More Book Reviews
Dec. 22nd, 2018 09:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhThe Strangler Vine by M.J. Carter. A mystery novel set in 1837 India, starring William Avery (young army officer, annoyingly full of British arrogance and sneers at 'native culture' - though he learns better by the end of the book) and Jeremiah Blake (British ex-spy who's 'gone native' and has to be blackmailed into doing any further work for the East India Company) team up to find the famous writer Xavier Mountstuart, who's gone missing somewhere in the countryside. The search leads them to the Thuggee Cult - a network of Kali worshipers who rob travelers before sacrificing them to their dark goddess. It may not surprise you to learn that Avery and Blake quickly uncover proof that the truth is more complicated. Along the way, this mismatched couple learns to trust one another.
The historical research is very well done, and I quite liked Carter's take on the issue of Thugs. There was a wide variety of characters, all of them engaging and charming (though my very favorite was the cameo appearance of Fanny Parkes, real travel writer), and the mystery had several wonderful action set-pieces, evil villains, and a very satisfactory conclusion.
And yet. The Strangler Vine is a fine book, but simply not a great one. In the wide genres of historical mystery (in which I have read many, many masterpieces) and South Asian fiction (in which I have also read many, many masterpieces), The Strangler Vine just doesn't stand out from the crowd. I don't not recommend it! And yet, for myself, I don't think I'll be bothering to read the sequels.
The Best Bad Things by Katrina Carrasco. A novel set in 1887 in Port Townsend, Washington, starring Alma Rosales: ex-Pinkerton detective, current opium smuggler. Alma is newly arrived in Port Townsend, and is there on a mission. Part One: figure out who is the head of the opium game in town. Part Two: take his place. As you might imagine, this turns out to be far more complicated than she originally planned, and the plot turns on blackmail, murder, torture, bribes, backstabbing, moles, broken promises, fake interrogations, mistaken identities, and more. It's as twisty and surprising as the very best heist movies, and I can honestly say that I did not see the end coming at all.
Alma is the best bad thing of all: brutal and ruthless, clever and tough, and moving forward so fast that we barely see the regrets in her past. She's bisexual (and we see her relationships with both men and women), Latina, and possibly genderqueer; she spends most of the book passing as Jack Camp, boxer and dockworker. But on the other hand, the narrative sticks firmly with the 'she' pronoun, and Alma shifts between races and classes as easily as between genders. We see her be a Scottish virgin and a Southern belle Madam at other points in the book. It's unclear if she is genderqueer, or if she simply loves the disguises:
Alma can be many things. She has learned to value this mutability: how she can shift her compact body into many shapes, powder herself pale or let the sun darken her complexion. She loves to see her costumes through other people’s eyes. Delphine watching her as Camp, cutting a deal over fenced diamonds in San Francisco. Wheeler watching her as a governess, timid and wilting. Hannah watching her as a rancher’s daughter, flirting in rapid Spanish with the Yuma vaqueros. Alma loves performance. What began as a thrilling trick in a Chicago saloon has become a passion. And now she’s back onstage before her favorite audience—though it’s hard work to win Delphine’s applause.
But the most distinctive thing about The Best Bad Things is its style. For all the Western action, heist twists, and gun battles, it's very much a literary novel. It might concern itself with tropes, but it takes them very, very seriously. I was reminded of Steve McQueen's Widows: another plot that outwardly seems like not much more than old cliches, but which is told with the highest craft and a dazzlingly brilliant investigation of these characters and their world. Unfortunately – in both Widows and The Best Bad Things – the sharp-eyed intelligence of the telling reduces some of the pleasure. Heist stories should be (or at least usually are) fun, and I can't quite call The Best Bad Things fun. It's too violent and cynical for that, and it's hard to have good time when the writing never looks away from the characters' struggle for survival.
Is that a criticism? Probably not. The Best Bad Things wasn't what I expected from its blurb, but it's hard to complain that a book is too well-written.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
The historical research is very well done, and I quite liked Carter's take on the issue of Thugs. There was a wide variety of characters, all of them engaging and charming (though my very favorite was the cameo appearance of Fanny Parkes, real travel writer), and the mystery had several wonderful action set-pieces, evil villains, and a very satisfactory conclusion.
And yet. The Strangler Vine is a fine book, but simply not a great one. In the wide genres of historical mystery (in which I have read many, many masterpieces) and South Asian fiction (in which I have also read many, many masterpieces), The Strangler Vine just doesn't stand out from the crowd. I don't not recommend it! And yet, for myself, I don't think I'll be bothering to read the sequels.
The Best Bad Things by Katrina Carrasco. A novel set in 1887 in Port Townsend, Washington, starring Alma Rosales: ex-Pinkerton detective, current opium smuggler. Alma is newly arrived in Port Townsend, and is there on a mission. Part One: figure out who is the head of the opium game in town. Part Two: take his place. As you might imagine, this turns out to be far more complicated than she originally planned, and the plot turns on blackmail, murder, torture, bribes, backstabbing, moles, broken promises, fake interrogations, mistaken identities, and more. It's as twisty and surprising as the very best heist movies, and I can honestly say that I did not see the end coming at all.
Alma is the best bad thing of all: brutal and ruthless, clever and tough, and moving forward so fast that we barely see the regrets in her past. She's bisexual (and we see her relationships with both men and women), Latina, and possibly genderqueer; she spends most of the book passing as Jack Camp, boxer and dockworker. But on the other hand, the narrative sticks firmly with the 'she' pronoun, and Alma shifts between races and classes as easily as between genders. We see her be a Scottish virgin and a Southern belle Madam at other points in the book. It's unclear if she is genderqueer, or if she simply loves the disguises:
Alma can be many things. She has learned to value this mutability: how she can shift her compact body into many shapes, powder herself pale or let the sun darken her complexion. She loves to see her costumes through other people’s eyes. Delphine watching her as Camp, cutting a deal over fenced diamonds in San Francisco. Wheeler watching her as a governess, timid and wilting. Hannah watching her as a rancher’s daughter, flirting in rapid Spanish with the Yuma vaqueros. Alma loves performance. What began as a thrilling trick in a Chicago saloon has become a passion. And now she’s back onstage before her favorite audience—though it’s hard work to win Delphine’s applause.
But the most distinctive thing about The Best Bad Things is its style. For all the Western action, heist twists, and gun battles, it's very much a literary novel. It might concern itself with tropes, but it takes them very, very seriously. I was reminded of Steve McQueen's Widows: another plot that outwardly seems like not much more than old cliches, but which is told with the highest craft and a dazzlingly brilliant investigation of these characters and their world. Unfortunately – in both Widows and The Best Bad Things – the sharp-eyed intelligence of the telling reduces some of the pleasure. Heist stories should be (or at least usually are) fun, and I can't quite call The Best Bad Things fun. It's too violent and cynical for that, and it's hard to have good time when the writing never looks away from the characters' struggle for survival.
Is that a criticism? Probably not. The Best Bad Things wasn't what I expected from its blurb, but it's hard to complain that a book is too well-written.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
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Date: 2018-12-23 03:03 am (UTC)You may have sold me on it, so.
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Date: 2018-12-23 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-23 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-24 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-23 03:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-24 01:25 am (UTC)