Angela Sloan by James Whorton

Published by Free Press on August 2, 2011

After a seven-year-old girl's parents were murdered during the 1964 Simba rebellion against the government of the Congo, CIA Agent Ray Sloan plucked her from the orange tree in which she was hiding and kept her sheltered until the rebellion was quashed. Sloan gave her the name Angela (for reasons that are explained about midway through the novel) and raised her as his daughter. The events described in the novel (written in the form of a letter to the CIA, authored by Angela) begin after Sloan's 1972 retirement, when a former CIA agent called Horsefly recruits Ray to join a private firm. Ray works with another operative known as Gristle (although not identified by name, Gristle is obviously G. Gordon Liddy). Shortly after the Watergate break-in is discovered, Gristle thinks it would be best to shoot everyone involved (including Horsefly and Ray) to contain the damage and protect the White House. Ray decides it's time to go to ground and implements a plan that calls for Angela to go her separate way until it is safe for Ray and Angela to reunite.

Ray's tradecraft is good but the man is a wreck. His life is a cover story, and not one assigned by the CIA. He drinks too much, he's paranoid, he has Angela (now fourteen) chauffeur him around after a driving lesson that consists of telling her to avoid reverse gear and left turns. Leaving Angela to fend for herself is clearly poor parenting but as the story progresses, it becomes increasingly difficult not to feel sympathy for Ray. In any event, Angela isn't by herself for long. Driving away from their home in D.C., Angela finds an unexpected passenger in her back seat, an inscrutable Chinese Maoist named Betty. Angela later encounters Ray's old friends and colleagues, the Gantrys, as well as a group of hippies and a female CIA operative who may or may not be on Ray's side.

By having Ray and Angela live their lives as cover stories, Whorton creates a clever means to explore the nature of self-deception. Angela sees people as would a CIA field agent: as assets to be manipulated while taking care not to be manipulated by them. Angela's road trip with Betty becomes a journey of discovery. She learns things about Ray that explain why he drinks himself into a stupor every night, one of many issues they've never discussed. As Angela assembles pieces of the puzzle that has been their life, she learns about herself and comes to realize how little she knows about Ray, how much of their respective pasts they've chosen to ignore. Analyzing her bizarre interaction with Betty, she begins to understand the value of honest friendships.

The novel is constructed as a series of bite-size chapters, contributing to its steady pace. Whorton doesn't bog down the story with unnecessary subplots although he does introduce a couple of unnecessary characters. While the story builds interest as it moves along, my interest waned in the final chapters. That's unfortunate because most of the novel is quite funny; Angela's conversations with Betty are hysterical. Still, some bits -- particularly Angela's interaction with a small group of hippies as the story is winding down -- are bland, the attempted comedy too obvious to generate mirth. The story lags at that point (adding hippies and the inevitable acid trip was a poor choice) and the last few chapters are disappointing. The weak ending doesn't ruin the novel but it certainly doesn't help the story reach its full potential.  On balance, I enjoyed the humor in Angela Sloan, but not enough to give the novel an enthusiastic recommendation.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

Rules of Civility by Amor Towles

Published by Viking on July 26, 2011

Some books unfold at a leisurely pace and demand to be read in the same way -- nibbled and savored, the better to prolong the pleasure. Rules of Civility is one of those. It's a throwback novel, the kind in which unashamedly bright characters engage in impossibly witty conversations. The novel takes its name from the 110 rules that George Washington crafted during his teenage years. Katey Kontent eventually sees Washington's rules not as "a series of moral aspirations" but as "a primer on social advancement." They are the rules that shape a masquerade in the hope "that they will enhance one's chances at a happy ending." Ultimately Rules of Civility asks a serious question about Katey's observation: Are the behavioral rules that define "civility" simply a mask that people wear to conceal their true natures? Or are the rules themselves important, and the motivation for following them irrelevant?

The story begins in 1966 but quickly turns back to 1938, the most eventful year in Katey's life. Katey and her friend Eve meet Tinker Grey, a charming young banker, at a jazz club on New Year's Eve. Their blossoming three-way friendship takes an unexpected turn when Eve is injured in an accident while Tinker is driving. Tinker's apparent preference for Katey shifts to Eve as she recuperates. Months later, something happens to cause a change in their relationship, giving Tinker a more important role in Katey's life. Along the way, Katey's career is leaping forward: from reliable member of a law firm's secretarial pool to secretary at a staid publishing house to gofer and then editorial assistant at a trendy magazine. As Katey socializes with the well-to-do and the up-and-coming, she learns surprising secrets about the people in her life, including Tinker, and learns some things about herself, as well.

Katey is an outsider socializing with a privileged group of people (white, wealthy, and sophisticated), but she remains the grounded daughter of a working class Russian immigrant. She treasures her female friends. She neither hides nor flaunts her intelligence. She makes choices "with purpose and inspiration" although she comes to wonder about them in later years. Like most people who use their minds, she's filled with contradictions. Reading Walden, she values simplicity; she fears losing "the ability to take pleasure in the mundane -- in the cigarette on the stoop or the gingersnap in the bath." At the same time, she enjoys fine dining and dressing well: "For what was civilization but the intellect's ascendancy out of the doldrums of necessity (shelter, sustenance, and survival) into the ether of the finely superfluous (poetry, handbags, and haute cuisine)?"

