THE PEARL by JOHN STEINBECK

A little different from my previous experiences of Steinbeck, The Pearl offers a warning about human greed and a reminder of the power that the few hold over the many. In some ways, I think this universal story is something I was heading for with Fever, though it goes without saying that Steinbeck hits the message home with more power than I could ever muster.

Where it differs from the bulk of what I've read before is in its depth. There isn't the same sense of character or depth of reaction. Right from the beginning, there's a sense of parable or fable. The lesson's clear early doors and there's only one way this is heading. It's not going to be pretty. 

Kino is a pearl diver like most of the community he lives in. There's a history and a tradition in his work and he has a simple and fulfilling life. Though the economics of poverty stands against him, he grinds out the day-to-day with his wife and child as the tides come in and out. There's a pride in what he does and where he comes from and such a person is difficult to disrespect. 

Two things happen to Kino that will change his life. The first, his son is bitten by a scorpion. The second, he finds the most beautiful pearl of all time. 

In spite of the anticipated reaction of the local doctor, the baby hangs in there. It's only after news of the pear's discovery has traveled around the island that the doctor steps off his pedestal and deigns to offer treatment. This series of interactions arrives as a barrage of gut punches for the reader. 

Just as everything goes right, everything starts to go wrong. The world of finance closes in against him, he loses trust in everyone and is eventually brought down to the level of the exploiting classes when he loses the plot and attacks his wife for warning him that the pearl will only bring them bad luck. 

It's a raw and tough tale that somehow feels like it's going through the numbers, yet while on the journey of Kino and his family there is genuine tension created. As I read, it was as if the darkness was slowly closing in until finally there was no light remaining. 

A short work that may not be a keeper, but is one I'm not likely to forget in a hurry.

 

NOBODY RUNS FOREVER by RICHARD STARK

 

Nobody Runs Forever is a meaty read. It's full of tension and complication and the many strands weave together into an engrossing pattern with ease. 

I was so involved in it that I barely had time to dwell on the niggle that this is yet another job that Parker would have run a mile from in the past. There are so many wobbly pillars holding up the operation that the alarm bells were ringning mighty loud. There's the fragile confidence of the ex-con with access to the targetted bank information; his lover, wife of the bank owner, who is prone to lose her calm and act upon impulse; the bounty hunter after information about a recently disappeared criminal not long since dispatched by one of Parker's associates; the partner of the bounty hunter who just won't let go; the sister of the ex-con who wants to protect her brother at all costs; the doctor who allows his office to be used by the crew to hatch the robbery who needs the heist to come off as much as any of them; and a beautiful and wayward cop who is right on Parker's tail. 

It's a mess with all those loose ends, yet the plan is too well-formed to walk away from and from the mire of the build-up, the heist emerges. 

The layers of the story are handled brilliantly and the Parker's team have some of the best one-liners anywhere. There's no waste in terms of plot development or within the prose and every nail is hit right on the head. 

Stark really ramps up the tension in the aftermath of the robbery and when I read the final page, I'm pretty sure my jaw must have dropped and I was unsure of anything for a few minutes afterwards. It's such a brilliant ending that I urge you to pick up this one and give it a go. 

An excellent novel. 

One Man's Opinion: THE DEATH OF BUNNY MUNRO by NICK CAVE

The Death of Bunny Munro. 

Well, well, well.

I've been reflecting on this one for a few days and my main thought is that there's no way this would have been published with a biggie if it had been written by a lowly noir indie writer. That's no reflection on the quality of the prose and the poetic turns of phrase which are both excellent, but is more down to the content and the perversities of the protagonist. Bunny Munro is the kind or lowlife scum you're likely to bump into over at All Due Respect boooks, or Shotgun Honey or others of the darker indie presses out there, the kind of publishers who do it for love and likely make a loss rather than a profit on most of their ventures. It made me a little sad to be reminded, once again, that so many great writers out there don't possess the calling card of fame or celebrity to get through the front doors, past security and into the head offices. 

And none of that is Nick Cave's fault. All he has to do is create what is in his mind, work on it and produce things that the rest of us can enjoy.

Bunny Munro is a salesman. Mostly he has sex on the brain, but he also has sex on the bed, in hotel rooms, in restaurant bathrooms, with the lifeless and by himself. When this addiction is weaved within a pattern of alcoholism, it's innevitable that he hits the skids. For Bunny, his decline is almost entirely of his own making- rather than respond to his wife's needs, he leaves her hanging and when he returns home, he finds his son, Bunny Junior, is motherless. 

