Every year, tens of thousands of Irish-Americans touch down in Dublin city, their holidays devoted to the goaTourists! Your Bloomin' Attention Please!
Every year, tens of thousands of Irish-Americans touch down in Dublin city, their holidays devoted to the goal of soaking up their ancestral culture like so many hyphenated sponges. Many of these visitors purchase Ulysses, a masterpiece by one of the 20th century's most influential authors, James Joyce (1882-1941).
Those tourists are big fat suckers. I tried reading Ulysses when studying literature at UCD. I worked hard on that novel for months. In despair I reported slow progress to my tutor. "What guidebook are you using?" he inquired. Guidebooks? What? "You're not trying to followUlysses without assistance, are you?" It turns out that there's more academic scholarship on Joyce than there is on Shakespeare, and even with PhD's most of those authorities can't comprehend what's going on.
Ulysses! Just read the wikipedia entry, fellow DFA's. Otherwise you'll go home with an impression that Irish writers (and their colossal guidebooks) are something to spend a fortune on, get three chapters into and then leave with a lightened heart in the Departures bin at Dublin Airport. Let me recommend instead a book accessible to readers who are not assumed to be proficient in Victorian etiquette and ancient Greek.
Adrian McKinty's The Bloomsday Dead takes place in a single day- the sixteenth of June, 2004. That's the centenary of the events in Joyce's novel, which since 1954 has been celebrated annually as Bloomsday. Joyce's goal was to distil all of life and being into one day. McKinty manages much the same, only with a lot more action. Through a series of chapters which mirror those of Ulysses, his hero Michael Forsythe must come out of his twelve-year Witness Protection Program refuge, battle for his life, find a missing child and survive some of the most dangerous figures on three continents.
That's one of the qualities I love about The Bloomsday Dead- Joyce limited all of Leopold Bloom's wanderings to one city. Michael Forsythe's day takes him through four nations with Jack Bauer-like speed. (If you enjoyed 24 before its characters, tortures and twists became cliché, this Dead trilogy delivers.) McKinty's descriptions of each locale are written with red-hot clarity and style far more memorable than any tourist guide-book. Here's a brief episode, completely free of plot spoilers, that takes place in Belfast:
I couldn't go farther down the street because the cops had blocked off the road for a march and "historical pageant" by a small group of Independent Apprentice Boys who were re-enacting a scene from the siege of Derry. The IAB were in full regalia, sweating in the humidity. Dark suits, black ties, black bowler hats, and orange-colored sashes. The scene was the famous one where the Protestant apprentice boys locked the gates of Derry to stop the Catholic armies from capturing the city- an actually historical event that had happened over three hundred years ago. I had never heard of the re-enactment being performed in Belfast before. They'd probably gotten a cultural grant from the European Community. The "Boys" were actually forty- and fifty-year-old men with beer guts, bad mustaches, and hair so unkempt Vidal Sassoon would have broken down and wept. They were all obviously the worse for drink. The Catholic army this afternoon was an intoxicated man in a green sweater with a pikestaff.
"You're not getting in," one of the Boys was saying to him.
"Aye, no fucking way," said the other.
"We're shutting the gates," a third managed between belches.
The man in the green sweater did not seem that put out. Right in front of me, another of the Apprentice Boys climbed on top of a parked car and began stamping on the roof. It had an Irish Republic license plate and the Boy was obviously under the impression that it, too, was a representative of King James's Catholic army. A peeler went over and told him to get down. The peeler was old, fat, and bored. He tapped his service revolver once and the Boy, spooked, got off the roof.
-Page 110, Chapter: The "Rat's Nest (Belfast, June 16, 2:15 PM)"
Forsythe barrels through a world full of such vivid images. I am deliberately not revealing a single beat of the plot, and encourage any interested reader to ignore the blurb on the novel's back. Let this one take you itself.
First-class tickets! Crooked politicians! The FBI! Cops with Glocks! Milkshakes! Tire irons, .38's, RPG's and flick knives! Literary allusions! Guys who lick money to prove it is poison-free! And a scorching hot redhead!The Bloomsday Dead has every element that a completely satisfying thriller should have- and it sends the reader away with vivid imagery of Dublin and Belfast. This is brass-knuckled, brainy, climactically cracking good craic.
Though The Bloomsday Dead is the concluding instalment in McKinty's Michael Forsythe series, there's no gaps evident. I picked it up on a friend's recommendation and read it straight through without any head scratching. My few niggles are that some of the Joyce similarities felt forced (the first line, for instance) and some of the baddies are similar to what's appeared in books before.
