Death Comes for the Fat Man, by Reginald Hill

Harper Collins New York 2007. 404 pages.

This is my first Reginald Hill, I doubt it will be my last. What a great mystery and crime novel, and good to the last words on the last page! This story is masterfully done, tightly raveled so that it unravels throughout every inch of the book.

The novel begins with a horrendous explosion where Detective Superintendent Andy Dalziel is seriously injured. He is not expected to live, but he is taken to a hospital and put on life support. This is how we are introduced to one of the most important characters in the book who, although completely out of the picture, affects everything and everybody in the story from beginning to end.

We are left with Chief Inspector Peter Pascoe, his close friend and colleague, who is also injured in the explosion although not quite as seriously. Pascoe spends the rest of the book getting to the bottom of the cause of the explosion and what is really going on in Manchester. The mystery involves a range of strange characters, including British secret counter-terrorism agents, self-styled "Templar" vigilantes (see also The Da Vinci Code and The Templar Legacy though I recommend neither one, they both reference this legendary group of Crusade-era knights), quirky Yorkshire cops, a paralyzed veteran of the war in Iraq, a talent agent named Ffion, and much and many more.

The plot is intricate, we are skillfully hoodwinked, this is a very satisfying read with nary a wasted page.

High Five, by Janet Evanovich

1999 St. Martin's Press. 317 pages. ISBN 0-312-97134-6.

This book was a lot of fun, total escape, took about four hours to read. I've never read one of Ms. Evanovich's works before, but I will read more.

Stephanie Plum is the heroine; she's a bounty hunter in New Jersey. She's quite unlikely, very feminine, but very tough. The story is funny, and the mystery is quite valid. This is great entertainment.

The depiction of an old middle-class neighborhood in Trenton is extremely well-done. I grew up in the Northeast and felt right at home amongst the little houses in "The Burg."

"You can relocate in Antarctica, but if you were born and raised in the Burg you're a Burger for life. Houses are small and obsessively neat. Televisions are large and loud. Lots are narrow. Families are extended. There are no pooper-scooper laws in the Burg. If your dog does his business on somebody else's lawn, the next morning the doo-doo will be on your front porch. Life is simple in the Burg."

Aside from the poignantly accurate description of American life in Trenton, we have the story. Stephanie spends most of this book looking for her missing uncle Fred. In the process, there's a lot of action, including attempts on her life, explosions, an ex-con who has pledged revenge against her (and he is a first-class creep, too), a very small man whom she's obliged to board in her apartment (long story), a job working for a very dangerous sort of guy, doing things like scaring drug dealers away from an apartment building, and -- you get it. It's loaded, get it. Read it. Enjoy it.

I'm going to get another one soon.

Falling Man, by Don DeLillo

Scribner, New York 2007. 246 pages. ISBN 1-4165-4602-2.

Don DeLillo wrote this book about a few people living in New York City at the time of the September 11, 2001 hijacked airliner attack on the World Trade Center. One of the characters, Keith, is a survivor of the Towers who walked out with his life, barely ahead of the collapse.

Keith, his wife Lianne, their son Justin, and many other New Yorkers are portrayed in this novel in a kind of shock-dulled atmosphere where the horror and bizarre intensity of so many sudden deaths has rendered normal life practically impossible, and at the same time so very valuable, so very dear.

The prose reads to me like ocean waves lapping at the shore. In and out, quiet but overwhelming in their persistent sound. (An earlier DeLillo novel is entitled White Noise. I don't believe I've read it, but I may have.) DeLillo is a master, I've not been disappointed by a word of his choosing.

Nothing is the same now. Whether it's our fault, or the fault of forces and persons beyond our control, we are indelibly changed, no longer innocent or naive.

A European (German?) man in the story declares that America's fate is to become irrelevant.

"...Soon the day is coming when nobody has to think about America except for the danger it brings..."

And later:

"...There's an empty space where America used to be."

The Falling Man of the title is a performance artist whose repeated work is to fall from high places, jerked to a stop by "... an arrangement of straps under the dress shirt and blue suit with one strand emerging from a trouser leg ..."

Bangkok Tattoo, by John Burdett

Alfred A. Knopf New York 2005. 302 pages. ISBN 1-4000-4045-0.

This is the second book I've read by John Burdett, the first being Bangkok 8. The protagonist is again Sonchai Jitpleecheep, detective in the Royal Thai Police, serving under the notorious Colonel Vikorn. Again, the book starts with a murdered American, and takes off at a wild pace into a bizarre mystery set in Bangkok and its surrounds.

