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THE COLD LIGHT OF MOURNING is Quite Warm

Mystery books often have dark, ominous-looking covers full of shadows and doom. So you know you’re in for something different when you pick up Elizabeth J. Duncan‘s debut mystery novel, The Cold Light of Mourning. The cover is dewy green with the title spelled out in red fingernail polish.

It’s a clue to the profession of the book’s protagonist, Penny Brannigan, who owns a manicure salon in a Welsh village called Llanelen. Penny is an expatriate Canadian who had stumbled upon Llanelen on a backpacking trip twenty-five years earlier, fallen in love with its beauty and decided to stay. The story begins with the death of her longtime friend, Emma Teasdale, and the disappearance of a bride on her wedding day. Penny had done the bride’s nails that morning and may have been the last person to see her. She teams up with a friend and a couple of inspectors to solve the case, working from intuition and making sharp observations of details even the seasoned cops would have probably missed.

If you like your mysteries with a high body count and bullets flying, this probably isn’t for you. But if you’re a fan of the kind of gentle mysteries that Alexander McCall Smith writes, this would be your cup of tea. Winner of the Minotaur/Malice Domestic Best First Traditional Mystery Novel award, the story is more a celebration of Llanelen’s charms and a study of its quirky denizens. It’s a tribute to the strength and vitality of women who are no longer in their 30s and who prefer sensible shoes to Jimmy Choos. At one point, one character bemoans how middle-aged women are treated like they’re invisible. The way Duncan paints them, they’re colorful and very much alive.

Nerd verdict: A cozy Light

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Michael Connelly's THE SCARECROW is Plenty Scary

Michael Connelly has a new book, The Scarecrow, coming out May 26 and needs no help from me to sell planeloads of copies. If you’re a fan, you’ve probably already pre-ordered a copy from Amazon. But wouldn’t you like to hear anyway that it’s a very enjoyable read and that it’s good to have The Poet’s Jack McEvoy back in the starring role?

Right off the bat, McEvoy gets laid off from the L.A. Times due to corporate downsizing and he’s looking for a big story to make the powers that be regret their decision. He receives a call from an irate woman who claims to be the mother of a kid who’s been arrested for murder. LAPD claims the kid confessed but the woman says the teen’s innocent. Skeptical, McEvoy investigates anyway and finds there was no confession. Furthermore, the M.O. used in the murder is strikingly similar to an out-of-state killing the kid couldn’t have committed.

A long way from the career high which came after his encounter with the Poet, McEvoy latches on to the trail of this creepy new killer, who quickly turns his attention on the reporter and even hits McEvoy where he lives. With the help of his former lover, FBI Agent Rachel Walling, McEvoy might just get that big story he’s after but may have to pay for it with his life.

I’m a devoted fan of Harry Bosch but I really like McEvoy, too. The Poet rocked my socks and McEvoy is a more romantic hero than Bosch. He seems to fit better with Walling and his methods of journalistic investigation are more familiar to me than Bosch’s police procedures. McEvoy has popped up in Connelly’s other books (i.e. The Brass Verdict) but those were inconsequential appearances. Having him as the lead once again is a treat which shouldn’t be missed by Connelly fans.

Much of my enjoyment of this book also stemmed from it being a paean to the daily grind of print journalism, a dying art as newspapers are shutting down across the country. The descriptions of the newspaper lingo and processes are almost romantic and bittersweet, making me nostalgic for an institution I know is changing in an irreversible way. The movie State of Play, which I saw this weekend, also pays tribute to this same issue (click here for my review and comparison with the BBC version) and it’s sad news all around.

On that note, I’m gonna stop writing and go read my paper.

Nerd verdict: This Scarecrow is sturdy

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Richard Jenkins to EAT, PRAY, LOVE with Julia Roberts

I’m one of the gazillion people who loved Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love so I’ve been keeping tabs on the movie adaptation to see if it’s getting the proper care as it makes its trek through development hell. So far, despite the little turnaround problem with Paramount, it looks good to me.

You’ve probably heard about Julia Roberts playing Gilbert. Though Roberts is a little older than Gilbert was during the events in the book (41 to the author’s early 30s), she still looks great and her smart-girl charm seems in line with the witty intelligence Gilbert exudes in her TV talk show appearances.

