crime

Winter’s Bone

admin — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 08:01:00 +0000

In my review of 2009’s Oscar-nominated film Precious I stated that it was incredibly difficult to objectively review the film because the realism that is presented is so detached from my own circumstances. After seeing Debra Granik’s gritty Winter’s Bone I find myself faced with a similar conundrum, although not to such an extreme.

For people living in the rural areas of the Ozark mountains a fulfilled life is not one of luxury. The goal for an individual is simply to survive rather than thrive in the harsh natural and social environment. The world presented in Granik’s dark thriller seems desolate and cold, but through the female protagonist it manages to glimmer with hope. Brilliantly filmed against the poetic landscapes of the Ozark mountains, Winter’s Bone is a glimpse into rural morality and the emergence of an unlikely hero.

Relative newcomer Jennifer Lawrence is a shoe-in for an Oscar nomination for her performance as Ree Dolly, a seventeen-year-old with a lot of responsibility. She is the chief caregiver of her two younger siblings, she lives with her nearly catatonic mother, and she only occasionally shows up for school. Her meth-dealing father has been arrested, posted the family’s house as bail, and vanished. If he does not show up at court, the family will lose their house and be thrown into a world where they have more enemies than friends.

The narrative is essentially straight forward, which allows Granik to lace the film with tension. Granik brilliantly proves that action does not equal tension and most scenes start and end on high notes with an anticipated release that never comes. At its heart, Winter’s Bone is a film noir with a missing person chase, a look into an underground crime world, and a feeling of constant danger. Lawrence successfully creates a new feminist hero that also harkens back to the great noir detectives of the 1940s.

In a low populated area like the rural Ozarks, the morality that is presented does not fit the mold that urban and suburban dwellers have become accustomed to. When a significant portion of the workforce consists of unskilled laborers, the job market is incredibly volatile. In one scene Ree sees her only two possible futures in two separate school rooms: join the army and escape or become a mother and join her miserable relatives.

Nobody appears content with their existence in Winter’s Bone except for the children who only appear in the film in brief segments where they can be seen jumping on a trampoline or playing in hay. The fact that the children get such joy out of such meager circumstances shows that Ree’s fight is worth it.

Cross-posted from Film Misery

Written by: Alex Carlson, July 7th 2010

The Red Riding Trilogy

admin — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by Julian Jarrold, James Marsh, Anand Tucker

Channel Four Film

Movies about rape, murder, and child abuse should not be photographed this beautifully. Channel Four Film’s Red Riding Trilogy, shown as a miniseries in the UK but as three movies in the U.S., is one larger story connected by characters, place and the unrepentant horror of Yorkshire, in the northern England. In the north, as the characters say, they do what they want.

The three films are set in three years, 1974, 1980, and 1983, respectively. The first, 1974, directed by Julian Jarrold, focuses on Andrew Garfield’s Eddie Dunford, the new crime reporter for the Yorkshire Post, and his investigation into the disappearance of three young girls, the most recent found with wings sewn into her back. The second, 1980, directed by James Marsh, focuses on Paddy Considine’s Peter Hunter, a Manchester detective brought to Yorkshire to review the police’s handling of the Yorkshire Ripper, a serial killer. The third, 1983, directed by Anand Tucker, has two focuses: the first is on David Morrisey’s Maurice Jacbson, a corrupt detective having second thoughts, and the second is Mark Addy’s Eddie Pigford, a local boy turned lawyer who returns home to close his mother’s affairs and gets tangled up in the crimes, and becomes an unlikely hero. Characters appear and reappear in each story, changing in significance depending on who is seeing them.

The overarching mystery of the films is intriguing, if not original. Much of the joy from watching them comes from witnessing the characters move the pieces into place. As I watched 1983, I gasped out loud at certain parts. Waiting between the movies was legitimately frustrating, as I wanted to know what would happen almost more than I could stand, even though I knew it couldn’t be good. However, 1980 felt a bit disconnected from the other two. The timeline, fractured by the style of the movie, made some parts of all three hard to follow, but 1980 was all over the place. Ultimately, the story carried beyond the confusion.

The direction is amazing. All three parts are incredibly vivid, with powerful, dreamlike scenes haunting me well after the credits. All three employ dreamlike touches, with slow motion, flashbacks, time skips, and nontraditional camera angles. The movies looked like 1970s horror movies, and this gave the whole proceedings an eerie undertone. 1974, in particular, is gorgeous, and that beauty is used in such wonderfully unsettling ways. 1980 is a bit more straightforward, to mirror Peter’s traditional views. 1983, though, loses a bit of its power by having two main characters, diluting the style choices to very different men.