Critical Mick says: I recommend Denis McEoin/Jonathan Aycliffe's The Lost over Stoker's Dracula, too, so I may well be making enemies. Still, for a tour and a taste of Irish culture, skip Ulysses and pick up a masterpiece guaranteed to send you home happy, educated and enlightened- Adrian McKinty's The Bloomsday Dead. This one was shortlisted for the 2009 Oo award for Best Book Mick Read in 2009.
My own young aspiring author liked all the adventuresome parts. I enjoyed Mr. Bateman's classic humor. A winner with us both!My own young aspiring author liked all the adventuresome parts. I enjoyed Mr. Bateman's classic humor. A winner with us both!...more
Ray lit a cigarette and cracked the window, humming along with the stereo. Wondering how it was that Bruce always got himself hooked
Meet Ray.
Ray lit a cigarette and cracked the window, humming along with the stereo. Wondering how it was that Bruce always got himself hooked up on these women named Mary. 'Thunder Road,' 'The River,' 'Mary's Place'… Christ, the man was obsessed.
Ray, if he was Springsteen, he'd have shot through for Mexico long ago, nabbed himself a Juanita, some shit like that. Ray had only ever met one Karen before, this Kiwi blonde in Hamburg with an oral fixation. Ray getting blowjobs on busses, trains, even one time in the linen closet of a motel on the outskirts of Saarbrucken, near the French border. Ray on his back in a pile of dirty sheets coming up with a whole new language all his own. (page 22)
Ray is one of the central characters in Declan Burke's second novel, The Big O. Potted plot: Frank is an inept plastic surgeon with wife difficulties. His lawyer talks him into having the soon-to-be-ex kidnapped while she is still covered by the good doctor's insurance. But Madge (the aforementioned ex) is best friends with Karen, a single thirty-something whose secrets include a stashed .44 magnum and the weekly adrenaline rush she gets from armed robbery. What does a chick like this fear? Karen is in danger of falling for the man pulled out of retirement to be Madge's "baby-sitter."
"The guy I work for," he said, "that I worked for, sometimes he needs people held a while. I'm the one who does the holding." ....
Karen sipped some vodka-tonic. "So how come you're retired?"
"It was jump or be shoved. The Fridge checked out. A new shylock took over."
"The Fridge?"
"The guy liked to eat."
"What happened to him?"
"What happens to every fridge," Ray said. "Bottom of a canal. Punctured." (page 10-1)
Yep. Our boy Ray.
There's crossing and double crossing, a detective who gets rumor of the crime, golfing tips, orphans, pats on the head, and a madman named Rossi who's out of jail and out for revenge. Oh, plus a wolf. And Elvis hair. Mayhem and marijuana, hot n' stylish, loads of heart. Loads of fun on every page. Which is nice.
This review began with Ray, but it could have just as easily begun with any of the six main characters. The Big O is told in short, fast chapters of only a page or two, alternating from the point-of-view of Ray or Karen or Frank to Madge or Doyle or Rossi. Bear with me as I draw an analogy with "The Little O..." The experience is like eating those nice, spicy olives from that vendor in the Powerscourt Shopping Arcade: each one tasty, meaty, savory, different. "I'll have just one more," is a constant promise.
Days (the novel begins on a Wednesday, packing in all its action before the end of the following Tuesday) provide larger section breaks. I guess those Wednesday - Thursday - Fridays are roughly equivalent to containers of olives, but here the unruly analogy breaks down. Even being the big fat bastard that I am, I've never sat down and eaten three tubs of olives in a row.
A final important note, though: both spicy olives and The Big O go well with BEER. Put the mouse over the pic at right for a secret message on that subject.
One niggle: the setting. Where exactly are these characters? The city is never named. Snappy dialogue refers to currency as "five grand" or "ten large" without ever adding dollars, euros, pounds or roubles. Rossi in the dole queue starts complaining that he does not know his RSI number (an Irish identifier) and then later someone starts talking of the (American) Social Security. Likewise, the links connecting these characters push the bounds of coincidence.
Mick says: the dialogue, characters, plot and action were swift, sharp and entertaining enough to merit the suspension of disbelief. The same way that Training Day is a great movie despite the yawning implausibility of its crucial coincidence. Yes, the same way that 2006's Running Scared ran so fast and slick. Winners all, big time.