This week, the trades report that Richard Jenkins has been cast as Richard from Texas, someone Gilbert befriended in India who ended up enlightening her with his insight and simple truths. I was able to reach the real Richard to get a quick reaction to Jenkins’s casting.

PCN: How do you feel about Richard Jenkins playing you?

Richard from Texas: I’m not familiar with this Jenkins fellow. Thought Dennis Quaid would be a good fit for the part but who knows what their vision for the movie is.

PCN: Jenkins is a fine actor who was Oscar-nominated this year for The Visitor, which I recommend since it’s a charming little film. He doesn’t look much like you but you’ll be in good hands talent-wise. What do you think about your movie self hanging out with Julia Roberts?

Richard from Texas: Julia Roberts seems like a nice person; I could hang with her and hubby and kids. Twins are so much fun, got a pair of 11-year-old identical twins in my life, wonderful to spend time with them, they are so sweet. As far as my movie self goes—it should be interesting.

PCN: Are there any obvious similarities between Roberts and the Elizabeth Gilbert you know?

Richard from Texas with Gilbert (from his website)

Richard from Texas: I don’t know Julia Roberts and Liz Gilbert is my dear friend as well as a private person. You’ll have to ask her that question.

Since Gilbert is working to finish her next book, Matrimonium, for a 2010 release, it’s not likely I’ll be able to reach her. But I’ll keep tabs on the movie and keep you updated on any news. (UPDATE: Read my review of her follow-up, now titled Commited, here.)

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Unplugging from the Culture

Photo © Pop Culture Nerd

I haven’t written in the last few days because this is where I was. Went away for a little R & R in Desert Hot Springs where there’s no phone, TV or Internet, just lots of sun, soaking in hot tubs of mineral spring water and catching up on reading. Ahhhh.

Read a couple books, Jane Hamilton’s (A Map of the World, The Book of Ruth) new one, Laura Rider’s Masterpiece, and the first mystery novel by Lis Wiehl (with April Henry) called Face of Betrayal. Masterpiece started out with a funny first sentence: “Just because Laura Rider had no children didn’t mean her husband was a homosexual, but the people of Hartley, Wisconsin believed he was, and no babies seemed to them proof.” But then it lost me.

None of the lead characters are likable. Laura, who was never a big reader until adulthood, wants to write a romance novel and about all the prep she does is watching Pride & Prejudice, the Keira Knightley version, and buying an ergonomic chair. Oh, and she manipulates her husband in an implausible plot to do “research” for her book. Her husband Charlie is infantile, eating corndogs on a stick and tater tots for dinner and Froot Loops for breakfast, slurping the pink milk. He also believes he was once abducted by aliens. The third person in the triangle is Jenna, a local radio personality who can talk to anyone on her show but can’t seem to communicate with her husband and daughter. I might be a little more sympathetic towards her if she wasn’t such a big hypocrite when it comes to adultery.

I don’t think protagonists have to be perfect; the most interesting characters aren’t. But we must care for them in some way and I didn’t want to root for anyone in this story. The story is supposed to be funny but I was too annoyed by the characters to laugh. They were either clueless or self-obsessed or pretentious and deserved whatever they got.

The other book I finished, Face of Betrayal, also revolved around three lead characters who call themselves the Triple Threat Club. It’s very much like James Patterson’s Women’s Murder Club. Three women—an FBI agent, a federal prosecutor, a TV news reporter—meet regularly to dine and trade information to solve murders. The plot, about a young Senate page who goes missing, borrows heavily from the Chandra Levy and Mark Foley cases but adds a twist when it comes to the killer’s identity.

You can argue whether writing a ripped-from-the-headlines story is less creative or more relevant but the end result here is very readable. It may not break new ground in the genre but Wiehl really knows her territories and kept me flipping those pages. She’s a former federal prosecutor who now works as a legal analyst and commentator for Fox News and on The O’Reilly Factor with Bill O’Reilly. Her father was an FBI agent so Wiehl accomplishes the neat trick of writing with authority about each of the three women’s line of work and making them three distinct personalities. (I used to be a TV reporter and her newsroom details really took me back there.) This is the first in a promised series and the book ends with a gripping excerpt of two chapters from the next installment.