The entire cast is incredible. The standout is Andrew Garfield, who carries 1974 with ease, giving Eddie the believability of a cocky young investigative reporter and runs the gamut of emotions, making his ending both shocking and inevitable. Paddy Considine carries the conflicted nature of 1980’s Peter Hunter like a second skin-does actor carry sorrow better? Mark Addy is a pleasant addition to 1983, but isn’t around enough to make a big impact. David Morrisey’s Maurice Jobson has the strength to hold his character’s honor while doing terrible things, and still make you pity him. There were few female characters, but Rebecca Hall, as the mother of one of the lost girls in 1974, makes a strong impression. Secondary characters, including Sean Bean, Sean Harris, Richard Sheehan, and Daniel Mays, are wonderful. No one fits a false note.

If you like thrillers, horror movies, or mysteries, you aren’t going to do any better than the Red Riding Trilogy.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, June 6th 2010

Hello Kitty Must Die

admin — Mon, 31 May 2010 23:59:00 +0000

By Angela S. Choi

Tyrus Books

To many, Hello Kitty is a mouthless cat in blue overalls who’s never spotted without her signature red bow, but to twenty-eight-year-old Chinese-American Fiona Yu, the feline is an embodiment of everything she hates and willing to kill for. Author Angela S. Choi makes her publishing debut with the crime novel Hello Kitty Must Die, and while it attacks nearly every stereotype that Asian American women face daily, it leaves a bad aftertaste that not even the saccharine sweet pop culture icon can cure.

Yu is that character readers will love to hate, but it’s not because of her cringing pessimistic personality or how she seems to despise everything that comes her way. Rather, Choi’s book is an unconvincing collection of bland one-liners and exasperating contradictions that fail to depict a tale of family values gone bad.

“My virginity will always be mine,” declares Yu in the first few pages of Hello Kitty Must Die as she decides to eliminate her hymen with a Lidocaine-coated dildo. Yet after making this bold choice that would have empowered some not wanting to wait for Mr. Right, she realizes that there’s no cherry to pop. As a result, Yu decides to have her hymen replaced solely to tear apart her “family honor.” It’s difficult to continue moving forward in the story as this is a poor attempt in showing readers that Yu wants complete control of her body, including the right to take her own virginity.

While it’s acceptable for any female to feel that she shouldn’t have a man just to “make her a woman," it isn’t believable that Yu would go through all this trouble simply to get rid of human tissue. Why would a woman purposely tear her hymen and then spend thousands of dollars to have it replaced just to prove she has full control of her womanhood? Choi doesn’t attempt to convince readers the purpose of making a sudden and very expensive decision, which leaves us wondering if embarking on Yu’s confusing journey is worth it.

Yu complains of her family’s desires to wed her off, yet she, a Yale graduate and corporate lawyer, chooses to live with them. Is this Choi’s way of showing her audience that Yu is just an American girl who won’t leave the bird’s nest and isn’t as independent as she implies? These issues are troubling, yet they’re tossed aside, like the family-picked suitors Yu secretly gets rid of because they’re too fat, hideous, or unable to pay for dinner. There’s one leading man who’s more serial killer than prince charming that does get Vuitton-loving Yu’s heart racing, but even he can’t close this Pandora’s box of problems.

Childhood friend Sean Killroy may relish the hunt for unsuspecting victims, but it’s Yu, not the psychopath she secretly admires, that hits reader’s nerves. It’s difficult to believe that she feels no remorse for the poor “Hello Kitties” in her life, all because they merely represent a fate she refuses to accept. For example, when readers discover that her skin bleaching obsessed cousin Katie was found dead from a broken neck, all Yu could think of was how she saved herself from an unwanted marriage because the morgue isn’t “a good place. They don’t serve fifteen-dollar bellinis there.” She later wonders if “morticians gave their clients pedicures. After all, no one would ever know.”

Yu despises getting set up on blind dates just to walk down the aisle faster and comments how Katie “fainted all the time” because she was 90 pounds, but didn’t mind “the modern version of Chinese foot binding” with Prada, Dior, and Blahnik. We couldn’t help but wonder why she’s willing to stay single, yet goes on tangents over every designer label she owns just to flaunt her looks, which are meant to show her poor excuses for suitors why she’s the catch they’ll never have? This is one major flaw that’s never solved in Hello Kitty Must Die, only displaying Choi’s inability to produce a heart-stopping murder mystery for those seeking a bad ass Bridget Jones or Carrie Bradshaw. We’ll stick with cutesy cartoons any day.

Written by: Stephanie Nolasco, May 31st 2010

Secrets of Eden

admin — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Chris Bohjalian

Shaye Areheart Books

Like Midwives and The Double Bind, Chris Bohjalian's newest suspense novel, Secrets of Eden, was (no exaggeration) nearly impossible for me to put down.

Set against the beautiful backdrop of a small town in rural Vermont is the horrific murder-suicide of a local couple. Businessman George Hayward, who has a history of abusing his wife Alice, murders her while their teenage daughter, Katie, is out at a concert, and then turns the gun on himself. Holding the family—and the town—together immediately after the tragedy is Reverend Steven Drew, who baptized Alice the day she died and suspects that she foresaw her own death.

Enter Heather Laurent, the author of a book on angels who also lost her parents in a murder-suicide. Heather tries, along with Steven, to befriend the orphan Katie, and they all try to pick up the pieces. Having his own crisis of faith after the tragedy, Steven buries himself in Heather (literally) in an attempt to escape his own grief at the loss of Alice. The twist: shortly after Steven and Heather begin their affair, Steven becomes a suspect in George's death, which police believe was not a suicide after all.

To reveal more would be a spoiler. Although there is plenty of violence and sex in this novel—including within the church congregation—Bohjalian writes about it in both realistic and tasteful ways. Each section of the book is written from a major character's point of view (including the tough-as-nails county prosecutor, Catherine Benincasa), and it's difficult not to sympathize with each of them because they're so realistically human. Bohjalian excels at writing about ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.

Although Heather's new age persona got on my nerves, she was one of several strong female characters that Bohjalian is never afraid to include in his novels, and I find that to be gratifying. Even Alice, who was a victim, is revealed to have had secret and brave parts of her story.

As in life, nothing in Secrets of Eden is neatly resolved or as clear-cut as it initially seems. When the book ends, you're still left wondering who deserves the label of hero or villain. For this reader, that's part of Bohjalian's genius as a writer.

Written by: M.L. Madison, April 19th 2010

Justice for Girls?: Stability and Change in the Youth Justice Systems of the United States and Canada

admin — Sun, 21 Mar 2010 00:01:00 +0000

By Jane B. Sprott, Anthony N. Doob

University of Chicago Press

In Justice for Girls?, Canadian researchers Jane B. Sprott and Anthony N. Doob provide a comprehensive and concise overview on girls and juvenile delinquency in these two North American countries. Sprott and Doob address the misconception, fueled by media reports and newspaper articles circulating in the U.S. and Canada, that girls are committing more crimes, and more violent crimes. The book asserts that contrary to popular belief, “the violent girl crime wave that people have been waiting for since the early 1900s...has simply not happened.”

In uncovering the hype behind sensationalized reports on girls and violence, the authors view juvenile delinquency as a social construction. In researching the number of violent girl crimes throughout the twentieth century, they assert that girls are less likely to commit violent crimes than boys. However, they note that girls make up a large percentage of juvenile delinquents and custody cases due to status offenses, so-called crimes in which girls can be arrested and tried for non-criminal behavior, such as sexual immorality.

Connecting the courts' motivations behind status offenses to women’s political movements, the authors make a convincing argument that girls have often born the brunt of a sociopolitical backlash as a parallel when women's movements are afoot.At these pivotal moments in history, juvenile court systems have tightened their surveillance of girls’ behaviors and criminalized girls’ sexual expression. As a result, Sprott and Doob argue, girls have historically been punished, and continue to be punished, for behavior and actions considered normal and acceptable for boys.

The authors discuss the limitations of their research, acknowledging the absences in their data with regards to race and class. Another absence in the book is a discussion of queer girls as well as trans girls and boys. Since sexual immortality—one of the most common status offenses girls are cited for—is not discussed at length, it is unclear if any of the girls convicted of this offense were/are queer or trans, and how their sexuality and/or gender identity influenced a court’s decision. Moreover, besides examining one case study, the authors do not offer girls’ own voices or their stories. Instead, they allow statistical evidence to speak for the injustices girls face in juvenile justice systems.

As a feminist scholar interested in the intersection of girls’ studies and media studies, I would argue that Sprott's and Doob’s work could benefit any researcher addressing the current hype surrounding girls and violence in contemporary Western societies.

Written by: Kristen Lambert, March 20th 2010

Thicker Than Water: A Kit O'Malley Mystery

admin — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Lindy Cameron

Bywater Books

When I took creative writing classes in college, our professor always said, “Show, don’t tell.” Meaning, let the reader see the story without articulating every detail. Well, Lindy Cameron, author of Thicker Than Water, tells everything through wordy dialogue, detailed facial expressions, and exhaustive character descriptions. However, this same professor also said, “Don’t judge if you didn’t do it.” Since I have never published a novel, much less a successful mystery series, I delved further into the book to see if I could get hooked. I mean, isn’t the point of a mystery novel to sit long into the night under a reading lamp failing to make good on that promise to yourself that you’ll stop at the next chapter?

Thicker Than Water is the third book in Cameron’s series about private detective Kit O’Malley. If The L Word and CSI (any variation of the show works here) had a love child, it would be the Kit O’Malley series. The opening scene has the requisite needlessly gory corpse in an improbably interesting location. Hence the mystery!

