When The Killing's Done - T C Boyle

Ten years ago I happened upon T C Boyle, who had by then wisely stopped calling himself T Coraghessan Boyle, thus accelerating his international sales. I began with Drop City and quickly read most of his other novels up to Water Music, which I considered his best. I stopped because I was obviously reading them faster than he was writing them. Now, something like five years since I read Water Music, I found this, Boyle's 2011 eco-novel.

Essentially, the premise is this: a series of women, earth mothers all, become involved with two islands in a chain of four off the coast of California. All are intent, one way or another, in perpetuating the natural haven which is their romantic view of the islands. The thing is, society's view of what is natural changes with the generations.

The contemporary storyline is that of Alma Takesue, a eco-scientist in charge of re-naturalising the islands. This involves ruthlessly expunging all non-native fauna like the rampaging razorback pigs left over from previous attempts at farming. This prompts rich slacker Dave LaJoy, who once had a disastrous first date with Alma, to launch a protest movement, and when the courts dismiss his claims, to resort to practical sabotage.

Dave's girfriend Anise was brought up on the island where her mother was cook to a half-baked sheep farming operation. The mother, Rita, was a former hippy musician. Alma' grandmother Beverley was the only survivor of a shipwreck off the islands in the late 1940s, when pregnant with Alma's mother Katherine. Katherine lost her husband diving for sea urchin in the same waters. Alma's partner Tim has a simpler answer to the prospect of becoming a father. He simply leaves.

Boyle is at his best with a diverse cast of characters taking diametrically opposed stands on the same issue, especially when, as here, he can roam over a number of time periods. When The Killing's Done is thought-provoking on the subject of interference with nature. Dave LaJoy is a typical Boyle bull-in-a-china-shop loser and great fun. The sole problem is Alma, a really annoying sanctimonious self-centered prig. I'm afraid I wanted to skip any section that started with her, though I'm glad I didn't.

Midnight Sun - Jo Nesbo

This is, I believe, Nesbo's latest novel. It came out last year. Headhunters was the first Nesbo stand-alone novel. This is the fourth. I raved about Headhunters here on my Biblioblog but got a little bored with the more recent Harry Hole novels. The reprints of the early Hole novels, long delayed in the UK, were delayed for a good reason - they were rubbish. I was beginning to lose faith. Then came the TV series Occupied, with a storyline by Nesbo, and I was tempted to try again. So, having missed The Son and Blood on Snow, I picked up Midnight Sun.

OK, it is not as good as Headhunters. The characters are more traditional, the twist is not as jaw-dropping, the cringe scene is nowhere near as hideous, but at least at barely 200 pages it doesn't outlive its story. The story is, as I say, fairly basic: hero runs away from big city to wilderness with a dark secret - he has done a very bad thing, which turns out not to be so bad after all and is kind of justified. He pitches up in the wilds with an assumed name and falls for the preacher's daughter.

The big difference, of course, is that this is Norway. The wilderness is extremely wild. The locals are not rednecks but Sami (Laplanders) and this is Nesbo telling the tale. He does so expertly. It's secondary Nesbo (which is not the same as second-rate Nesbo) but it's a cracking read and therefore a welcome return to form.
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A blast from the past. My review of Headhunters from March 2012:

How annoying for those of us who write - the best contemporary Nordic author of series crime fiction, quite possibly the best full-stop, turns out to be just as good at stand-alone first-person psychological thrillers.  No wonder this has been snapped up for the first Nesbo movie, which opens in the UK and Ireland on April 6.

Thank goodness it's a Norwegian movie, not some hopeless Hollywood mess.  Unfortunately, I suspect that means it won't get shown much outside major cities.

However, back to the book...

I have simply never read such a masterful riff on the twists and turns essential for the genre, nor the untrustworthy narrator device which, when done right, raises the typical to the exceptional.  For example, most thriller writers return to their prologue at the end.  Not Nesbo; he picks it up in the middle and makes it his key turning-point.  As for the final twist ... it was so unexpected, so stunning, that I had to flip back to the relevant passage to make sure Nesbo hadn't cheated.  And he hadn't.  Wonderful - more than worthy of Hitchcock or Patrick Hamilton.

