King of Cuba by Cristina García

Published by Scribner on May 21, 2013 

Most of the scenes in King of Cuba alternate between Havana and Miami, between the homes of two old men, Fidel Castro and Goyo Herrera. For reasons both personal and political, the eighty-six-year-old Herrera loathes Castro. Herrera's daughter Alina claims he is staying alive only so he can celebrate Castro's death. Herrera detests Alina's liberalism, particularly her opposition to the Cuban trade embargo. Herrera's sixty-year-old son, Goyito, is a hooligan and a drug addict. Herrera spends most of the novel recalling his unhappy past, including the woman whose life connects his with Castro's, as he indulges his revenge fantasies.

If Herrera is old and decrepit, Castro is equally so. No longer Cuba's head of state and unable to make a speech without fainting, Castro is also reduced to thoughts of his past, his legacy and fame, his sexual conquests, and the size of his pinga when he was in his prime. Herrera and Castro have more in common than they realize: they have spent their lives appreciating the company of women (including but not limited to their wives); they are disappointed in their sons and controlled by their daughters; they disregard the advice of their doctors and feel betrayed by their aging bodies. Both men are obsessed, Herrera with Castro and Castro with himself. Both are "besotted with the past."

Interspersed with the twin narratives devoted to Castro and Herrera are a series of jokes, stories, and commentaries (sometimes in the form of footnotes) from the perspectives of various Cubans and occasional tourists. Many of them create memorable snapshots of lives spent in a difficult, complex country. The late-blooming plot sends both characters to New York, where their fates finally converge.

King of Cuba captures a transitional moment in history. Christina García recognizes that the generation of exiles who shaped American political hostility toward Cuba has begun to fill Florida's graveyards, while their children are inclined to support a normalized relationship with America's island neighbor. At the same time, Cuba is slipping out of Fidel's tight grip. While acknowledging the ruthlessness of Castro's dictatorship (and routinely referring to Castro as "the tyrant" or "the despot"), King of Cuba does not take sides in the clash between Castro's revolution and America's foreign policy. The novel is set against a political background but it isn't a political novel. It is, instead, a novel about people and their tragicomic lives. García's light-hearted prose pokes fun both at the aging, fist-waving, ineffectual exiles and at Cuba's aging, fist-waving, ineffectual dictator. Both Herrera and Castro are faintly ridiculous in their declining years, left with little but uncontrollable emotions and memories, although "memory could be a plague sometimes, corroding one's soul with all that was lost and unforgotten."

García's lively, inventive prose makes this swiftly moving story a pleasure to read. She manages to make two entirely unlikable characters entertaining without resorting to cruel caricatures. King of Cuba is sweet and funny, and the story culminates in a wild display of irony.

RECOMMENDED

March Violets by Philip Kerr

First published in 1989

March Violets is the first in a series of novels featuring Bernhard Gunther, a former member of the Kripo, now a private investigator in Berlin. It is 1936 and Gunther, no fan of the National Socialists, is nostalgic for the carefree Berlin that existed before it began "wearing corsets laced so tight that it could hardly breathe."

After his daughter (Grete) and her husband (Paul Pfarr) are murdered, wealthy industrialist Hermann Six hires Gunther to recover jewelry that was stolen from their safe. Hermann's wife, a famous and beautiful actress, adds a complication to Bernie's life, as does Pfarr's cozy relationship with the Gestapo. Gunther's investigation leads him to a missing person: Gerhard von Greis, a businessman who happens to be a close friend of Hermann Goering. Naturally, Goering becomes a character in the story, while Heinrich Himmler lurks in the background.

Gunther's investigation of a crime turns into an investigation of multiple crimes, none of which seem to fit together. As Gunther observes, it's like putting together a jigsaw with pieces from two different puzzles. March Violets is a classic story of detection -- as Gunther puts it, "chain-making, manufacturing links." There are plenty of links for the reader to assemble while following Gunther's progress. Gunther learns much more than he's supposed to know, but as he wryly observes, "When you get a cat to catch the mice in your kitchen, you can't expect it to ignore the rats in the cellar." It all ties together in a credible way, concluding with a nifty plot twist, but it's actually the quality of the writing and the uncommon depth that Kerr brings to his characters that impress me more. Gunther is emblematic of the noir detective -- tough, cynical, incorruptible, and resentful of authority -- but he has the added interest of avoiding not just the temptation of crime but of the criminal government that has seduced or overpowered so many of his fellow countrymen.

Kerr's prose is evocative and atmospheric. His descriptions of imprisonment in Dachau are convincing and moving. Berlin in the 1930s lends ifself to noir, and Kerr perfectly captures the darkness that shrouded so much of the human spirit in that place and time. He even tosses in the controversial Berlin Olympics as a backdrop ("if ever there was to be a master-race, it was certainly not going to exclude someone like Jesse Owens"). His spot-on similes and metaphors are a joy to read. At times, he nearly rivals Raymond Chandler, the master of the noir metaphor. The novel's social commentary, coming as it does in retrospect, seems a little too obvious, but it doesn't get in the way of an enjoyable story that makes full use its setting.

