The Bridge of Sighs by Olen Steinhauer

I was hoping this book would be like The Invisible Bridge by Julie Orringer, or Mission to Paris by Alan Furst. It's a thriller set in some unnamed Eastern European city (possibly in Ukraine) after World War II so you can see why that was a reasonable wish. But alas it has neither the sprawling reach of TIB nor the sympathetic characters of MtP. It's just a dark story of a troubled man in a miserable city during an unpleasant time in history. I read about two thirds of it and just...gave up. Which isn't to say it didn't have some redeeming value: Steinhauer writes lovely prose, and maybe in another mood the gallows humor might have appealed to me. Sometimes it isn't the book, it's the reader, though in this case I think it was a bit of both.

(Book 32, 2013)

Mission to Paris by Alan Furst

Have you noticed that all of Alan Furst’s World War II espionage books have similar titles? Dark Something, Night Something, Mission to Somewhere, Spies of This or That. And some books are meant to be read in order and others stand alone. How do you keep them straight, or know where to start? I wasted a lot time dithering over whether I was supposed to start with Night Soldiers or The World at Night until someone told me it didn’t matter, so I started with this one.

Mission to Paris is Furst’s most recent book, published in 2012, and as it turns out, it’s as good a place as any to dive in to his work. And did I like it? Yes! It’s about an actor who goes to Paris to make a film in the late 1930’s and gets caught up in some nasty business with the Germans and their French sympathizers. Imagine Cary Grant as the actor—no one contemporary will do. There’s danger, but not too much, very little blood, some intrigue, but nothing that’s too difficult to keep track of. Furst’s writing is smooth and sophisticated, understated and confident. Just like Cary Grant.

I could complain a little about Furst’s proclivity for the male gaze (lots of luscious descriptions of beautiful women’s bodies, sex scenes always written from the man’s point of view). In an ideal world an author this good would recognize that not all of his readers are straight men. Especially since he has no trouble giving these delicious women lots of interesting things to do. It’s almost like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, since he’s obviously making a good-faith effort to create women characters who have brains and agency. When I complained about this to a long-time Furst fan, she said, philosophically, “oh, just roll your eyes and keep reading.” That’s a pretty good advice.

(Book 27, 2013)

The Twelve by Justin Cronin

I wrote about this book for the Isthmus spring break reading guide. Here’s a link.
 
I want to add something to what I said in that article: It’s never a good sign when you have to ask someone to explain a book's plot developments. One such query session with my friend Elana took up an entire hour at a coffee shop and involved the perusal of both volumes of the series, and some quick e-mailing back and forth with Elana’s brother. My advice is to read The Twelve carefully and read a print edition rather than an e-book. The Kindle was a bad choice; the maps are too small and the awkwardness of paging back and forth to look things up is off-putting. I just kept reading, even when I wasn’t sure what happened, thinking it would all sort itself out in the end, but it didn’t. I did find some satisfactory answers when I went back through the print edition, but it was far from an ideal reading situation.

Or, you could just take my word for it that things do hang together, even if you are left with some moments of "huh?" Together the books have a total of 1,376 pages -- who can remember every detail? It doesn't make them any less fun.

(Book 9, 2013)

The Passage by Justin Cronin

I like to think I am tapped in to what’s current, at least when it comes to literature. Then the gods get wind of my hubris and drop a bomb on me to keep me humble – in this case The Passage by Justin Cronin. Where the heck was I while everyone else was reading and talking about this book (and about the author’s huge advance and about the movie rights and about the sequels….). Guys, what else am I missing?

If, like me, you’ve been living in a closet filled only with British literary fiction, here is a brief overview: The Passage is a futuristic technothriller about a world destroyed by vampires and the handful of humans left alive to fight them. Don’t be put off by the vampire aspect of this story – there’s nothing Twilight-ish about it; the vampires are the result of a military experiment gone horribly wrong and Cronin has transformed the vampire myth into something that can be explained by virology. The vampires are glimpsed only fleetingly and are so repugnant and dangerous that no one gets near them and survives (well, almost no one). The vampires are just the scary thing that drives the plot forward; most of the story involves the lives of the humans who remain and their struggle to survive.

A lot of reviewers have compared this book to Stephen King’s 1978 sci-fi-/horror classic The Stand. It does share some plot points with that book but I felt like The Passage was an homage rather than a ripoff. This is a very 21st century book with kick-ass female characters and a great use of technology. It’s also a very tense read. Cronin sustains just the right level of dread for pages and pages. I couldn’t read this before bed and had to wait to finish the last 10% (in Kindle units) until I knew I would be able to do it in one sitting.