Nerd Verdicts: Jane Hamilton’s latest is not a Masterpiece but Lis Wiehl’s Face is compelling

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LONG LOST Myron and Win Are Back!

I hate Harlan Coben. Every time I pick up one of his books, I think, Oh, I’ll just read one chapter and then I’ll get on with my work/grocery shopping/showering, whatever. But it never works out that way. I’ll read one chapter, then the next, then the next, then it’s 12 hours later and I’m unwashed and starving but there’s no food in the house and I missed my dental appointment because I haven’t moved from my spot on the couch.

And so it wasn’t any different with Coben’s latest, Long Lost (out March 31), especially because sports agent Myron Bolitar, his sociopathic friend Win, his partner Esperanza and their receptionist Big Cyndi are all back in style for their ninth adventure. Myron gets a call from an old lover, Terese Collins (last seen in Darkest Fear), who entices him to meet her in Paris without telling him why. He runs into trouble as soon as he sets foot on French soil and the action doesn’t stop after he returns to this side of the Atlantic. I don’t like giving a lot away so I’ll just vaguely say the plot involves murder, a possible kidnapping and cover-up involving a long-ago car accident, questions about nature vs. nurture, stem cell science, and terrorism.

Of all Coben’s books, I think this has the grandest scope. I’m not just talking about the locations, though the descriptions of Paris are delicious (there’s a sly reference to the French movie Tell No One, which is based on one of Coben’s stand-alones). What I mean is, the stories are usually personal—Myron (or whoever’s the protagonist in the stand-alones) gets sucked into a mystery because he’s trying to find resolution for a personal matter or help out a friend. But Long Lost involves political conspiracies and Myron’s actions have international consequences. The final reveal is disturbing and you won’t see it coming.

If you’re reading this and thinking, “What the…? I just want my wisecracking Myron and his goofy friends!” Don’t worry—Myron is still funny, still drinking his beloved Yoo-Hoos, but he’s more mature, as he should be since he’s now in his forties. His relationships have more weight and poignancy, especially when he describes what it’s like to watch his parents get older and more fragile. Myron’s quips just can’t cover up the heart that sits on his sleeve.

So, Myron fans, you can rejoice that he’s back, but when you sit down to read this book, make sure you send your kids to a relative, cancel your appointments and wear a carpel-tunnel-syndrome brace so you won’t hurt your hand flipping those pages.

Nerd Verdict: Nothing Lost in translation in this international thriller

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One Cool Ride with Don Winslow’s THE DAWN PATROL

My friend Betsy had been recommending Don Winslow’s The Dawn Patrol to me for a few months but I’d resisted ’cause I found out it was about surfing. I’ve never surfed, don’t know anything about it, am afraid of big waves and didn’t think I’d want to read about a bunch of surfer dudes. Boy, was I wrong. I finally picked up the book and, like a big wave, it slammed into me, rolled me a few times and didn’t let me up for air until two days later.

Boone Daniels and his five friends make up the Dawn Patrol, a group of surfers (five guys, one girl) who meet every morning at dawn to tackle the waves at Pacific Beach in San Diego. Then the others go off to “real” jobs while Boone moonlights as a private investigator, but only enough to afford fish tacos on flour tortillas because “everything tastes better on a tortilla.” He takes a supposedly easy case—locating a missing stripper who was supposed to testify in a major trial—but finds out a little girl has also gone missing. This brings back memories of the case which resulted in Boone’s quitting the San Diego Police Department, one involving a missing little girl he was unable to find. Boone is determined not to fail this time and as he gets farther into the investigation, it forces him to choose sides and do things that might ruin the brotherhood of the Dawn Patrol.

Though the subject matter turns out to be heart shattering, the book has many hilarious moments. The scene where the gang takes one of its members, Hang Twelve, to a strip club for his birthday made me laugh out loud. “Naked asses” and “buffet” really should never be in the same sentence. Everyone in the patrol is funny, compelling and cooler than cool but their easy, jokey banter belies the fact they would fiercely watch each other’s back.

