Betty Boo, by Claudia Piňeiro

9781908524553
Bitter Lemon Press, 2016
originally published as Betibú, 2011
translated by Miranda France
313 pp

paperback

I'll start here by saying that I loved this book.  It's only February, and it's already my favorite crime novel of the year. Let's just say that in terms of current crime fiction, something absolutely spectacular is going to have to come along to move it down the list from number one.

Claudia Piňeiro is also at the top of my list of contemporary crime writers, and with good reason. In all of her books, she has this uncanny knack of being able to put her characters into some pretty extreme situations and then we watch as they exercise their consciences (or not) and act accordingly.  The results are always beyond amazing, supporting my idea that the best crime fiction doesn't necessarily have to be plot driven -- what people do and why, what they discover about themselves, and in some cases about the society in which they live, is why I read crime.  People who have not read Claudia Piňeiro's work are missing out on some of the best crime writing of our time.

As was the case in her Thursday Night Widows, the author takes us back into that bastion of elite privilege, the gated community in Buenos Aires.  This time we are at the Maravillosa Country Club, where after going through the regular rigorous security measures to get in to clean the home of Pedro Chazarreta, Gladys Varela gets to the house, starts her routine, and sees Chazaretta sleeping in a green velvet, highback chair.  Deciding to clean up a bit of whisky that's spilled on the floor from an overturned glass, she discovers that Chazaretta is not sleeping at all, but dead, throat slit and holding a bloody knife in his right hand. Despite its tightness of security,  Maravillosa had been the site of another, earlier murder, that of Chazaretta's wife Gloria. He had been the prime suspect in her death, but "on the grounds of lack of evidence," the case was dismissed.  Her murder had been committed in exactly the same way, and privately, people are saying that the way in which Chazaretta was killed is what he deserved, since most people still believe that he was Gloria's killer.

Chazaretta's death and the coverage of events marks the beginning of a partnership between the three main characters in this novel. First there is Jaime Brena, an over-sixty former crime writer for the newspaper El Tribuno,who has been demoted and  is now dealing with society news such as writing pieces about surveys about sleeping face up or face down, the occasional preschool opening, and other such mundane or ridiculous assignments. The crime beat was given to  the "Crime Boy," who is the new kid on the newspaper staff, and who, as Brena sees it, is "Very soft. Generation Google: no legwork, just keyboard and screen, everything off the Internet."  He has zero clue how to do his crime reporting job, and Brena actually feels sorry for him, and decides it can't hurt to take the kid under his wing.  The third leg of this triangle is Nurit Iscar, the titular Betty Boo, who until she decided to change direction and write a romance novel, was known as "the Dark Lady of Argentine literature," for her mystery/crime books.  However, a bad review of her romance novel took her out of the world of fiction writing altogether (except for jobs as a ghostwriter)  but she has been tasked by the editor of El Tribuno (who used to be a lover of hers) to provide write-ups about the Chazaretta murder from a home the paper is using in Maravillosa.  When the three put their heads together, this trio of loners discover that something horrific is going on, and that the deaths at Maravillosa are just the tip of the iceberg.

However great the crime plot sounds, Betty Boo moves well out of the ordinary realm of the norm in terms of just another book with just another murder investigation.  When all is said and done, the biggest focus of this book is in examining  the state of modern journalism. Brena refers to Rodolfo Walsh more than once in this novel,  an Argentinian journalist who, in 1977 in the middle of the Dirty War, wrote an open letter to the military junta and was killed the day after.  Walsh wrote that

"Millions want to be informed. Terror is based on lack of communication. Break the isolation. Feel again the moral satisfaction of an act of freedom. Defeat the terror. Circulate this information."

Brena notes that today's journalists have "turned bourgeois," and that

"Today the high priests of journalism, or 'intellectuals" in inverted commas, are happy to sound off from the safety of their studies or their holiday homes. And they think they're important because they're 'opinion-formers.' ... Many of them will offer up as an irrefutable truth something that's nothing more than their own opinion. Or the opinion of the people they work for."

Piňeiro also reveals the implications of a "news agenda that leaves out certain stories," often allowing perpetrators of major crimes to walk free. It is these "unpunished crimes," Pineiro notes, that "always conceal something more terrible than the crime itself."  For my money, she's hit the nail on the head.
 Considering that this is a novel from Argentina, this topic carries a lot of historical meaning and a lot of historical weight, but I could feasibly make the same argument about journalism and the media in this country, or for that matter, any other country where powerful people have the means to control the truth. As Nurit Iscar also notes, novelists have a responsibility as well -- to present "another reality, an even truer one," in the guise of fiction, since they "don't have to answer to any one."

Of course, there's so much more in this novel, and  it is one you could read solely for the murder plot. However, the truth is that  Betty Boo has a richness and a depth that is rarely found in crime writing these days, and it is that kind of something so out of the ordinary that I look for when I pick up a crime novel.  This book  is another one that left me stunned because of how very perceptive it is -- and I can't speak highly enough about it.  

The Sound of One Hand Killing, by Teresa Solana

9781908524065
Bitter Lemon Press, 2013
265 pp
originally published as L'hora zen, 2011
translated by Peter Bush

softcover; UK (available in the US May 2013)

A strange small statue, a dead neighbor, and a murder at an "exclusive, luxury alternative centre" where the wealthy go for Bach-flower and other homeopathic therapies are only part of the lineup in this third (and unfortunately for me, the last right now) installment of Solana's entertaining series set in Barcelona.  The brothers Borja and Eduard are back and once again find themselves in some pretty wild predicaments; the usual Solanaesque satirical punches are intact, this time aimed at alternative therapies, what people will do to stay forever youthful looking (especially plastic surgeries), and  there are also little hints of barb pointing at the world of writers and readers.  With more focus on the brothers and a better flow than in book two, A Shortcut to Paradise, here the author adds to the mix of brotherly craziness, murder and the vegetable sausage fare of the alternative therapy center by placing her characters into the realm of spy fiction and rare art as well.

As the novel opens, someone has broken into the brothers' office, and the place has been overturned. Going all postmodern on her readers,  Teresa Solana  injects herself as a character seeking the help of Borja and Eduard, and has an appointment that day.  Not wanting to give away the show that their office is a setup, Borja remembers that his upstairs neighbor had given him a set of keys to his apartment, so they decide to meet the author there.  While routing around the place before her arrival, the brothers stumble on to a dead body -- that of the neighbor -- who's obviously been there some time.  With Solana on her way, though, they take a bit of their non-existent secretary's perfume and spray it in the neighbor's flat for her visit, hoping to disguise the smell of decomposition.  The author's request is simple: she's writing a novel about "alternative therapies," and wants to set some of her chapters in the area north of the Diagonal, so she comes to the brothers to enlist their aid in gathering research for her.  They are only too happy to help -- the credit crunch and economic downturn leaves Eduard's wife Montse unable to procure a loan for her business, and money is tight all over; Borja has even agreed to be a middleman and hold on to a small statue until he is called to deliver it, an easy task for the reward he'll get of several thousand Euros.  After Solana's visit, they quickly clean up any traces of themselves and leave the door open for the smell to waft down and the body to be discovered.  They then make their way to the Zen Moments center, where they wangle their way into a weekend stay; after suffering through a few not-funny practical jokes, the brothers are on hand when the owner of the place is discovered dead.  Their friend, Inspector Badia, wants them to help catch the killer, which may be difficult, because Borja has become the focus of a group of thugs who want something he has; since Borja's involved, Eduard is along for the action. 

There's so much in this book -- antiquities trafficking, spies, the mafia, murder, and of course, the sardonic look at alternative therapies -- and as usual there are some very funny moments with the brothers, both while pursuing their line of work and at home.   The satire is great, as always, but at some point there has to be a limit -- as much as I love her tongue-in-cheek critiques, the murder investigation had little complexity, and offered way too easy of a solution, making the resolution to the murder rather unexciting, and frankly, rather flat. And really -- a character named Lord Ashtray is just silly and didn't appeal. As I'm writing this I'm sitting here wondering if maybe she's not writing her books for the crime element as much as the social -- if this is the case, then I suppose a rethink on approaching her novels is in order.  Anyway, the action in The Sound of One Hand Killing leaves no doubt but that the brothers will return in another installment, and that they will be dogged by business left unfinished in this one.

So, my final words on this book -- I liked it with only a few reservations,  and do recommend it for readers continuing with the series (if you haven't read the first two, definitely do not start with this one); it has some very entertaining moments and I absolutely love the brothers and can't wait to see what trouble they get into next.  While I'm a little less than overwhelmed with the murder solution, the entire series is worth reading because of the main characters -- their craziness will keep me coming back for more.

 ***

oh yes! Because I'm a moronica sometimes, I accidentally bought two copies of this book, so if you would like my extra copy and you live in the United States, I'm happy to just give it to you and I'll pay postage.  Don't be embarrassed to ask -- you'll be doing me a huge favor helping me to keep my library manageable! Not a contest -- first person who comments gets it.

A Shortcut to Paradise, by Teresa Solana

9781904738558
Bitter Lemon Press, 2011
originally published as Drecera al paradis, 2007
translated by Peter Bush
284 pp

softcover

In book number two of Solana's series to feature the twin brothers Borja and Eduard, for the most part I stayed highly entertained by this author's imagination and her writing. I say "for the most part" because while the brothers are fun, and while I looked forward to seeing how they'd  pull the murderer out of their respective hats,  the story is also  punctuated by a couple of rather ridiculous set pieces (one involving a near orgy due to overpowering canapes) and the narrative sort of meanders a bit before the brothers do their usual stuff in trying to bring the killer to justice. I did enjoy Solana's usual  pokes at Barcelona society, and here she adds another object of satire, centering around the literary world. While I had a good time reading it, I have to say that I liked the first book a little bit better -- it had much more of a crime-fiction feel to it than this one, the ending of which just left me just sort of flat.   

Ernest Fabia, translator and family man, has a serious problem.  His bank has just called and gives him two weeks to come up with the four months of payment he owes on his mortgage. He was one of the multitudes caught up in the dreaded real estate bubble, and after a car accident, a new baby and unforeseen expenses with his older child, Ernest is in a world of financial hurt.  The dreaded Final Notice that he's read x number of times  is all he can think about, and he decides to take matters into his own hands -- he decides he'll rob someone rich to make up for the money shortfall.  His randomly-picked victim turns out to be Amadeu Cabestany, an author who has left a party at the Ritz hotel after not winning a literary prize he'd been hoping for.  Ernest robs him, leaving him 10 euros for cabfare, and when Amadeu returns to the hotel, he is placed under arrest for the murder of Marina Dolç, his rival for and winner of the award.  It's obvious that Amadeu is not guilty but he had been overheard in a heated rant against Marina and to the police, that's motive enough. But convinced he is innocent,  Amadeu's agent hires Borja and Eduard to clear his name and get him out of jail.  In the meantime, Ernest, who is basically a good man, is afraid to read the papers, so has no idea that Amadeu's been arrested, and to take his mind off his troubles, heads off to a retreat where he can concentrate on his translation work.  He and the taxi driver who returned Amadeu to the hotel are the only alibi witnesses; the taxi driver's not talking because he's just out of prison himself and driving the cab with no license and Ernest is away trying not to think about what he's done.  The brothers take the case, along with a retired cop for help, but with very little to go by in the way of alibi, it's going to be tough for Amadeu to be exonerated.

This story kind of moves all over the place, with much less emphasis on the crime and its solution than in the previous series installment.  It's not as tight as it could have been, and the author spends way too much time  setting up one of the big gags in this book which I thought was kind of ridiculous anyway, the runaway rumor that Amadeu is not only a murderer, but a cannibal as well.  Borja and Eduard are gone from the story for a long time which was a bit frustrating while I waited for them to return to get down to business solving the crime.  And then there's the ending and the solution to the crime ... I can guess at what happened, but really, after leading me all the way to the end,  making me wait for the story to resume while  the silly, even farcical set pieces played out, I think I deserved more of a why.  I have to say that my feelings are mixed about this book -- it's a "meh" for me.

I wouldn't let my less than excited reaction put anyone off if considering the book or the series -- it's still fun, the brothers are perfectly paired, the satire is very well executed, and it has received some sterling ratings.   I'm just soooo picky! I'll be moving on to the next book, The Sound of One Hand Killing (which is supposed to hit the US May 13th but nah nah, I have a UK copy already), which should say something positive about this author and especially her quirky protagonists. I'd recommend it to those who've started the series and wonder about continuing  -- yes, by all means do!

crime fiction from Spain

A Not So Perfect Crime, by Teresa Solana

9781904738343
Bitter Lemon Press, 2008
286 pp
originally published as Un crim imperfecte, 2006
translated by Peter Bush

softcover



A Not So Perfect Crime is the first of three in a series of novels featuring twin brothers Eduard Martínez Estivill and Jose Martínez Estivill, the latter known as Borja Masdéu-Canals Sáez de Astorga to everyone but his brother, who knows him as Pep. Eduard hasn't even told his wife about the true identity of his brother, and the two of them constitute Frau Consultants, a private "detective" agency with false office doors and a secretary who's always away when their clients come to see them at the office.  They cater to the social elite of Barcelona, people with problems and a lot of money that insures that their problems are handled discreetly.  This series opener finds the two working for an MP who wants to know if the man who painted his wife's portrait is also having an affair with her.  While the book brought occasional smiles to my face because of the many crazy situations in which the two find themselves, the entire crime and its solution could have been achieved in half the space, as  there is much more emphasis on developing the characters, setting the social-class scene and keeping the gags going throughout the novel.  This isn't necessarily a bad thing -- the characters are fun and well established by the end of the story; I can sense this series is going to be interesting as time goes by.


MP Lluis Font calls in the brothers to find out whether or not his wife his having an affair with the man who painted her portrait.  While investigating the artist, they discover that there are a few things that Font hasn't told them -- namely, that he's having an affair of his own, one that literally crashes down onto them.  But when la Seňora Font turns up dead, Eduard begins to realize that perhaps this case is more than he and Borja are prepared to handle. 

A Not So Perfect Crime is a good mix of a mystery to be solved, well-developed main characters and a look at Barcelona society.   As the story begins to wind down, there is a decent solution to the crime, one that fits with clues gathered throughout the book. There are plenty of suspects to keep things lively and interesting and when the action is focused on the brothers' investigation, the story moves at a good pace.   The brothers are funny -- they're so different from each other that it keeps things interesting.  Borja is being kept in luxury by his mistress while Eduard often wonders how he and his wife are going to pay the bills. Montse, Eduard's wife, is also a well-drawn character, putting up with Eduard when his problems usually stem from the antics of his brother.   The scrapes that the two get themselves into (generally of Borja's making) are entertaining as is watching them escape their collective predicament.  The focus on Barcelona's higher-class levels of society are also interesting...it is a world where money can buy pretty much anything, where gossip or idle talk can kill careers or make things uncomfortable, where moral scruples are difficult to find, and where only the best will do.  This is, of course, contrasted to the world of the regular people -- where bills pile up and people have to make a living.  The author does a very good job of putting the two side by side so that the reader gets a feel for how the rich and powerful spend their days and how they're often able to manipulate others behind the scenes.

My issue with this book is that there is a lot of stuff in here that could easily have been left out, making for a tighter, less wordy and even at times rambling story.  I didn't care about Borja's adventures with Eduard's sister-in-law, for example; nor did it matter to me about Eduard's previous love affair in Paris. There's more of this kind of thing here, but lots of little things that are meant to go into character development sometimes divert attention away from the crime and its solution, making skimming seem like a good idea in some parts.  I will hopefully expect that when I get to Ms. Solana's next book, Shortcut to Paradise, that less backstory will be necessary and that more focus is placed on the brothers' escapades while solving whatever crime in which they become embroiled.