Riding the movie theme hard into this review's conclusion: The Big O is the stuff Tarantino or Guy Ritchie would make into a film, a great fun film like Snatch, Layer Cake or Get Shorty. Filled with as many great characters as Pulp Fiction or (my personal fave 90's crime flick) Things to do in Denver When You're Dead. Burke's Big O would inspire a classic full of tough crooks, wise cracks, drugs, flash and boobies. "Wow," viewers would say.
And then the hippest moviegoers, leading their hot redheaded dates outta the cinema, slipping on their designer shades, would say "Yeah, but have you read the book it was based on? The book was better."
Nature is red in tooth and claw. Scholars who have looked past A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving into what really happened with the Pilgrims at Plymouth Ro
Nature is red in tooth and claw. Scholars who have looked past A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving into what really happened with the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock will know: human history is equally savage, bloody and brutal.
George Franklin Feldman uses original written accounts and archaeological evidence to illustrate the barbarity that is often cartooned out of American history books. The European explorers we have named parks, highways, towns, counties and funky cars after were not on a five-year mission to seek out new life and new civilizations. The natives they encountered were far from unspoiled agrarians who would cry at the first sight of litter. In more than a dozen chapters stretching from prehistory to the Indian wars of the Western Frontier, Cannibalism, Headhunting and Human Sacrifice in North America: A History Forgotten highlights select warlike tribes, conquistadors, Puritans, and horrendous individual atrocities which show our lauded forefathers at their worst.
One example chapter covered the Calusa Indians of south-western Florida. Their name for themselves translated as "fierce people." They truly lived up to it. Whether dominating surrounding tribes or massacring Spanish sailors when treasure fleets wrecked upon the Florida Keys, the Calusa delighted in slavery, torture and human sacrifice. One young castaway, Hernando D'Escalante Fontaneda, was allowed to survive, and spent twenty years among them. Upon being released, Fontaneda returned to Spain and penned a memoir. Feldman brings its grisly details of life among the Calusa to modern readers. Diaries of missionaries, soldiers, and other original observers are extensively featured. The research supporting the chapter is impressive. These sources even convey an account of the first "mooning" in American history- of Catholic missionaries by the Calusa, who were firmly dedicated to their own religious beliefs! The author's interweaving prose is informed and engaging. A clear impression is conveyed concisely: the Calusa are the natives who shot Juan Ponce de Leon when he attempted to establish a colony in 1521, and whose savage ferocity held off Spanish might for two hundred more years.
Feldman's book is culturally balanced: equal barbarity is illustrated from Indian, English, American, Mexican and Spanish parties. To continue with Floridian examples, Feldman describes the expedition of a conquistador named Panfilo de Narvaez. His force was annihilated, and given their extreme violence, arrogance and inhumanity, that was no injustice. Reading what horrors these nations inflicted upon each other, it becomes easier to understand the genocide which occurred on this continent. Cannibalism, Headhunting and Human Sacrifice in North America lets us know what lessons from history modern man should never be repeating.
Ten.C.S. Lewis, like Stuart Neville, was born in Belfast. Both became writers. Both wrote extraordinary popuTen Things You Must Know About The Twelve
Ten.C.S. Lewis, like Stuart Neville, was born in Belfast. Both became writers. Both wrote extraordinary popular fiction which used elements of the fantastic to expose deeper themes.
Nine. Can redemption be found in the bottom of a glass? The first paragraph of The Ghosts of Belfast, reads: "Maybe if he had one more drink they'd leave him alone. Gerry Fagan told himself that lie before every swallow. He chased the whiskey's burn with a cool black mouthful of Guinness and placed the glass back on the table. Look up and they'll be gone, he thought.
Eight. The Twelve who torment this former IRA gunman Gerry Fagan are visions of the people he has slain: three British soldiers, two members of the Ulster Defence Regiment, two UFF men, an RUC officer, and four civilians (one an infant) as collateral damage. Are these (as Fagan's prison psychologist stated) manifestations of his guilt? Or is their origin supernatural?
Seven. Either way, when the spectres begin demanding bloody vengeance from Fagan, it makes a hell of a good crime novel. The victims that Fagan's phantoms demand may now cloak themselves with respectability and wear politicians' suits, but underneath they remain the same hard schemers. These sharp survivors determine quickly that someone is stacking up bodies across Northern Ireland, and they have not forgotten their very efficient ways of pursuing who is responsible. In this book, Neville very cleverly makes an investigation into the nature of responsibility.
