Midnight Alley by Miles Corwin

Published by Oceanview on April 16, 2012

Ash Levine is a homicide detective with LAPD whose job is interfering with his attempt to reconcile with Robin, his almost-ex-wife. Levine is assigned to "Felony Special," a citywide division that handles high profile crimes (those that are deemed worthy of solving because the press is watching). When Raymond Pinkney is shot to death, Levine gets the case. Pinkney's father is a councilman who is often critical of LAPD. The other victim of the double homicide, Teshay Winfield, is a recent veteran. Their bodies are found in an alley in a gang-ridden neighborhood.

Several other characters in Midnight Alley, both good guys and bad guys, are also veterans. Asher is a veteran of the Israeli Army. A veteran named Mullin is a sociopath. A man named Delfour hires Mullin to kill Levine. Eventually the Russian Mafia joins the plot, which revolves around the theft of an ancient, jewel-studded mask.

All of this is a promising start but the plot eventually veers into strange territory as Levine finds himself accused of shooting an unarmed man. After some rather uninspired detective work (threatening to throw someone off a building doesn't produce a confession that will stand up in court although Levine seems to think it will), Levine uncovers a criminal plot that I would charitably describe as wildly implausible. Still, Miles Corwin manages to pull all the plot threads together by the time the story ends.

Corwin highlights a number of political and social issues in Midnight Alley, ranging from racism in LAPD to the notion that America is a "Christian nation" to mismanagement of the second war in Iraq. Corwin's most perceptive take concerns the skewed priorities that result from asset forfeiture laws: because the police get to keep certain proceeds from criminal activity that they seize, Levine finds his homicide investigation trumped by the more lucrative investigation of a drug cartel.  Alas, astute social commentary does not suffice to make a novel worth reading.

Frequent references to Levine's religion and enjoyment of food are apparently intended to give Levine depth, or at least a personality, but those efforts are insufficient to make Levine interesting. We're continually told that Levine is a rebellious, nonconformist officer but we don't see him behaving that way until near the story's end, when he commits a series of crimes to prove that he didn't commit the crime of which he's accused. Usually he's wavering between self-righteous and self-pitying, qualities that do not serve a thriller hero well. Supporting characters are no better; Corwin creates a defense lawyer who is a caricature of an actual attorney while cops, thugs, and veterans are all pulled from central casting.

Some lengthy scenes, including a clichéd family dinner, add nothing but tedium to the story. Corwin's writing style is competent but occasionally marred by stilted dialog and trite expressions. As crime novels go, Midnight Alley has some entertaining moments but fails to distinguish itself from a slew of similar novels.

NOT RECOMMENDED

A Lady Cyclist's Guide to Kashgar by Suzanne Joinson

Published by Bloomsbury USA on May 22, 2012

The alternating chapters of A Lady Cyclist's Guide to Kashgar tell two stories. One begins in 1923 and takes place largely in the ancient Silk Road city of Kashgar. The other is set in present day London.

Pretending to have a "calling" she does not actually feel, Eva English has joined two missionaries, her sister Lizzie and Lizzie's friend Millicent Frost, on a bicycling trip, all the while journaling her thoughts for a book she intends to write. The three women have reached Kashgar, where Millicent, having assisted in the delivery of a baby, stands accused of causing the death of the baby's mother. They are placed under house arrest at a residence on the outskirts of the city. This does not stop Millicent and Lizzie from infiltrating harems and other gatherings of women to "gossip the gospel" in an effort to convert them. Whether the women are in serious trouble is an open question through much of the novel and the source of slowly growing tension. Eva is more concerned, however, about the strange behavior of Millicent and Lizzie, who seem to be hiding secrets from her, and about the fate of the baby, to whom she has formed a motherly attachment.

Frieda Blakeman is surprised to receive a letter informing her that she is next-of-kin to the recently deceased Irene Guy, a name that means nothing to her. Tayeb Yafai is an illegal immigrant, a frustrated filmmaker from Yemen who is homeless in London. His story intersects with Frieda's when, after spending the night in her hallway, he helps her sort through Irene's property. Frieda's effort to learn about Irene brings her back into contact with her mother, from whom she has been, if not estranged, at least distant.

The linkage between the two stories is not revealed until late in the novel. The connection will nonetheless be obvious to most readers long before it is unveiled.

By far the better of the two, Eva's story is filled with vivid images: Lizzie lashing herself to a tree so she can photograph a sandstorm (a form of self-punishment); the relentless drumming that signals an uprising against foreigners; a long trek to Urumchi through a dangerous desert. The story is at its best when tension develops between Millicent, a crusader for Christ whose mission gives her tunnel-vision, and Eva, who understands that their work is causing newly converted believers to be put to death. To Millicent, the death of the innocent is the necessary cost of spreading her faith. When Millicent quotes a "vicious, vitriolic passage of revenge" from Hosea, the distinction between Millicent and Eva is sharply drawn: Millicent welcomes martyrdom while Eva is grounded in the increasingly desperate reality of their plight.

