The Shameless by Ace Atkins

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on July 9, 2019

Brandon Taylor came home from high school, went out deer hunting, and didn’t return. A week later, his body was found with a bullet in the skull. The sheriff of Tibbehah County, Mississippi called it a suicide. Twenty-one years later, a podcasting reporter decides to investigate. The reporter wonders whether Brandon might have been killed by a young Quinn Colson.

Brandon happens to be the boy who took the virginity of Quinn’s new wife. Other sources are telling the reporter that Quinn was jealous of Brandon and that the sheriff, Quinn’s uncle, covered up Quinn’s involvement in Brandon’s death.

Series readers know that Quinn Colson is the current sheriff. Unlike many of the local politicians and other characters in the novel, Quinn is not a redneck homophobic racist. Quinn doesn’t hide behind his religion to conceal his moral faults, unlike politicians who want to build a 60-foot cross to hide the neon lights of the local titty bar. Southern politicians in the Quinn Colson novels are inevitably religious hypocrites, of the sort Roy Moore exemplifies.

In the Colson novels, southern hospitality is a mask that disguises the things nobody in Mississippi wants to talk about: poverty, corruption, bigotry, and the failure to fund schools — a point that Quinn’s sister makes to the reporter. Ace Atkins draws some not-so-subtle parallels between a redneck candidate for governor who relies on the support of white supremacists and a certain president, including the dismissal of attempts to expose the truth as “harassment” and a “witch hunt.” This is not a book that people on the far right are likely to enjoy.

The Shameless makes a deep dive into Quinn’s family history. Much of it, including his relationship with the shady “Uncle Hamp,” has been sketched out in earlier novels. The relationship adds complexity to Quinn’s character. He is loyal to the memory of his uncle (Hamp was a role model who taught Quinn to shoot) but is not blind to the corruption and crime that was allowed to infest the county under Hamp’s watch.

Other family members and friends add color to the story, including Quinn’s mother (perhaps the biggest Elvis fan in Mississippi), his sister Caddy (restoring herself after a troubled past by working to feed and clothe the poor), his friend Boom (whose own drinking problem has worsened since his beating by a man who plays a key role in the story), and his colleague Lillie Virgil, who worked with Quinn until she joined the U.S. Marshals.

Thriller fans generally want good to triumph over evil. Those triumphs are incremental in the Quinn Colson novels, but the reader can cheer for small victories. I enjoy the series because evil is broadly defined to include rednecks who want the South to return to its “traditions,” a code word that includes oppression of everyone who isn’t a straight white male. It will take generations for southern devotion to those abhorrent “traditions” to die, but the Quinn Colson novels provide comfort for those who believe that politicians who fuel prejudice can be overcome, one hypocrite at a time.

The more immediate question is how and why Brandon Taylor died. A team effort finds a satisfying solution to that mystery, but there is more to the story, setting up a continuing plot thread for future novels. Along the way, Atkins delivers entertaining action scenes and gunfights, but the story is centered on characters with personalities that make them seem like real people to fans of the series.

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The Sinners by Ace Atkins

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on July 17, 2018

If he lives to the end of The Sinners, Quinn Colson plans to get married. His friend Boom Kimbrough is supposed to be his best man, if he live to the end of the novel. Lillie Virgil, now working as a federal marshal in Memphis, plans to attend the wedding, if it happens (fortunately, nobody in The Sinners is trying to kill her). Fannie Hathcock, who runs the local titty bar, is not invited to the wedding. You’ll need to read the earlier books in the series to understand the history of those characters. And you should read the earlier books, because the Quinn Colson novels are lively, funny, and thoroughly entertaining.

The Sinners involves the intersection of Kimbrough, Hathcock, and the Pritchard family, which has a reputation for stock car racing and selling marijuana. Kimbrough has a truck driving job, but he’s not happy to learn that the cargo he’s hauling isn’t entirely legitimate. Heath Pritchard, having served his time in Parchman, is back in town, much to the displeasure of his nephews, Cody and Tyler, who took over the family drug business while their uncle was behind bars. Heath’s return coincides with the murder of one of Fannie’s employees (they have a troublesome habit of getting themselves killed). Quinn works on finding the killer when he isn’t avoiding the task of making wedding plans, but his investigation is only part of a much broader story of local crime and its connection to organized crime.