Six.The Ghosts of Belfast, also known as The Twelve, merits comparison with the best crime stories of recent decades. If Gerald Seymour (author of Harry's Game and Field of Blood) loved Martin Scorsese's The Departed so much that he somehow had sex with it, the bastard child would be Stuart Neville's The Ghosts of Belfast.
Five. Like fellow Oo nominee The Bloomsday Dead, the action in Stuart Neville's The Ghosts of Belfast takes place in today's Northern Ireland. From immigration to economic development to politics to crime to lingering sectarian hatred, Stuart Neville delivers a post-Troubles portrait that is brutal and fascinating.
Four. The character of Gerry Fagan is more than a loose nut that has worked its way free and gone jamming up the works. Glimpses of his past and budding attachments present him as a complex character. Fagan feels a strong attraction to tall, ash-blonde reporter Marie McKenna: a local outcast for taking up with a traitorous Catholic member of the RUC, seven years past. Can he, who has never known it, find love? What about the more realistic goal: a degree of comfort?
Three. The theme of old loyalties questioned and reversed in today's complex political environment is also explored through deadly Scottish interloper Davy Campbell. A former member of the Black Watch, amazingly serving the Republican movement-? And now thrown in (when introduced) with a splinter group holding up post offices south of the border-? One of the most interesting players in The Ghosts of Belfast, Campbell is as surprising a force as Fagan. Or is there just a violence in both men that needs expression-?
Two. Stuart Neville's writing is fast-paced and character-driven, with more depth, pressure and rapid turns than a submarine battle. Great forces are engaged, and things long buried come exploding to the surface.
One.Critical Mick says: for these reasons, Mr. Neville's absorbing debut novel, The Ghosts of Belfast, was hereby awarded the 2009 Oo award for Best Book Read in 2009. ...more
Author of academic texts such as The Cognition of Geographic Space, Maynooth-based Rob Kitchin demonstrates with The Rule Book that can also write ficAuthor of academic texts such as The Cognition of Geographic Space, Maynooth-based Rob Kitchin demonstrates with The Rule Book that can also write fiction convincingly. His debut novel opens with the discovery of a woman's body at the Glencree Centre for Peace and Reconciliation, murdered by a sword in what appears to be a bizarre sacrifice. Nearby is a typed note, headed "The Rules: Chapter One M: Choosing a victim R" and business cards which read "The Rule Book: A Self-Help Guide to would-be serial killers. In all good bookshops soon."
A killer- soon to be known in the media as The Raven- vows to deliver his rule book one chapter, one victim per day over the course of a week. To catch him and save six lives, a recently-widowed member of An Garda Síochána named Detective Superintendent Colm McEvoy must find the strength and smarts to identify the boldest serial killer Ireland has ever seen.
Praise is very much due for breaking the mystery genre's cornier rules. In almost every crime film or feature, for example, the baddie turns out to be a character with whom the detective has been acquainted all along. The murderer in 1980's courtroom drama Suspect, for instance, turning out to be the judge trying Cher's case. Ugh! That might be a twist that conforms to literary convention, but it's about as likely in reality as mega-hottie Paulina Porizkova developing a deep sexual fixation with an irreverent online reviewer.
The Rule Book deserves praise for breaking one other golden diktat of detective fiction, but for that readers have to wait for Kitchin's Epilogue. Nothing is predictable.
Critical Mick says: The Rule Book puts Rob Kitchin on the Irish Crime map. It's gripping, gruesome, and a hell of a fun puzzle. It shows careful research (right down to the latitude and longitude of various points around Dublin's Phoenix Park) and digs deep into an interesting character. I was kept guessing until the end, desperately hoping that this novel would not go the crappy Hollywood route. There is a town called Hollywood in Ireland, but this serial killer's spree gives it a wide berth.
The Dark Place follows Karl Kane, the gritty, gripping detective introduced in 2008's Bloodstorm. This second in the series conforms to the familiar n
The Dark Place follows Karl Kane, the gritty, gripping detective introduced in 2008's Bloodstorm. This second in the series conforms to the familiar norms of the PI genre: after a teasing, terrifying prologue Kane is seen sitting in his sweltering office on Belfast's Hill Street. In walks a woman in trouble- this time, a teenaged heroin addict whose younger sister, Martina Ferris, has disappeared. The client is deperately worried and the cops are not interested in looking for a recovering junkie with a reputation for running away, so it is down to debt-ridden Kane to take the case.