My friend Betsy with Winslow

The thing I love about Winslow’s breezy style is that he paints clear pictures in succinct strokes. In describing a man about to be attacked by thugs in his home, Winslow writes, “He’s on his third Corona when the door comes in.” He also pulls off something I’ve never seen before—a complete sentence consisting only of the same word repeated three times as subject-verb-object, as in the final sentence here: “Now he drives his truck…with his best friend in the back, a man who is like family to him. But like ain’t is. Is is is.”

Winslow is so good with his prose, he even makes the history behind the surf culture interesting. Normally, I would’ve skipped over these sections to get to the whodunit but with Winslow, you don’t want to miss a word because none is wasted.

Rating: Brilliant

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When Is It Time to Give Up a Series Character?

I read a lot of mystery-thrillers and in this genre, there are many series characters—Lee Child’s Jack Reacher, Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone, Robert B. Parker’s Spenser, Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch, Robert Crais’s Elvis Cole, to name just a few. Some have been around for decades and falling into one of their stories is like reconnecting with an old friend. But recently, I had a couple of disappointing experiences which made me wonder: How long should your friend stay around before overstaying his/her welcome?

Linda Barnes writes a series about Boston P.I. Carlotta Carlyle, a fiery, red-headed, cab-driving investigator whose on-again/off-again lover is connected to the mafia. These books used to break my heart, especially Coyote, in which Carlotta stumbles upon a scheme exploiting illegal immigrants. Carlotta was someone who was tough but always human and she would evolve as each case affected her (unlike some series characters who seem to hit the reset button after every book).

But lately Carlotta has become infuriating to me. She keeps getting sucked into shady business involving her on-again/off-again mob boyfriend, Sam. You’d think a smart cookie like her would just dump him for good already because she doesn’t seem to love him—it’s more a lust thing. I found myself skipping huge chunks of the book whenever it deals with Carlotta’s Oh-can-I-trust-Sam? dilemma. The answer is no, he gives you no reason to, get on with it. I only kept reading because I was curious about the case, which wasn’t one of her best.

Carlotta’s relationship with “little sister” Paolina has also worn thin. Paolina never seems to appreciate all Carlotta does for her and made only a cameo appearance in this latest installment (I didn’t miss her). I couldn’t help thinking perhaps it’s time for Carlotta to let Paolina go, just as it’s time for us to let Carlotta retire.

Meanwhile, across town, a couple of investigators have been retired before their time. In a recent Entertainment Weekly interview, Dennis Lehane said it’s highly unlikely he’ll ever write another mystery (using terms like “I couldn’t care less” and “It sucked”), much less one involving his Boston P.I.s Patrick Kenzie and Angie Gennaro, featured in Gone, Baby, Gone and four other novels.

I think this series is a superior one so I was dismayed by this announcement. I believe Patrick and Angie have at least a few more stories left in them so I’m not ready to say goodbye. Lehane went on to ridicule Patrick, saying, “…I was using Patrick as my doppelgänger during my 20s and 30s. Now he’d just piss me off. It’s like, ‘Grow up, dude!”’

Did Lehane just insult one of his finest creations and the legions of readers devoted to him? Is the author implying we’re immature for still enjoying Patrick and Angie? I wanted to write a letter of protest or just beg Lehane to reconsider. How about letting Kenzie evolve into a man in his 40s (like Lehane)? He doesn’t have to stay in his 30s.

But then I thought, Am I being unfair to the author? If he’s not passionate about a character or genre, how can he make it interesting for himself and readers? Shouldn’t we allow writers to stretch creatively? Do they really owe readers anything? I believe writers should write for themselves because it’s impossible to please everyone. Lehane can do as he pleases but he didn’t have to trash Patrick and mysteries in general, in effect insulting the many fans who embraced his earlier books.

Perhaps Lehane should take a page from what Robert Crais said at a book signing I attended. I don’t recall the exact words but the gist was that a book is a collaboration between him and his readers and therefore, a book isn’t complete until we’ve interacted with it. I can only hope then that Lehane’s newest release, a historical epic called The Given Day, will be a finished book.

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