But the world of books would be a dreary old place if we all agreed...

I found a slightly different opinion on Beattie's Book Blog (unofficial homepage of the New Zealand book community), which is an excellent, highly-informed site:

I have to say I didn't rate the stand-alone Headhunters, (although I reckon it will make a great movie); no give me the Harry Hole titles any day and on that note the good news is that the next one is due soon.Phantom – the thrilling follow-up to The Leopard……….Synopsis:Summer. A boy is lying on the floor of an Oslo apartment. He is bleeding and will soon die. In order to place his life and death in some kind of context he begins to tell his story. Outside, the church bells toll.Autumn. Former police inspector Harry Hole returns to Oslo after three years abroad. He seeks out his old boss at Police Headquarters to request permission to investigate a homicide. But the case is already closed: the young junkie was in all likelihood shot dead by a fellow addict. Yet, Harry is granted permission to visit the boy's alleged killer in jail. There, he meets himself and his own history. What follows is the solitary investigation of what appears to be the first impossible case in Harry Hole's career. And while Harry is searching, the murdered boy continues his story.A man walks the dark streets of Oslo. The streets are his and he has always been there. He is a phantom.Yay, bring it on, can't wait to read it................

Me neither.  Actually, I don't have to.  It is published in the UK today and Harvill Secker have done a vid.

What I want to know, though, is what has happened to the first two Hole books, The Bats (1997) and The Cockroaches (1998), neither of which are available here?  I can't think of another series, which has established a reputation and sales in another country, that hasn't started from the beginning here.  Decidedly odd.

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Really, really wish I hadn't asked that last question. Do you suppose it provoked them?
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Here are all the Nesbo books I've reviewed on this site.

Norwegian Wood - Haruki Murakami

This is Murakami's 1987 breakout novel, the one that made him a bestseller in Japan and successful around the world. This was because of its universality - ostensibly your basic rite of passage story - its apparent simplicity and its slightly offbeat characters. Typically for Murakami, the protagonists are welded in sexless love. Watanabe loves Naoko. Naoko loves Watanabe but cannot have penetrative sex with him (though they have plenty of non-penetrative) because she is still mourning her childhood sweetheart Kizuki, who also happened to be Watanabe's best friend. Kizuki killed himself at 17. Watanabe and Naoke have both gone to university in Tokyo, although they attend different ones. Watanabe loses Naoke when she enters a sanatorium to try and get over her grief. Left to his own devices Watanabe trails along in the wake of the dormitory Lothario Nagasawa, who picks up girls for them both, has sex with them and dumps them. Nagasawa is fully aware of his shortcomings, but accepts the way he is. After all, he is open with his longtanding girlfriend Hatsumi - there is no deceit involved with her or with the pick-up girls. Hatsumi quite likes Watanabe and would have sex with him, were it not for Nagasawa.  Meanwhile Watanabe visits Naoko at the sanatorium and meets her room-mate, the forty-year-old musician Rieko, who has been there seven years. Naoko and Rieko sleep together. Watanabe has sex with neither. Back at university, he meets a fellow drama student, the ultra-cute Midori, who would like to have sex with him but....

So it's not quite your usual rite of passage scenario. More a case of - boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy has lots of girls, boy meets two more girls and a woman, boy cannot have any of them, but he finally loses the first girl, has sex with the woman, and decides to take up with the girl he should have focused on all along. Typical Murakami after all.

The beauty is the simplicity. Like the song, which Watanabe hears many years later in Hamburg (which then provokes his memory of Naoke, whose favourite song it was), the writing is incredibly simple yet exceptionally captivating. The translation here, by Jay Rubin, strikes what is surely the right note. The chronology seems to be straightforward but in fact a vast amount of backstory is sneaked in, even for comparatively minor characters. There is a regular use of letters between the principals in which they can reveal truths to one another which they could not say in person. Truth and untruth is one of the themes of the novel - Nagasawa is the extreme example of someone who is brutally honest about his actions whilst fooling himself that admitting his betrayals somehow legitimises them. Reiko is his opposite; again painfully honest about her past life, she excoriates herself unnecessarily. Nobody ever seems to tell the whole truth to Naoke and Watanabe  does his best but has no real idea about his true feelings. Discovering them, embracing them, is his coming of age (he is still only twenty-one at the novel's end). The exquisite final paragraph suggests that he has just for him the real journey is only just beginning.