Although Eva and Frieda are drawn in detail, Eva is more convincing, and the only character with whom I felt an affinity. Frieda and Tayeb exist only to draw parallels between past and present: where Eva was an ill-treated outsider in Kashgar, Tayeb is the same in London. Unfortunately, the creative potential of this idea is never quite fulfilled. Tayeb is an interesting character but his story doesn't come into focus until the concluding chapters, creating the sense of an underdeveloped character attaining momentary significance. Millicent and Lizzie have mental health issues that serve to advance Eva's story while limiting their interest as characters. Frieda's mother is more a caricature than a character.

Once Eva reaches Urumchi, her story loses much of its force. Her story's ending would have been better left unwritten. It seems to have been contrived for those readers who insist on knowing how a character's life turns out after the real story is over. Frieda's (and Tayeb's) story, on the other hand, never has any force to lose; it just fades away.

Despite its faults, A Lady Cyclist's Guide to Kashgar is enjoyable for its graceful prose and for its stirring account of Eva's time in Kashgar. I look forward to Suzanne Johnson's next effort.

RECOMMENDED

Last Call for the Living by Peter Farris

Published by Forge Books on May 22, 2012 

Friendless, obsessed with rocketry, and only "partially present for any human interaction," Charlie Colquitt is, in the words of his Savings & Loan manager, "destined to be lonely and largely unnoticed." He is, however, noticed by Hobe Hicklin, the recently released convict who robs the S&L before it opens, when only Charlie and the manager are present. For reasons that are never quite clear (other than advancing the plot), Hicklin takes Charlie hostage. For reasons that are extraordinarily coincidental (although they also advance the plot), Hicklin decides not to kill Charlie even when he has no apparent value as a hostage. Instead, Hicklin keeps Charlie in a cottage in the hills where his tweaker girlfriend, Ellamae (a/k/a Hummingbird), uses Charlie as her boytoy.

The robbery displeases Hicklin's two partners, Leonard Lipscomb and Nathan Flock, because he pulled off the heist without their involvement, keeping the proceeds for himself. It also displeases Sheriff Tommy Lang. Unequipped to deal with major crimes, Lang leaves the investigation to Sallie Crews of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. Actually, Lang is unequipped to deal with life, although he manages to cope with ample doses of whiskey and beer and occasional nights with Kalamity, who owns a seedy bar.

Jubilation County, Georgia, where this all takes place, is the sort of sparsely populated area where everyone knows everyone -- and they've probably slept together. The county's unsavory residents certainly have an inbred quality. Violence pervades the story; it is a way of life.

The plot of Last Call for the Living is simple without being simplistic. Peter Farris generates and maintains suspense without employing the contrived plot twists that often disguise a writer's inability to create credible characters. Farris' characters are filled with weaknesses and woes, and none of them (except perhaps for Charlie) is particularly likable. Lang, tortured by the atrocities he's witnessed, is a lush. Lang is far from heroic, making him a refreshing law enforcement figure. The criminals are creepy, but Farris understands the dehumanizing nature of incarceration in maximum security prisons and he has a good handle on the prisoner's mindset, making it easy to understand the source of the ex-cons' creepiness. There were even times (admittedly, not many) when I felt sorry for Hicklin, a man who wonders if his life could have been different, even if he's incapable of change. More intriguing is Charlie, who might be able to change ... but in what way?

About two-thirds of the way through the novel, the story seems to have reached its end. Instead, the narrative pauses, takes a breath, and races onward to the best scene in the book. It takes place in a church, during a service held by one of those freakish faiths where congregants handle snakes and speak in tongues. The plot moves to its heated conclusion from there. The concluding chapter doesn't spell everything out; it leaves room for the reader's imagination to fill in the gaps.

While Last Call for the Living is fast moving and well written, it contains no surprises. Predictability is its most serious weakness (reliance on coincidence is a close second). The story is nonetheless worth reading for its strong characterizations, its entertaining moments (of which there are many), and its tense climax.

RECOMMENDED

2312 by Kim Stanley Robinson

Published by Orbit on May 22, 2012 

“Worldbuilding” has been a popular buzz word in the modern era of science fiction, and Kim Stanley Robinson has always scored points for his detailed construction of alien environments.  In 2312, he turns his attention to asteroid building:  asteroids are captured, hollowed out, fitted with propulsion systems, made into terraria that double as transport vehicles, and populated with animals like arks designed by futuristic Noahs.  He also gives Mercury a city that travels on rails to avoid sunlight and imagines an Earth that has seen better days (particularly Florida, which is mostly underwater).  Yet worldbuilding alone does not a successful novel make.