Overall, A Not So Perfect Crime turned out to be an entertaining novel, and a fine first foray into what I hope will turn out to be a very good crime-fiction series.  Definitely recommended!

crime fiction from Spain

A Grain of Truth, by Zygmunt Miłoszewski

 9781908524027
Bitter Lemon Press, 2012
(UK edition)
380 pp
  originally published as Ziarno prawdy, 2011

translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones

(Now also available in the US)


Continuing with the excellent writing, plotting and above all the characters he established in Entanglement , Zygmunt Miłoszewski has returned with the second novel in his series featuring state prosecutor Teodor Szacki.  Once again Bitter Lemon Press has delivered -- A Grain of Truth is yet another fine offering from this publisher specializing in the crème de la crème of translated crime fiction.   While sometimes the novel gets a little windy ("i" as in "eye") and frustratingly wordy sometimes, the devilish murder plot, the characters and Miłoszewski's infusion of  humor all make for an impressive read.  There is also a darker side to this novel as the author explores the historical interactions of Catholics and Jews in Poland, moving the subject matter into the Communist era and on into modern times where,  according to the author, the old legends, fears, guilt, and prejudices can still resonate.

 When the body, throat slashed and drained of blood, of a beloved member of the Sandomierz community is found in a ravine at the medieval walls of the town, in the middle of what used to be a Jewish cemetery,   Szacki is called in on the case.  He's no longer in Warsaw, having relocated to Sandomierz after an affair caused the breakup of his marriage; up to now he's found provincial life rather boring living in a city "which was in fact dead after six p.m" and wonders why he threw a carefully-built career in Warsaw away for a few dull cases.  But the murder investigation sets all of that aside for the moment.    Although he's still a relative newbie, it is Szacki who gets the case precisely because he will come into it with no preconceived notions -- the dead woman was a friend of his colleague, and according to anyone in the town, as near to sainthood as any mortal could possibly be.  What Szacki terms a "razor-machete" is found nearby, and it  turns out to be a knife used in the Jewish ritual slaughter of cattle.  This is problematic -- as fellow prosecutor Barbara Sobieraj notes,"Sandomierz is at the centre of the so-called legends of blood," ... "the capital of the universe for the idea of ritual murder." After two more vile murders are discovered, each with its own link to "ritual murder," the press has a field day, planting the idea of the old legends concerning Jews and the murders of Christian children into the minds of the public.  As Szacki notes, "They say that in every legend there's a grain of truth," but is that really the case here? 

While A Grain of Truth is an entertaining mystery that will keep you turning pages, the author also explores the ins and outs of the Polish legal system, and different aspects of Poland's history:  Catholicism, anti-Semitism, Polish resistance both to the Nazis and the Communists, the return of the Jews after the camps, and the effects of Poland's often-troubled past on its present.  Even if you're not a history-oriented person, here it makes for incredibly interesting reading and, in my case, spurred me to want to know more.  But the true star of this show is Szacki -- much more fully fleshed out here than in Entanglement, a man of wit and wisdom who

"didn't claim to be an amazing tough guy, but ... liked to think of himself as a sheriff, who instead of a conscience has the Penal Code, and acts as its embodiment, guardian and executor. He believed in it, and on this belief he had built his entire public persona, which over the years had become his uniform, his official costume. It had taken over the way he dressed, his facial expressions, his way of thinking, talking and communicating with people."

Szacki's opinions on topics that range from religion to the media reflect Miłoszewski's honed skills as an observer of reality, as do the author's chapter beginnings which look at individual days in 2009 (the year in which the novel is set), setting forth little tidbits of info that happened on that particular day from different parts of the world. These little blurbs range from the funny to the serious, are related in a kind of sardonic wit and generally have some sort of sideways bearing on the action occuring in the chapter.  For the most part, although not always in some cases, the dialogue he creates among his characters falls out naturally so that he sets a realistic tone,  and his sense of humor sometimes produces laughter that escapes from the brain to become an audible chuckle; all of these points also point to how great a job the translator has done here!  Once in a while, though, the author does trend toward the wordy, but this is such a minor niggle about a novel that is so well written that it's easy to set aside, one I heartily recommend.  Do NOT start this series here, though; you will get more out of  Szacki's character and out of Miłoszewski's writing by beginning with Entanglement.   Readers of cozy-type mysteries probably will want to pass; on the flip side, while it deals with dark subject matter, it's not as edgy as  noir, either.  If you're a fan of intelligently-written translated crime fiction, though, this one will definitely appeal to you.  The novel also proves that Scandinavian crime, which has been really hot for a long time, isn't the only game on the block and that perhaps it's time to expand crime fiction horizons in other directions. Thanks to Bitter Lemon Press, that's becoming easier -- keep up the great work finding these novels and bringing them to us.

crime fiction from Poland

Entanglement, by Zygmunt Miloszewski

9781904738442
Bitter Lemon Press, 2010
originally published as Uwiklanie, 2007
translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones
336 pp
(UK ed.; softcover)

 - "It's impossible not to be entangled -- so says Hellinger."
 -  "It's possible to be free, and so say I."

 I can honestly say that this book is one of the best crime novels I've ever read -- not just this year, but in a seriously long time. The next book by Miloszewski is sitting here waiting to be picked up and I have to say that  I'm so wowed by Entanglement, the first novel in this series,  I can only look forward to something as great in his A Grain of Truth.   My collection of Bitter Lemon Press novels is also growing and kudos to these people for constantly bringing new and for the most part, outstandingly fine crime fiction to readers of  this genre. I don't know how they manage to bring out winners each time, but keep up the good work.

In Warsaw, a very weary  public prosecutor Teodor Szacki is finding life rather tiresome when on a Sunday home with his wife and little daughter he receives a call that he has to come in to work. Szacki, in his mid-30s, "an underpaid civil servant" whose wife is also a lawyer and similarly underpaid, is not in the best of moods to begin with, he's sent to what used to be a monastery, now a "red brick chimera, a cross between a church, a monastery and Gargamel's palace," where aside from the church in the building, there are also sublet spaces and rooms available for rent by various organizations.  One such set of rooms has been rented by a psychotherapist for himself and four of his patients, where over the weekend, they are engaged in Family Constellation Therapy, founded originally by German psychologist and philosopher Bert Hellinger. They are there hoping to resolve some of their personal issues; one of the attendees, businessman Henryk Talek, endures a particularly grueling session and afterward ends up dead with a meat skewer in his eye.  Very much overworked, Szacki is hating the idea of having to add this case to his current list; to him it's either a badly-botched burglary or a case of  “one body, four suspects–all sober and well-to-do,” as the detective working for Szacki puts it.  Yet  the more Szacki  investigates, the more he comes up with things that just don't fit right and which create more questions than answers:

"Why was this happening to him right now? Why could there not be one single ordinary element in this inquiry? A decent corpse, suspects from the underworld, normal witnesses who come to be interviewed by the prosecutor with fear in their hearts. Why this zoo?"

Meanwhile, in the process of trying to fill in the holes, what he doesn't know is that there is someone taking stock of his every move. 

Szacki is one of most realistic characters I've come across.  He's extremely believable as a person, with flaws like every human being. Although he loves his wife Weronika, he starts focusing on things like her double chin and the growing fat around her middle, the way she wears the same t-shirt to bed every night, washed only once a week and some other shortcomings that lead him to wonder if this is his future.  His thoughts about his career are much the same.  He is an ardent believer in truth and justice, yet he is often torn between his "human conscience" and his "civil servant conscience," both of which frequently clash. But he's also capable of some very poor choices, including a flirtation with a reporter that goes a little further each time they're together.  And while Szacki is the main character, the other characters are just as credible, all free standing and real, described both in terms of their physical selves as well as their own quirky behaviors. Take, for example, Kuzniecow,  the cop working for Szacki who has sex on the brain pretty much 24/7; the obnoxious psychobabbling psychotherapist Cezary Rudski, the head of the group at the session the night Telak died; the strange pathologists who make odd quips while they're performing an autopsy; a retired police captain living in a roach-infested apartment with no electricity; a dying historian whose short career has been devoted to studying Poland's secret police; and also Szacki's boss, Janina Chorko, a very ugly and lonely woman who "gave the lie to the theory that there aren't any ugly women." She is actually  "the last person on earth he'd want to flirt with," making him tense as he prays he never gets an invitation to join her in a glass of wine and a chat. Chorko

"consciously made herself sour, malicious and painfully businesslike, which was in perfect harmony with her appearance, turning her into the archetypal boss from hell. The new prosecutors were afraid of her, and the trainees hid in the toilet whenever she came down the corridor."