 Several of my friends have described this book as a “guilty pleasure.” But why do they feel guilty about reading it? I don’t. I’ll read almost anything that has an interesting plot and is well written. Labels (blockbuster, bestseller, chicklit, romance) don’t put me off; in fact, I want more guilty pleasures just like this. Luckily, the sequel The Twelve comes out on October 16.

(Book 21, 2012)

Waiting for Sunrise by William Boyd

What I’ve always liked about William Boyd is that he never writes the same book twice. But now I’ve read two of his books in a row that were espionage thrillers and I see from his website that he’s been tapped to write a new James Bond novel (click here for the link to the BBC news story about this). Too much of a good thing? I don’t know. It’s not that Waiting for Sunrise (which wins most nondescript book title ever) is much like Restless, his 2007 novel about a retired Russian spy. But I like never quite knowing what I’m going to get from Boyd and I hope he keeps us guessing, once he’s done with the Bond thing.

Waiting for Sunrise features Lysander Rief whose dual Austrian/British citizenship and his training as an actor provide him with skills that prove useful to the British army during World War I – whether or not Lysander wants to employ his skills thusly is beside the point. British diplomats help him out of a dicey situation in Vienna; now in their debt he must repay them by undertaking a series of dangerous jobs for which he is uniquely suited but not particularly enthusiastic. I liked this spin on the “jaded spy” character who gains the upper hand over his puppetmasters. Lysander is not so much jaded as just disinclined; he does his duty mostly because he knows he is over a barrel and if he can screw with his handlers along the way, so much the better. And I always love it when help comes from unexpected quarters – in this case from Lysander’s eccentric retired uncle Hamo (hero of the Boer war), who proves he’s still a crack shot when Lysander needs him most.

(Book 18, 2012)

Thrilling Thrillers

National Public Radio is compiling a list of 100 best thrillers. They've put together a list of almost 200 choices, from which you can vote for your ten favorites. Voting ends today, July 28, so if you read this post and still have time to go vote, here is the link. I'm sorry I didn't publicize this sooner. Here are my choices, in order of publication date (but not the order in which I read them -- that I cannot really remember).

Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurer: 1938
The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith: 1955
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote: 1966
The Salzburg Connection by Helen MacInnes: 1968
Day of the Jackal by Frederick Forsyth: 1971
Eye of the Needle by Ken Follett: 1978
Shibumi by Trevanian: 1979
Gorky Park by Martin Cruz Smith: 1981
Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton: 1990
The Likeness by Tana French: 2008

Half the books on my list were written in the 1960's and 1970s, which reveals to me that my peak thriller-reading years were the 1970's. I would lump Gorky Park in with the 60's/70's titles as well, since it's a very cold war era book. Only two of my choices were published after 1981. I really do think this reflects my declining interest in the genre rather than the fact that no good thrillers were published during the last 30 years. In fact, I can think of a few more recent titles that I'm surprised didn't make the list. For example, I would have included (and would have voted for) Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. I was also surprised not to find any books by Barbara Vine, queen of the psychological thriller.

I have very specific memories of some of these books. Here is one: I know that I read In Cold Blood in 1976 while on a summer vacation with my family. I found the book so gripping that I insisted on reading it straight through until I finished it, and refused to leave our rented cabin until I was done. I remember my frustrated mother arguing with me that I could "read any time" and that I should be off swimming in the lake instead of holed up inside, which in retrospect is ironic, since my mother probably wanted me out in the lake so that she herself could get back to her reading.

And one more memory: In Shibumi, the hero is a master of an obscure* (and certainly fictional) martial art called Naked Kill. For some reason I thought this was hilarious and for years made bad jokes about it which no one else got. I remember I told someone not that long ago that I was sure Dick Cheney was also a skilled practitioner of this art but received only a blank look in return. Oh well.

*See Jonathan's excellent description of this art in the comments.

Angelology by Danielle Trussoni

I like books where fantasy and reality intermingle. Where you can pretend that maybe there really is a race of angels (called Nephilim) who live secretly among us, descended from the biblical union of heavenly angels and human women (the “sons of God and the daughters of men”) as described in Genesis. Except wait, maybe not, because these guys are seriously scary and not very nice. For thousands of years the power of the Nephilim has been held in check by the Angelologists, a band of priests, nuns, and scholars who must stay one step ahead of the Nephilim in order to maintain the celestial balance. Now the Nephilim are close to acquiring an artifact that will tip the balance back in their favor. It's up to the Angelologists to thwart the Nephilim, much to our entertainment.

