian way to spell the name, and partly because her wry depictions of Norwegian-American (and genuine Norwegian) characters in this pleasant mystery novel are spot on.

It would be ridiculous to make plagiarism accusations, but I thought the parallels to my own novel (in a different genre), Wolf Time, were remarkable. As in my book, the home town (Jackson Hole, Wyoming here) is visited by a prominent Norwegian cultural figure (here a painter named Glasius Dokken), and the action comes to revolve around the discovery of a rune stone related to the Kensington Rune Stone of Minnesota.

But here the hero is Alix Thorssen, Jackson Hole art gallery owner. She has agreed to help organize the titular Nordic Nights festival, a civic winter celebration. Her own gallery will be the site for the display of an epic set of murals on Viking themes, painted by Dokken. But the first night of the festival, Dokken is murdered in a hotel room (not his own), and Alix’s stepfather is accused of killing him. Alix’s own suspicions lean toward a mysterious fortuneteller from Minnesota who claims to read mystic meanings in runes.

In my experience, mysteries written by women tend to be rather different from mysteries written by men, and I generally avoid the former. I picked this one up because of its Scandinavian themes, and I thought it was both well done and accurate in its research in things Scandinavian (even things Viking). Scandinavian reserve as a character trait is a constant, serio-comic theme. Still, it read like a women’s book to me (I was frequently disturbed by Alix’s disregard for her own safety), so I mainly recommend it for female readers.

Mild cautions for language and sexual situation apply, but most readers (especially female readers) will find a lot to enjoy in Nordic Nights.