Book 45: Manhattan Mayhem

Manhattan Mayhem

Edited by Mary Higgins Clark

With yet another mystery anthology under my belt, I suppose it's fair to say that I am prone to reading in genre-driven spurts. This particular collection offers stories set within some of Manhattan's many neighborhoods; disappointingly, however, they cluster around familiar Midtown and Downtown locales that, as a rule, don't provide much in the way of cultural and ethnic diversity. Most of the included authors do, however, take full advantage of their chosen setting, and the collection feels thematically balanced. Stories set in the present day and in bygone times peacefully coexist in an order that flows naturally without forcing too much clustering or narrative whiplash. Though several themes do repeat, including multiple stories set during the World War II era, each author adds enough originality- and writes with enough quality- to maintain the reader's interest throughout the book.

The collection's overall quality is not particularly evident after editor Mary Higgins Clark's opening story, "The Five-Dollar Dress", which is hampered by generally poor writing, a muddled timeline, and at least one disruption of continuity. Clark ultimately redeems herself with superb plotting, even if the details are indeed the devil, and a final twist that is so satisfying that the whole story is worth the occasionally painful experience of actually reading it. Some of the other stories also fall victim to heavy-handedness in either concept or execution or, possibly the worse sin in mystery writing, lead the reader to an obvious conclusion that actually turns out to be the story's ending; sometimes the payoff just doesn't work, even after a suitably enjoyable setup. Happily, Nancy Pickard's "Three Little Words" subverts this trope, lining up its suspects neatly and slowly picking them apart before reaching a genuinely surprising conclusion.

Ben H. Winters also provides a welcome break from the expected with "Trapped!", a play that initially elicited my serious skepticism, none the less so for its focus on, yes, the staging of a play-within-the-play and its inclusion of a character who decides to write the events of "Trapped!" itself as a story. This kind of metafiction, even (or perhaps especially) when attempted in jest and good humor, is rife with potential pitfalls; nevertheless, Winters somehow manages to avoid every single one of them on the way to creating a hilarious send-up that is arguably the collection's best story, and easily the one that I enjoyed the most. I was likewise ecstatic to find a genuine time-travel story (Justin Scott's "Evermore") and even more excited when it turned out to be an excellent use of both science fictional elements and a more traditional heist narrative, both of which I am particularly partial to. Even if Winters and Scott provide welcome counterweights to more traditional detective stories, S. J. Roznan's stands out as an excellent example of the latter, presenting a main character whom I would be happy to follow on subsequent adventures.

The good thus outweighs the bad, and it is easy enough to move on from a somewhat tepid story to a more thrilling neighbor next door. Mary Higgins Clark clearly knows her way around the genre, and has assembled a fitting tribute to the Mystery Writers of America's 70th anniversary. Manhattan Mayhem may exhibit some of the general unevenness that characterizes all short-story collections, but with its range of narrative styles and the remarkably high quality of most of its stories, this anthology offers many enjoyable examples of short-form mysteries that showcase the genre's current breadth and depth.

Grade: A

Book 44: The Water Knife

The Water Knife

Paolo Baciagalupi

Having recently read a book whose action takes place in a waterlogged version of New York City, I decided that it was only proper that I should balance it out with The Water Knife, set in the parched deserts and lush luxury towers of future Arizona and Nevada. Paolo Baciagalupi's politicized point of view is immediately evident in the great care he takes to imagine, establish, and describe his (frighteningly) plausible vision of the (frighteningly) near future. His devotion is evident in full force from the book's first pages to its conclusion, permeating every inch of the narrative but lending the setting and situations a vivid sense of realism that few dystopias- especially those making very pointed references to current practices- manage to achieve. I am, however, inclined to give Baciagalupi the benefit of the doubt when encountering the grotesque economic inequalities, vicious interstate regionalism and xenophobia, and rampant human rights abuses that create the book's central conflicts. Nonetheless, while the thoroughness of Baciagalupi's vision is admirable and its sheer vividness rarely surpassed, it occasionally gets in the way of his storytelling. Egregious incidents include a few particularly annoying references to Cadillac Desert, with characters repeatedly referring directly to its prescience; surely Baciagalupi could have gotten his point across in a slightly subtler manner, allowing the message to speak for itself. By this point in the novel, we readers get it; and most emphatically so.

