Tag Archives: Manny Martinez

‘American Woman,’ by Alan Lee

Alas, this is the last Sinatra book to date. I’ll have to wait for more now. “Sinatra,” you may recall, is the code name of Manny Martinez, Puerto Rican-American super-patriot and US Marshal. Handsome enough to be a supermodel, omnicompetent and void of self-doubt, he’s a parody of the James Bond/Jason Bourne stereotype, but also a vivid character in his own right, endearing and amusing. From time to time he’s summoned for super-secret assignments by a super-secret government agency. Most of the time he brings his partner along, the sweet, innocent Mormon girl, Noelle Beck. Their relationship is fun and flirty and a little poignant. And never more so than in the book under consideration, American Woman (number 6 in the series).

The assignment this time is a spur-of-the-moment thing. The DEA has learned of a very hush-hush meeting coming up in the Florida Keys, arranged by a couple aspiring South American cocaine lords. The purpose of the meeting is to demonstrate a new form of cocaine, to raise capital for a full-scale operation. Two potential investors have been identified, and they look enough like Manny and Nicole that they can stand in for them, once the originals have been safely detained.

Manny, of course, was born to play the role of drug lord, while Beck is a little hesitant about portraying a criminal’s bimbo. Except that a sudden revelation on their arrival forces them to radically alter that scenario, with highly amusing results.

The whole Manny-Beck dynamic started out as mostly comic (as I recall), but as the series proceeds, the characters deepen and the stories acquire depth and tragedy. Manny suffered a great loss in the last book, and in American Woman it’s Beck’s turn.

American Woman was both highly entertaining and touching (though author Lee’s ear for grammar sometimes fails). Cautions are in order for rough language and sexual (though not explicit) situations.

‘Desert Eagle,’ by Alan Lee

I’ll be sad when I finally catch up on the Manny Martinez (code name “Sinatra”) books. I’m sure there’ll be another entry in the Mackenzie August constellation of series soon, but I always miss them when there isn’t one waiting for me.

Manny Martinez, you may recall, is a Puerto Rican-born US Marshal. He is ridiculously handsome, has excellent taste in clothes, cars, and drinks, and loves America excessively. From time to time he is summoned for extra duty by a secretive government agency, and he and his innocent Mormon partner Noelle Beck fly off to have James Bond-style adventures.

In Desert Eagle, the job is supposed to be simple, though far from their usual stomping grounds. They’re supposed to fly to Abu Dhabi and pick up an American academic who, according to intelligence, has been targeted by Houthi terrorists for kidnap and execution.

Needless to say, it wouldn’t be an adventure if everything went to plan. The academic is snatched from under their noses, and soon Manny and Noelle are headed across the desert, assisted only begrudgingly by the Abu Dhabi government. Fortunately, they are able to join forces with an old pair of allies/rivals – independent agents Bronwen and Junior (Manny and Bronwen have major sexual chemistry, which is always a hoot).

Heroics ensue.

Desert Eagle, like all its predecessors, was lots of fun. The ending was bittersweet, though.

I recommend it, of course, with cautions for language and mature situations.

‘Paradise Royale,’ by Alan Lee

“You are enjoying this. Unbelievable.”

“Beck, look around. We’re in Jamaica. Our enemy is crafty and clever. She’s a beautiful former MI6 agent and chasing her has led us around the globe. This isn’t boring. This isn’t dull. We could be chasing some drug addict who skipped bail. We could be transferring prisoners, but we’re not. Ay, what else do you want out of your career?”

I can’t believe I delayed reading Alan Lee’s “Sinatra” books. Manny Martinez, code name Sinatra, US Marshal and part-time secret agent, is an over-the-top character who perfectly fits into the over-the-top world of movie-inspired thrillers. He’s unbelievable, but he’s got the ego to carry off implausibility. James Bond is never far from the reader’s mind here, and the author leans into the similarities, with tongue in cheek.

In Paradise Royale, Manny and his female partner, Beck, are assigned to intercept a defense department computer genius who’s absconding with secrets to sell to our enemies. The interception isn’t all that difficult, but a complication arises – a stunningly beautiful, rogue British Intelligence agent and her pleasant but deadly male associate. They neatly intercept the defector and carry him off. Manny, never dismayed, immediately commandeers a private jet to chase the fugitives to Jamaica, where the prisoner gets snatched back and forth like a basketball as the two rival teams grow increasingly impressed with one another. Especially Manny and Bronwen, the Englishwoman. She is Manny’s equal, just as good-looking and just as resourceful as he is. Even as they deceive and entrap one another, they fall into increasing mutual infatuation. (This is a very sexy novel, though nothing explicit happens.)

Generally, as you know, I don’t care for kick-butt female action heroines, but I liked Bronwen a lot. I hope she comes back, even though Manny (in a later book) proposes to Beck.

I can’t think of anything bad to say about Paradise Royale, except to caution you about occasional bad language. Hollywood hasn’t told an action story this much fun in many, many years.

‘Wild Card,’ by Alan Lee

Since I’ve become a fan of author Alan Lee, I’ve decided to read his “Sinatra” books as well as his delightful Mac August novels. “Sinatra” is the code name of Mac’s best friend, Manny Martinez, a US Marshal who is also on call as a super-secret government agent (because why not?). Manny is an off-the-wall character, a genuine original – though, oddly, he’s kind of based on James Bond. Only in this case Bond is a Puerto Rican American (and super-patriot). He’s implausibly handsome and has impeccable fashion style. Basically, he does all the things Bond does, but in a very American and semi-parodical manner.

In Wild Card, Manny and his partner Noelle Beck (a sweet, wholesome Mormon girl) are given the case of Benjamin Curtis, governor of Maryland and brother to the vice president. Curtis has a gambling habit, and is deeply in debt to sinister people. So their job is to go to the casino, take him in hand, and get him out. Only, when they get hold of him, he explains that the situation is worse than anyone knows. The people he owes money to are more dangerous than organized crime, and killing the governor will be the least of their retaliations if they don’t get paid the millions they’re owed. Implausibly (but plausibility matters little in these stories), Manny finds himself taking the governor’s place at the poker table, first at the casino, and later on an offshore yacht. The fact that Manny has never played poker before is only a minor road bump compared to other challenges Manny and Beck will face, from international assassins to frenzied sharks.

It’s over the top, but great fun – more like a Bond movie than a Bond novel. It’s impossible (I think) to resist Manny as he strolls into the jaws of death with perfect confidence, knowing he’s the smartest, the best looking, the deadliest, and the Most American person around, and Americans always win.

I loved Wild Card. Recommended. Cautions for language and violence.

‘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.