Galway Confidential by Ken Bruen

Published by Mysterious Press on March 5, 2024

Jack Taylor wakes up from a coma after 18 months and, within minutes, has his first taste of Jameson. It makes him feel much better.

Jack entered the coma after being stabbed multiple times at the end of A Galway Epiphany. Upon awakening, Jack learns that his life was saved by a man named Rafferty. Rafferty has been visiting Jack after convincing the hospital nurses that he is Jack’s brother. Rafferty has taken an interest in Jack’s life — he explains that he produces a true crime podcast that often features Jack’s cases — and, after Jack's discharge, Rafferty tries to partner with him on a couple of investigations. This will prove to be bad both for Jack and Rafferty, although series fans know that having any sort of friendship with Jack is likely to invite danger.

The plot of Galway Confidential is fairly typical for a Jack Taylor novel, although it might be less shockingly violent than most. A former nun, Shiela Winston, wants to hire Jack to find the rogue who has been killing nuns in Galway. The Guards are doing little to solve the crime spree, as they are overwhelmed with protestors against lockdowns and vaccination policies.

In addition to investigating attacks on nuns, Jack searches out a couple of affluent youngsters who are setting fire to the homeless. Jack also meets up with Quinlan, an associate of Rafferty whose violent approach to problem solving is not as compatible with Jack’s as Quinlan believes.

During his investigations, Jack is contacted by an alcoholic priest. Jack forces the priest to dry out — perhaps an act of hypocrisy for someone who drinks as much as Jack — but again, any association with Jack isn’t likely to end well. The plot threads weave together in ways that readers have come to expect from Ken Bruen.

Bruen has a history of referencing books, television shows, and movies in the Jack Taylor novels. A character in Green Hell explains that the references ground the novels in “stuff” that the reader knows. Bruen makes fewer cultural references than usual in Galway Confidential (perhaps because Taylor has been in a coma and thus unable to consume culture), but he grounds the novel in current events, as well as events Jack missed while he was sleeping: the Brexit disaster, Boris Johnson’s resignation, the Queen’s death, the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the influx of refugees into Ireland, inflation and other consequences of the pandemic. The implication is that Jack has good reason to drink.

Jack Taylor novels are quick reads. Bruen’s minimalist writing style tells the story in short paragraphs that surround dramatic moments with quirkiness. Bruen’s notion of a long sentence is: “He had the kind of face that you know has never really been walloped properly but I could amend that.” Dialog is crisp, in part because Taylor rarely speaks unless he can’t prevent himself from responding to idiocy with sarcasm. Galway Confidential is an unremarkable entry in a remarkable series but since every Jack Taylor novel is darkly entertaining, my recommendation is nearly automatic.

RECOMMENDED

Doorway to the Stars by Jack McDevitt

Published by Subterranean Press on February 1, 2024

Jack McDevitt has a long history of writing entertaining space opera, often focusing on the exploration of alien races that have become extinct. His new novella sets aside the space travel that dominates most of his stories and imagines an easier means of interstellar travel.

About 12,000 years ago, a transportation grid was installed in North Dakota. Nobody noticed it until members of a Sioux tribe found it, started pressing buttons, and realized that it would transport them to other worlds. All the worlds they have visited are Earth-like in atmosphere and gravity. The journeys often seem like visiting the nicer parts of New Jersey.

The destination that departs from the norm is a space station at the edge of the galaxy. The station has no atmosphere, which led to an early explorer’s unfortunate death. Explorers now wear space suits when they visit the station.

A few of the worlds are inhabited. The aliens are generally humanoid, although the residents of one world are simian in appearance. They look like apes who wear pants and read books. Why these particular worlds are linked by the grid is answered (sort of) by the story's end.

Visitors to a ruined world catch a glimpse of an alien who resembles the devil. They decide to call the planet Brimstone. On the space station, visitors find a screen (perhaps an alien version of Facetime) that shows a devil speaking in a tongue they don’t understand.

The transportation system is Sioux property by virtue of being on their reservation. However, when a tribal leader dismantles it and tries to hide the pieces — on the reasonable theory that nothing good will come of giving white people access to such powerful technology — the government steps in and asserts its questionable authority. In the real world, I would expect the government to ignore tribal autonomy as it always does when treaties become inconvenient and to surround the grid with soldiers in the paranoid anticipation of an alien invasion. McDevitt tells a more optimistic story.

The novella’s ending illustrates the lesson that we shouldn’t judge others by their appearances. That includes aliens who look like devils.

There isn’t much to this story. Portals that allow quick transportation to other worlds are familiar in science fiction and McDevitt makes little effort to build the worlds his characters visit. The story’s point is its twist ending, but I'm not sure the relatively obvious tiwst merits the buildup.

The story is published as a deluxe first edition and is fairly pricey for a novella, but it is a signed limited edition meant for collectors. I ignore price when I review books because value is for the consumer to determine (and the text might eventually be available in a more affordable format). I might recommend the novella as a pleasant story by a long-time practitioner of the science fiction genre, but if Doorway to the Stars were packaged in a volume with McDevitt's best stories, it probably wouldn't be anyone's favorite.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

Green Dot by Madeleine Gray

First published in Australia in 2023; published by Henry Holt and Co. on February 27, 2024

The green dot in the title of this novel is the indicator on Instagram that your lover is online. The dot is “staring at you like an eye you can’t see yourself reflected in” and is thus less satisfying than your lover’s actual eyes.

In its early pages, Green Dot is very funny. The humor slowly transitions to drama that is foreshadowed by the narrator’s warning that her audience will ask how she could have been such a fool.

Hera Stephen lives in Sydney. She has no STEM ability but she’s bright, so she views her options as lawyer, journalist, or academic. She loves to learn but has no passion for working. School has taught her that she should be concerned about her formation and development, but spending her days working in a job seems to have little relationship to those goals.

Hera buys her freedom by taking out student loans and earning degrees. The strategy works until she has earned all the degrees that lenders will fund. Hera is living with her father and needs to find work so she can make loan payments.

At the age of 24, Hera finds a position as an online community moderator. The job allows Madeleine Gray to poke fun at internet trolls, content moderation, and office work. While content moderators are rigidly separated from the journalists in her office, Hera finds that a content moderator can get invited to office drinks after work with the journalists by being “young, smart-mouthed, female, reasonably big-titted, with no avowed journalist aspirations of your own.”

Hera befriends fellow content moderator Mei Ling, who is her ally against a universally disliked supervisor. Their snarky message exchanges using the office intranet add to the novel’s humor. Hera also has friends from her student days. Soph, the most amusing of them, “is smart and mostly motivated by vendettas.” She likes to gossip and is encouraging Hera to try having sex with a man (Hera having mostly confined her sex life to women).

When Hera starts to flirt with Arthur, a British journalist who works in her office, Soph encourages her to shag him. Hera accepts the challenge and begins an affair. This is the point at which the story moves from humor to drama. I was disappointed that the humor nearly disappears at that point because the humor is sharp and more enjoyable than Hera’s love life.

The domestic drama of Hera’s affair runs a predictable course. Hera tells the reader at an early point that her story would be predictable and at the end says, “You were right. You predicted it. Everyone was right but me.” Notwithstanding the absence of surprise, the story is emotionally affecting, as Arthur makes promises about leaving his wife but repeatedly explains why the time isn’t right (his wife’s pregnancy is one such excuse). Hera ends it and moves to England, continues to interact with Arthur via Instagram, moves back to Sydney during COVID, and suffers mightily as the story moves to its inevitable end.

Hera’s fantasies about becoming Arthur’s wife and raising his baby as a stepmom might make the reader question Hera’s intelligence, but she is clearly a bright woman who simply has no control over her feelings — or, more importantly, over her response to her feelings. I often feel frustrated with stories about characters who allow their lives to become soap opera plots, but the novel’s initial humor drew me into Hera’s personality and made me sympathize with her when her life falls apart. In the end, Hera manages to learn something about herself and about life — she develops as a person, as she was told she should do in school — and that development suggests a possibility of growth that makes the predictable story worthwhile.

RECOMMENDED

Three-Inch Teeth by C.J. Box

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on February 27, 2024

When C.J. Box isn’t pandering to readers who are outraged about windmills and their deep state fantasies, he’s capable of writing entertaining stories. Three-Inch Teeth stays away from politics, apart from adding local color with phrases like “libtard” and “Hollywood elites.” It wouldn’t be authentic to depict Wyoming without portraying the extremism that infects a large share of the state’s residents. The only real-world political issue in the story’s background is an ongoing gripe by private landowners that people who cross from public land to public land by stepping from one adjacent corner to another are “trespassing” on their private land when their elbows invade private airspace. A momentary incursion by elbows is harmful why? I guess you need to live in Wyoming to understand.

A political issue that only exists in the context of the novel involves a race for sheriff between two candidates who, like most sheriffs, have not impressed series protagonist Joe Pickett. One of the candidates will play a surprising role in the story.

Joe is a game warden who spends most of his time dealing with violent criminals rather than unlicensed hunters. Dallas Cates will be familiar to readers who have followed the series. Cates is a rodeo cowboy who is famed in Wyoming for winning a bunch of rodeo trophies. He’s also famed for committing crimes and being caught by Joe and his buddy Nate Romanowski, as was chronicled in a couple of earlier novels in this series. He has a grudge against Joe and Nate, as well as the prosecutor and judge who sent him to prison. His release makes it possible to seek vengeance.

Cates is joined by another villain from novels past. Three-Inch Teeth is a bad guy’s reunion.

The book starts with a grizzly bear attack on a young man who plans to propose to Joe’s daughter. Series readers will be familiar with the young man and Pickett’s daughter Sheridan, who is too good for the young man, at least from Joe’s perspective (and probably from Sheridan’s).

The plot follows Cates as he engages in a far-fetched murder spree using simulated bear attacks to kill his victims. The means he uses to commit the crime seem too complex to be workable but hey, by modern thriller standards, the murders are almost credible.

Box’s stories are often infused with violence but this one is bloodier than most. A supporting cast of characters that has developed over the years is significantly reduced by the end of the book. A surviving bad guy sets up more mayhem in the future.

Box keeps the story moving, creates a reasonable amount of tension, and is true to his characters. Joe continues to plod along until he gets the job done, displaying no discernable personality as he does so, while Nate is a psychopath who does the dirty work while Joe looks the other way. The story is entertaining and, while I would be tempted to recommend it just to applaud Box for avoiding silly references to culture war issues, the novel earned a recommendation on its merits.

RECOMMENDED

Monkey Grip by Helen Garner

First published in Australia in 1977; published by Pantheon on February 20, 2024

Monkey Grip is regarded as a classic of Australian literature, the first novel of one of the nation’s most celebrated writers. I wouldn't say it has aged well.

The novel is narrated by Nora, a woman in her early thirties living in Melbourne in 1975. Nora has a daughter named Gracie, the product of her failed marriage, although Gracie plays a relatively small role in the novel (and seemingly in Nora’s life).

Nora is in love with a junky named Javo. Nora spends half the novel telling the reader how much she loves Javo. She spends the other half telling the reader how miserable Javo makes her. Love and misery often share the same paragraph.

Nora is a mess. She regularly does coke and acid. While she manages to hold a job and raise a daughter (activities that seem to happen in the background of her life), she’s hardly in a position to complain that Javo spends his dole money on heroin. She sleeps with other men but is jealous when other women show an interest in Javo. She breaks up with Javo and then pines for him. She takes him back and returns to a state of misery. Repeat and repeat and repeat.

One might think that heroin is the problem since Javo is by all accounts a likeable dude, but when Javo gets cleaned up for a period of time, Nora is even more upset with him because he doesn’t seem to need her as much as he does when he’s high. In fact, he starts sleeping with a different woman when he’s straight, which is definitely a bad sign for his relationship with Nora. Nora nevertheless seems to be his favorite partner, perhaps because she keeps her eyes open when they screw.

Javo shags an impressive number of women for an addict who steals from his friends when his money runs out. Nora seems willing to sleep with anyone who asks but she has fewer partners than Javo. Sometimes Gerald joins Nora in bed but, for ambiguous reasons, he won’t always shag her. This is not great for Nora’s self-esteem since he seems to have a sexual interest in other women.

Nora’s life is made messier by the domestic drama that surrounds it. A reader might need a spread sheet to keep track of who is shagging whom in this domestic drama. Nora’s friend Rita seems interested in messing around with Javo, and then with the boyfriend of Nora’s friend Angela. This gives Nora and Angela an excuse to be catty about Rita’s overall sluttiness. Rita’s regular boyfriend is Nick but he’s another junky. At some point I stopped trying to keep track of the characters, most of whom exist only to give main characters something to gossip about.

The men in the novel are all losers but what does that say about the women who desire them? That might be the question that animates Monkey Grip. Nora becomes “dried out with loneliness” if a guy isn’t making her wet. Nora clearly uses men for sex (which isn’t a problem since they are happy to be used), but she’s a bit of a hypocrite when she accuses Javo of using her for sex. She only seems to be happy when he’s shagging her, so what’s the problem?

Nora at least has some self-awareness. She understands her insecurities even if she does little to conquer them. She wonders “why I always need a man to be concerned with, whether well or ill.” She wonders why she is afraid to be alone. She wonders why she comforts herself by picking out the least attractive characteristics of women who share an interest in the men in her life. She wonders why she can’t screw the same person in a committed relationship for more than a couple of years before losing interest in the sex. She realizes that she is not a kind person and that her personality makes her unhappy. “So change yourself,” a reader might think, but Nora — like most people — is better at identifying faults than addressing them.

Perhaps my reaction to Monkey Grip is too judgmental. After all, Nora is living in a different age and culture than twenty-first century America. She rarely tells men what she’s really feeling because she’s been conditioned to obey “some unwritten law, blood-deep” that prevents women from being honest when they feel emotional pain. Nora has embraced the sexual revolution but notions of gender equality that are central to modern feminism have not empowered her. That’s probably not her fault as she likely hasn’t been exposed to those ideas.

So maybe I’m being too harsh, but I was more annoyed by Nora than sympathetic to her plight. Perhaps I should have been enlightened by Nora’s reaction to the emotional burden of loving a man who makes her life so difficult, but I just wanted her to come to her senses. Monkey Grip has interesting moments, but I might have enjoyed it for its shock value in 1977. Today, it feels dated.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS