Lisa Gardner's books are a tasty, heady brew which go down smooth and engaging until the reader is both intoxicated and satisfied. When I open one of her books, I know I'll look up a few hours later wondering how I got half-way through it without even trying. Like all excellent writers, she finds a way to make me care about every character from the protagonist to even the foulest villain.
I believe it was SAY GOODBYE which prompted me to finally feature Lisa Gardner's books. This is a captivating, scary, moving story. It features Kimberly Quincy, a character from a couple of her earlier novels, but, in this case, there is really no necessity to have read them to enjoy this great book. You won't be sorry if you read them as well:
These books are not for the faint of heart or those looking for a charming cozy mystery. They deal with imperfect characters dealing with their own demons while they attempt to stop vivid, frighteningly real, warped individuals from continuing their pathological pursuits. These seriously damaged folks are so horrifying because they are believable, smart, and blend into the mix of humanity so thoroughly they pass for normal.
I thought I was keeping up with her output, but I see she has a new novel out already featuring some of the characters from previous novels.
Somehow, she was a best-selling author before I'd even heard of her so she has many excellent books to choose from. I would recommend them all. Some are better than others, but that will run to taste. I would find it hard to believe you could find a bad one.
To me, she seems to be getting better with each one. None were better or scared me as much SAY GOODBYE, but then I hate, but am unable to keep from being fascinated by spiders.
Some of My Favorite Books:
All Over But the Shoutin', Rick Bragg
Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Michael Chabon
Bangkok Haunts, John Burdett
The Big Blowdown, George P. Pelecanos
Breakheart Hill, Thomas H. Cook
Canyons, Gary Paulsen
Chinaman’s Chance, Ross Thomas
Concrete Blonde, Michael Connelly
Dancing Carl, Gary Paulsen
Dark Rivers of the Heart, Dean Koontz
Devil in a Blue Dress, Walter Mosley
Early Autumn, Robert B. Parker
The Empty Chair, Jeffrey Deaver
Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Tom Robbins
Evidence of Blood, Thomas H. Cook
Island of the Sequined Love Nun, Christopher Moore
Jolie Blon's Bounce, James Lee Burke
Kill Fee, Gary Paulsen
Listening Woman, Tony Hillerman
Lord of the Flies, William Golding
Lucky You, Carl Hiassen
Mean High Tide, James W. Hall
The Monument, Gary Paulsen
Mortal Memory, Thomas H. Cook
Moves Make the Man, Bruce Brooks
Names of the Dead, Stewart O'Nan
Neuromancer, William Gibson
Organ Grinders, Bill Fitzhugh
Pest Control, Bill Fitzhugh
The Power of the Dog, Don Winslow
River of Darkness, James Grady
Riverview Murders, Michael Raleigh
The Stone Veil, Ronald Tierney
Sweet La La Land, Robert Campbell
A Ticket to the Boneyard, Lawrence Block
To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
Tourist Season, Carl Hiassen
Trail to the Buddha's Mirror, Don Winslow
The Ultimate Rush, Joe Quirk
Under the Beetle’s Cellar, Mary Willis Walker
Vernon God Little, DBC Pierre
When the Sacred Ginmill Closes, Lawrence Block
My All-Time Favorite Writers:
(They make me laugh. They make me cry. Sometimes at the same time. And they always make me care.)
Some of My Other Favorite Writers:
Bob Sloan (not the Kentucky outdoors writer)
(My apologies to the many favorite authors I have inadvertently left off the list. They will be added when they come to mind.)
Robert Campbell: In And Out Of La-La Land
When I began to write this short piece on Robert Campbell’s Whistler series, one of my personal favorites, I thought I was doing another laudatory retrospective of another apparently dead series. However, a little research brought me the sad news that what I would really be writing about was a dead author. Robert Campbell, sometimes known as R. Wright Campbell for his stand-alone thrillers and his award-nominated screenplays, passed away on September 21, 2000. He was the author of three different series of mystery novels, the Whistler series, about a Los Angeles private detective; the Jake Hatch series, about a railroad detective; and the Jimmy Flannery series about a Chicago district boss which won Campbell an Edgar Award for Best Paperback Original for the first, “The Junkyard Dog.”
His Whistler series has always been a personal favorite, with SWEET LA-LA LAND (1990) being one of my all-time favorite novels of any kind. The mysterious main character, with his single name, a pseudonym to hide an embarrassing past, often seems like a bit player in his own series, and nowhere is that more exemplified than in “Sweet.” Unlike the faceless narrator of the 1940s who shares his name and seemed to be the Rod Serling of his time bringing radio and film audiences the spooky stories of other people, this Whistler does figure into the solution or, at least, leads us to the solution in all his books.
Whistler is as close to an autobiographical character as Campbell ever created. Like Whistler, Campbell was an actor with few prominent credits who admittedly succumbed to the solace of alcohol. Both take a harsh existential view, seeing the world as openly hostile, or at least, totally oblivious to the individual. However, both eventually decide upon a life of sobriety; Whistler because he feels he must in order to help those around him, the unlucky, the unfortunate, the children, and the naïve who cannot help themselves; Campbell because it was the only way he saw to fashion a life for himself, not simply a living.
Over his career, Campbell was lauded for his vivid, sympathetic characters and for his uncanny ear for dialogue. Indeed, these two elements combine in the Whistler series to hook the reader and keep the pages turning. Campbell could make you believe and care about the wants and desires of even the most minor characters. In fact, as Campbell himself was quoted, “In my books, I take the view that there is a compensatory fate waiting for such people if my hero just gives it a little nudge.”
Although a good case might be made for reading the books in strict chronological order, my preference would be for a new reader to start with SWEET LA-LA LAND (New York, Poseidon Press, 1990). For two reasons, first it is the best of the series, and it actually exists out of time with the other novels anyways. It introduces all the key characters without filling in too much back-story.
Next, I would try IN LA-LA LAND WE TRUST (New York, Mysterious Press, 1986), and once again I should caution that, although the books are not needlessly graphic, they are not for those easily offended or who prefer the generally wholesome settings of cozy mysteries. TRUST introduces the reader to another prevalent player in the series, the porn industry, but once again, not even the so-called legitimate porn industry, but rather the underground porn business of snuff films, kiddie porn, and bestiality tomes. The ending to this one is worth the price of any two books.
ALICE IN LA-LA LAND (New York, Poseidon Press, 1987) is a fascinating mystery exploring the essence of gender and the effects of parenting, good, bad or indifferent on the young. Campbell may not be the best when it comes to plot in all his books, but he hits the mark in this one.
THE WIZARD OF LA-LA LAND (New York, Pocket Books, 1995) comes much later, for both Campbell and for Whistler. The book is filled with even more bitterness and resignation. It seems almost too late for Whistler and his friends.
In conclusion, I ran across this passage which closes the book which he often said meant the most to him:
"It's dark now, the day is done. There is a different quality to the dark
that comes after the setting of the sun and that which precedes the rising
of it. Perhaps there are sounds and smells left over from the day that
alter it. Perhaps a different texture to the winds. Whatever the case, one
is sensed as a beginning and the other as an ending."
-- from the epilogue to WHERE PIGEONS GO TO DIE (New York, Rawson Associates, 1978; reissued Flights of Fancy, Publishers 1999) by R. Wright Campbell
With a movie based on one of his books (The Death and Life of Bobby Z) scheduled for release in late 2007 and another just optioned (The Winter of Frankie Machine) by Robert DeNiro, it may seem like Don Winslow isn't in need of more attention, but I still find his name rings few bells in the mainstream. It is only just recently that I, myself, can say his name without adding "of the Navy." (It's a trivia thing, an old radio character.)
Power of the Dog is one of the best books I have read in years. It is a sprawling novel mixing fact and fiction to tell the history of the so-called "war on drugs" as told primarily through the perspective of DEA agent Art Keller. Winslow employs a unique rapid-fire present tense similar to screenplay narration to push the story to a wallop of a conclusion.
I actually became a Don Winslow fan when I discovered
his Neal Carey series. Attentive readers might discover his Trail to
the Buddha's Mirror listed as one of my favorite books.