Because I have come at Murakami the wrong way round, reading his most recent and ambitious work first, I was initially slightly disappointed with Norwegian Wood because it seemed so simple and unambitious. But I stuck with it and discovered the true depth and complexity. I cannot pick favourites. Read them all is my advice.

OTHER MURAKAMI NOVELS DISCUSSED ON THIS BLOG:

1Q84 Book 3
COLORLESS TUKURU TAZAKI AND HIS YEARS OF PILGRIMAGE

Death in Venice - Thomas Mann

Thomas Mann is one of those literary greats I have often wondered about but never actually read, I bought this novella when it came out, as a film tie-in, in 1971. It has waited, unread, on my shelves ever since. I've never even bothered to see to the Visconti movie, or the Britten opera.

Well, now I've read it. It dates from 1912, more or less the middle of Mann's life. He was too young to be the hero Gustave von Aschenbach, and all bar one of his major works were yet to be written, Buddenbrooks (1902) being the single exception. Nevertheless, in terms of sexuality, Aschenbach is an extreme version of the author. Mann's bisexuality only became known when his diaries were published long after his death. He married and had several children. Aschenbach is alone, having sacrificed all semblance of a private life for his highbrow literary art.

One evening in Munich, he is overwhelmed by the need to break his rigid routine and take a holiday. He begins in Trieste, which doesn't suit, and ends up in Venice. Staying in the same hotel is a Polish family - a mother, presumably widowed, several straitlaced daughters and young Tadzio, a pubescent boy of extraordinary beauty. Aschenbach is entranced. He observes the boy from a distance, interest becomes an obsession, obsession becomes infatuation.

And at that moment of self-recognition, cholera breaks out in Venice. Aschenbach knows he should leave but cannot tear himself away from the daily sight of Tadzio in his sailor suit. He wonders if Tadzio is a sickly child who will not live to be an adult. He allows the hotel barber to dye his hair and pluck his eyebrows and rouge his cheeks to try and mask the vast difference in age - but Aschenbach, of course, is the one who is sick, who cannot accept that the boy's beauty will one day coarsen and fade.

Reading the novella today, you have to wonder to what extent this is paedophilia. In 1971 we would never would have. Hard as it is to believe today, in the age of free love we never countenanced such transgression. How then did Mann view his protagonist in 1912? He is well aware of the corruption, of course. That is why he chooses Venice, all facade for the tourists, literally plastering over the corruption and decay that hides behind. That is the meaning of the cholera outbreak, which the hoteliers, of course, pretend isn't happening - only a British man working in a German bank tells Aschenbach the truth.

Is it also, I wonder, the reason for the overly-elaborate writing, the various passages of high-minded pontification on the subject of Eros and love. Is he really saying to us that in the ends it's all about sex, and that literature that considers itself above or better than humanity is pointless?

The G File - Hakan Nesser

The G File, published in Sweden in 2003, is the final novel featuring Inspector Van Veeteran. Nesser long since got himself in a tangle by retiring his protagonist far too early in the series. Some of the later Van Veeterans scarcely feature our hero at all. The problem is solved very easily and effectively here. The key murder takes place in 1987, when VV is barely into his fifties and still unhappily married. A glamorous American commissions disgraced cop turned private detective Maarten Verlangen to watch her husband. A couple of days later, the woman is found dead in her diving pool. She apparently dived in before checking for water. The obvious subject is her husband. Unfortunately he has a cast iron alibi - he was drinking in a restaurant with Verlangen, having recognised him as the cop who got him sent down for drug dealing.

Van Veeteren leads the murder investigation. He too knows the suspect Jaan G Hennan - known as G to distinguish him from the other Jaan Hennan in the school, obviously. At school G was a bully and a bastard. VV wouldn't put any crime past him. His suspicions seem to be confirmed when it turns out G took out a substantial life insurance policy in America - much as he did when his first American wife mysteriously disappeared a couple of years earlier.