The setting is the same as other books in the series: a small redneck community in fictional Tibbehah County, Mississippi, whose residents exemplify confederate values: white supremacy, religious hypocrisy, and ignorance disguised as righteousness. Atkins’ characters are always nicely balanced. Quinn is a decent man who feels guilt about his less exemplary conduct. Hathcock, who doesn’t even try to be exemplary, is becoming one of my favorite Atkins characters because she’s smart, speaks her mind, and doesn’t need a bunch of people who think they can make American great again “trying to tell me how to run my business because they were born with a pecker between their bowed legs.”

The story races along, leading to eventual car chases and shootouts, but the action is secondary to drama that come from the characters’ interaction: the dynamic between Heath and his nephews; the friendship between Quinn and Kimbrough (a bond that is threatened by an act of violence); Hatchcock’s response to the criminals who seek firmer control of her operation. Ace Atkins always tells a good story, and he does it again in The Sinners, but his characters make the Quinn Colson series special.

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Old Black Magic by Ace Atkins

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on May 1, 2018

Technically, the title of this book is Robert B. Parker’s Old Black Magic, but since Parker (1932-2010) is dead and buried, it isn’t really his, even if it continues the Spenser stories that Parker created. At least G.P. Putnam’s Sons put Ace Atkins’ name on the cover shown above in a font that is noticeable, although not as large as the font used for Parker’s name. (Another version of the cover rather shamefully puts Atkins' name in much smaller font.) Read the Amazon reviews in a couple of months and I assure you that some readers will have purchased this book in the belief that Parker wrote it.

Spenser is hired to find an El Greco that was stolen from the Winthrop twenty years ago, along with a Picasso sketch and another painting. He makes inquiries among his aging connections in the police as well as the Boston underworld, and dutifully accompanies the woman who hired him as she prepares to pay a ransom for the return of the Picasso. One thing leads to another before Spenser is fired by the snooty museum Board and replaced by a snooty British investigator who specializes in art theft.

Of course, being fired won’t deter Spenser. His continued investigation leads him into old underworld feuds, including a closed case involving a mob murder that may or may not be related to the art theft. The El Greco seems to have changed hands more than once, making Spenser feel like he’s playing a game of “Mafia musical chairs.” More murders ensue, giving Spenser reason to wonder who will try to kill him next.

Atkins captures the banter and wisecracks that Parker employed to make Spenser a popular character, even if the series was getting a bit stale by the time of Parker’s death. I don’t know that Atkins has refreshed it — taking the series in a new direction would probably violate his contract, since books about beloved characters whose creators have died are meant to give readers more of the same — but he certainly hasn’t harmed the franchise. Spenser’s girlfriend Susan, his dog Pearl, and a variety of cops and mobsters have the opportunity to listen to Spenser’s irreverent wit. Nor has Atkins diminished Spenser’s love of good food (that he prepares in his kitchen or orders in restaurants) and pastries (that he buys from Boston bakeries or bums from his cop buddies).

The plot of Old Black Magic is more believable than is common in most modern crime novels. It makes enough detours to keep Spenser (and the story) moving, including a visit to Memphis, where the BBQ ribs are hard to beat. Meeting all the shady characters who might have some knowledge of the painting is enjoyable, and if the plot isn’t particularly exciting, it has the virtue of making sense — something that can’t always be said about modern crime novels. And there’s a shootout near the end of the story, proving that Spenser is in capable hands with Atkins.

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The Fallen by Ace Atkins

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on July 18, 2017

Ace Atkins always makes me laugh. He brings intelligence and fair-minded wit to his portrayal of a South that cloaks bigotry and hypocrisy in the language of “old-fashioned values” and “a Christian way of life.” Atkins doesn’t paint all residents of rural Mississippi with the same brush, but he isn’t afraid to expose persistent ugliness. Of course, readers who think that bigotry is a Christian value will probably dislike this novel, but there are plenty of "values" novels by lesser authors with which they can entertain themselves.