I think any thriller that deals with the Catholic Church can’t help but be compared to The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. While Angelology shares some of that book’s obsession with secret societies and historical mysteries, Angelology is a better book, or at least a better-written book. Some of Trussoni’s plot strands (like Brown’s) can really exercise your disbelief-suspension muscles to the point of exhaustion. But never mind. I loved it. It’s got tons of action and a cast of powerful women: The current leader of the Angelologists is a 70-something designer-clad Frenchwoman who lives in a chic Manhattan apartment and drives a Porsche. Her granddaughter Evangeline, a novice nun, joins her grandmother’s quest to defeat the evil Nephilim, and together they match wits and firepower against them, aided by a formidable group of elderly nuns (srsly!). Yes, you will never look at a wheelchair-bound Sister the same way again, I swear.

This is a fun read, long but not slow moving; as close to a good beach-read as I ever get. I hear it’s been optioned by Hollywood. Look out!

(Book 25, 2010)

The Blood Doctor by Barbara Vine

Barbara Vine writes psychological fiction. Or more correctly, Ruth Rendell, creator of the Wexford crime novels, writes psychological fiction under the name Barbara Vine. In The Blood Doctor, Vine/Rendell examines the psychology of heredity, with varying success.

The fictional blood doctor, Henry Nanther, specialized in inherited diseases of the blood, specifically hemophilia. He was one of Queen Victoria’s personal physicians, and he treated several of her sons and grandsons who suffered from this condition. Now, in present day London, Nanther’s great-grandson Martin sets out to write his ancestor’s biography. What he discovers is shocking and unpleasant: Nanther’s research on the inheritability of hemophilia lead him to experiment on his own family, with disastrous results.

But Vine isn’t satisfied to just tell us a story about a creepy 19th century doctor. She is also interested in what else can be inherited: in this case, power. It turns out Henry Nanther was made Lord Nanther by Queen Victoria in honor of his work, and Martin, as eldest heir, has inherited this title. Now (in late 1990’s Britain) the House of Lords is contemplating kicking out all the hereditary peers. Vine fills many pages with the ins and outs of these negotiations, and the backroom workings of the House of Lords. I wish I could say that it was interesting, but I can’t. I skimmed almost all of these parts. I get what Vine was doing but just could not digest it at the level she was doing it.

Finally, Vine examines the effects of non-heredity, that is, infertility. Martin Nanther’s wife Judith is desperate for a baby yet cannot manage to carry one to term. Her anger and disappointment, and her obsession with getting pregnant threaten to destroy their marriage. Vine doesn’t have much new to offer here and these sections are pretty predictable.

Each of these three threads might have made an interesting book on its own (okay, maybe the House of Lords stuff not so much). But together it was too much – too many plots strands, and too many characters to keep track of. I finished it but only read the Henry Nanther story with any great interest.

(Book 17, 2010)

Restless by William Boyd

Don’t you love a good spy thriller? I do, except not the Cold War era ones. I also love William Boyd. I read Brazzaville Beach years ago and loved it, but hadn’t gotten around to anything else by him until now.

Restless is a classic World War II spy story, complete with the usual characters, but the spy is a woman, Eva Delectorskaya. The story is told mostly in flashback as present-day Eva (now known as Sally) finally confesses her history to her grown daughter Ruth. Up until this point Ruth had no idea that her mother was anything other than what she seemed: a middle class British housewife. Instead she discovers that her mother was a Russian-born emigree who spent the war years working for British Intelligence, eventually having to assume another identity after an operation that went horribly wrong. Now, Eva wants revenge on the spy who betrayed her, and she enlists Ruth to help her. Yet once a spy, always a spy, it seems, and Eva's ability to shade the truth and manipulate other people hasn't left her. Even one's own daughter can be a useful tool in a spy's arsenal, it turns out. It’s extremely satisfying.

My favorite aspect of this story is the way Eva’s past is gradually revealed to Ruth and how Ruth’s understanding of her mother changes. My children think I am very dull; how I would love to tell them that I really am a spy who knows how to kill someone using just a pencil. Or maybe not. Best to let them think I am harmless so as not to alert MI5.

The Guardian has a good review of this book. It came out in 2006, and this year Boyd has a new book out that sounds equally compelling; I was originally in search of that one when I came upon Restless.

(Book 11, 2010)

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson

Over at the Guardian they liked this book. I enjoyed reading it, though I can’t say I really liked it. It’s a well paced, well plotted thriller, complete with computer hackers, political intrigue, financial shenanigans, missing persons, and sex crimes, so I guess you could say it has something for everyone. What I didn’t like was the sex crimes. I felt like the serial killer subplot was unnecessary and gratuitous. The book would have been great without it. It was like someone took a good cupcake recipe and added mushrooms, just because they had some around. Larsson should have left the serial killer plot for another, different book. Unfortunately, Larsson died a few years ago, after writing two more books in this series. I believe they are coming out in English soon. I’ll be interested to know if he’s more disciplined with numbers 2 and 3 because I don’t want any more mushroom cupcakes.

I’m sorry I’ve not been posting. It’s not like I haven’t been reading, but I was away from my computer for a while visiting my dad. (Hi Dad!) Today I finished Disco for the Departed, by Colin Cotterill and I am almost finished with The Draining Lake, by Arnaldur Indrithason, so I will try to post about these in the next few days.

(Book 41, 2008)

Ghostwalk by Rebecca Stott

This is what the New York Times calls an “intellectual thriller.” It’s a complicated story of modern murder and 17th century mysteries, and the modern murderer may or may not be a 17th century ghost who may or may not be Isaac Newton. Got that? It’s very cool, but also kind of confusing. You have to suspend your disbelief, which in this case I had no trouble doing, so that’s good.

I can’t really do justice to the complicated plot. At the heart of the novel is a scholar named Elizabeth Vogelsang whose life’s work is a biography of Newton. When Elizabeth is found dead with the last chapter of her manuscript missing, another scholar named Lydia Brooke is hired to finish it. Lydia uncovers all sorts of labyrinthine conspiracies, both ancient and modern, and gets tangled up with ghosts, psychics, animal rights activists, and old lovers, all the while trying to figure out whether Newton had anything to do with a string of mysterious murders in Cambridge in the 1600’s, and if so, what these murders had to do with Elizabeth’s death.

I can’t say that everything hung together perfectly at the end. Or else I am just too dense to have picked up every detail. I’m not really sure I understand why Elizabeth died, or who, if anyone, was responsible for her death, but I kind of don’t care. I was vastly entertained along the way, so much so that I actually spread the reading of this book out over two weeks so that I could enjoy it for that much longer.

Here is a link to the Time review. It’s really better than anything I could say.

(Book 34, 2008)

Code to Zero by Ken Follett

This was moderately interesting, just good enough to keep me listening while I walked home from work, or tidied the kitchen. Since that’s my minimum standard for an audiobook, I guess I’d say this worked out okay. The idea is simple: it is 1958 and someone is trying to prevent the launch of the first US satellite. The protagonist, who has learned of the plot, has had his memory erased by evil rogue CIA agents who might turn out to be KGB agents, and he has to get his memory back and catch the bad guys before they scuttle the rocket launch.

My big complaint is that everyone is just too blasé about this memory loss thing, and the amnesiac finds his way back to his own life with a speed and efficiency that challenges belief. He discovers his forgotten career by browsing the library shelves. When he finds that he can understand a book on rocketry, he realizes that he’s a rocket scientist. Oh come on.

Nevertheless, if you can get over this hurdle there’s some good suspense and interesting information about the early days of the space program. I like Ken Follett because unlike some of the other powerhouse thriller authors, his books are not so laden with testosterone. He has always included strong women characters in his books, and this one is no exception. In this one he also does so while avoiding anachronisms; his women operate within the limitations of their 1950’s society yet still manage to get the job done. But this book wasn’t anywhere near as good as Eye of the Needle (which also features a great woman character). Maybe I should just read that again.

Here's a link to a review.
(Book 53, 2006)

The Constant Gardener by John Le Carre

I like a book where things happen, and this certainly is one. I also like a happy ending, which this lacks. Not that I can't appreciate the impact of an unhappy ending, but this was a little ambiguous for my taste.

It reminded me why I've abandoned Le Carre in the past: his oblique style can be a little hard to follow, especially if you aren't an aficionado of espionage and the intricacies of the British Foreign Service. But the subject matter of this one interested me more than others of his that I've tried, and I stuck with it. I'm glad I did. It's got the kind of suspense where you tell people you are going to fold laundry, and instead you sneak read it.

More information is available here.