BLACKLANDS [By Belinda Bauer]. Pretty dark, this. It’s about
a serial killer, a child killer like Ian Brady who falls into correspondence
with the 12-year old nephew of one of his murdered victims, whose buried body
has never been found. Written from the twelve year old nephew’s POV it
illuminates extremely well the impact the killing has had on the surviving family
through the years: his Gran, Poor Mrs
Peters who stands immobile, looking out of the window all day every day for
twenty years; his mum, abandoned and struggling to cope with two young boys and
her grim, morose mother while trying to hold down two jobs and still be home
when they return from school. The twelve-year old himself, teased and bullied
in class because of his impoverished, blighted situation, without either a dad
or a decent pair of shoes. It’s very much the sort of thing I might have
written myself; not a psychological thriller exactly more of a family saga with
very dark deeds playing out underneath. It won a CWA Dagger Award so clearly
the publisher and author regard it as Crime Fiction but although I liked it I
am not sure that say a reader of Jack Reacher or Iain Rankin would find a great
deal to interest them. It’s too slow and there is no violence and no sex and no
police. All ticks in my boxes but these are usually the essentials of Crime
Fiction.
What actually sets it apart is the genius of the actual
correspondence: what a brilliant literary device it is. This is the reason she
won the Dagger Award.
UPROOTED [By Naomi Novik]. This is a compelling, plot-driven
American Fantasy novel re-translated for a European audience: Autumn not Fall; trousers not pants and is aimed at female teens, I would guess. Not
me, anyway. It is a bit like Earthsea insofar as it concerns itself with
sorcery and a sorcerer’s apprentice who turns out to be even more powerful than
the wizard himself.
The blurb claims that the author, Mrs Novik is of Polish
heritage and that she has used ancient Polish fairy tales to tell her story. We
believe her.
I found it a little indigestible rather as though Ursula Le
Guin had combined Earthsea, The Tombs of Atuan and The Furthest Shore
all into one long narrative. Great as the trilogy is, it would be too much to
take in in one book. As this is. There are some terrific ideas in it and she
[almost never] runs out of different ways to describe the latest spell or the
new horror about to befall them but many of the crises are propelled by lines
like this one:
‘I only stood there,
too angry to even find my voice . . .’
The writing isn’t bad although I can’t understand her need
to spell everything out at great length. She does have some nice similes
however; here’s one:
‘I carefully drew my
magic back, carefully, carefully, like tipping up a bottle without letting it
drip down the neck . . .’
It’s kind of feminist. There is no ambiguity or anxiety
about female power. She is intelligent and demanding she has substance even
before she is chosen to be the sorcerer’s apprentice; spirit chutzpah
personality, character. A bit of a moxie.
I haven’t read the Goodreads reviews but I expect there will
be the same ‘reviewers’ who think it is ‘hoary’ [see Lament for the Fallen, last month]. It has 150 5* reviews on Amazon
and that is pretty impressive. I liked it, I liked it, I don’t want to seem
like a Moany old Groany; on page 173, after yet another
clever revelation I thought to myself, ‘this is superb . . . as good as
anything I’ve read recently’. But she simply overwrites it and after a while, it
becomes as I say indigestible.
EDDIES WORLD [By Charlie Stella]. Someone’s been reading The Friends of Eddie Coyle and probably
the rest of George’s canon; dialogue, dialogue pages and pages of dialogue.
Submit that to an Agent in the UK today and you won’t have to wait a long time
for your, ‘Not for me’ rejection letter. In fact, it isn’t published in the UK,
this is an American copy.
But it radiates authority. It is about a man, Eddie, on the
fringes of the New York Mafia who lends money to people who need it short-term.
He inadvertently gets caught up in an FBI sting and comes under pressure from
the mob, the cops, his wife and his acquaintances all of whom need him to do something. Charlie Stella relies
almost entirely upon dialogue to tell his tale and he does a great job; doesn’t
waste a word. No lyrical descriptions of scene or character: they drive along
Rockaway Parkway and turn left into Seaview. Nothing about the weather, time of
day, the streets outside, the dappled shadows, the orange sunset; it’s all in
the conversation between the driver and his passenger. Loved it.
It is linear, there are no flashbacks or gimmicks: this
happens then that happens and we follow the action as it spills out. Never
loses pace and he avoids inserting a host of unnecessary dramatic conflicts
into the story and focuses instead on the multi-dimensional characters he has
created. More than that it has backbone, you really believe in these bumbling
cops, the mercilessly pragmatic FBI and the even more pragmatic Mob. His
dialogue is terrific; he pulls off the difficult trick of differentiating
characters by the way they speak, making everyone sound different: none of the
women talk the same way; the cops speak quite differently to one another. In
fact even Eddie isn’t particularly articulate.
Super book, recommended on the Not New for Long blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment