Hot Ice by Gregg Loomis

Published by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Media on May 21, 2013

Jason Peters, a professional assassin, has contempt for "bleeding hearts" who believe that Americans should obey laws that prohibit murder and torture. Peters works for Narcom, a private enterprise (i.e., mercenary group) under contract to government entities like the CIA. Peters is sent to a country in sub-Saharan Africa to shoot the country's president, thereby creating a diversion that will allow the president's guest, a high level al-Qaeda leader, to be kidnapped. That he is murdering a man who poses no threat to American interests is no more troubling to Peters "than squashing a cockroach." Peters' next assignment takes him to Iceland, where he recovers some objects that a Russian had hidden in a glacier before being attacked. The significance of the objects, once revealed, is just short of preposterous.

Gregg Loomis manages to work a bunch of boogeymen into the story, including Russians, Chinese, and Muslims, before revealing that the true villains are "ecoterrorists" working for a thinly disguised version of Greenpeace who sabotage oil rigs (because environmentalists love to cause oil spills), instigate mining accidents (for reasons that go unexplained), and kill people who contend that human actions are not a cause of global warming. I began to wonder whether Hot Ice is meant to be a comedy, but Loomis apparently expects the reader to believe that a respected and well-funded environmental organization exists only to murder those who disagree with its cause.

Peters is a crackpot who insists that the only peaceful Muslims in the world are those "who've run out of ammunition." To enjoy this novel, you either have to accept Peters' delusional thinking or ignore it. His unsupportable belief that there is "current political sympathy for terrorists" in the United States (seriously?) and that people who oppose illegal behavior are "closed minded" is the sort of thing I'm prepared to ignore for the sake of a good story, but that's something Hot Ice lacks. Peters is a one-note character and the note is a dull one. Whether motivated by blind patriotism or a desire for revenge (or, in Peters' case, both), characters with tunnel-vision just aren't very interesting -- and Peters' particular motivations are trite.

Characters in Hot Ice too often make simple-minded, preachy speeches about political and social issues that slow the novel's pace to a crawl. With the sole exception of Peters' pacifist girlfriend (another one-note character), the characters -- good guys and bad guys alike -- all seem to agree with each other on economic and social issues (particularly their abhorrence of any sort of health or safety regulation). I don't read thrillers to further my political reeducation. I want a thriller to thrill me, and the characters' endless pontification is a serious distraction from the story Loomis tries to tell. On one occasion, the author's narrative voice interrupts the story to lecture us about how disgusting homeless people are. On another, Loomis takes a cheap shot at a former president. None of these rants have anything to do with the story.

Apart from their inability to shut up, the characters are stereotypes. A self-impressed jerk, Peters is about as deep as a teaspoon full of water. He has the annoying habit of bullying everyone he meets, which I suppose is meant to establish his credentials as a tough guy. Like all macho action heroes, Peters is extraordinarily competent, as opposed to all the other people in the world who, by comparison, are so incompetent as to be hardly worth noticing -- unless they happen to be women who are undressing for him. Peters is, of course, irresistible to women, a curse that produces a moment of melodramatic guilt whenever he cheats on his girlfriend.

Loomis' writing style is ordinary but far from awful. The locations he writes about don't seem "lived in"; the descriptions could come from someone jotting down notes while riding on a tour bus. Some of the dialog borders on the inane, although I've read worse. The plot is thin and full of holes. Loomis seems to be more interested in political advocacy than in telling an intelligent story. I've read worse books, but there are so many better novels in this genre, I'm sorry I picked this one.  Reading Gregg Loomis is a mistake I won't repeat.

NOT RECOMMENDED

Sacred Games by Gary Corby

Published by Soho Crime on May 21, 2013

Nicolaus, an Athenian investigator featured in two earlier novels, is charged with babysitting his friend Timodemus, a fierce fighter in the pankration and Athens' best hope for a medal in the eightieth Olympiad of the Sacred Games -- assuming that he isn't disqualified for pre-event tussling with his strongest competitor, the Spartan Arakos. Nico makes the mistake of leaving his friend alone for the night. The next morning, when Arakos is found murdered, Timodemus is the prime suspect. Nicolaus has five days, until the end of the games, to prove that Timodemus is innocent and thus prevent his execution. For the first (and presumably last) time, criminal investigation becomes an Olympic event.

The stakes are high for Nico, given the possibility that the murder, if committed by Timodemus, might be used as an excuse for war between Sparta and Athens. Nico has a full load of problems even without bearing the added weight of Timodemus' (and possibly Athens') fate. He regards Diotima as his wife, and in fact has already "soiled" her (often and with enthusiasm), but neither his father nor her stepfather has consented to their marriage. Ultimately, Nico's ability to have his marriage recognized by the two families may depend upon Nico's success in catching the killer.

Fortunately, as the creative problem solver in his family, Nico is well-suited to the task of criminal investigation. Even more fortunately, when Nico needs the benefit of a logical mind, he can consult with his younger brother, Socrates, who has a bit of Sherlock Holmes in him. Other well-known historical figures who appear as characters include the statesman Pericles, Sparta's King Pleistarchus, the poet Pindar, and a baby named Hippocrates (whose father, of course, is a doctor).

Given what's at stake, a reader might expect Nico to feel a greater sense of urgency than the story conveys. Nico is easily distracted by pleasures of the flesh and spends a fair amount of time chit-chatting with philosophers and poets who do little to assist his investigation. He even helps one of them sculpt an ox from bread dough. That would be a problem if this were a more serious novel, but Sacred Games isn't intended to be a thriller. Gary Corby has a keen sense of humor that shines through in the story's lighter moments, particularly in Nico's interaction with the willful Diotima (who will certainly be wearing the toga in the family). There's also a chuckle-inducing moment when Nico warns young Socrates not to go anywhere near hemlock. Gags of that sort pop up every now and then, and all of Nico's encounters with ancient thinkers are amusing. Despite the digressions, the plot is tightly constructed, proving enough suspects and red herrings to keep a mystery lover guessing.

The Spartan and Athenian characters in Sacred Games have some interesting discussions about the advantages of monarchies over democracies, but this isn't a political novel. For that matter, I wouldn't call it an historical novel. I don't know how accurate the details are of Athenian life in ancient times (Corby appends a lengthy author's note about the history from which he draws, although I'm pretty sure women in 460 B.C. didn't use expressions like "Are you hitting on me?"), but given the novel's light-hearted nature, I don't much care. The story seems to be well researched, and in any event, the plot is clever, the resolution of the mystery is satisfying, and the story is entertaining. The poignant, "feel good" ending might be too obviously manipulative, but it works. 

RECOMMENDED

My Father's Ghost is Climbing in the Rain by Patricio Pron

Published in Spain in 2011; published in translation by Knopf on May 21, 2013

We are told that the events described in My Father's Ghost is Climbing in the Rain are mostly true. We're also told that the novel's narrator (unnamed in the text, but I'll give him the author's first name since he claims to be telling us his own story) is unreliable. He warns the reader that his words can be taken either as truth or invention since he is incapable of distinguishing one from the other.

Patricio is a journalist who has an uneasy relationship with the truth. Entire years are missing from Patricio's memory, so it's fitting that some chapter numbers are missing from My Father's Ghost -- chapters skipped over, like the chapters of the narrator's life -- while other chapter numbers are out of sequence or repeated, presumably reflecting Patricio's scattered thoughts. Patricio blames the gaps in his life on the medications his psychiatrist was dispensing, drugs that made him feel like he was "floating in a pool without ever seeing its bottom but not being able to reach the surface." The reader soon discovers, however, that Patricio's memory loss is a form of self-protection. Patricio grew up in Argentina, "a country called fear with a flag that was a face filled with dread." The terrors of life during Argentina's rule by a military dictatorship are best forgotten, but the novel is about Patricio's compulsion to remember.

After eight years in Germany, Patricio returns to Argentina to say goodbye to his father, who is languishing in a hospital bed. In his father's study, he finds a folder labeled Alberto Burdisso. Its contents describe a simple-minded man who has disappeared from El Trébol, the city where Patricio spent part of his childhood. Burdisso had been awarded reparations for his sister's disappearance three decades earlier, money that led to his death. As Patricio reads through the file's contents, he learns that the city he believed to be idyllic is in fact sordid, sullied, and sad.

Patricio takes us through the file, document by document. His investigation of the file becomes an attempt to find his father "in his last thoughts." In this, Patricio is like other Argentinians of his generation, solving their parents' pasts like detectives, "and what we were going to find out would seem like a mystery novel we wished we'd never bought." Yet literature is a "pale reflection" of, and cannot do justice to, the beliefs and ideals of his father's generation. In real life, unlike novels -- and particularly in Argentina during the 1970s -- mysteries go unsolved, crimes go unpunished, and the world outside the book is not "guided by the same principles of justice as the tale told inside."

Not surprisingly, in searching for his father Patricio begins to find himself. He comes to realize a truth: "You don't ever want to know certain things because what you know belongs to you, and there are certain things you never want to own." At the same time, he becomes convinced that he needs to tell the story of his father's generation because their ghost "was going to keep climbing in the rain until it took the heavens by storm."

All of this is an excellent premise for a novel. Patricio Pron nearly pulls it off, but in the end, the excellent story he tells is just too slim to attain such a lofty goal. What we learn about the father is fragmentary (intentionally so, given the novel's structure) and superficial. The narrator tells us that "what my parents and their comrades had done didn't deserve to be forgotten," but we learn very little about their struggle. At the same time, Patricio shares few of his recovered memories with the reader. The novel ultimately reads like a preface to a greater story that needs to be told, but it isn't told here.

That isn't to say that I disliked the story Pron tells. There are some stunning sentences in My Father's Ghost, the kind that make you pause and reread them two or three times. Not all of My Father's Ghost works (a series of brief chapters that describe Patricio's fever dreams add nothing to the story), but through most of the novel, Pron's intense prose is riveting. Viewed as a slice of life, the beginning of a journey yet to be completed, this small novel is quite rewarding. 

RECOMMENDED

The Shanghai Factor by Charles McCarry

Published by Mysterious Press on May 21, 2013

The Shanghai Factor is not Charles McCarry's best effort, but even a lesser McCarry novel is entertaining. This one is as much a mystery novel as a spy story, but it never quite develops the suspense and intrigue that fans of those genres crave.

A new agent, assigned as a sleeper in Shanghai, immediately breaks the rules by taking on a girlfriend he knows only as Mei. The unnamed agent assumes Mei is a spy but he likes the sex so he doesn't much care. Circumstances force the agent to leave China, but he soon returns with a new assignment: to set up Guoanbu operatives so they will be denounced as American spies. The operation appears to fizzle out, as does (to his great disappointment) his relationship with Mei. Back in New York, the encounters a Chinese operative who attempts to recruit him. Eventually it becomes difficult to know whether he can trust anyone, as each person who plays a significant role in his life might be a potential enemy, including the various women he beds at home and abroad. He becomes a pawn in a game played by two men "of mystery and power," one in Washington and one in China, all the while kept in the dark about the true nature of the game.

This is familiar ground for a spy novel, but the story is well told, often moving in unexpected directions. Most of it is credible, although some events near the novel's end seem both forced and implausible. McCarry maintains the novel's pace and the story is never dull. McCarry's observational talent is on full display, whether he's describing filth floating on the Yangtze or the curves of lover's body. His thoughts about the selective and uncertain nature of trust are not new to the genre, but they're well phrased. The same can be said of his observations about the power of coincidence and its relationship to fate.

For all its interest, however, the story is surprisingly light on suspense. The mystery's resolution is reasonably satisfying but not particularly surprising. The Shanghai Factor is the work of a supremely capable technician, but it lacks the "wow" factor that the best spy novels (and mysteries) produce. The agent is a well-defined character but not one I found myself caring much about. None of those complaints prevented me from enjoying the novel, but they prevent me from shelving it in the first tier of spy fiction.

RECOMMENDED

Total Chaos by Jean-Claude Izzo

Published in French in 1995; published in translation by Europa Editions on May 7, 2013 

First published in 1995, Total Chaos is French literary noir. Three friends from the melting pot of Marseilles (whose parents spoke Italian or Spanish at home) bond in their youth over their outsider status and a shared love of poetry and old books. That, and their shared love of the beautiful Lole. The three friends once participated in a series of armed robberies, but their adult lives have gone in different directions. Fabio Montale became a cop. Manu is dead. Pierre Ugolini, having spent some time drifting, returns to Marseilles to avenge Manu's killing. It is a question of honor, and honor is all that matters in Marseilles. It doesn't end well for Ugolini, and that's where the story begins.

Montale's job is to preempt rioting in a neighborhood where the French regard everyone who isn't of French ancestry as a dirty Arab. When Leila Mouloud disappears -- an Arab student upon whom Montale has something more than a crush -- Montale assures her father that he will find her. At the same time, Montale is determined to understand what happened to Manu. Therein lies the plot -- such as it is.

Montale spends quite a bit of time revisiting the past -- too much time, as the story is often slow to move forward. Much of the novel seems directionless. A fair amount of the novel -- apart from Montale showing off his exquisite taste in food, alcohol, and music -- consists of Montale's internal monologue. Some of it (particularly the woeful condition of immigrants) is interesting, but his redundant thoughts did not always hold my attention. I expect a certain amount of existential angst in a noir protagonist, but Montale just won't shut up about his relentlessly downbeat view of the world. There are only so many times I can read things like "We were all like insects caught in a spider's web. We struggled, but the spider would eat us in the end" before I want to slit my throat. Or maybe Montale's, to put him out of his misery.

Montale is a classic noir character, the alienated tough guy with a soft heart. He doesn't fit in with the police -- he too frequently identifies with the outlaws, rooting for the underdog -- but he cannot abide the pain caused by crime. He's surrounded by corruption and despair (from which, conveniently enough, frequent sexual encounters provide his only respite). He easily falls in love but never holds onto it, perhaps because he doesn't really want it. He tells us, more than once, that he loves women too much. Eventually, his "I am so passionate, I love every woman I take to bed, including the prostitutes; I cook wonderful meals for them with fennel and garlic but I will never be happy" attitude starts to wear thin. Maybe it's a French thing. And maybe observations like this are a French thing -- "There in front of me was every man's dream: a mother, a sister, and a whore!" -- but even by noir standards, that's a little too cute for my taste.

There are things about Total Chaos I admired. Jean-Claude Izzo writes short, punchy sentences that are well suited to the story he tells. He captures the atmosphere of Marseilles -- its music, ethnic restaurants, and commuter trains full of tough-acting kids -- in vivid terms (the city is "an ancient tragedy in which the hero is death"). While there is the skeleton of a good story here, it is given too little flesh. I like the way the twin mysteries are eventually resolved, but the story is too often dull, and noir should never be dull. Montale does no detective work to speak of, opting to drift through the novel, making existential comments upon the seedy events he observes ("life didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was death"). Not quite all: sex and cognac and sex and well-prepared food and sex also matter to Montale. It's unfortunate that he's too awash in self-absorbed despair to recognize the pleasure in the things that obviously give him so much pleasure. Total Chaos is the first novel of a trilogy, but it failed to inspire me to read the other two. I'm not sure I would survive the experience.

NOT RECOMMENDED