2312 gets off to a promising start as a terrarium designer and cutting edge artist named Swan Er Hong, rocked by the unexpected death of her elderly mentor Alex, discovers that Alex left her a message to be delivered to Wang Wei.  Accompanied by Saturn’s liason, Wahrum, Swan travels to Io where she learns that Alex had a plan to revivify a moribund Earth.  Alex was also worried that the quantum computers (qubes) that run everything appeared to be going rogue.  Another of Alex’s friends, Inspector Genette, enlists Swan’s help as he tries to complete the investigation he started with Alex.  On a visit to Earth, Swan arranges for a kid named Kiran to escape his dreary life (the reader knows, of course, that Kiran will eventually reappear and play a crucial role in the story) before she returns to Mercury, where either a natural disaster or (more likely) a devastating attack briefly energizes the novel.

The energy, unfortunately, fizzles out, reigniting in spurts from time to time but never sustaining.  When the plot moves along -- when things happen -- 2312 is an imaginative and entertaining novel.  When, for long stretches, nothing happens, 2312 is a mediocre novel.  Most of the text in the initial three-quarters of the book does little to advance the plot.  It’s a long slog through a deep bog to get to the final quarter where the story finally comes into focus.

Throughout his career, Robinson has demonstrated a tendency to explain his many thoughts -- ranging from physics and geology to economics and politics -- at length, resulting in novels that are needlessly wordy.  That’s the primary fault that weakens 2312.  I often had the impression that Robinson was worried that his plot would get in the way of his ideas so he relegated plot development to the last few chapters.  I also had the impression that Robinson was more interested in showing off his considerable knowledge than in telling a tight, compelling story.  Knowledge, like worldbuilding, is fine, but tedious discussions of seemingly random ideas that do little to advance the plot reflect a sort of self-indulgence that detracts from the novel.

Robinson doesn’t write with literary flair; sometimes, in fact, his prose reads like a dry textbook.  Explanatory sections of the novel entitled “excerpts” are a thinly disguised excuse for the sort of expository pontification that kills a fictional narrative.  Fortunately, most of them are mercifully short.  Robinson also throws in a few meaningless lists (e.g., names of craters … who cares?).  Breaking up the narrative with these frequent digressions seriously disrupts the story’s flow.

Swan is the only character with any personality at all.  Robinson takes a stab at human emotion by putting Wahrum and Swan together, but the effort isn’t convincing, and the sex scenes (complicated by extra parts) are more silly than passionate.  Robinson is clearly more comfortable with ideas than people.

For all the worldbuilding, Robinson is at his best when he focuses on Earth as it exists three hundred years from now.  His vision is bleak but credibly grounded in environmental, political, and economic trends.  Even here, however, his writing sometimes devolves into a scolding lecture.  Some of his chapters would make excellent essays or editorials; as fiction, they too disconnected from plot or characterization to be riveting.

Alex’s creative version of a revolution and an imaginative means of launching an interstellar attack give the novel its best moments.  A shorter, tighter novel that focused on those elements would have been a great read.  As it stands, 2312 leaves the reader drowning in ideas and fails to deliver a truly engrossing story.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

That Uncertain Feeling by Kingsley Amis

First published in Great Britain in 1955

Is an employee ever promoted on his or her own merit, or is upward mobility always a function of friendship or politics? Kingsley Amis provides a sly, silly, and perceptive answer to that question in his second novel, That Uncertain Feeling.

John Lewis would like to be elevated to the position of sub-Librarian, but it is lust rather than ambition that leads him to pursue Elizabeth Gruffydd-Williams, the village socialite, whose husband is on the committee that will make the selection. That Lewis is married with children causes him to feel some guilt, albeit only when he is in his wife's presence, particularly when she is telling him to have whatever fling he desires so long as he does not burden her with knowledge of his infidelity (a reaction he should know better than to believe). Lewis is much too ineffectual to have a successful affair, but his attempts to woo (and bed) Elizabeth provide ample fodder for the sort of domestic comedy at which Amis excelled.

Poking fun at all things Welsh was a Kingsley Amis specialty. The cast of That Uncertain Feeling includes the sort of eccentric Welsh characters that Amis created masterfully: an arrogant poet, a "nut-faced" clergyman, busybody neighbors, know-it-all committee members, and a wide variety of drunks. Amis also made a career of skewering the pretentious class -- those with a little more money who look down on those with a little less -- although the relatively well-to-do in That Uncertain Feeling are roasted over a low flame. None of the novel's characters are evil or truly unlikable. Even the badly behaving Lewis is endearing, all the more so by the novel's end, when he seems to have learned something from the consequences of his error-prone life.

I don't know if Amis was capable of writing an unfunny sentence. Employing modes of humor that range from dry wit to slapstick, Amis placed his hapless librarian into one awkward situation after another. Amis' ability to write comedy that is simultaneously low key and outrageous has rarely been matched. That Uncertain Feeling is filled with the sort of humor for which Brits are famous: self-effacing commentary; insults exchanged in unfailingly polite language; even a bit of gratuitous cross-dressing.

The ending has the feel of an epilogue -- everything that has gone before suddenly changes, as if Amis didn't know where else to go with the story and decided to abandon it -- but that's a minor complaint. There's probably a serious point buried amidst all the lunacy but I didn't strain myself to search for it. The sustained laughter is quite enough reason for modern readers to search out this 1955 novel.

RECOMMENDED