Why would anyone dump a male crime syndicate family member in a women’s bar? And who is trying to tarnish the reputation of Melbourne’s lesbian community? No one, not even crime family matriarch Queenie O’Reilly, will take down this tight-knit group of ladies if O’Malley has anything to say about it. One thing is for sure, O’Malley is superior to any ex-stripper, ex-alcoholic, closet-genius female lead CBS could dream up.

Kit O’Malley is an honest, often reckless, and sassy Nancy Drew. On one hand I want to resist her ubiquitously witty dialogue, but then I think back to my childhood obsession with the strawberry blonde teen sleuth. I didn’t love Secret of the Old Clock because it was realistic or intellectual; I loved it because I was drawn in, and believed that I, just like Nancy, could figure anything out.

Sure, you have all the typical mystery elements: crime family, Romeo and Juliet-esque romance, ex-cop, crooked cop, righteous cop, sex, nightclubs, and a serial killer. (I know it sounds like a lot, but this book has 415 dense pages.) There are also a lot of names that, when augmented by Kit’s tendency to call people by varying nicknames, can get confusing. However, if you follow Kit around, you too will be dying to know who Scooter is sleeping with, and why she fled the scene of the crime.

Finally, for all of us non-Aussies, this book is a crash course Australian English. Sure, I knew bugger off, bum, and bloke, but arvo? (It means afternoon.) Cameron paints a very inviting picture of Melbourne, crime syndicates and all. Kit O’Malley could inspire Australia-philes all over the world.

To return to my original question: was I hooked? I would hire Kit O’Malley anytime. Case closed.

Written by: Claire Burrows, December 21st 2009

Bloodborn

admin — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 09:00:00 +0000

By Kathryn Fox

Harper Collins

Bloodborn is captivating from start to finish, keeping me reading from cover to cover. Not only was the plot intriguing, Kathyrn Fox kept you wrapped in the victims lives as if you were really there. You felt her emotions with every word you read. Without a dull moment in the story, this book has the mystery and suspense that will keep you guessing until the very end.

Work driven, Dr. Anya Crichton has a lucrative career as a forensic pathologist. Specializing in sexual attacks, she is highly sought after to investigate the brutal sex crimes committed all over the country. However, one case has tugged at her hearts stings and leads to multiple cases in the whirlwind novel that keeps you guessing. Crichton struggles to maintain a relationship with her young son while determined to solve these crimes that all lead back to the elusive Harbourn family.

The Harbourn family leads a life of crime. From drug running to rape and torture, the Harbourn family seems to be above the law as each family members covers for another to provide alibis for vicious and brutal crimes. The Monarch of the family, Noelene, is believed to have stabbed her husband to death. However, each member of the Harbourn family had touched the murder weapon, making it impossible to prove which one really did it.

Crichton strives to get justice for two sisters, Rachel and Sophia. They were brutally raped, tortured, and left for dead. The crime was believed to have been carried out by the Harbourn brothers. Only the younger sister, Sophia, survived. After the death of a Prosecutor in the case against the Harbourn brothers, Anya believes her life is in danger. As expected the Harbourn’s are suspected in the brutal slaying of the Prosecutor, but are they really guilty?

Fox keeps you wrapped up in the devastating crimes that unfold within Bloodborn. Unable to see past the implied guilt of the Harbourn family, it is impossible to suspect anyone else in this captivating novel.

Written by: Ryanick Paige, December 14th 2009

Dispatches from Juvenile Hall: Fixing a Failing System

admin — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 01:01:00 +0000

By John Aarons, Lisa Smith, Linda Wagner

Penguin Books

As depressing as they can often be, I’m generally interested in books on social justice issues. It’s essential to know the facts about issues before getting into a spirited debate about them. As an Urban Studies grad student, I’m especially interested in books on social justice as academic material, particularly ones on youth issues. Dispatches from Juvenile Hall engaged both the generally interest and the academically-minded parts of my brain—and it is a great read from either perspective.

Dispatches from Juvenile Hall gains most of its power from the narratives, which are told by their subjects in first person style with brief introductions and conclusions by the authors. We hear from the very people whose lives are most affected by the juvenile justice system: people who are still in the system and those who have been released who are willing to share their stories, as well as those who have spent their lives trying to help those on the inside. The authors, who have decades of experience in youth services work, present the narratives with little embellishment, which works well and are very effective. For someone who has never had firsthand experience with juvenile detention, their words are often brutal and shocking.

Jasmine, the subject of the book’s opening narrative, began using meth when she was eleven years old. A pattern of drug use, incarceration, and running away from home began from there. Michael, now a tattoo artist in South Carolina, was kicked out of his home at sixteen because his mother felt he was old enough to be a man. As a homeless teen, police generally ignored him, until he was apprehended for felony stealing. Stephanie, a high school guidance counselor and former juvenile probation officer, tells stories about the at-risk youth she worked with in both jobs, and stresses the importance of early detection of warning signs that a teen is in trouble.