The punch and pizazz he invests in his characters to make them believable also follow suit in the overall writing throughout the book; they keep the action moving, and there are places where you can't help but smirk at Miloszewski's insertion of wry humor.  But there is nothing at all funny about this story, where the tension grows not only in terms of Szacki's personal life, but in the murder investigation as it moves toward an incredible ending, as it dawns on you that even in a free society, being free and unfettered may just be a mirage.  

Super book, one I definitely and most highly recommend.  I don't believe I've read anything like it before.  If you want a crime read well above the norm, something utterly sophisticated, this is the one.

Goat Song: Murder and Mayhem in Montmartre, by Chantal Pelletier

9781904738039
Bitter Lemon Press, 2004
originally published as Le Chant du Bouc, 2000
translated by Ian Monk
176 pp
paper

One of the reasons I love Bitter Lemon Press is that this group of publishers focuses on international  works from authors I might not otherwise have heard of, and they generally turn out to be among my favorite books in the crime fiction world.   One of these authors is Chantal Pelletier, whose Inspector Maurice Laice features in three novels (I believe), only one of which has been translated into English. Pity, because he's such a complex character -- a really sad Joe kind of loner whose work is pretty much all he has in his life.  I found myself immediately drawn to this guy because of his sadness.

The last time anyone saw Elsa Suppini alive she had just entered Montmartre's legendary landmark, The Moulin Rouge, where she wasted no time in grabbing a job as dresser to the two lead dancers after the current dresser announced that she was leaving.  Not only is the job a step up for Elsa, who works in the sewing room, but she fantasizes about dressing and seducing Manfred Godalier, the lead male dancer.   The next time someone sees her, she's definitely with Manfred, but in what could have a been a "still life" called "Storm of Blood in a Bijou Residence." At least, that's what Inspector Maurice Laice (known as Momo to his friends, and More-is-less to his boss) thinks, as he begins his investigation into their murders.  It's a very bad day for Maurice -- he's just returned from his father's funeral, where his dad's passing has made him feel like his own death is just around the corner, that he "was now to be the head of the queue at the door separating him from the next world."   But this was definitely not the case with young Elsa and Manfred -- someone had deliberately gone out of his or her way to savagely slaughter the two to the point that their bodies were "glued together with coagulated blood." But which of the two was the intended victim? Or were they both targets? This is just the first step in Maurice's arduous journey toward solving this horrific crime; the next begins with the death of a crack smoker in a building where the neighbors are used to hearing screams and watching people shoot up in the stairwell on a regular basis.

Maurice's  melancholy certainly doesn't help him, and neither does his boss, Aline Lefevre, who seems to delight in tormenting him by constantly keeping him apprised of her sex life.  He's also very depressed about being in his 40s with no wife or mistress, an "old goat whose violent stench no longer got the nannies going."  He did have a fiancée once, who died in a freak accident when an old water heater malfunctioned and she was asphyxiated; he was in the shower with her at the time and still hasn't gotten over his survival.  Then there's his home -- Montmartre, which is slowly but steadily being transformed into what Maurice sees as a shopping mall:

"Nowadays, the Butte Montmartre was being picked over by a load of culture vultures. Indian dance and modern plays sold better than pig's trotters or snouts in vinaigrette," ... Momo wondered how far the transformation of his neighborhood would go. If it got any more "in," it would implode. Everyone round there was now in the media, was an architect or hack, one of those fucking awful trades that feed off looks like others feed off steak and chips. The cheese shops, tripe shops and butchers were all closing down, to be replaced by ranks of rag shops and hair dressers."

As the investigation proceeds, Maurice moves from Montmartre to Corsica and even into the world of his boss's old obsessions.  But when all is revealed, this veteran, well-seasoned cop will come to realize that there are some things for which he can never be prepared. 

The centerpiece of this novel is tragedy itself -- in Greek, "trag-oedia," which also translates to "goat song."  This theme carries throughout the novel in terms of the crimes, but also in other ways, including the new face of beautiful and historic Montmartre, those left behind in the wake of deaths, and in the lives of some of  Pelletier's other characters as well.  Even super-confident Aline,  with her brash off-color jokes and her teasing of Maurice, has experienced tragedy in her life, providing powerful motivation behind  her work as a cop. 

The conclusion of this novel is simply haunting; getting there is sometimes a tough journey as you are constantly faced with the "tragicomedy of existence" that runs throughout the novel.  It is not a novel for people whose thing is crime light, nor is it a book for readers who cringe at sex or sexual references.  To her credit, Pelletier does not throw in random, meaningless or gratuitous sex -- what there is is totally appropriate in terms of the characters' lives.  I'm not so bothered by sex in novels -- what I hate is when it's obviously there to titillate and conceal the lack of an author's narrative skills.  That's not the case here.   Goat Song is a very good read, a study of not only a city that's moving in a downward spiral but its reflection in the lives of the people who live there and love it.   I liked it, but then again, I'm drawn toward edgy, dark and tragic, all of which totally fit as a description of this novel.

No Sale, by Patrick Conrad

9781904738978
Bitter Lemon Press, 2012 (UK)
originally published as Starr, 2007
translated by Jonathan Lynn
270 pp
paper


Patrick Conrad is a new author for me, although he has a long history of writing under his belt encompassing essays, poems, romans noir, novels and screenplays.  He also adds painting, and directing movies for television and the big screen to his list of talents.  His writing in No Sale won him the Diamanten Kogel/Diamond Bullet Award in 2007, honoring the best writing in Dutch crime fiction.   It ranks up there with one of the strangest novels I've ever read (in a good kind of way), taking a metafictional approach incorporating the dark world of film noir into a police investigation of a  bizarre set of murders to create a rather surreal reading experience. 

At the very core of this novel is the enigmatic Victor Cox, a man in his 60s who teaches History of Cinema at Antwerp's Institute of Film and Theatre Studies.  Cox also owns an impressive collection of "cinema props  and curiosities," and is teetering at the edge of retirement as the story opens.  He is married to Shelley, who has disappeared.  Shortly after Cox reports her as a missing person to the police, a body is discovered jammed underneath a jetty between two yachts in the water off the Bonaparte Dock.  Once the dead woman is identified as Shelley Cox, the detectives, Lannoy and Fons Luyckx (nicknamed "The Sponge") get to work.  The first person on their list is her husband Victor, who as Lannoy so aptly notes, is

"an absent-minded professor living for years alongside his wife but who doesn't quite understand what is happening to him in the real world."

Shelley, however, had a "split personality," one side of which she lived out in the seamier side of town, the Docklands, where she became Dixie, so the detectives realize that her husband may have had nothing to do with her death.  Eventually he is cleared of being involved, but Cox is soon back in the detectives' collective sights when a chance remark gives The Sponge cause to connect Shelley's death with the earlier murders of two other women. As years go by, and a number of women also meet rather bizarre ends, the detectives begin to realize that Cox has some sort of connection with each one of them, but evidence collected at each scene fails to yield any tangible association leading back to Victor as their killer.  But Victor isn't so sure -- his growing attachment to one of his young film students with a strong resemblance to Clara Bow (or Louise Brooks)  has left him treading the thin line between reality, dreams and the plotlines of his favorite classic noir films, which serve as a distorted lens through which Victor views his world.  After he retires, he finds himself "increasingly at home in a fantasy world that evoked the bygone charms of the Twenties and Thirties."