While this novel has much in common with the other, I didn't find it the least bit distracting or detracting. Instead, I felt at home in Sonchai's world, having been initiated into the unique atmosphere of Thailand, and having from that other book absorbed some of Burdett's philosophy regarding what we in the West would probably term corruption.

The mystery is excellent, the action never lets up. The characters are well and completely drawn, and I found myself involved with nearly every one.

Mitch Turner, the murdered American, has apparently been killed by a prostitute named Chanya, who is in the employ of a house known as the "Old Man's Club." This institution is owned by Sonchai, his mother, and the Colonel. It becomes evident that Turner is in the employ of the CIA. His murder is particularly grisly, and involves some very particular mutilation.

As the story unfolds, we learn about the Muslim culture in Thailand, and how it feels threatened by the USA's irrational quest to find and destroy all remnants of its arch-enemy, Al Qaeda. There is a fair amount of interesting insight into what might be the attitudes of Muslims in Southeast Asia, as well as their coexistence with the Buddhists who dominate Thailand. There are some interesting discussions of the effects of these two religions, and how they compare to Christianity as manifested in the USA.

Agents of the CIA arrive and become involved. There is in the background a war going on between Colonel Vikorn of the Police and General Zinna of the Army. Incredible dirty tricks are used in this conflict, which weaves in and out of the plot and mystery concerning the death of Mitch Turner.

Turner, who was obsessed with Chanya, was also obsessed with tattoos, and tattoos become an interesting element in this story, as well as a peculiar tattoo artist from Japan. We are introduced to underground characters from both Japan and China as well in this story.

In the end, when most of the mystery is unravelled and some of it is resolved, Sonchai reminds us: "We are distracted from distraction by distraction. Nothing is happening... Says the Buddha: All meaning is realized, the universe is nirvanic."

I very much look forward to my next opportunity to read a book by John Burdett.

China Road, by Rob Gifford

I must admit to only reading part, perhaps half, of this book. But it was new, and the library wouldn't let me keep it any longer. Lord knows I have to stay on good terms with that institution.

China is certainly an up-and-coming power and force in the world, in terms of economic and political influence. This book is a look at the state of the country from the viewpoint of NPR correspondent Rob Gifford, who takes and incredible long road trip along route 312, "the route 66 of China."

Gifford interviews "old hundred names," the traditional name for the common people of China, and provides a picture of what their lives are like. Whether they are truck drivers, coal miners, or prostitutes, Gifford talks to them and writes about their hopes and dreams, and their predictions for the future of the nation.

Whether Gifford's assessment of the politics and economy of China is correct I leave to experts. What I took away from this book was the feeling that I had met several contemporary Chinese working people and experienced their common humanity. They are, after all, no different than any of us who struggle to get by.

The One Percent Doctrine, by Ron Suskind

Deep Inside America's Pursuit of its Enemies Since 9/11
Simon and Schuster, 2006. 367 pages.

OK, Americans. Required reading.

Think Dick Cheney's a little creepy?

This is a dispassionate analysis of where America's been going for the last six years. It is remarkably unbiased, and sticks to high standards of journalism, i.e. reporting as opposed to pontificating.

But you can't simply not draw some conclusions.

We haven't just become paranoid, we've discarded basic tenets of our system of government under the banner of fighting terrorism and Al Qaeda. Our latest President enjoys his second term in office with one of the lowest approval ratings ever given a US President. There is little or no doubt that he is at the very least guilty of perpetrating an enormous lie about the reason for the Iraq war, and yet he remains in office, and out of prison.

Read this well-written account of what our security services have been doing, and how public servants have been forced to either sacrifice their integrity or resign while the Cheney-Bush juggernaut rolls on.

Lincoln, by Gore Vidal

OK, the truth: I got tired of this book and abandoned it after reading about two-thirds of it.

I recall that I liked Gore Vidal when last I read his stuff, so maybe this was just my problem, or maybe this just wasn't his best book.

I recently heard a Lincoln biographer interviewed on NPR say that there have been something like 14,000 books written about Lincoln. Whew.

I grew tired of what seemed like stilted, unreal dialogue. I also became aware of a consistent use of segue to move from one scene to another. This is a legitimate and useful tool in storytelling, but it should (in my humble opinion) be transparent, or at least hardly noticeable, when used skillfully.

I did learn a few interesting things about Lincoln -- unfortunately in the context of fiction, so I'll have to do more research before I can truly "believe."