RECOMMENDED

Hot Ice by Gregg Loomis

Published by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Media on May 21, 2013

Jason Peters, a professional assassin, has contempt for "bleeding hearts" who believe that Americans should obey laws that prohibit murder and torture. Peters works for Narcom, a private enterprise (i.e., mercenary group) under contract to government entities like the CIA. Peters is sent to a country in sub-Saharan Africa to shoot the country's president, thereby creating a diversion that will allow the president's guest, a high level al-Qaeda leader, to be kidnapped. That he is murdering a man who poses no threat to American interests is no more troubling to Peters "than squashing a cockroach." Peters' next assignment takes him to Iceland, where he recovers some objects that a Russian had hidden in a glacier before being attacked. The significance of the objects, once revealed, is just short of preposterous.

Gregg Loomis manages to work a bunch of boogeymen into the story, including Russians, Chinese, and Muslims, before revealing that the true villains are "ecoterrorists" working for a thinly disguised version of Greenpeace who sabotage oil rigs (because environmentalists love to cause oil spills), instigate mining accidents (for reasons that go unexplained), and kill people who contend that human actions are not a cause of global warming. I began to wonder whether Hot Ice is meant to be a comedy, but Loomis apparently expects the reader to believe that a respected and well-funded environmental organization exists only to murder those who disagree with its cause.

Peters is a crackpot who insists that the only peaceful Muslims in the world are those "who've run out of ammunition." To enjoy this novel, you either have to accept Peters' delusional thinking or ignore it. His unsupportable belief that there is "current political sympathy for terrorists" in the United States (seriously?) and that people who oppose illegal behavior are "closed minded" is the sort of thing I'm prepared to ignore for the sake of a good story, but that's something Hot Ice lacks. Peters is a one-note character and the note is a dull one. Whether motivated by blind patriotism or a desire for revenge (or, in Peters' case, both), characters with tunnel-vision just aren't very interesting -- and Peters' particular motivations are trite.

Characters in Hot Ice too often make simple-minded, preachy speeches about political and social issues that slow the novel's pace to a crawl. With the sole exception of Peters' pacifist girlfriend (another one-note character), the characters -- good guys and bad guys alike -- all seem to agree with each other on economic and social issues (particularly their abhorrence of any sort of health or safety regulation). I don't read thrillers to further my political reeducation. I want a thriller to thrill me, and the characters' endless pontification is a serious distraction from the story Loomis tries to tell. On one occasion, the author's narrative voice interrupts the story to lecture us about how disgusting homeless people are. On another, Loomis takes a cheap shot at a former president. None of these rants have anything to do with the story.

Apart from their inability to shut up, the characters are stereotypes. A self-impressed jerk, Peters is about as deep as a teaspoon full of water. He has the annoying habit of bullying everyone he meets, which I suppose is meant to establish his credentials as a tough guy. Like all macho action heroes, Peters is extraordinarily competent, as opposed to all the other people in the world who, by comparison, are so incompetent as to be hardly worth noticing -- unless they happen to be women who are undressing for him. Peters is, of course, irresistible to women, a curse that produces a moment of melodramatic guilt whenever he cheats on his girlfriend.

Loomis' writing style is ordinary but far from awful. The locations he writes about don't seem "lived in"; the descriptions could come from someone jotting down notes while riding on a tour bus. Some of the dialog borders on the inane, although I've read worse. The plot is thin and full of holes. Loomis seems to be more interested in political advocacy than in telling an intelligent story. I've read worse books, but there are so many better novels in this genre, I'm sorry I picked this one.  Reading Gregg Loomis is a mistake I won't repeat.

NOT RECOMMENDED

Sacred Games by Gary Corby

Published by Soho Crime on May 21, 2013

Nicolaus, an Athenian investigator featured in two earlier novels, is charged with babysitting his friend Timodemus, a fierce fighter in the pankration and Athens' best hope for a medal in the eightieth Olympiad of the Sacred Games -- assuming that he isn't disqualified for pre-event tussling with his strongest competitor, the Spartan Arakos. Nico makes the mistake of leaving his friend alone for the night. The next morning, when Arakos is found murdered, Timodemus is the prime suspect. Nicolaus has five days, until the end of the games, to prove that Timodemus is innocent and thus prevent his execution. For the first (and presumably last) time, criminal investigation becomes an Olympic event.

The stakes are high for Nico, given the possibility that the murder, if committed by Timodemus, might be used as an excuse for war between Sparta and Athens. Nico has a full load of problems even without bearing the added weight of Timodemus' (and possibly Athens') fate. He regards Diotima as his wife, and in fact has already "soiled" her (often and with enthusiasm), but neither his father nor her stepfather has consented to their marriage. Ultimately, Nico's ability to have his marriage recognized by the two families may depend upon Nico's success in catching the killer.

Fortunately, as the creative problem solver in his family, Nico is well-suited to the task of criminal investigation. Even more fortunately, when Nico needs the benefit of a logical mind, he can consult with his younger brother, Socrates, who has a bit of Sherlock Holmes in him. Other well-known historical figures who appear as characters include the statesman Pericles, Sparta's King Pleistarchus, the poet Pindar, and a baby named Hippocrates (whose father, of course, is a doctor).