While several noir films are necessarily explored in some detail here in keeping with the plot, Conrad also employs the same contrasts of light and dark in his descriptions of Antwerp and the people who live there.   At Shelley/Dixie's funeral, for example, he writes:

"On the left, the world of night: the inhabitants of Docklands, the pub and cafe owners, the faded revellers, the knights errant of darkness, the ghosts and shades that rarely brave daylight and who had accompanied Dixie to the bitter end of her insoluble quest. On the right, the world of light: Victor Cox, pale and overcome by emotion, surrounded by his students and the complete faculty...And then what was left of Shelley's family...Also a few senior officers, including Aimé Butterfly in civilian dress, who fits in everywhere -- and therefore nowhere -- and does not know which side he should choose."

and later, when Victor is out taking a stroll before ending up in the red-light district called the Vervesrui,

"The night is bright and the sea breeze blowing out the purple north over the bay of the Scheldt smells of iodine. The coloured lights of the bars and restaurants opposite are reflected like thousands of trembling serpents in the inky waters of the Bonaparte Dock. Cox strolls along terraces that are still packed full at this late hour and looks almost tenderly at the festive crowds...On the Nassau Bridge he stops and stares at the motionless water, at the tar-smeared jetties along the gangway where Shelley's corpse drifted among dead rats, empty plastic bottles and rotting vegetation. "

No Sale is not only related via a dual-narrative format (Victor's story and that of the two detectives) that eventually come together,  but also, like any good noir novel, addresses the dual natures that exist within some of the main characters and the drama that  is played out in terms of their own respective views of reality.  Even the city is afforded its dark and light shadows and tones.  Reading this book gave me the same uneasy feeling as when I'm sitting in the dark watching a suspenseful film and wondering how things can get any worse, and the layering of film noir into a murder mystery heightens the effect. Then again, there are some comedic moments (especially involving Clint Eastwood and Dirty Harry) to provide relief.

As a crime novel, the plot is intriguing, and while it's not too terribly difficult to figure out what's going on after Victor has his moments of epiphany, it was often a bit of a stretch of credibility in terms of the contrivance of the murders to fit within their given frames.  But then again, this isn't so much a novel you'd read for the solution to the crimes but rather one to be enjoyed as a more intense focus on human nature.  It's also a cool way to explore film noir -- even if you know absolutely nothing about it.  


Definitely recommended -- it's not your average crime novel but something even better.

 crime fiction from Belgium

#2 read - 2013 International Dagger eligible

Liar Moon, by Ben Pastor

9781904738824
Bitter Lemon Press, 2012 (UK)
originally published 2001
268 pp.
trade paper ed.

Liar Moon is Ben Pastor's second novel to feature Wehrmacht Major Martin Bora, following her earlier novel Lumen.  Bora is headquartered near Verona, in northern Italy, where the Fascists still maintain control and the Nazis are occupying the territory.  And although Bora is in the German Army, after what he's been through and what he's seen, he has no heart for this war.  He's a man with a conscience and a troubled soul, with very little stomach for SS policies, which, by the way, has not gone unnoticed by the SS. Bora has to walk a very fine line between what's in his heart and what he is expected to do as a German army officer.  Now, after a partisan attack, he's also been injured, leaving him with worries about his future with his wife. 

His regular work is interrupted by a directive from headquarters asking him to help police inspector Sandro Guidi investigate the death of a prominent Fascist of Verona, one Vittorio Lisi.  Lisi's death was publicly declared to have been the result of a stroke, but Lisi was known as "a comrade of the first hour," by Mussolini himself, and the real reason for his death might be embarrassing to the current regime: Lisi was murdered while in his wheelchair, run down by a car within the grounds of his own home.    Ultimately, the tarnishing of the Fascist image  is what ultimately convinces Bora to help Guidi, despite the fact that he doesn't really want to do this.  Guidi is also hard at work on a case involving an escaped convict who also happens to be a sniper. 

Liar Moon is very much a character-oriented novel, a work of historical fiction with a different slant -- rather than repeating what her readers already know about the horrors of the Nazi regime, Pastor tends to focus on what the war has done to her main protagonist Martin Bora. It's an interesting choice to have the war related through his perspective; even better is Guidi, who feels much the same way as Bora and is often horrified at things Bora does, including arranging transport for Jews on their way to their final destination and arresting a priest, who acts as Bora's confessor.   What Guidi doesn't understand is that Bora is not really in a position to take up a public rant against the Nazis or the Italian Fascists even though Bora thinks largely along the same lines as the Inspector -- it is largely through interior monologues that Guidi expresses himself and it's also what is not said between the two main characters that really makes this book a very interesting read.   While the focus is on the characters, the mystery of Lisi's death provides a few good red herrings to keep the reader guessing, as well as a conclusion that while sad and somber, makes sense and comes as a bit of a surprise. 

At the same time, Liar Moon seemed to drag in spots, and although both of Guidi's cases cross paths, the sniper subplot was not so intruiging as to keep me glued to that particular investigation, and I eagerly waited to get back to the unspoken interactions between Bora and Guidi as well as the Lisi murder.   It's also a very melancholy novel, much more angst ridden than its predecessor Lumen, which also moved a bit faster in terms of pace, although admittedly it had its fair share of darkness.  Liar Moon  is very intelligently written, although personally, I felt it worked very well as a novel of historical fiction, less so as crime fiction.  I've also seen it reviewed as a "thriller," but I'm afraid I have to disagree with that assessment -- while the core mystery is good, it's the main characters who are really at the heart of the novel, not the whodunit.

You can read other reviews of Liar Moon at Eurocrime; Richard Z. Santos also reviews it for CriminalElement.com;  the book rated a solid 4.5 on Amazon and also received some nice star ratings on Goodreads.  I'd recommend it to readers who like historical fiction that deals with the Nazi occupation of Italy or World War II; I'd also recommend it to crime fiction readers with the caveat that it does move rather slowly and depends more on characters than plot.   Overall -- it's a good read and one I've been waiting for since I read Lumen; I'll definitely be following the rest of the series as the novels are translated and published. 

Nights of Awe, by Harri Nykänen

9781904738923
Bitter Lemon Press, 2012
originally published as Ariel, 2004
translated by Kristian London
252 pp (trade paper ed.)

The bodies certainly pile up in Nights of Awe, Harri Nykänen's first foray into the series featuring Ariel Kafka of the Helsinki Violent Crimes Unit.  Nykänen is no fledgling writer -- he has several books under his belt, including his Raid series, which was the basis for a TV show  in Finland, which I found totally by accident while researching European television shows to watch, leading me to check out Nykänen's work, which ended up sending me to this book.  Funny how that works.

Nights of Awe is a good series opener, a very serious police procedural where the solution doesn't unravel until the very end.  It's a  no-nonsense story, with a different approach to Scandinavian crime fiction  that takes place during the ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur known as  Yamim Noraim, or Days of Awe.  The main character is Ariel (Ari) Kafka, 40, unmarried, Jewish,  first and foremost a policeman, then a Jew.   As he notes,

"If Rabbi Liebstein was right and the world was falling to pieces, an unpleasant role had been reserved for me. It was my job to gather up all of the gears that were flying off and repair the clock so it would work again."

And considering that by the end of the novel there are eight people laying dead, all connected to one case, he's got his work cut out for him.  The first two bodies are discovered at the railyard in Linnunlaulu, one having been shot and the other had fallen or had been pushed from a bridge onto the  top of a passing train. All kinds of theories are put forward as to the nature of the killings, but Ari knows it's much to early to think on the theoretical side.  There are few clues at the scene other than a cell phone needing a password to unlock it and a map from Hertz. As the detectives begin their investigation, more bodies turn up, and it isn't long until an inspector from the Security Police (SUPO) gets involved, much to Ari's dismay.  The clues lead to an Iraqi refugee, his co-worker and his cousin, a known drug dealer, but the tabloids are linking the killings to terrorism either on the part of Israeli political extremists or Arab terrorists. In the meantime, Ari's brother and a spokesperson for the Helsinki Jewish congregation believe that the deaths are linked to a terrorist plot to blow up the synagogue during the High Holy Days, during which, coincidentally, the Israeli foreign minister is paying a visit, a theory bolstered by the involvement of the head of security of the Israeli embassy.  Sorting  out these theories and getting to the truth  in the face of pressure being heaped on Ari  from several directions is going to be difficult at best. 