To varying degrees, the characters in this novel make mistakes (who doesn't?). As one character notes, "at any given moment we're all seeking someone's forgiveness." But when should forgiveness be granted? When does love require forgiveness? Towles avoids simplistic answers to these difficult questions; this isn't a melodrama in which characters ride out tragedies to arrive at a neat and happy ending. Ultimately, this is a nuanced novel that remains cautiously optimistic about life, crafted by a generous writer who sees the good in people who have trouble seeing it in themselves, a writer who believes people have the capacity for change.

Rules of Civility offers up occasional treats for readers in the form of brief passages from the books the characters are reading, snippets from Hemingway and Thoreau and Woolf, an ongoing description of an Agatha Christie novel. When Towles introduces a book editor as a character in the novel's second act, it seems clear that Towles shares the editor's old-fashioned respect for "plot and substance and the judicious use of the semicolon." Towles captures the essence of minor characters with a few carefully chosen words. In the same precise and evocative style he recreates 1938 Manhattan: neighborhoods, restaurants, fashions, and music. He writes in a distinctive voice, refined but street-smart, tailored to the era in which the novel is set. His dialog is sharp and sassy. The ending has a satisfying symmetry. If I could find something critical to say about this novel, I would, but I can't.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

The Paradise Prophecy by Robert Browne

Published by Dutton on July 21, 2011

The Paradise Prophecy might have been called Angels & Demons if Dan Brown hadn’t already used that title.  In this corner we have the demons (or dark angels), with Belial orchestrating the fight for Team Lucifer; her teammates include Beelzebub (in the guise of an LA club owner), Moloch and Mamman.  In the opposite corner we have Belial’s brother Michael (a fallen angel who isn’t dark) and a couple of humans:  an historian aptly named “Batty” LaLaurie and superspy Bernadette Callahan who works for a secret government agency known only as Section.  Both sides are seeking a powerful weapon called the Telum that God has hidden, apparently for His own amusement.  If the demons acquire the Telum first, they will be in a position to implement their plan for Final Conquest (sounds like a video game, doesn’t it?).

Unfortunately, Robert Browne is no Dan Brown (and I say that as someone who isn't a particular fan of Dan Brown).  Perhaps fantasy fans looking for a predictable story of good vs. evil will enjoy The Paradise Prophecy.  Although the novel appears to be well researched, it disappointed me on several fronts.  Let me break down the novel’s problems as briefly as I can. 

The plot:  The Paradise Prophecy draws on the legend surrounding the Codex Gigas (also known as the Devil’s bible).  Seven pages are missing from the manuscript -- pages that will change the universe forever (or so Galileo tells Milton in the prologue).  An attempt to link Milton’s original manuscript of Paradise Lost to the Codex Gigas gets buried in the surrounding muddle.  Initially it seems as if the story will focus on a Brazilian superstar who sings Christian pop but she disappears in a ball of fire while lighting her crack pipe.  At another point it appears that the demons who are buying enriched uranium from a Russian might be important (we never learn how the Russian manages to acquire enriched uranium) but that plot thread gets lost until a nuclear bomb explodes in one of the final chapters (we never learn how the demons manage to construct the bomb).  The Telum should be central to the story but, despite occasional mentions, the Telum remains backstage until the novel is nearing its end.  Michael makes an early appearance but rather than setting up an epic battle between Michael and Belial, Michael too is absent for most of the story.  So what’s left?  A lot of chit-chat between Batty and Bernadette and a fair amount of mindless action that substitutes for a cohesive plot.

The characters:  One might think that demons with supernatural powers controlling scores of unnaturally strong drudges and shape-shifting sycophants would not be quite as inept as the ones that populate this novel.  In fact, one might think that a demonically possessed sycophant wouldn’t be so easily defeated in a beat-down inflicted by a diminutive superspy, even one who “knows twenty ways to kill someone with one hand.”  Even worse, we’re supposed to believe that Belial, a demon who can catch bullets in her hands, is vulnerable to Callahan’s “flying tackle straight to Belial’s gut.”  Sadly, the human characters are just as unbelievable as the demons.  Batty is recruited to help Callahan because he’s an expert on Milton, but oh happy coincidence!  He’s also gifted with The Vision, a psychic power that is sort of like demon radar.  At least Batty likes to get drunk and praise Eve for eating the apple, giving him a hint of personality.  Superspy Callahan, despite being a female cross between James Bond and Jason Bourne, has no personality at all.

The writing:  An overreliance on cliché (e.g., “good riddance to bad rubbage”), excessive wordiness, and clumsy dialog (do modern superspies really say “Look buster”?) are among the novel’s stylistic problems.  Attempts at witty banter fall flat.  The momentum dies on too many occasions as Browne explains background facts.  The story too often descends into melodrama; the relationship between Batty, a demon, and Batty’s deceased wife had me rolling my eyes.  There are a couple of sex scenes that seem designed to titillate adolescent readers.  Above all, Browne’s writing style lacks polish; it often seems amateurish.