Given what's at stake, a reader might expect Nico to feel a greater sense of urgency than the story conveys. Nico is easily distracted by pleasures of the flesh and spends a fair amount of time chit-chatting with philosophers and poets who do little to assist his investigation. He even helps one of them sculpt an ox from bread dough. That would be a problem if this were a more serious novel, but Sacred Games isn't intended to be a thriller. Gary Corby has a keen sense of humor that shines through in the story's lighter moments, particularly in Nico's interaction with the willful Diotima (who will certainly be wearing the toga in the family). There's also a chuckle-inducing moment when Nico warns young Socrates not to go anywhere near hemlock. Gags of that sort pop up every now and then, and all of Nico's encounters with ancient thinkers are amusing. Despite the digressions, the plot is tightly constructed, proving enough suspects and red herrings to keep a mystery lover guessing.

The Spartan and Athenian characters in Sacred Games have some interesting discussions about the advantages of monarchies over democracies, but this isn't a political novel. For that matter, I wouldn't call it an historical novel. I don't know how accurate the details are of Athenian life in ancient times (Corby appends a lengthy author's note about the history from which he draws, although I'm pretty sure women in 460 B.C. didn't use expressions like "Are you hitting on me?"), but given the novel's light-hearted nature, I don't much care. The story seems to be well researched, and in any event, the plot is clever, the resolution of the mystery is satisfying, and the story is entertaining. The poignant, "feel good" ending might be too obviously manipulative, but it works. 

RECOMMENDED

My Father's Ghost is Climbing in the Rain by Patricio Pron

Published in Spain in 2011; published in translation by Knopf on May 21, 2013

We are told that the events described in My Father's Ghost is Climbing in the Rain are mostly true. We're also told that the novel's narrator (unnamed in the text, but I'll give him the author's first name since he claims to be telling us his own story) is unreliable. He warns the reader that his words can be taken either as truth or invention since he is incapable of distinguishing one from the other.

Patricio is a journalist who has an uneasy relationship with the truth. Entire years are missing from Patricio's memory, so it's fitting that some chapter numbers are missing from My Father's Ghost -- chapters skipped over, like the chapters of the narrator's life -- while other chapter numbers are out of sequence or repeated, presumably reflecting Patricio's scattered thoughts. Patricio blames the gaps in his life on the medications his psychiatrist was dispensing, drugs that made him feel like he was "floating in a pool without ever seeing its bottom but not being able to reach the surface." The reader soon discovers, however, that Patricio's memory loss is a form of self-protection. Patricio grew up in Argentina, "a country called fear with a flag that was a face filled with dread." The terrors of life during Argentina's rule by a military dictatorship are best forgotten, but the novel is about Patricio's compulsion to remember.

After eight years in Germany, Patricio returns to Argentina to say goodbye to his father, who is languishing in a hospital bed. In his father's study, he finds a folder labeled Alberto Burdisso. Its contents describe a simple-minded man who has disappeared from El Trébol, the city where Patricio spent part of his childhood. Burdisso had been awarded reparations for his sister's disappearance three decades earlier, money that led to his death. As Patricio reads through the file's contents, he learns that the city he believed to be idyllic is in fact sordid, sullied, and sad.

Patricio takes us through the file, document by document. His investigation of the file becomes an attempt to find his father "in his last thoughts." In this, Patricio is like other Argentinians of his generation, solving their parents' pasts like detectives, "and what we were going to find out would seem like a mystery novel we wished we'd never bought." Yet literature is a "pale reflection" of, and cannot do justice to, the beliefs and ideals of his father's generation. In real life, unlike novels -- and particularly in Argentina during the 1970s -- mysteries go unsolved, crimes go unpunished, and the world outside the book is not "guided by the same principles of justice as the tale told inside."

Not surprisingly, in searching for his father Patricio begins to find himself. He comes to realize a truth: "You don't ever want to know certain things because what you know belongs to you, and there are certain things you never want to own." At the same time, he becomes convinced that he needs to tell the story of his father's generation because their ghost "was going to keep climbing in the rain until it took the heavens by storm."

All of this is an excellent premise for a novel. Patricio Pron nearly pulls it off, but in the end, the excellent story he tells is just too slim to attain such a lofty goal. What we learn about the father is fragmentary (intentionally so, given the novel's structure) and superficial. The narrator tells us that "what my parents and their comrades had done didn't deserve to be forgotten," but we learn very little about their struggle. At the same time, Patricio shares few of his recovered memories with the reader. The novel ultimately reads like a preface to a greater story that needs to be told, but it isn't told here.

That isn't to say that I disliked the story Pron tells. There are some stunning sentences in My Father's Ghost, the kind that make you pause and reread them two or three times. Not all of My Father's Ghost works (a series of brief chapters that describe Patricio's fever dreams add nothing to the story), but through most of the novel, Pron's intense prose is riveting. Viewed as a slice of life, the beginning of a journey yet to be completed, this small novel is quite rewarding. 

RECOMMENDED