Both the Inspector Shan volumes I've read really "have something." I will be reading the next in the series sometime in the next six weeks, so view my complaints with some skepticism, I guess. But it's hard to take a novel containing 22 grimaces (my all-time record for a single book) quite seriously.
Pattison has created a very well-constructed POV character in Inspector Shan. He's a Han Chinese government official who investigated the wrong corrupt official, so he got dumped into a gulag camp in Tibet. That makes him a highly-threatened individual in a strange culture (both Tibetan culture and prison culture), and he is being ground to paste by the forces that oppress him. That's very engaging. And Tibet is an engaging locale, fraught with conflict under Chinese occupation. These books milk that conflict.
Shan is an idealist, which plays to the "justice must out" tendency of detective fiction, and which tends to drive him into the hands of the Buddhists. That works well.
This story begins in Tibet, but the hidden lamas get word to Shan that he is needed in the north, because "A woman named Lau has been killed. A teacher. And a lama is missing." The next sentence is "Nothing more." and so they arrange to take him north, out of Tibet, and into Xinjiang -- which is another nexus of Chinese oppression.
The new setting is fascinating, as they descend from the mountains into the desert, but the book then proceeds to lose cohesion and focus, and never gets it back. Too many macguffins, too many characters, too many oppressed groups, just way, way, way too much stuff.
Some brilliant scenes, though, especially when Shan (who could really just be jailed on sight) confronts Chinese officials face-to-face, making them wonder who he's really working for, and so forth.
What I first reacted against was the relentless accumulation of Chinese oppression. What Pattison relates is, in fact, real. The Kazakhs are being rounded up, the Uighurs are being imprisoned. The Turks, the Tibetans, and anybody not Han, basically, are being ruthlessly oppressed. If this were The Gulag Archipelago that would be great. In a novel, it quickly becomes a lifeless litany, and the reader starts to lose the thread.
It's not just too many oppressions, it's that we get a full set of characters from each group, so the cast becomes far too large to keep track of. And so do the mysteries. Before he even gets on the ground, Shan learns that a loose group of orphaned boys are being hunted down and killed, so he starts chasing that, instead of the murder of the teacher. But then there's another murder and another distraction and another and another. Shan is constantly shifting his supposed focus, and chases them like will-o'-the-wisps across Xinjiang, never clear on what the heck he's doing there. The reader gets no help on this subject, either.
Here's a quote from my review of the first book in the series:
"The caveats are, first, that it's a four-grimace novel -- and it has some of the other stylistic irritants that often go along with that. Second, and more seriously, the book gets over-complicated by the end: credibility-losingly over-complicated. It just runs right off the rails, but by then you're engrossed in the character, the situation, and the story, so you hang in. But.
I remind myself that Tony Hillerman, another grimace-slinging mystery writer, similarly ran off the rails in his first two Navajo mysteries. And yet, I read that whole series. (I note, however, that I didn't read those first two until after I'd read three or four of the later ones. I suspect I might NOT have read the whole series, if I'd started with the first one.) Also, the storytelling and the writing are generally quite good. I'm expecting they'll got more believable as we go along."
Well, the grimaces went from 4 to 22, and the complications and the lack of credibility only got worse. That is not the right direction. (I cheated and used Amazon to search for grimaces in three of the upcoming novels, and they aren't in the 20s, but they are in double digits on grimaces. Are there no style editors? Are there no prisons?)
A key storytelling problem is that Shan is the POV character, but Pattison won't let us know what he's thinking when he makes decisions. Shan seems to have poor impulse control, because the reader isn't given any excuse except a sudden reaction or compulsion for most of his major moves. He "suddenly knows what he must do next." That's a card that can be played maybe two, maybe three times in a detective story, and still have the audience trust you. Pattison is up in the hundreds in this one.
I kept grinding to a halt as I read this. I cared about the oppressed people, and a couple of the characters, but not deeply. Too much "stuff" mixed with too many characters is strongly disengaging. There are too many plots, as well, so this thing isn't moved by plot, it's dragged to a standstill by plots. I started this on the first of February, and it took me to the end of May to finish. I started and finished other mysteries in the meantime, noting how quickly the pages turned in those, and being reminded how slowly they turned in the Pattison. So, be warned.
But note that I didn't abandon the book. "Disengaged" never became "disinterested." There is a strong storytelling "something" that kept me coming back to plug away; more as though I was reading a long-winded literary novel than reading a mystery. We'll see what the next one holds.