Dispatches from Juvenile Hall isn’t just a collection of personal stories; there is also a section on how the system can be fixed. It includes a fascinating (if brief) history of juvenile justice in the United States and an analysis of what the authors believe does and does not work when working with juvenile offenders. Clearly, given the rates of juvenile incarceration, the hard-on-crime position currently taken by the juvenile justice system doesn’t deter crime. This is not to say the authors suggest being “soft” on crime; in fact, they argue it’s better to be “smart on crime.”

The authors suggest a blend of corrections reforms—like separating low-, medium-, and high-risk offenders and using cognitive behavioral strategies and gender-specific services—and rehabilitative treatments, and suggest that there can (and should) be a lively, fact-based debate about the United States’ attitude toward juvenile justice. Dispatches from Juvenile Hall is a thoughtful, intelligent, affecting piece of that debate.

Written by: Dana Reinoos, November 29th 2009

One Scream Away

admin — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 01:00:00 +0000

By Kate Brady

Hachette Book Group

One Scream Away is the book equivalent of a CBS crime drama: barely dangerous, slightly obscene, with an expected level of crazy for the villain and a suitable amount of romance to balance the ugliness. The book is edgy only to the level that is appropriate, which, of course, is the point. It skirts the line of being nice.

The plot is simple: after surviving an attack seven years earlier, Beth Denison is stalked by her attacker, now a serial killer. Former FBI agent Neil Sheridan, fighting his own demons (naturally), is brought in on the case—one he thought was closed. Sparks fly, as do a few bullets. Yada yada yada. If you’ve watched a crime drama in the last twenty years, you know the story.

That being said, the book is not a bad read. Kate Brady is a talented writer, even if she’s not stretching herself, and the book offers some well written, if unoriginal, moments. The characters—Neil and Beth in particular—are well developed. Their relationship moves in a natural way, even if it seems too fast for comfort. While I never thought anyone was in real danger, I was interested to know what route she would take.

Of course, this being both a romance novel and a crime story, no one acts anywhere near logically. Rules are thrown out the window in favor of hunches; cops are inept at best, downright stupid at worst. When was the last time a person was kidnapped from protective custody with fifteen guards around them? No one bats an eye when Neil and Beth begin a relationship, despite all sorts of conflicts that would result from a lead investigator sleeping with the main witness, especially one who was briefly the main suspect.

Never mind that being stalked and threatened with death might not make it the best time to begin a new relationship; sex is the cure all for all of Beth's ills, particularly that pesky post-traumatic stress disorder that simply disappears after Beth finally has the love of a good man. Yeah, it’s that kind of book.

I haven’t even gotten to Chevy Banks, the stalker, who is a big ball of Norman Bates-style momma-hating issues that is a cross-dressing habit short of being created entirely by googling “serial killer” and using the key words. Fortunately, these problems don’t keep the book from being a beach read. Unfortunately, they do keep it from being a book you remember five minutes after you put it down. If you can’t watch Law and Order for a couple of days, there are worse ways to spend your time.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, November 18th 2009

All the Dead Voices

admin — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 23:37:00 +0000

By Declan Hughes

William Morrow

I have always been drawn to a good crime story. When I was given the opportunity to read a writer previously unknown to me, a book that sold itself as a cross breed of modern American noir and Irish culture, I was excited at the prospect. I should have opted for a love story.

All the Dead Voices is a strange mix of modern American urban gangster style with an Irish bent and a distinct dislike of the female in all her forms. As I read, I kept attempting to find a connection to Declan Hughes' story, the characters, the history, and even the location. However, there is such disparity between my expectations and what the pages hold that this connection never came about.

Ed Loy is trying to escape his past, but I’m still fuzzy about what that past entailed. He is a private investigator in Ireland. Maybe this is the true mystery—how a reader can understand a character that was fleshed out in three previous novels without sufficient introduction for those of us joining the series in progress. For me, a good story is defined by its ability to make me believe in the characters, good and bad. I have to admit that I don’t know any of them besides Ed himself, well enough to like or dislike them. Ed wallows through the mire of a slow story, which is also somewhat disjointed, to attempt to solve murders, have sex with everything in a skirt, and feel sorry for himself and his lot in life.

Three murders occur in a short period of time. All three people killed were speaking with Ed just moments before their demise. You’d think the proper authorities would have wondered at his participation. Ed seems to be free to associate with known felons and a soccer star murdered “gangland style,” and yet Ed escapes without so much as a second look. He stumbles through life in the pages of this book being almost, but not completely, unlikeable. Otherwise he wouldn’t be having so much sex, I suppose.