It's obvious G is guilty. But can they prove it? No - and we cut to 2002. VV is retired now, and working in the antiquarian book shop. But he can't resist a return to the case when Verlangen goes missing. Especially since Verlangen had told his son that he'd finally got a break on the Hennan case. The evidence leads VV to Kaalbringen, scene of the axe murders featured in Borkmann's Point. To say more would be to risk giving the game away. Suffice to say, the twist is a corker. I definitely didn't see it coming.

The G File, with its cunning time structure and extra length (600 pages in the paperback above) is not only a fitting end to the ten-book series, it is by some distance the best of the later post-retirement Van Veeterens.

Other Van Veeteren novels featured on this blog:
THE WEEPING GIRL
HOUR OF THE WOLF
THE RETURN
THE UNLUCKY LOTTERY
THE INSPECTOR AND SILENCE

Where to next for Nesser? He has already published five novels featuring Inspector Gunnar Barbarotti, a Swedish cop of Italian descent, and his latest standalone novel - horribly and pointlessly previewed in the back of the Pan Macmillan paperback - is set in, of all places, Somerset. Hakan certainly gets around.

Boneland- Alan Garner

To begin to get a grip on this startling and unique work you have to know a bit about its author. Garner is born. bred and still lives near Alderley Edge in Cheshire. For those who have never been, Alderley Edge is one of those odd offshoots of the Pennine Chain (I myself come from the valley of another) which in their size and isolation seem to be imbued with mystery.

When he was very young, Garner started writing books for children set in Alderley, exploiting that mystery and linking it with long-forgotten Celtic myths and legends. J R R Tolkien had of course done much the same with Hobbits and Anglo-Saxon myth. Garner's good luck was that his book was on offer at exactly the time Tolkien finally found a large adult readership. His misfortune, perhaps, is that he was always linked with Tolkien in terms of genre whereas Garner is a much better writer and his books much more daring.

His first book was The Weirdstone of Brisingamen in 1960. Irs continuation, The Moon of Gomrath, followed three years later. Both follow the adventures of siblings Susan and Colin as they explore Alderley Edge and interact with its supernatural guardians. At the end of the second book, Susan is stranded in another dimension. Clearly here was a trilogy awaiting its third and concluding part.

It turned out to be a long wait. Garner wrote other books in similar vein - The Owl Service, my personal favourite, became a cult classic. He wrote adult books, some of which have supernatural undertones, and he wrote accounts of the ancient British myths. But it was not until 2012, when he was 78 years of age, that Garner brought it all together with Boneland, an adult novel completing the Brisingamen Trilogy.

We find Colin, in middle age, a professor of astronomy based at that other feature of Garner's native district Jodrell Bank (albeit Garner, typically, never names it).  Colin is, to say the least, eccentric.  He lives in a hut in a quarry, has no memory whatsoever of life before he was 13 (his age in Gomrath) and is trying to contact the sister he cannot remember but knows he had through radio interaction with the Pleiades, which would be the action of a madman, obviously, if it weren't for the replies.

His employers send him for counselling. His counsellor, Meg, may or may not be an avatar of the Morrigan, the death goddess who stalked the battlefields of the Celtic twilight.

Interwoven with Colin's exploration is the quest of the prehistoric guardian of the Edge, the solitary Watcher who gives the animals life in song and stone and bone. His, then, is the Boneland. His problem is that he is alone. For ritual purposes it is right that he should be alone - but who does he pass his lore on to? He needs an heir and sets out in search of a woman to mate with. He finds one, sure enough, but - and this is sheer brilliance - she is not the same species as him. Her people know nothing of his lore.  Can he negotiate a solution?

Colin, likewise, finds Susan - or at least the featureless shadow of a girl - in a cleft in the hill which he uses as a wine cellar. Is it Susan? Is this a reunion?  As with the Watcher, Garner does not tell us. He is not a writer of A to B plot progression.  His text is all about evocation, the embodiment of the term 'opaque'. Nothing in Garner's fictional world is real or certain. It is real to the people experiencing it, but never ever certain. That said, much of Boneland is dialogue between Colin and the therapist Meg. Here Garner flaunts his gift for witty, contemporary wordplay.

Alan Garner is now 82. He is one of the few undoubted geniuses in contemporary literature. His output is slender - ten novels in over 50 years. The books themselves are equally brief - Boneland a mere 148 pages. That is because they are polished and condensed, every word weighed, every sentence honed. Why the hell is he not lauded to skies? Why was this summation of his life's work not mentioned in any broadsheet newspaper that I read?  I would have noticed.

Read him. Discover him. Treasure him.

Blair & Iraq: Why Tony Blair Went to War - Steve Richards

Blair & Iraq: Why Tony Blair Went to War - An Investigation (Kindle Single) (Kindle Edition)

Steve Richards is unusual among political commentators. He knows what he is talking about because he has been there and done it. He makes his own judgements and is not overswayed by the political agenda of his rather dubious employers. I used to read him assiduously in The Independent before the Russian takeover. He may still have connections with the 'i' but since that was taken over its political stance has been become slightly to the right of Nigel Farage and I wouldn't touch it with the proverbial ten-foot-pole grasped in asbestos gauntlets.

To return to Blair and Iraq. The timing is perfect, given the arrival of the long-awaited Chilcot report in the next few days. I suspect his conclusion is different from the Chilcot view, even after redaction. Richards' argument is that Blair's agenda was not a crazed crusade but the logical consequence of his determination to make Labour electable again. He and his New Labour cronies believed that the public would not back a party that was anti-American and could not countenance armed intervention. Clearly, then, he put both those failings right in Iraq - and made Labour unelectable for a generation.

Perhaps Richards will expand the book in the wake of Chilcot. As it stands, this is the beauty of Kindle Singles - a book exactly as long as it needs to be.

The Bad Girl - Mario Vargas Llosa

The seven-chapter structure is the clue.  The Bad Girl is Vargas Llosa's view of the Seven Ages of Woman. Written when he was nudging 70 it is, unfortunately, a tad sentimental, more than a little self-serving, and - it has to be said - downright misogynistic. Good old reliable, hard-working, studious Ricardo is always the good boy and the object of his lust (he prefers 'love of his life'), with her sudden disappearances, reinvention, forever changing persona and sexual self-indulgence, is perforce the bad girl.
You could certainly read The Bad Girl on that premise, and no doubt enjoy her fall from grace, the inevitable ruin of age and promiscuity. But never forget that Vargas Llosa is a genius. On a more prosaic note, remember his predilection for marrying relatives. This may reflect women he has known but he has surely never known a single woman like this bad girl.  This is fiction, not autobiography. So we should question Ricardo's self-righteousness - to what extent does he let himself be mistreated because that is how he likes it?  To what extent does he relish the ultimate triumph, when he gets to tend her like a pet because she has used up all the life in her whereas he has doled out his life, like Prufrock, in coffee-spoons? And Lily, who was never even Lily to begin with, what of the vast majority of her life which we don't see?  What caused her to live this life of assumed personas? How much of the pretense is artifice, how much delusion? In this respect, Vargas Llosa offers one insight, in the penultimate chapter, magnificently entitled "Arquimedes, Builder of Breakwaters".
The book only achieves maximum effect if you constantly challenge what you are being told. Even to the extent of asking, is Arquimedes really who he claims to be, or just an old chancer telling the guy who buys him drinks what he wants to hear? The bad girl is, after all, the good boy's dream girl. And The Bad Girl, the novel, is a magnificent achievement, published in the 21st century but really a classic of the late 20th. Hugely, unreservedly, recommended.

Others books by Mario Vargas Llosa discussed on this blog:
WHO KILLED PALOMINO MOLERO?
THE FEAST OF THE GOAT

Return of a King - William Dalrymple

Obviously I'd heard of this book, which received a huge amount of cross-media free publicity when it came out in 2013. I approached with caution because that level of freebie usually means one of three things: the author is an ex Tory MP, the author is phenomenally rich and/or well-connected, or it really is an astonishingly important book. The name Dalrymple (actually a cut-down version of the hyphenated original) rightly suggests the middle category, but luckily for us he is also a writer of genius, a historian who delves into archives which average scholars couldn't begin to tackle and surprisingly even-handed in his judgments. For example some British military men were complete idiots, others were astonishingly brave. Some were just incredibly lucky or indeed unlucky. The Afghanis who sucked up to, repulsed and then were butchered by the British are duplicitous, chivalric, noble, homicidal and generous. Everyone here, even the inbreds of both camps, is a real, three-dimensional human being.