Kane's investigation takes him through the underbelly of city and society, into peripheral contact with corrupt and outmatched cops, and into his own painful past. As bodies pile up and his enemies circle in, Karl Kane learns what is rotten and terrifying behind the respectable facades of the city's elite and institutions (literally, in certain cases!). Fans of the PI form will be pleased- and be pleased that Millar is not afraid to break conventions. By the climax, there is no predicting which way Millar is going to play it out.
The places that Kane goes on his journey are exceptionally dark. Imagine Philip Marlowe investigating the disappearances from Se7en or Saw. Marlowe would probably take the first flight back to LA, but Kane is a wee harcore Norn Iron man. Graphic and violent with more deviant sex than Val McDermid and the most convincing drug trip since Gene Kerrigan's The Midnight Choir, Millar's Belfast is worlds away from the catchy punk rock jaunt of Colin Bateman's Divorcing Jack.
Like Bateman, Millar leavens his grit with humor. With Martina Ferris missing and other young, violated bodies turning up, Kane cannot sit comfortably back hammering out his own manuscripts and studying the racing papers. Is it because old Karl is a valiant knight at heart? Erm, no. He cannot sit still because he is the only PI in all of crime fiction with raging hemorrhoids.
Piles aside, Millar's dialogue is sharp and fast. The writing has real originality. I had never before heard of the villain's disturbing MO, and the manner in which Kane learns the killer's identity is both plausible and something that would never have come from an American PI novel.
WARNING: The country which invented the Internet is presently the most vulnerable to an attack from it.
In the 1970’s, the US Defense Department’s AdvaWARNING: The country which invented the Internet is presently the most vulnerable to an attack from it.
In the 1970’s, the US Defense Department’s Advanced Research Project Agency (DARPA) laid the groundwork for the Internet. This communications system, initially developed by the military, has over the past 40 years become used by industry, commerce, social networks- almost every aspect of contemporary life. Richard A. Clarke’s Cyber War: The Next Threat to National Security and What to Do About It is a wake-up call written from a White House insider, illustrating what would happen if a foreign power used the Internet against the US. Specifically: crashing the national power grid, SCADA systems (controls for utilities, generators, transformers, pumps, and similar systems), air traffic control, financial databases, and many other components of critical infrastructure which are currently accessible through the Internet and are alarmingly poorly defended.
More than forty nations control dedicated teams of cyber warriors, preparing methods of attack. Cyberspace has become a “battlespace.” While the US has the world’s best internet-based attack capabilities, other nations have superior defenses for their infrastructure. Clarke demonstrates how weapons systems and also the civilian computer networks that manage communications, transport, banking, utilities, can be (and have been- lots of real-world examples) damaged or controlled from a remote location anywhere in the world. Every year additional nations ramp up their cyberwar units- the US, Russia, China, France, North Korea. The world has gone all Die Hard 4.
Cyberwar was initially published in 2010, with this paperback edition released in 2012 with a new appendix about the Stuxnet worm- a real-life proven instance of how the US and Israeli cyberwar units wrote a malicious program to sabotage Iran’s nuclear program. His information is good and corresponds to reading I have done on it as a Computer Information Systems Security Professional. A good start towards more comprehensive details on Stuxnet can be found on Symantec's site. Also see their article on the Stuxnet 0.5: The Missing Link.
This book is certain to be updated with another “told you so!” appendix, as another of Clarke’s major reported real-world cyber attacks has been verified: the People’s Republic of China’s systematic theft of terabytes of R & D data from US military contractors and other companies. (They also hacked into Obama’s campaign computers when he was running for president in 2008, stealing draft policy documents.) In a damningly conclusive report released in February 2013, a computer incident and response company called Mandiant supplied proof that the intrusions and exfiltrations from their customers were state-sponsored hacking from the PRC. Specifically, they tracked a group of thieves they knew as “APT (Advanced Persistent Threat) 1” back to Shanghai and determined it was the 2nd Bureau of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) GSD 3rd Department, commonly known as Unit 61398. That report is highly recommended reading.
Though written for a popular audience rather than a technical one, Cyber War provides accurate detail. Clarke points out that many unexpected devices are connected to the Internet- everything from elevators to photocopiers to valves at power plants. These are intended to “phone home” for maintenance reasons and to avail of software updates, but this connection can be exploited for other purposes.
Rather than just sound the alarm, Cyberwar proposes a Defensive Triad to improve the US’s posture. This book is a call upon Obama to improve security on the national Internet backbone, secure the controls for the national power grids, and vigorously pursue security upgrades for Defense IT systems. It is a message that should be heard by government, industry, and all people depending on the Internet today- which is just about everyone. No surprise that Cyberwar was a big seller.