Values aside, Atkins always tells a good story, mixing strong characters with a convincing plot. He does all that again in The Fallen, his latest Quinn Colson novel.

In true southern tradition, the residents of Tibbehah County blamed acting Sheriff Lillie Virgil for arresting a coach who was molesting kids (rather than blaming the coach), paving the way for a reluctant Quinn Colson to win his old position as sheriff. Now the county supervisors want to take Tibbehah back to its godly roots. To do that, they want to enforce an ordinance constraining activities at the local titty bar by proclaiming their adherence to wholesome southern values, notwithstanding the county’s long tradition of prostitution, moonshine, and support for the Klan — but their concerns have more to do with greed than morality.

Apart from the normal problems caused by rednecks at the local titty bar, the crime that occupies Quinn in The Fallen is a bank robbery. The robbers are three veterans who haven’t adjusted to civilian life and enjoy the thrill of robbing small town banks. A subplot involves two teenage girls (last seen in The Innocents) who have gone missing.

All of those storylines intertwine. Apart from the bank robberies, the storylines are a continuation of events developed in earlier novels. While novels in some series can be read in any order, that’s not true of the Quinn Colson series. To follow the story, it’s best to start at the beginning and watch the characters and their situations evolve over time. It might be possible to read The Fallen as a stand-alone, but the novel assumes a familiarity with the series. It doesn’t summarize past events in any detail, which might leave new readers wondering what’s going on with some of the characters.

Reliable supporting characters in the series return in The Fallen. In addition to Lillie, other returning characters include Boom Kimbrough, Quinn’s sister Caddie and mother Jean, and titty bar owner Fannie Hathcock. Some aspects of the story are sad, reflecting the reality that life doesn’t always come with a happy ending and that bad guys don’t always get their just deserts. That might turn off readers who are looking for a happier world in their fiction, but the redeeming qualities of the Quinn Colson series are found in Quinn, Lillie, Caddie, and Boom, who are never afraid to stand for what’s right, and who know that what’s right has to do with how people treat each other, as opposed to hypocritical posturing about “old-fashioned values."

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Little White Lies by Ace Atkins

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on May 2, 2017

The official title of this book is apparently Robert B. Parker's Little White Lies, but Parker has been dead for six years. Adding the names of dead authors to titles of books they didn't write is a questionable marketing gimmick and not one that reviewers need to promote.

Ace Atkins is a seasoned writer with a biting sense of humor. Little White Lies is his sixth Spenser novel, after the forty that Robert B. Parker wrote. Atkins captures Parker’s voice, which I think of as a more sophisticated Mickey Spillane.

A right-wing pundit who passes himself off to cable “news” programs as a former CIA agent has swindled Spenser’s latest client in a land deal. The client happens to be a patient of Spenser’s girlfriend. Spenser’s effort to track down the swindler leads him to an equally unsavory owner of a gun range. The two men seem to be working together to sell shady investments, while one or both of them may be making illegal sales of a different kind.

Spenser’s inability to abide a liar puts him at odds with the con man, and his effort to expose the scam takes up the first half of the novel. By the second half, he’s in Atlanta, dealing with gun nuts and a megachurch preacher, all of whom are engaged in swindles or worse. Of course, Spenser’s buddy Hawk has his back, often playing the straight man for Spenser’s sarcastic remarks as they explore Atlanta’s underbelly. Another buddy, Tedy Sapp, plays a similar role while adding some sexual orientation diversity to the cast of good guys.

Little White Lies is a classic detective story, with a few murders sprinkled among the other crimes that Spenser investigates. Between lunatics who think that Jesus carried an AR-15 and the cynical “preachers” who exploit their fears and prejudices, Spenser has his hands full.

Little White Lies isn’t particularly surprising or memorable, but those are not qualities I would expect to find in a franchise that has lasted this long. Little White Lies is a fun, quick read, an entertaining visit with familiar characters. It easily lives up to, but does not surpass, expectations.

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