This then is the story of the First Afghan War 1839-42. For reasons never entirely clear, the British decided to replace Dost Mohammad Khan, the perfectly friendly ruler of the always fractious mountain people with the man he deposed thirty years earlier, Shah Shuja. The replacement itself went surprisingly well, but everyone including the man himself knew that Shuja was simply a puppet of the 'envoy' Sir William Hay Macnaghten. A dyed-in-the-wool diplomat who knew nothing about tribal culture, Macnaghten was given to machinations and, far worse, often late in paying the pensions (bribes) which kept the peace between the rival chieftains. Over time, the Afghani leaders waxed nostalgic for the long golden age of Dost Mohammad. There was a king who was approachable, fair, and who paid his bribes on time.  Rebellion broke out. The idiots in India and their envoy in Afghanistan all misread the situation, and unbelievable bloodshed resulted. Very few Brits and hardly any of their sepoys made it out alive.

This to me was the most emotive part of the story. Dalrymple pulls no punches and his description of the disastrous retreat through the Khyber Pass in January blizzards is truly shattering. The Afghans who enslave and mutilate their captives are named and shamed. Yet he contrasts the behaviour of the outlying villagers with that of Dost Mohammad's son Akbar Khan who personally slew Sir William Macnaghten but who protected Macnaghten's widow and the wives and children of officers who were in the field against him with courtesy that would shame the Geneva Convention.  One fascinating aside, expertly handled by Dalrymple, is the escape of these hostages and their long journey to freedom, effectively under the command of the more mature women.

Then comes the Army of Retribution - and we should be thoroughly ashamed that we ever had such a force.  The new Tory government in London could not let such an affront to British arms go unavenged. So the army returned, with capable commanders, killed all who could not prove themselves friends of the young Victoria's fast-expanding empire and reduced the historic cities of Afghanistan to sand.

But the Afghans were not conquered. The Afghans are never conquered. The Army of Retribution came, slew and destroyed, but then withdrew and left Dost Mohammad to it.  Dalrymple is right to draw the parallels with today.  We Brits have just 'withdrawn' from our fourth invasion of Afghanistan, so that's 4-0 to the Afghanis.  Those guys even saw off Soviet Russia for Pete's sake!

I knew nothing whatever about this subject before reading Return of a King. I am now fascinated. That is surely the aim of the popular historian. Job done, then.

When the Devil Holds the Candle - Karin Fossum

I won't waste space by restating my conviction that Karin Fossum is by far the best writer in Nordic Noir. What I will say is that When the Devil Holds the Candle is easily the best Fossum I have read thus far.

First off, Inspector Sejer enters the fray much earlier, and he has the assistance of Jacob Skarre, his regular protege. Indeed, Skarre makes a brief appearance on page 1. The crime itself is complex; there are several of them and we are never sure until the very end how they are linked, if at all.  Essentially two young lads, Andreas and Zipp have too much time on their hands. They get into minor scrapes until a handbag snatch goes wrong and Andreas reveals an uncomfortable truth about himself to Zipp. In order to regain lost ground he takes on a home invasion.  After that, no one hears from him again.

To reveal more of the plot would risk giving away some of the twists and turns. What sets Fossum apart, when she's on form such as this, is her exploration of her characters, whether good or bad.  Of course, in truth, no one is wholly good or wholly bad. Andreas and Zipp both love their mothers. Sejer is dating again after a long time alone and wonders if he has waited too long. Irma Funder, who keeps cropping up throughout the novel, is older than Sejer, lonelier, and equally stubborn. I bet Karin regrets calling her elderly now that she herself has turned sixty.

Felicity David's translation from the original Norwegian reads very well. The cover is not as bad as other Vintage Fossum covers, though scarcely a design masterpiece, and it does for once reflect the story.

When the Devil Holds the Candle is therefore HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. If you're trying Fossum for the first time, start here or The Water's Edge.

Other novels by Karin Fossum discussed on this blog:

THE MURDER OF HARRIET KROHN
THE CALLER
BAD INTENTIONS
IN THE DARKNESS