Bunny is now screwed in a very different way. He takes his son on the road as he travels from door to door peddling his wares. Sometimes he sells, sometimes he shags, sometimes he gets the crap beaten out of him. Before long, he's faced with his comeuppance, a new kind of hell that feels well-deserved (it's unusual for me not to have sympathy for an addict, but Bunny is an extremely unlovable rogue).

I didn't find this one easy. Some of the sexploits and being inside the head of such a mind made me feel unclean. I might have ducked out early if it hadn't been for the sense of exploration, the occasional miracle of phrasing, the cuirousity, the humour and the barbed tenderness of the father/son relationship and the originality of the whole piece.

I'm so glad I stuck with it as there's so much treasure to find. 

Can I recommend it? 

Within limited circles.

Will I be watching the TV adaptation?

Highly bloody unlikely.   

 

One Man's Opinion: FIREBREAK by RICHARD STARK

Just a mention before the review that the first three books in my Southsiders series are currently free on Amazon for Kindle over the next few days. They were first published by Blasted Heath, something I'm hugely proud of, and it was a collection of books that I loved writing. 

Now to Richard Stark.

I know I've been jumping around the Parker books without sense or direction, moving from Deadly Edge (published in 1971) to Firebreak (published in 2001). In some ways it's a big leap, but in others, not so much. In Deadly Edge, Parker's home is violated with lethal consequences for the invaders. Firebreak sees an assassination attempt down by the lakeside house by a professional hit man, as well the boobytrapping of Parker's home. In some ways, this link between the books made the leap satisfactory. It also highlighted in others, the lack of change in Parker over the years. Thirty years on from the last book and I didn't get any sense of physical or mental alteration. That took a little getting over, after all I'm used to characters like Rebus or Maigret ageing in natural time (perhaps it's different for the bad guys). It's a little bit like Parker has been dropped into a world where the internet exists and [of course] doesn't blink at the change. 

A bigger difference, for me, is the depth of the novel. I'm not the only one making jumps; Stark changes the viewpoint in this one several times, to the point of it jarring on occasion. There also feels like a lot more going on and with the increased number of facets comes further layers of jeopardy. 

Condensed version: Parker is invited onto an art heist aimed at stealing paintings that have been unseen for many years. Interrupting the plans are the attempts on Parker's life that need sorting tout suite. Complications come in the form of a police investigation, paroles, a less than stable team of crooks and a need for revenge. It's a lot to hold on to, but when Stark puts it all into the blender and presses the button, the resulting soup is tasty and full-blooded and, at times, absolutely intense. 

Less stripped down that earlier works, Firebreak manages to satisfy nonetheless. It's a great thriller and had me glued to it most of the time. 

Fun. 

One Man's Opinion: GIOVANNI'S ROOM by JAMES BALDWIN

 

When I heard that the BBC had produced Giovanni's Room for radio, I was straight over there. Though I was excited, I was also a little hesitant on the grounds that not all voices and performances work for me. Fortunately, it was clear from the beginning that the narrator on this one understood exactly how to play it(congratulations Kyle Soller) .  

David is a young American living in 1950s Paris. Very early on, we're introduced to the sense of tragedy as we discover David's former lover, Giovanni, is about to face the guillotine. What we don't find out as we set off is just what a beautifully sad and intense journey we're embarking upon. 

While David's fiance, Hella, is traveling in Spain, he meets Giovanni in a gay bar that carries the seedy atmosphere of an illicit underground club. Their chemistry is instant and it's not long before their love is consummated and their obsession with each other complete. Unfortunately for David, he's struggling with feelings of guilt and is in denial of his  sexuality, for even in the heights of lust and passion he is reluctant to accept that he is gay.   

Upon Hella's return, the love triangle inevitably collapses, leaving David spinning in a whirl of confused emotions and desire that doesn't compute with his cold, calculating rational self.

What I enjoyed most about the read was the depth and intensity of emotion. Baldwin, with simple clarity, creates sparks and ignite them into full-force furnaces with apparent ease. The experiences and torture endured by the three central protagonists brought a lump to the throat on more than one occasion. It's powerful stuff, the lust, confusion and heartbreak palpable. Add to that the sense of people and place and the issues raised and this short novel stacks up into a mighty creation. 