If you are looking for something a little different, try
And
And
The mystery novels of John Burdett following the adventures of Thai police detective and part-time bar owner, Sonchai Jitpleecheep , are an amazing mixture of puzzle, philosophy, and culture clash. At their heart, the novels pose complex questions of morals, gender, ethics and the nature of spiritual well-being as seen through a prism of multiple cultures. If they were merely a juxtoposition of Eastern and Western thought or a comparison of Thai and American values, the novels would be as intriguing, but without the depth and feeling conveyed through the lives of the characters and their stories.
Burdett, in his own words, chose Thailand as the setting for his new series because it was third world exotic and had not been the setting for very many books of popular fiction, but soon found himself under its many influences:
I had visited Thailand dozens of times before I decided to write a thriller based in Bangkok. I thought I was simply looking for an exotic location which had not been "done," or at least not overdone (how many detective thrillers have you read that are not based in New York, or LA, or London or Paris?). I had found my exotic location, but the nature of the difference was more than I had bargained for. How could I, a Western man who didn't speak much of the local language, put himself in the shoes of a Thai? I didn't have an answer, but I did realize that I was starting to see the world somewhat in the Thai way and decided to let things develop without reference to my original plan.
Then one fine morning, about a year after my arrival, I found myself writing a story narrated in the first person by a Thai cop who was half western by blood, who was a passionate meditator, whose mother was a whore and who had grown up amongst those very young women and katoeys (transsexuals) with whom I spent my evenings chatting. I didn't need to think about "voice," it was there every morning, nagging, persistent and quite indifferent to all those rules about novel writing I had so conscientiously studied.
Although the elements of the classic mystery novel are all present in Burdett's Bangkok novels, they are unlike any others I have read. What was most intriguing was how Sonchai shares the same goal as the classic Western detective. He must solve the mystery. The obstacles are unusual to us because of the cultural, political, and procedural differences between Thailand and English speaking nations, but I was struck by how, at their core, they are much the same. The political and bureaucratic corruption is more overt, but no more obstructive than what Harry Bosch or Dave Robicheaux might encounter. Religion is pervasive, but not practiced the same or by all citizens. Sonchai desires to be true to himself, but not necessarily in the same sense as the Chandleresque macho man alone against the mean streets.
What a fine first novel! Kerley has created a truly unique protaganist with a twisted full-blown backstory and an ominous villain who remains hidden in plain view until the very last moment.
Actually, I was hooked when in the first chapter, the partner of the main character, Detective Carson Ryder, is telling the world's greatest joke which illuminates both the title and the main character:
“The dog walker asks the man if he’s lost something. Man says, ‘Yeah, my contact lens popped out.’ So the dog walker ties Fido to a phone pole and gets down on his hands and knees to help. They search up and down, back and forth, beneath that light. Fifteen minutes later the dog walker says, ‘Buddy, I can’t find it anywhere. Are you sure it popped out here?’ The man says, ‘No, I lost it over in the park.’ ‘The park?’ the dog walker yells. ‘Then why the hell are we looking in the street?’”
Harry gave it a two-beat build.
“The man points to the streetlamp and says, ‘The light’s better here.’”
Harry laughed, a musical warble at odds with a black man built like an industrial boiler. His audience tittered politely. An attractive redhead in a navy pantsuit frowned and said, “I don’t get it. Why’s that the world’s greatest joke?”
“It has mythical content,” Harry replied, the right half of his mustache twitching with interest, the left drooping in disdain. “Given the choice of groping after something in the dark, or hoping to find it easily in the light, people pick the light ninety-nine times out of a hundred.”
Peterson lofted a prosecutorial eyebrow. “So who’s the hundredth guy, the one always groping in the dark?”
Harry grinned and pointed my way. “Him,” he said.
Another fantastic Carson Ryder -- Harry Nautilus novel.
Jack Kerley captivates and scares the bejesus out of me. This one deals with a legendary artist/cult leader who is shot to death during his sentencing for murder by one of his followers. Decades later, his artworks, the stuff of specualation and legend, begin to appear near a string of homicides.
Carson Ryder and Harry Nautilus race to a crime scene to find a young reporter who’s been brutally murdered. The case, seemingly the work of a lone psychopath, widens to include a poisoned convict, a dead psychiatrist and a teacher slaughtered four years earlier.