The only female character worthy of a name is Anne Fogarty. She is recently divorced, obviously pretty and walks into Ed’s office and his life to find out about the murder of her father. The man who served time for this murder has been set free and Anne believes him to be innocent. She wants to know the truth about her father’s death, her mother’s involvement (she was having an affair at the time with the prime suspect). Anne has found the NBCI to be unwilling to help. By the way, I had to look online to find out what NBCI stands for—National Bureau of Criminal Investigation, an arm of the Irish police force. Mr. Hughes has a tendency to banter around acronyms as though they should be well known by everyone.

Forty-five seconds into Ed’s first meeting with Anne, he is thinking, “I had promised myself never again to fall for a client and here I was. I could smell her now...” I think I have to promise myself never again to pick up a novel by Mr. Hughes until after I’ve had my breakfast. It left me nauseous.

The most memorable interchange is between our man Ed and his friend Dave who is an investigator on the police force. Ed has recently helped Dave out of another red-faced moment—being caught with his pants down—and the need to appease his wife so she’ll go back to making him breakfast. The playful banter about their recent interactions falls flat on its face when Ed realizes that the beautiful Anne has been making the rounds of the NBCI.

Dave explains, “I met Anne Fogarty, I took her for coffee, I talked through the reasons we wouldn’t revisit her father’s case. I took her to the Merrion Hotel, Ed. And now she’s telling you I’m the bad guy?” When Ed exclaims that Dave’s wife might find out, Dave’s witty response is, “Stop. I can hear her now. You never take me to the Merrion Hotel. But yeah, I did, and do you know why? Because I felt sorry for the child.”

Declan Hughes is a Shamus Award-winning author, a husband, and a father of two girls. I hope he never lets them read his work.

Written by: Rachel Petzold, October 14th 2009

Portland Noir

admin — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 17:01:00 +0000

Edited by Kevin Sampsell

Akashic Books

Noir is easier to recognize than to define. The best dictionary definition I found was, “crime fiction featuring hard-boiled cynical characters and bleak sleazy settings.” Portland Noir, then, has a self-explanatory title: it is a collection of short, dark stories that take place in Portland, Oregon. Akashic Books has published a whole series of similar collections set in numerous cities in the U.S. and around the globe.

Reading this book made me want to immediately find a copy of Chicago Noir. Since I’ve never been to Portland, I felt like I was missing out. I was unfamiliar with the neighborhoods and businesses mentioned, and could not judge the accuracy of Portland’s portrayal. It was clear that the city was more than just a setting; Portland is almost another character in many of the pieces.

Despite my ignorance of Portland, I still found the stories very creative and enjoyable. Some of the tales were more traditional noir pieces, with Philip Marlowe-type protagonists and centering around crimes. Other stories had the feel of noir, but might not fit the classic definition.

As with most short fiction collections, the stories vary greatly. Few readers will enjoy every story, but many will enjoy several. Characters include cops and private eyes, drug addicts and prostitutes, murderers and artists, hipsters and activists. Stories involve murder, blackmail, burglary, torture, vandalism, and even a little romance. There is even a comic book style illustrated story, “Gone Doggy Gone” by Jamie S. Rich & Joëlle Jones. Truly, this book has something for every noir fan.

I felt deep disdain for the narrator of the opening story, “The Clown and the Bard,” by Karen Karbo, in which a sexist low-life gets away with killing his ex-girlfriend. But,I was captivated by the next story, “Julia Now,” by Luciana Lopez, in which a woman becomes obsessed with finding out what happened to a previous tenant of her home. I was strangely captivated by “The Sleeper” by Dan DeWeese, a wandering tale of a newspaper delivery man with a possible substance abuse problem. “Virgo” by Jess Walter is a surprising, and surprisingly funny, story about a disgruntled newspaper employee who alters the horoscopes to harass his astrology-believing ex-girlfriend. The narrator is completely unlikable, yet laugh-out-loud funny:

We’d had the same old fight, with the same stale grievances Tanya had been lobbing at me for three months, almost since the day I moved in: Blah, blah, stalled relationship; blah, blah, stunted growth; blah, blah, I worry that you’re a psychopath…

“Burnside Forever” by Justin Hocking–which opens with the two-word sentence, “Fuck Hawaii.”–reminded me strongly of Michael Hornburg’s novel Bongwater, which is also set (mostly) in Portland. “People Are Strange” by Kimberly Warner-Cohen, is a disturbing story about a woman determined to track down her missing identical twin sister. I’d hate to ruin the twist, but know this: Happy endings are rarely found in noir.

Written by: Kellie Powell, September 1st 2009

My Soul To Take: A Novel of Iceland

admin — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 23:00:00 +0000

By Yrsa Sigurdardóttir

Morrow

Set in Iceland, My Soul To Take centers around attorney and single mom Thóra, whose chaotic personal life gets even more complicated after a client is suspected of murder. A badly beaten body is found on the beach near her client's new age resort, shattering the peaceful idyll it is known for—or is it?