The book is also filled with Clarke’s insider observations and insights. For example, George Bush I had an ulterior motive for destroying Saddam Hussein’s military might in 1991. The Iraqi army- fourth largest in the world- was equipped with Soviet-designed weaponry. Blasting that to shit (partly through the use of emerging smart technologies) was intended as a demonstration to the Chinese and other nations reliant upon those same types of tanks and guns. The new F-117 Stealth fighter-bombers were used in the 1989 invasion of Panama “because the Pentagon wanted to show off its new weapon to deter others.” (page 194)
George W. Bush was a president who comes off poorly in Cyberwar. Clarke freely admits that NSA under Bush and Cheney routinely performed illegal surveillance and other actions. He reports that Donald Rumsfeld and other Bush Administration officials advocated invading Iraq because Afghanistan did not have enough targets to bomb. George W. Bush was a president who would rush through decisions without giving the matter thought, one who left regulatory commissions vacant so that government security decisions were not enforced, a president who violated the Convention Against Torture and “never saw a covert-action proposal he didn’t like.” (page 114) When considering what actions that nation should take, Bush would defer to the CEOs of companies that had made large political donations to his election committees. True, there were moves to protect the government’s networks on Bush’s watch (Comprehensive National Cybersecurity Initiative and National Security Presidential Decision 54) but crucial time was lost as other nations took greater measures in the emerging field of computer security.
A final note: Clarke confirms (page 93) the CIA’s 1982 sabotage of the Soviet Urengoy–Surgut–Chelyabinsk natural gas pipeline. The KGB had been stealing Western technology: the CIA learned of this and introduced a flaw into automated pump and valve controls. The explosion was the world’s largest non-nuclear explosion- over three kilotons. This explosion occurred in a unpopulated area and so no casualties occurred. This early example of successful SCADA system sabotage demonstrates the potential of what could occur today if nations do not secure their systems correctly. CybrWar is real, with real-world consequences. Successful attacks have been occurring for decades, and will continue throughout this century. ...more
Does a crime thriller with an unreliable narrator deserve an unreliable reviewer? One of the following five facts about John J. Niven’s Cold Hands is Does a crime thriller with an unreliable narrator deserve an unreliable reviewer? One of the following five facts about John J. Niven’s Cold Hands is a bald-faced lie:
•The tale is told in retrospect by Donnie Miller, a Scottish-born resident of the isolated outskirts of Alarbus, Saskatchewan. •Married to the tall and lovely newspaper editor Sammy and father to an eight-year-old named Walt, Donnie’s days are filled with drafting movie reviews, chauffeuring Walt to hockey matches, walking the dog, enduring dinner parties thrown by his millionaire father-in-law, and drinking very little while pecking away at screenplays kept in a drawer. •Donnie also hides a gun and a horrible secret. •His comfortable life is threatened when Donnie finds the horribly slaughtered remains of Herby the family dog. The cops and neighbours seal their heads deep inside their anoraks and dismiss the missing eyes, tongue bitten in two, strewn guts and gnawing rat as a random wolf attack. (No one in Canada has read Julius Winsome.) •Donnie’s wife, Sammy, gets her wedding ring trapped in the Frigidaire’s ice maker while downing her daily protein. The resulting “cold hands” refrigerator moment sets off an unexpected- and heart-warming- chain of events.
OK, too easy. Heart-warming? With action unfolding during the fiercest blizzard since The Shining? Though speaking with an accent out of Christopher Brookmyre, Niven matches Stephen King’s talent with tension, and the speed of pages flying. The final one hundred and eighty of Niven’s two hundred and fifty-three pages were read in one late-night sitting. Writing as gripping as that deserves a better bullet point.
The whole notion of "deserving" lies at the heart of Cold Hands. What happens when people do not get what they deserve? What happens when that injustice drives a body mad? And also, what happens when the failure of retribution leads to a perpetrator ultimately proving that people can change? Does redeeming oneself go some distance toward balancing cosmic scales that hang heavy overhead? Or is it wiser to put a physical distance- one as wide as the gap between Scotland and Saskatchewan- between yourself and your past?
Niven writes action with sharp detail and moral depths. Some elements chosen as his plot reaches its climax do stretch credibility, but the shockingly-vivid historical details and social parallels with contemporary cases makes it well worth suspending any disbelief and following where Niven’s exciting new voice leads.
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