Despite the author's somewhat smug reliance on overt references to our contemporary climate crisis, the rich details of the setting are alone enough to convey his environmentally conscious lessons. Certain typical, if not outright cliché, dystopian elements help ground the story, and Baciagalupi adds enough unique wrinkles to make the book continually interesting and his setting genuinely complex without being inconsistent or confusing. He is an author on a mission, using traditional setting and story elements to good effect and blending the better elements of dystopian literature and fast-paced thrillers to create a compelling narrative that perpetually drives the action forward, even in this novel of ideas. Even if he can (rightly, I think) be accused of producing heavy-handed message fiction, at least it is built on a solid narrative framework.

Moreover, his use of three vastly different narrative perspectives provides a complete view of the situation, from the luxurious fountains found in sprawling residential towers to the crowded communal water pumps that cannot possibly sate the poor masses' thirst. All the while, each contributes its fair share of suspense before and after the three parallel plots (inevitably) intersect. Baciagalupi seamlessly fosters great sympathy for his point-of-view characters, even those who behave somewhat amorally, and it is genuinely moving to see one character's sudden growth at the novel's climax- a moment that fosters genuine surprise without seeming somehow out of place with the preceding pages. Indeed, it is a masterful moment of meaningful character development that may sometimes be lacking in the pulpier genres.

If, then, the dystopian and moral elements of the novel are solidly in place, how is The Water Knife as a thriller? This is the element in which I was most acutely disappointed, likely because I (correctly) predicted the location of a vital clue during its first (unlabeled, but relatively obvious) appearance and could thus track its movements amid the escalating tension. This prevented me from becoming completely emotionally invested in the narrative, but the set pieces were nonetheless well executed and enjoyable. The story is played for the highest stakes- nothing less than the destination of the Colorado River, one of the last remaining water sources for the Southwest and California- and I was sufficiently invested in the main characters to care about their fates and the region's alike. The Water Knife may alienate some readers for its over-reliance on heavy-handed political platitudes, but its vision of a rain-starved Southwest provides a compelling, and eerily plausible, setting for the well-constructed thriller laid over the exquisite framework.

Grade: A-

Book 43: The Best American Mystery Stories 2013

The Best American Mystery Stories 2013

Edited by Lisa Scottoline

One way or another, I've been reading a lot of mystery stories and thrillers recently. The Best American series generally provides a reliably interesting selection of short genre fiction, and the 2013 mystery iteration is no exception to the rule. With a mix of traditional procedurals and literary examinations of crime and its effects on individuals and communities (as well as stories that proudly straddle the lines that some would wish to place between these types of tales), this anthology stands up admirably among its predecessors and peers. Editors Lisa Scottoline and Otto Penzler have ensured that the group is balanced, despite the emergence of certain themes and styles. Many of the stories herein are tinged with regret and/or told in a mournful manner, yet no two authors take the same approach to these and other emotions, highlighting and illustrating the rich complexity of human feelings and experiences and the ways in which crime brings them to the forefront. After reading a large number of these volumes, I am always amazed to discover new takes on the common theme; this year, Kevin Leahy's "Remora, IL" was the biggest surprise. Excellently and appropriately told in the typically tricky first-person plural voice, the story examines the ways in which the arrival of a private prison affects the surrounding small town, tackling the effects of prison culture through a different lens than is usually offered.

Even the more traditional procedurals and whodunnits are unusually successful here, providing as they do a range of vivid settings, compelling characters, and pleasantly confounding solutions. Clark Howard's "The Street Ends at the Cemetery" is a delightful (and surprisingly funny) heist story that somehow manages to maintain its suspense despite the evident spoiler in the title; it's an all-around delight that, I suspect, would be just as entertaining when read a second or third time. Similarly rewarding are historically minded tales from Bill Pronzini and Eileen Dreyer. Pronzini's "Gunpowder Alley" is a locked-room mystery with thoroughly believable late-19^th century atmospherics and a conclusion that, fittingly perhaps, can be guessed before the fictional sleuth makes the same deduction; suffering only slightly from some botched descriptions of the setting (so crucial to the subgenre), it is nonetheless a pleasant throwback in both style and content. Dreyer takes a slightly different approach in "The Sailor in the Picture", which revisits the iconic V-Day celebrations in Times Square with an alternate perspective of a sailor's homecoming with a surprisingly modern sensibility. The story offers its share of suspense and action before seemingly heading for a tidy conclusion, only for the coda to reveal an alternate, yet deliciously satisfying, perspective on the preceding events.