Incidentally, the last use of the guillotine in France was in 1977, which seems awfully late to be chopping off heads.   

Fresh, strong, relevant and important, this is a marvel whether you read it or give the BBC production a try. 

One Man's Opinion: THE NAMING OF THE DEAD by IAN RANKIN

 

Before leaving for my summer hols, my son and I watched the new incarnation of Rebus courtesy of the BBC. What an excellent production it is, with a great story arc and fabulous performances all round. Given the quality of the series, I couldn't resist picking up a couple of the books to read in the sunshine and the first of those was The Naming Of The Dead. 

It may not seem to be the obvious place for a revisit, but the time period is significant for me as it reflects events that I remember well, namely the Make Poverty History march and the gig at Murrayfield, closed by James Brown in a way that didn't appear to reflect the spirit of the movement in any way, yet was musically safisfying. 

Anyway, there's a serial killer on the loose and an MP dies in mysterious circumstances up at the castle. 

On the edge of the city, protestors are gathering to voice their disatisfaction with the leaders of the G8 and police from around Britain have been called upon to preserve the state. The place is chaos and there's politics wherever you look- the summit itself, Westmister, local council, internal policing and a mixture of crowd control styles. 

The key to the novel, as per, is Rebus himself. He's approaching retirement and struggling with some of the loose ends (namely Ger Cafferty). He goes at these cases full of cynicism and guile, unable to accept the limitations of his bosses and those secret services who have an uncanny knack of showing up in various guises. Also very satisfying here is the development of his relationship with Siobhan, even at this late stage, and her own grown as a human and a detective is brilliant to watch. 

There's no doubt about the compelling nature of the story. It's very difficult to finish a chapter and to resist carrying on and the 500 plus pages fly by. The epilogue is hugely rewarding and was as unexpected this time around as with my first exposure- it's definitaly a stand-up-and-punch-the-air kind of ending.

On the very slight downside, there's has to be an element of disbelief suspension. Coincidences abound to the point where things come to the brink of breaking apart, but the suspense of the cases and the periferal action is always strong enough to keep it on track. 

Lots of fun and a pleasing holiday read. 

And a note on the BBC series. We came back home to watch the final couple of episodes and were utterly gripped once again, until the end of the final episode that is. There are so many threads left hanging and so many questions unanswered that we both felt a little cheated. No doubt the follow-up series will bring it all together, but it fell flat for us when we realised there wasn't a next episode to help us out. 

One Man's Opinion: LAST SUMMER IN THE CITY by GIANFRANCO CALLIGARICH

 

So, I recommended that my eldest read Long Time No See and she suggested I gave Last Summer In The City a try. What a great swap it proved to be, both of us coming out as happy readers. 

Leo Gazzara leaves his Milan home to find a new life in Rome. It's quite a leap. The world of his family is a simple one, full of the noble grit of a working-class household under which the shadow cast by his father serving in WW2 looms large. Rome, on the other hand, is ruled by a frivolous class steeped in glamour and success. They have high opinions while really they're floundering out there in the shallows.  

For Leo the transition should be easy, his good looks, charm and intellect perfectly suited to help him rise through the ranks and remain in high society. Problem is, he can't see the value in anything. He holds the world in disdain, looking down on the paltry falseness of many of his ilk. The only places he really finds solace are in the bars of the city or in the bottom of the bottles he consumes. 

He's a fairly cold protagonist, for whom opportunities trip over themselves to land at his feet, yet he's incapable of picking them up for long, overcome each time by a sense that everything is pointless. 

His relationships are interesting. There's the actor whom he manages to respect, the love interests that he is able to take or leave and his best friend, a Bukowski-like creative who sponges off his wife to pay for the booze he soaks his insides in. In each case, Leo appears to be ambivalent and yet entirely in need of support and affirmation.

There are lots of occasions where I felt a strong urge to reach inside the pages and give Leo a good shake, maybe slap his face and show him how good he has it, but that's not the kind of thing you can do in a book and I imagine the fiction is all the stronger with him being left to his own devices. 

Last Summer has a dark underbelly with moments of humour and insight. Calligarich has a wonderful way with words and his turn of phrase often hits mouth-opening quality. As the ending swallows you up, everything that has been before makes total sense and I reckon a reread to get the best out of it might be in order. 

Glad that I took this one on, a reminder that you have to shake things up every once in a while to find or revisit a perspective. Excellent stuff.