The deeper practical Thóra digs into local lore, the less she is sure that the place is not cursed. Are the ghosts of dead babies really crying outside her window at the resort? And how does one explain the Nazi memorabilia found in the building's basement? If this sounds like a plot line that is absurdly strung together—well, it is.

My Soul To Take is definitely a page-turner, and Sigurdardóttir is quite talented at creating suspense. However, as much as you want to find out what happens next, you can't help wondering a) if the story flow isn't a bit ridiculous at times and b) why, aside from Thóra, there is virtually no character development.

While the author does make attempts to flesh out a few side plots—among them, the fact that Thóra is becoming a grandmother before she's forty because of her teenage son's irresponsibility and the secret tragedies that one family harbors, largely because of mental illness that is never treated or discussed—the attempts seem half-hearted at best. Several characters who seem to have potential when they are introduced—such as Thóra's new boyfriend, Matthew, who has traveled from Germany to help her solve the case—are hardly given a second thought. Although it's mildly amusing that Matthew is essentially treated like a sex object, it's that much more unbelievable when Thóra muses to herself that she might be falling in love with him.

What's also disappointing is that although the book is touted as "a novel of Iceland," there is very little description of the country's beautiful landscape or local customs. That said, if you're looking for a quick read for a plane flight or long car ride, this might be a good choice. Sigurdardóttir reminded me of an Icelandic Sue Grafton.

Written by: M.L. Madison, August 29th 2009

Twisted Triangle: A Famous Crime Writer, a Lesbian Love Affair, and the FBI Husband’s Violent Revenge

admin — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 10:29:00 +0000

By Caitlin Rother, John Hess

Jossey-Bass

“Stranger than fiction” is the most accurate way to describe the premise for this book about married FBI agents. The wife has a lesbian affair with a crime novel author, and the husband kidnaps and later tries to kill his wife. And yet, it’s a true story! Having never heard of this case before, I could not put the book down and found myself eager to get to the end to see how it all turned out.

The book tells the complex story of an abusive relationship between Gene and Margo Bennett, as well as their personal, professional, and legal troubles. Evidence of Gene’s emotional abuse towards his wife is presented early in the book, and starts to draw the outline of the picture that’s yet to come. He carries out a scam to get money from the F.B.I., and is prosecuted when Margo decides to divorce him and reports the incident. A power struggle starts as he seeks revenge for her betrayal and her affair with Patricia Cornwell, a famous author. He kidnaps her to make her lie in court and clear his name, but is still convicted. When he gets out of jail, he carries out an elaborate and bizarre plan to frame her for murder and attempts to kill her. Ultimately, Gene is found guilty on several charges, including attempted murder, and sentenced to twenty-three years and ten years of probation. The book wraps up by describing the aftermath of the trial and its effect on Margo and her two daughters.

One of the problems with the book is that it’s told primarily through the perspective of Margo, but this is because the author attempted to contact Gene, but he did not agree to participate. The writing itself is awkward at times, which doesn’t help the fact that the story unfolds itself is hard to keep up with. There are so many names and places to keep track of, yet they are sometimes mentioned without a reminder about how we should know who or what the author is referring to.

These problems, however, are minor when compared to the important themes raised in the book. Because Margo was raised to be ashamed of homosexuality and bisexuality, she viewed her relationships with women as innocent experimentation. She even viewed her affair with Patricia Cornwell as separate from any pattern that would make her label herself as a lesbian. The homophobia and bias against homosexuality in the Virginia justice system is also mentioned several times throughout the book.

Gene’s abuse towards Margo, along with her ignorance about what was happening in her marriage, is the perfect example of how abuse works. It seems that no matter how severe the abuse and torment, the blame still falls on the victim. In fact, this situation shows that the more severe the abuse, the more blame a victim might receive. Why didn’t she know better? She was an FBI agent after all... How could she not see the signs in her own relationship? Why did she let it go that far? All of these are questions echoed throughout the book by her peers, and all demonstrate why these stories need to be told. It should go without saying that there is great motivation to disconnect one’s own relationship from the scenarios and “what ifs” that a person hears about, and yet these questions often come up.

At its core, this book is about abuse and sexual repression—two themes that could certainly use more attention and discussion, especially when they reflect a true story and not a work of fiction.

Written by: frau sally benz, July 26th 2009

Erased: Missing Women, Murdered Wives

admin — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 09:27:00 +0000

By Marilee Strong

Jossey-Bass

When a crime is committed, the public wants to know why. In Erased, journalist Marilee Strong answers that question for a specific set of criminals she calls “eraser killers.” She outlines an in-depth profile of these killers hoping that the more the public knows about them, the more they will be caught and justice will be brought to their victims.

