Private Justice, by Steven Gore

"Private Justice," by Steven Gore, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, May/June 2019.


Viewpoint is character.  That seemed like such a logical statement that I just went looking for a source for it other than my overheated brain.  I found one: a blogger named SensibleShoes who wrote in 2014:  "Viewpoint is character. A character doesn’t just have a point of view (often called “POV” in writerspeak). A character is a point of view. Viewpoint can be presented without mentioning the character at all."

The nameless narrator of Gore's story is a retired Philadelphia Homicide cop, newly installed as chief of detectives in a small town. A retired professor has been stabbed to death in his office and it looks like a lot of people may be involved in a cover-up.  As our hero investigates, he is constantly revealing his viewpoint which is all we known (or need to know) about his personality.

Throughout the story he sees what other people miss, not in the sense of smudged-footprint-in-the-flowerbed, but in the possible meaning of people's behavior.  Why is one suspect involved in self-harm?  Why is the university lawyer constantly smiling during a murder investigation?

Another aspect of viewpoint is that the cop is keenly aware that people in this small town are treated very differently than they would be back in the big city.  Speaking of a plea deal for homicide: "Defendants in Philadelphia were getting more time for selling a couple of rocks of cocaine."

A nicely done story.

Our Man in Basingstoke, by Sabrina Case

"Our Man in Basingstoke," by Sabrina Case, in Fiction River: Spies, 2019.

Pity Sir Almsley.  He gave his estate to the War Office to help fight the Nazis, not expecting that he would be put in charge of a project to create new espionage techniques.  He has no skills in that field, his mission is underfunded, and his staff consists of what the sergeant calls "a human scrap metal drive."

But that's not all.  Peter Tilling, an enthusiastic and imaginative child, has been sent to a nearby farm to protect him from the blitz in London.  He is eager to slip into Almsley's estate to see the top-secret devices being built there.  Good luck with that, young Peter.

Clever soul that you are, you have probably deduced that each of Almsley's problems contains the solution to the other.  Right as rain.  But it's great fun to watch the story unfold.

The Use of Landscape, by Robert Boswell

"The Use of Landscape," by Robert Boswell, in Houston Noir, edited by Gwendolyn Zepeda, Akashic Press, 2019.

The publisher sent me an advance reader copy of this book.

I want to start by acknowledging the cleverness of editor Zepeda.  These noir city books are always divided into three or four sections and the editor has to come up with names for them, which are often subtle or less subtle references to Crime, Money, Sex, etc.  Here are the dividers Zepeda used: Desirable Locations With Private Security, Peaceful Hamlets Great For Families, Minutes From Downtown and Nightlife, and Up-and-Coming Areas Newly Revitalized. 

And deep in Desirable Locations, Robert Boswell has offered us a charming story about sociopaths.  Cole is the planner.  We are told he loves no one.  Doesn't care much about sex although he will use it to get what he wants, which is money.  Not much interested in buying things with it; money is just a way of keeping score.

His girlfriend is Herta.  They met when she tried to rob him.  She says he will eventually try to kill her, but hey, she's not perfect either.

Tariq rounds out the crew.  He's a bartender and an expert on cleaning crime scenes. Tariq has pointed Cole to a young woman, rich in money, poor in personality and brain power.

"Did I tell you what happened at Affirm today?" Madelyn asked.  Affirm was her gym.  She described the days activities in excruciating detail, a saga that lasted nearly twenty minutes.  Summary: she exercised.

You will be mightily entertained as the trio the narrator calls the Criminal Element plot their nastiness while discussing women's underwear and the books of Virginia Woolf.

Kaddish for Lazar, by Michael Wuliger

"Kaddish for Lazar," by Michael Wuliger, in Berlin Noir, edited by Thomas  Wörtche, Akashic Press, 2019.

The publisher sent me an advance copy of this book.

"You're Jewish, aren't you?" the editor of Blitz Magazine asked me.
"Yes, I am." I felt uncomfortable.  "Why do you want to know?" That kind of question coming from Germans irritates me.  It runs in the family, I guess.
"Then you must have known Mark Lazar well," he said.

Because obviously all 30,000 of the Jews in Berlin must know each other, right?

Great opening for this story in which a freelance journalist is asked to look into the death by drowning of a prominent politician.  Suicide, accident, or something else?  Could his death be related to his immigrating from Russia after the Soviet Union fell?  Or to his plans to run for mayor?

The investigation is very interesting, the effect it has on the narrator even more so.  This is a very cynical story, which makes it very noir indeed.

Dora, by Zöe Beck

"Dora," by Zöe Beck, in Berlin Noir, edited by Thomas  Wörtche, Akashic Press, 2019.

Big typo corrected.  Apologies.

This is the second appearance here by Beck.

Take a look at her.  Even if it's hard.
You won't want to look at her because she stinks and is filthy from head to toe.  You think you know what you'll see but take a look anyway.

That's how the story starts.  It seems like a bit of sociological fiction, an analysis of a mentally ill homeless person.  But there's a lot more going on here.

The narrator is Dora's brother.  He explains in detail how his sister's life has slowly derailed and  the damage it has done to the whole family.

And then, well, things happen.  Linda Landrigan, editor of Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, once said, as I recall, that she likes stories that turn out to be something different than they appear.  I suppose that is almost but not identical to a twist ending.  Read "Dora" for an excellent example.

In The Court of the Lion King, by Mark Dapin

"In The Court of the Lion King," by Mark Dapin, in Sydney Noir, edited by John Dale, Akashic Press, 2019.

The publisher sent me an advance proof of this book.

I have read novels with less plot than this story.  Somehow Dapin manages to keep all the balls in the air.

The narrator, Chevy, is a half-Laotian architect.  He is on remand - that is, in prison awaiting trial  - because the police think he killed his best friend, Jamie.  A security camera caught them fighting, and Jamie hasn't been seen since.

Fortunately, Chevy has a lawyer.  Jesse is his former lover and a very complicated person.  ("I used to say that I only loved for people -- two of them were Jesse...")  Unfortunately, no aspects of  her personality involve legal skills.

And then there are the Vietnamese in the prison that want him dead, apparently because he is Laotian.

I haven't even mentioned the Lion King, a gang boss who runs the cell block.  He is a truly disgusting person and is taking an unhealthy interest in our hero.

If I listed all the other threads in this tale you would think it was some kind of postmodern experimental fiction, all bits and pieces that don't connect.

Don't worry.  The author knows what he's doing.  But does Chevy?

The Passenger, by Kirsten Tranter

"The Passenger," by Kirsten Tranter, in Sydney Noir, edited by John Dale, Akashic Press, 2019.

The publisher sent me an advance proof of this book which opens with a pastiche of, or homage to, a well-known crime novel.  It's a very clever piece of work.

Robert has just arrived home after years overseas.  He reluctantly attends a birthday party for an acquaintance named Fred.  The reason for his reluctance is that Fred's daughter is Robert's former lover, who cheated with, and then married, Julian, a friend of Robert's.

Fred confides that Julian has disappeared with a trace.  Perhaps Robert can inquire among their mutual friends? It turns out that that bunch had been pushers and users and Robert doesn't want to get involved with them.

But he gets drawn in and discovers some terrible stuff going in.  You might say that the biggest difference between this story and the book that inspired it is the question of nature versus nurture: Which is responsible for the catastrophe that has occurred?