Nights of Awe is ambitious, to say the least, but it's a good start to what will probably be a good series to follow.   The writing is straightforward with little to get in the way of the plot -- no long sessions of interior monologue expressing the main character's angst, for example, but at times it can get a little confusing as body after body piles up and new plot developments are revealed little by little. Ari's character is portrayed realistically, but some of the supporting characters are kind of just there in the background. This isn't necessarily a drawback, but rather a reflection of a first novel in a series where the lead character is the focus.   And while there is a lot of action, it's sort of secondary, where the crime has already happened rather than say, a car blowing up in front of the cops' noses. 

I have to admire how the author handles two major issues: first, in the treatment of Jewish attitudes toward Israeli politics, he notes that there are some who have misgivings about Israel's policies toward its Arab neighbors,  but he also takes at look at things from Israel's point of view.  Second, the author gives a fair treatment of the Muslims in this novel, especially when the police turn to the Imam of the local Islamic center for assistance, rather than accusation.

I do have a couple of niggles: first, there is very little in the way of sense of place here.  Maybe it's just me, but after all of the Scandinavian crime fiction I've read, very little of it takes place in Finland, so it would be nice if the reader was able to absorb some of the local scene.  A sense of place adds a bit more credibility as well as another dimension to any story; this is one aspect of the novel where the author fell short. I'm sure that will be rectified in coming installlments and it's definitely not a deal breaker as to whether or not I'll pick up more books by Nykänen in the future, but it is worth mentioning. Second: Mossad? Really?

In spite of my minor complaints, I'd recommend it to readers of Scandinavian crime fiction, but with the caveat that it's not the usual Nordic fare that most readers have already experienced. It's also dark and very serious  in tone, so it's definitely not for cozy readers or readers that are looking for something lighthearted.  I don't mind dark, and I'll definitely be ready and eager to read the next book when it's translated.

crime fiction from Finland

Temporary Perfections, by Gianrico Carofiglio; the wall and where do I go from here?

9781904738725
Bitter Lemon Press, 2011
originally published as Le perfezioni provvisorie, 2010
translated by Anthony Shugaar
284 pp
(trade paper ed.)



I've hit that all-too familiar wall of finishing all of the books currently offered in a series; I'm at that place where there's nothing to do but hope for more in the near future.  It used to be that this kind of break really bugged me and actually made me a bit sad for a while,  but as I've gotten older and as my TBR pile has become rather huge (thanks mostly  to Maxine at Petrona  and Karen at EuroCrime), I have plenty to read while I wait not so patiently.   The problem is that having now come to the end of all of the published Guerreri novels by Carofiglio, I have no clue where to go next in my reading. These books are well written, have a great depth of character -- seriously, how can you not love a man who has a punching bag as a silent therapist? -- and appeal to my need for intelligent  fiction, traits that I look for in any book, especially in crime-based novels. Carofiglio and Guido Guerrieri are both tough acts to follow -- and right now I'm hoping I have something on the shelves that measures up.  Any suggestions are most welcome.

Now to the book:  Temporary Perfections finds Guerrieri taking on the role of investigator outside of his legal practice.  A student named Manuela Ferraro has disappeared, and through her parents' attorney, Guido is hired to try to pick up her trail after the official channels have all been exhausted.   This is not a role in which Guerrieri is comfortable, but he agrees to do it all the same.  Her ex-boyfriend's attorney forbids him to speak to Guerrieri, and when Guido talks to her reluctant friends, he senses they're holding things back.  His job is not going to be easy and he knows it, especially with Manuela's friend Caterina, who has her own agenda.

Guerrieri has come a long way since events in Reasonable Doubts -- he now has associates in his new office, but he's still a lonely guy, who feels like his "emotional life is like a silent movie."  He shares his thoughts with his punching bag, the "perfect therapist," who "never judges," "listens, and never interrupts."  His nocturnal ramblings take him to a bar where he runs into an ex-client, a former prostitute named Nadia whose , and he finds in her someone to discuss movies, books and life.  

Once again, Carofiglio has given his readers an intelligent read.  As always, even the characters who seem to have only minor roles play a big part in helping to explain how Guerrieri understands human nature as well as himself.  There is also a continuing dialogue throughout this and  all of the novels in the series about the Italian system of justice and crime, and the sense of place takes you away for a while,  whether Guerrieri's  in Bari, along the coast at a seaside restaurant,  or in Rome as he gets the clichéd thrill of climbing the Spanish Steps. 

I can't really do this or any of the other books real justice in only a few paragraphs; these are novels you have to experience for yourself.  They are not wild rides but should appeal to anyone who is looking for a higher  level of intelligence in his or her choice of books, or to people who care about the development of character throughout a series. 

Such a great series! My thanks to Bitter Lemon Press for making these available to the English-speaking public. Ciao, but just for now, Guido.

Reasonable Doubts, by Gianrico Carofiglio

9781904738224
Bitter Lemon Press, 2007
originally published as Ragionevoli dubbi, 2006
translated by Howard Curtis
249 pp
(trade paper ed.)

Carofiglio just keeps getting better, as Reasonable Doubts, book number three in this series,  proves.   While this book certainly has the makings of a good mystery contained within the story, Carofiglio continues his tradition of giving his character top billing rather than the crime.  The focus on the internal  life of Guido Guerrieri is a hallmark of all of the books in this series, but there is also enough tension rising external to Guerrieri's thoughts so that everything comes together to make an interesting and compelling story.  Yet, as is the case in all three books so far, when all is said and done, it is the character of Guerrieri himself that is the draw.

The novel opens with the case of Fabio Paolicelli, convicted some time back for crossing the border with 40 kilos of cocaine hidden within the body of the car, now in prison after having signed a confession of guilt.  Now he wants to appeal his conviction, and after hearing other convicts in prison discussing which defense lawyers are the worst and the best, Paolicelli decides it's got to be Guido Guerrieri.   As it just so happens, Guerrieri is already familiar with Paolicelli -- when Guido was just a boy, Fabio and his group of thugs accosted him, ordering him to remove his coat, beating him up when he wouldn't.  The whole episode left him humiliated, and he vowed to get back at Paolicelli some day.  Now Paolicelli needs his help, and Guerrieri is ready to tell him he can't take the case, but then  he meets Paolicelli's gorgeous half-Japanese wife Natsu Kawabata.  To be fair to Guerrieri, there are also some  facts about Paolicelli's case that bother him, especially Fabio's first attorney, Corrado Macri, whom Natsu was persuaded to hire by a total stranger.  While trying to lay the scene for setting up reasonable doubts regarding Paolicelli's case, Guerrieri is also dwelling on the ones in his own life.

This time around there is a bit more of a mystery component than in the previous two, although there are some loose ends left by the end of the book.  If this were just another novel of crime fiction, a reader might be a tad upset, but Carofiglio's energy is mainly (and wisely) directed toward character, followed by the legal system in Italy, and the ins and outs of the courtroom trial. 

I totally recommend the entire series, starting with Involuntary Witness.  If you were to come into the life of Guido Guerrieri having only read this book, you've really missed out on watching his character develop, and that would be a shame. Not only might you be a bit lost, but you would not have had the pleasure of watching Carofiglio's writing get better and better over time. And that would be a crime!

A Walk in the Dark, by Gianrico Carofiglio

1904738176
Bitter Lemon Press, 2006
originally published as Ad occhi chiusi
translated by Howard Curtis
215 pp (trade paper ed.)