Strong started the journey to Erased while reporting on the disappearance of a pregnant woman in California named Laci Peterson. She covered Laci’s story through her disappearance to the conviction of her husband, Scott, for her murder and the murder of their unborn child. While researching other murders for the Peterson case, Strong noticed a psychological pattern between Scott and another killer who committed a strikingly similar crime more than fifty years earlier. This book is the result of the next five years of Strong’s research.

Erased covers more than fifty murders throughout the past century that fit the pattern of eraser killings, a form of intimate partner homicide that is committed almost exclusively by men, done in a carefully planned manner, which is often through bloodless means, in order to leave behind as little evidence as possible. The killers frame the murder to make it look like something happened that had nothing to do with them, and often try to make the body physically disappear as well. Eraser killers eliminate women, and sometimes children, in their lives simply because they no longer serve any purpose to them. The killers have no emotional attachment to their victims, considering them nothing more than a commodity. Most disturbingly, these men are often described as loving husbands right up until they day they kill. The women in their lives have no idea they are in danger until it is too late.

Strong credits the “unique psychology of men” with these murders and, in particular, a set of dangerous traits that psychologists have named the “Dark Triad” of personality: psychopathy, narcissism, and Machiavellianism. These traits lead eraser killers to believe they can literally get away with murder without anyone ever knowing. Ironically, it is also these traits that lead many to their downfall. Eraser killers can be so over confident that they make mistakes and overlook important details.

While it is interesting to know just where some of these killers went wrong, Strong occasionally takes those details too far. Her recounting of Laci Peterson’s murder becomes eerie when Strong describes exactly what Scott might have done to get away with it. Surprisingly, she goes into these specifics after telling the reader that many of these killers learn from each other as models, noting what worked for other killers and what pitfalls to avoid. With this in mind, many of the details Strong uses in Erased become uncomfortable to read. It makes one wonder how helpful the book is in bringing victims justice, and how helpful it could potentially be to a future eraser killer.

While Erased is disturbing on many levels, it is also thought provoking. For the majority of the book, Strong’s heart seems to be in the right place. In the conclusion, she offers recommendations on what the criminal justice system can do to better catch eraser killers. She focuses on closing loopholes that make eraser killers think they can get away with murder and that allow some of them to do just that. At the very least, Erased is a wake-up call that there is another, more disturbing, side to domestic homicide that deserves serious attention. Strong makes a very clear case that her profile and recommendations are worth considering.

Written by: Jill Hindenach, July 25th 2009

Fed Up

admin — Fri, 29 May 2009 09:46:00 +0000

By Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant

Berkeley Prime Crime

Given the strained and perilous relationship I have with my own mother, I have a lot of admiration for any mother-daughter pair that get along well enough to successfully negotiate the writing of a novel. That said, Fed Up could have been a lot better than it was.

I give the authors points for creating a strong and opinionated female character, Chloe, who solves the mystery of a poisoned woman on her own through a rough mixture of luck and logic. Apart from the protagonist, I found a lot to underline and scribble about in anger. Every female character that was introduced, apart from Chloe’s blonde, pregnant, about-to-be-married best friend, was negatively described in terms of clothing, the amount of makeup worn (less is ugly, more is good), and body type (“slightly plump,” or “almost scrawny” or “blah and shapeless”). I would have thought that writers, especially women, would have moved on from the sexist device of making their likeable characters beautiful, and all other women ugly, as decreed by Vogue. I have no intention of warming up more to the sexy and curvaceous characters than to the ones whose haircuts do not flatter their face shapes.

The characters are all heterosexual, almost all white, and consistently upper-middle class. Chloe is in graduate school because her uncle’s will states that she has to obtain a master’s degree before she can collect her inheritance. She’s quite a snob about the correct type of cracker to spread cheese on, and the differences between how white and red wines ought to be served.

At the beginning of the novel there is some lip service played towards how lovely it would be if the cooking show/contest at the center of the plot was targeting unsuspecting middle- and lower-income families to cook surprise gourmet meals for, instead of searching for affluent audiences, but this thought is never expanded on. At another point in the story, Chloe has a three-line-each exchange with her mother’s new assistant over the need to supply cheaper, environmentally friendly gardening and landscaping solutions to the less wealthy. But class issues are never serious for the girl whose parents are paying for her best friend’s entire wedding. At most, Chloe seems to believe that providing rain barrels to rich people, hidden in designs that match their homes or garden styles, is a “political” concern.

All in all, Fed Up was entertaining, which is perhaps what it was meant to be. I still found it hard to believe that after watching a woman die on a bathroom floor, vapid Chloe was traumatized only up until the next day when she went over to see her best friend, who did her hair because, “the best route to feeling good is looking good.”

Written by: Ilinca Popescu, May 29th 2009