To be fair, the story, while poorly executed, has some modest entertainment value.  It isn’t entirely awful.  Still, because of the unfocused plot and mediocre writing, I can’t recommend it.

NOT RECOMMENDED

Very Bad Men by Harry Dolan

Published by Amy Einhorn Books/Putnam on July 7, 2011

Very Bad Men tells a very good story, an absorbing mystery with enough twists that you may need to take notes to keep track of the plot.  Someone is trying to kill the participants in a bank robbery that occurred seventeen years earlier.  We are well into the novel before the police discover the killer's identity, but this isn't a whodunit:  the reader knows from the start that Anthony Lark is the culprit.  What we don't know is why Lark is after the robbers.  Investigating the mystery are David Loogan, the editor of a mystery magazine; his law enforcement girlfriend, Detective Elizabeth Waishkey; and Lucy Navarro, a persistent tabloid reporter.   Rounding out the cast are the wheelchair-bound former sheriff who caught a bullet while foiling the bank robbery, his daughter Callie who is running for a Senate seat (and with whom Lark is more than a little obsessed), Lark's psychiatrist, and Callie's father-in-law, an affable senator whose behavior is a bit loopy.

The mystery's solution seems to be tied to the getaway driver who fled when the robbery went sour.  His identity presents a second mystery for Loogan and the police to ponder.  When Navarro disappears a little more than halfway into the story, yet another layer of intrigue is added:  Was Navarro kidnapped, and if so, by whom?

Lark is the novel's best character.  He suffers from an affliction that imbues written words with color and causes them to move around on a page.   He can handle Hemmingway's terse prose but Joseph Heller's abundant adverbs "swarm like marching ants."  While unexpected traits like this bring many of Harry Dolan's characters to life, Waishkey is a typical police detective, less interesting than the novel's other players.

Dolan uses crisp, undemanding prose to construct an effective plot.  We know that someone wants the truth to remain buried -- to that end, Loogan and Navarro are confronted with threats and attempted bribes -- but the puzzle surrounding the bank robbery kept me guessing to the end.  Although it's not always easy to follow, the plot never becomes so convoluted as to slow the story's steady pace.

Loogan is no Sherlock Holmes.  As he tries to puzzle out the solutions to the various mysteries, he's frequently wrong.  That gives him a measure of credibility that is too often missing from the seemingly infallible armchair detectives who headline mystery novels.  As unlikely as it might be for a mystery magazine editor to become embroiled in a mystery, Dolan concocts a believable excuse for Loogan's involvement.

This is the second David Loogan novel but the first I've read.  It was strong enough to earn my recommendation and to encourage me to buy the first book.

RECOMMENDED

The Devil All the Time by Donald Ray Pollock

Published by Doubleday on July 12, 2011

It is rare and wonderful to find a writer who combines the literary sensibility of character-driven fiction with the storytelling ability that shapes the best plot-driven fiction. Donald Ray Pollock is such a writer. I was enthused about the stories collected in his first book, Knockemstiff, and looked forward to reading his first novel. The Devil All the Time did not disappoint.

As was true in Knockemstiff, nearly all the characters in The Devil All the Time are ignorant, violent, and dirt poor. They solve problems with fists and guns. They are driven by sex but empty of love. For the most part, they are beyond redemption, particularly those who claim to serve a higher power. The characters are, at best, drifting through life; at worst, they are consciously evil.

The novel's title appears in nine-year-old Arvin Russell's thoughts: "As far back as he could remember, it seemed that his father had fought the Devil all the time." Willard Russell's battle isn't entirely successful; his intense prayer sessions at an altar of his own making do not shield him from excessive drink or violence. As the novel moves forward, it takes us back in time, gives us a glimpse of the events that shaped Willard's life, then zooms ahead to events that shape Arvin's. The novel detours to other stories: a sheriff and his sister both have homicidal tendencies, as does the sister's twisted husband; a man in a wheelchair and his preacher friend eke out a living in a carnival tent show before they're forced to leave; a clergyman has a taste for young girls. Eventually, as the separate lives weave together, we realize that all these characters are battling the Devil all the time.

A couple of chapters read like the self-contained short stories in Knockemstiff, but they integrate well with the rest of the novel. At times the characters seem too much like the bedeviled losers who populate other bleak novels (clergy members preying on the young is becoming a cliché even if it's never far removed from the headlines), but Pollock's best characters shine with the polish of originality. Pollock's writing is crisp. He includes sufficient detail to develop his characters and to set scenes without slowing the novel's pace.

This isn't a novel for readers who need to like the characters in order to like the book. This isn't a novel for readers who have an aversion to gruesome violence or bizarre sexual practices. For readers who appreciate an intense story filled with sharply drawn characters struggling with lives that seem destined for doom, this is an excellent novel.

RECOMMENDED