Continuing with book two in Carofiglio's most excellent series, time and Guido Guerrieri have both moved along some two years since the events of the previous novel, Involuntary Witness.  Now Guerrieri is in a comfortable relationship, he's started cooking, and has recently been mulling over the fact that he's approaching middle age.  In his professional life, he is serving as attorney to a woman who has pressed charges against her former boyfriend.  Martina Fumai now lives at a secret refuge for battered women, protected by a gorgeous, kickass nun, and has had enough of the regular abuse and stalking she's suffering at the hands of Dr. Gianluca Scianatico.  She's been to other lawyers, who've all turned down the job -- Scianatico is the son of a very powerful judge, and is also  "a one-time Fascist thug, a poker player. And a cokehead."  No other attorney will take Martina as a client because of their fear of the consequences to their careers. But after hearing from Sister Claudia just how desperate Martina's situation has been, Guido can't help himself and agrees to help. Berating himself at first for getting finding "a jam to get into," Guerrieri's anxiety quickly  turns into annoyance because of Scianatico's bragged-about protected status, and he's off.  Information uncovered at the trial leads him to try and discover what he can about Martina's past, inevitably leading him into closer proximity with Sister Claudia.

One thing I've picked up about Carofiglio's writing over these two books  is that he does an excellent job of striking a balance between the Guerrieri of the courtroom and Guerrieri the person.  This balance is also reflected within the plot -- there's a more action-based storyline set off against Guido's inner issues.  For example, as Guerrieri is wrestling with his feelings about the death of an old friend's wife and his uncertainties about middle age, flashback sequences reveal another character's horrible childhood experience.  Throughout the story, the message is clear:  sitting around and waiting for something  to  happen never gets you anywhere -- sometimes you  just have to jump in, with both eyes closed if necessary,  and take control.   

While this story may not appeal to those who want a bit more of an adrenaline rush while they read, it's perfect for readers who like realistic characters and intelligent writing.  A Walk in the Dark has a bit more action than its predecessor, an ending that will satisfy, and yet it is never over the top in its execution.  Carofiglio is such an efficient writer that the reader gets into Guerrieri's mind quickly and easily, while simultaneously being sucked into the courtroom drama.   Even better, the story is totally complete by the end of the book -- there are no loose ends left hanging anywhere. 

 I LOVE this series and highly recommend it.  Happily I have two more to read right away.


 I ask you:  is it possible to have a crush on a  fictional character???

Involuntary Witness, by Gianrico Carofiglio

9781904738077
Bitter Lemon Press, 2005
originally published as Testimone inconsapevole, 2002
translated by Patrick Creagh
274 pp (trade paper ed.)

Involuntary Witness  is the first novel in Carofiglio's  series featuring attorney Guido Guerrieri.  Currently there are four books -- this one, A Walk in the Dark, Reasonable Doubts,  and Temporary Perfections.  Having never read any of these before and just on the heels of the most current Camilleri novel (and the tv series as well), I'm content right now to continue my sojourn in Italy and to try authors who are new to me from this country.   This may be one of the first books of crime fiction I've read where there is definitely crime, it's definitely fiction, but there's no case per se to solve.  Instead, what happens in this book is something totally different than most books written in this genre. Rather than focusing on any sort of police procedure or getting into the head of any criminal or cop,  Involuntary Witness is the story of Guido Guerrieri, an attorney located in Italy; it's a peek inside the complicated judicial system, and it also offers a look at attitudes toward immigrants to that country.  Put all of that together, and throw in some excellent prose, and a stunning novel emerges.

Guerrieri lives and works in Bari, a coastal city  just above the country's boot heel, pretty much due east from Naples. After ten years, Guido and his wife have separated and while some people in this situation tend to throw themselves into their work and try to move on, he's having a very difficult time.  His depression and anxiety are taking their toll and he's moving through his days as though someone has flipped his personal autopilot switch.  He cannot even pretend to be interested in the issues his clients bring to his office, and wonders if it's going to be like this from now on.  But in the midst of all of this gloom, he gets a visit from a woman who has her own problems.   Her name is Abajeje, and she wants to hire Guerrieri to take on the case of a Senegalese who sells fake purses, etc. along the beach.  Abdou is potentially facing life in prison for the murder of a young boy, a murder he says he absolutely did not commit.    Abajeje believes in his  innocence and needs Guido to stand up for him in court; he is her last hope after earlier lawyers basically sat by and did nothing, taking money raised for Abdou's defense in the meantime.    The case as it stands seems hopeless, but Guerrieri agrees to take it on.   He has no witnesses, but is determined to find justice for his client somehow.  How is he going to pull this off?

 For most of the novel, Involuntary Witness is actually more of a character study, introducing readers to Guerrieri, following him through his time of crisis, and watching him emerge out of darkness into a different person, making the quotation by Laozi (or as most people know this ancient Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu -- 老子) at the beginning of the novel highly appropriate:  "What the caterpillar thinks is the end of the world, the rest of the world calls a butterfly." But what also comes out of this book is a stunning courtroom performance where Guerrieri has little or nothing in the way of evidence to prove his client's innocence other than his commitment to the truth.  Carofiglio also examines racist attitudes and anti-immigrant sentiment in a very open and honest manner.

Had someone told me that there is very little in the way of crime solving in this novel and that it rested mainly on the character of a depressed attorney who has trouble making it through the day without bursting into tears, I may have given it a pass in favor of much more meaty crime fiction.  But once I launched into the story, I had to keep going and couldn't put the book down until the last page. No, there's not the usual crime-fiction fare here; no, there's not much action going on; and no, there's not much focus on investigative technique. On the other hand, the insights into the judicial and legal systems, the attention to racism and the amazing courtroom scenes should more than make up for what's NOT here enough to keep any reader satisfied.   If those reasons aren't enough, Carofiglio is an amazing writer who manages to set you on the path of Guerrieri's journey, keep you there, and blow you away by the end of the book.  And considering that this is only the first novel, I'm sure the rest of the books have the potential to be even better.

If you only want the standard crime-fiction fare and put action ahead of  character, this may not be the right book for you. I've seen this book classified as a legal thriller, but that's not exactly right either.  On the flip side, if you're looking for solid writing, a character who is credible largely because he is so human, and  if you want some sterling moments of drama, you should consider giving this book a try.  Sometimes less is more, which is definitely the case here.  Highly recommended.

crime fiction from Italy

Sweet Money, by Ernesto Mallo

9781904738732
Bitter Lemon Press, 2011
originally published as Delincuente argentino, 2007
translated by Katherine Silver
223 pp.

(read in July)

You seriously could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard (from the author, no less!) that Inspector Lascano would be returning after Needle in a Haystack. There are plenty of recaps in this book which describe the action in Mallo's first Inspector Lascano novel, so I won't take the time to explain; suffice it to say, it seemed wildly improbable that there could be a sequel.  But thank goodness there is (although now I'm hard pressed to figure out how Lascano will return in a third book!), and it's a good one.

The blurb on the front cover says the following:

"1980s Argentina...In a country still ruled by corruption and violence, where can a good man turn?"

That is precisely the question, one to which Venancio Ismael (Perro) Lascano will have to find an answer. Since the action of Needle in a Haystack, Buenos Aires has become a different city.  State-sanctioned terror is over, talk of democracy is in the air, and sadly, denial that there was ever a "Dirty War" is floating around the country's officialdom.  Several veteran military officers have been given their walking papers in favor of newer, younger ones. A segment of the police department known as "The Apostles" (who themselves deal in the profitable drug trade)  has finally come to power by killing the man to whom Lascano owes his life. And worse -- his best friend and Eva, the woman he loves, are no longer in town, and Lascano has no clue as to their whereabouts.  Having lost his protector, Lascano is set up as a target by the Apostles, and a hit is put out on him.  While he's busy trying to save his own skin, with the help of the few friends left from the heyday of his police career, he also comes to realize that he's got to get out of town.  His opportunity comes after a bank is robbed by recently-released criminal nicknamed Miranda the Mole, who is himself eager to get out of the criminal life, just settle down and make up lost time with his family. This robbery was to be Miranda's criminal swan song.  But there's a problem.    It seems that a large sum of money has gone missing that shouldn't have even been at the branch that was robbed, and Lascano is hired to get the money back discreetly.  With the sum he's offered, he could leave and focus on finding Eva and try to start his life over.  But of course, things are not going to be so easy.

 Once again, Mallo has managed to capture a portrait of a city, as well as a country, in transition, one in which old scores still remain to be settled.  And even though there's not much room for an honest cop like Lascano, there's another person to take note of -- the Public Prosecutor, Marcelo Pereyra, who is keen to take on

...open cases, a series of crimes committed by the military during the dictatorship that have never been brought to trial or punished, that have been bogged down in a series of laws and contradictory decrees, in many cases unconstitutional...

Marcelo is also working on cases of the children of those who disappeared -- and all roads seem to lead him to Lascano's old nemesis, Major Giribaldi.  One of the questions that arises is how Marcelo is going to provide justice within a system that is still corrupt, where he works "in opposition to the government's lack of political will to prosecute criminals in uniform."  He's a very interesting character, and at times reminiscent of the prosecutor in Roncagliolo's Red April, who also wanted to do honest work within the scope of a corrupt political environment.  The characters are all well drawn, even the bad guys, but there is just something about this prosecutor that really stands out.

At times Sweet Money is sad and even a little heartbreaking, especially when discussing the children of the disappeared, but it's also a story that has a bite, enough to satisfy anyone who enjoys the mix of crime and historical fiction.   The way Mallo puts his conversations in italics is clever, conveying the feel of real conversation without interruptions. It's punchy, to the point and the reader is drawn to it because of the way it is set apart from Mallo's regular prose. The reader is drawn right away into the story, and there are enough places within the novel that summarize the action of Needle in a Haystack so that if you haven't read it, you'd at least get the gist of it.  I personally recommend reading it before this one, especially because of the characters' backstories. Plus, it's a great crime fiction novels set during the Dirty War.

Once again, all I can say is "yay!" and I understand there's going to be one more book to feature Lascano.  Sweet Money is a very welcome addition to my crime fiction library, and it's also a good historical fiction piece as well. It's gritty, down to earth and the writing is excellent. Definitely recommended -- one you should not miss.

Hotel Bosphorus, by Esmahan Aykol

9781904738688
Bitter Lemon Press, 2011
originally published as Kitapçi Dükkâni, 2001
246 pp.
translated by Ruth Whitehouse

First in a series of mystery novels to feature Kati Hirschel, Hotel Bosphorus is set in the city of Istanbul and features an unlikely main character -- a 40ish owner of a crime fiction bookstore.  Kati was born in Istanbul, but her parents took her to Germany when she was only a small child.  Around the age of 30, Kati returned to Istanbul, where she's lived ever since. Istanbul, a city of some ten million people, "the size of a nation," is a city Kati loves and knows well. 

Some time after Kati receives a phone call from Petra Vogel, an old friend from university days, Petra arrives in Istanbul. She is there to star in a film, and makes her temporary home at the Hotel Bosphorus.  After catching up with Petra about their lives, requiring a night of heavy drinking on Kati's part, a couple of days later Kati is stunned when she calls Petra at her hotel and a policeman answers.  It seems that there's been a murder at the hotel, and Petra is the main suspect.  The victim is the director of the film, Kurt Müller, and the rumor was that Petra and Kurt were an item. Petra, of course, denies any involvement other than professional.  But Kati's just not sure, and decides that she needs to get to the truth of what really happened.  Her credentials? Well, as silly as it sounds, she owns a crime fiction bookstore, and as she tells Batuhan, the police Inspector, who also reads crime fiction, "Deep down, we all want to be a detective really."  Her "detective" work, a la Miss Marple, leads her in several directions and to meetings with a wide variety of people: to those involved in the making of Petra's movie, to a powerful Istanbul family -- one of whom is a feared, kind of mafioso-type gang leader, to the police, and ultimately to a chance encounter with someone who will help her crack the case. 

It's a classic mystery scenario, with the added bonus of being set in the city of Istanbul.  The sense of place is definitely well evoked, as the reader gets a tour through different areas of the city, with its various local haunts and the different types of people that live there.  There are also a few tidbits of interesting commentary dealing with the effects of economic crisis on the locals and on the country scattered throughout the story.  Kati spends a great deal of time making observations about the cultural differences between Germans and Turks, noting that "only those who have lived abroad have what it takes to criticize their own people, especially in the case of Germans."  At first, these observations are interesting since Kati herself is kind of a muddled individual, with "a bona fide Turkish passport," who while in Turkey," is a German who "speaks good Turkish."  When in Germany, although she has a German passport, and her mother is a Roman Catholic, she's a Jew.  But soon enough, as these observations start taking over the story, they a) get to the point of becoming  denigrating and further the negative cause of cultural stereotyping; b) start to grate on the reader's nerves; and c) leave the murder mystery elements very muddled.

In fact, this book suffers from poor organization, clunky writing, and a murder mystery that by the time you get to the end seems to have taken a back seat to the rest of what's going on in Kati's personal life.  It's really difficult to get through in terms of the crime -- you have to literally sift through what's irrelevant to get back on track to the murder's solution.  This is sad, really, because Istanbul is such an exotic locale that I was looking forward to something new here. I was also looking forward to seeing how the author could blend Kati's ownership of a crime fiction bookstore and her detective work. But that was not to be in Hotel Bosphorus.  Nor were the characters very realistic -- the police inspector, as an example, who tried to get Kati in bed a couple of times or the over-the-top portrayal of the local mobster.

This being the case, I'd still give the next one a go, if only to find out if Kati has been able to mellow out a bit on the negatives and get into some real crime solving in Istanbul.  I think this very gutsy character has some potential and I would love to see the author give more space to local crime, this time using Kati's rather unique personality traits to help her in her detective work rather than constantly ragging about the Germans in Turkey.

crime fiction from Turkey

Lumen, by Ben Pastor

9781940738664
Bitter Lemon Press
2011
Originally published 1999

Lumen is an interesting book. It is a novel of crime fiction, but the actual crimes and their solutions tend to take a back seat to the main character, Captain Martin Bora of the Wehrmacht Intelligence division.  Bora is recently arrived in Cracow, just after the German army has invaded Poland, and finds himself involved in an unusual case involving the Abbess Kazimierza, a nun who supposedly has prophetic powers and who at times bears the stigmata.  He had seen her before her death when he would accompany his superior officer Colonel Hofer, who went to see the Abbess on personal matters, so when she is killed, Bora is assigned to look into the case.  He is assisted in his work by Father John Malecki, an American priest who has been assigned by the Vatican to investigate claims of her mystical abilities, and then later to examine the circumstances of her death. Bora is young, still in his 20s, newly married, and has left his wife behind in Germany.  But his  investigative prowess does not actually take center stage in this novel -- although he's quite good at what he does -- it is his gradual awareness of growing doubts about a cause that supports mass killing, cover ups, racial superiority and the deaths of innocent people which make Bora stand out as a character. He's a scrupulous person whose sense of duty doesn't necessarily extend over the full range of Nazi ideology and practices, and his own moral compass makes him a target for potential enemies in the SD (the Sicherheitsdienst -- Security Service), who were responsible for overseeing and carrying out many of the atrocities perpetrated against the Polish people.  And there's no room in the Wehrmacht for a "young captain with scruples," according to his commanding officer Colonel Schenck:

If you start feeling sorry so early on, Bora, you're screwed. What should you care? We have our orders and the SD have theirs. It was only an accident that you didn't have similar orders. And these Polack farmers -- they aren't even people, they're not even worth reproducing. I can see you're perturbed, but believe me, don't start caring...We're all  in it.  If it's guilt, we're all guilty. This is the way that it is.

Scenes change quickly in this novel, and the action is offered up from different perspectives throughout the story.  The investigation into the death of the Abbess lasts from beginning to end, while other mysteries crop up in the meantime adding to the crime elements of the novel.  At the same time, it's a solid piece of historical fiction, examining the psyche of a man who finds himself in a situation where normal laws don't apply and the world seems to have gone crazy. There are, believe it or not, bits and pieces of humor in spots, but overall, given the circumstances, there's little to smile about during this time.  Pastor's novel is no lightweight thriller; she's written a much edgier story of a dark time in history.

Definitely recommended. Lumen is supposed to be the first in a series of books about Martin Bora, so I'll look forward to the second. It's also another fine addition to my growing collection of books from Bitter Lemon Press.