Other stories in contemporary settings illustrate the ever-increasing types of stories that fall under the mystery umbrella, and most of those in this collection do seem to fit the theme. Andre Kocsis displays his innate sense for proper pacing in "Crossing", a thriller about a Vietnam-era deserter who leads a group of mysterious foreigners across the British Columbia-Washington border. Expertly deploying elements of more traditional genre stories, such as false leads and half-hidden truths, as well as tense and occasionally violent interactions between its characters, as well as a patient buildup to a final illustration of the stakes in play, Kocsis shows that a bit of melodrama need not necessarily diminish the power of a good story and that strong characters can thrive within any fictional situation or genre. The quality of individual stories is incredibly variable in these anthologies and may be somewhat dependent on the guest editor's tastes, but this collection indicates that 2013 was a banner year for short crime fiction. Crime and criminality may provide the essential link between the stories in The Best American Short Stories 2013, but each author's unique approach and style ensures that the state of mystery fiction, at least in its short form, is as strong as it has ever been.

Grade: A

Book 42: Depth

Depth

Lev AC Rosen

I've always enjoyed both mysteries and science fiction, and I am pleased to find an increasing number of authors who apparently feel the same way. Lev AC Rosen's Depth is a fine, if flawed, example of the combination, setting a fairly traditional detective story in a future version of New York City that is as integral to the novel as the characters and plot. The latter elements are executed adequately, with all of the requisite twists and even a few genuine surprises. A variety of betrayals, dead ends, dark corners, and femmes fatale lend the book a pleasantly noir-ish ambiance, along with a fairly straightforward plot that nonetheless conveys the complexity of Rosen's imagined future. Moreover, he ably juggles a large suspect pool while playing his true cards close to the vest; a sufficient number of (occasionally heartbreaking) wrinkles should satisfy even those readers who are not wholly surprised when the culprits are revealed.

Unfortunately, most of the novel's characters are drawn directly from a pool of unimaginative archetypes, contrasting dramatically with the obvious effort that created and calibrated the setting and plot. Characters consistently exchange stale dialogue littered with annoying as-you-know-Bob explanations and confessions that leave little to no room for honest, subtle characterization. Somehow, despite the stilted speech and character descriptions that excessively tell (with very little show), the relationships themselves are reasonably realistic. And even if he doesn't quite succeed in the attempt, I appreciate Rosen's decision to write a novel revolving around female characters. Women appear in a variety of roles throughout the book and are, happily, on equal footing with their male counterparts.

The book, then, is saved by the vividness of its vision of flooded Manhattan, where the few remaining inhabitants live in the upper floors of the tallest skyscrapers and travel along a treacherous network of precarious bridges. This imagined future is nothing if not thorough, and Rosen carefully (but consistently) reveals subtle and major truths about this new world, from everyday practicalities to the parallel development of now-isolated New York and the ultra-religious mainland (which now begins around Chicago). Rosen seamlessly integrates setting and story, forcing the issue only with his exaggerated view of mainland politics; rarely relevant to the plot, the strength of his vitriol says more about his own opinions than it does about those of the mainland. As he often does when describing his characters or writing dialogue, Rosen tends to hit his satirical points a bit too blatantly for them to function as meaningful criticism.

Still, Depth is a satisfying book, even if its author could do more to fully explore the hidden themes that seem to float just beneath its surface. Rosen clearly demonstrates his devotion to clever and thorough worldbuilding, and the setting is surely rich enough to support a range of equally interesting stories. This endlessly compelling backdrop ultimately outweighs the heavy-handed moralizing and awkward characterization that cause the plot to limp along at times. For a book emerging from a genre blender, Depth is remarkably readable, combining some of the best elements of detective and science fiction to create something new and enjoyable despite some obvious flaws.

Grade: B+

Book 41: The Devil's Detective

The Devil's Detective

Simon Kurt Unsworth

I have always found the idea of stories set in Hell to be interesting, and the location certainly offers a number of possibilities for writers who dare to venture into its depths. By combining this setting with an old-fashioned mystery plot and an extremely dark, bone-dry sense of humor, Simon Kurt Unsworth made it difficult for me to resist The Devil's Detective. His vision of Hell- a vividly imagined bureaucracy several evolutions away from its roots as the fire-and-brimstone torture pit of legend- is utterly captivating and full of the hopelessness, arbitrary regulations, and inherent unfairness that seem to govern many modern lives (and, crucially, many modern nightmares). There is searing, poignant cruelty in the governing demons' decision to allow a diplomatic delegation of Heaven's angels to arbitrarily liberate a few lucky souls; for many readers, this cruelty may well resonate in ways that the book's exaggerated scenes of gruesome guts and gore do not. Moreover, Unsworth populates his hellscape with humans who have no idea why they ended up there in the first place (a special kind of torment indeed) and a range of demons who have free reign to torment them. He rarely wastes an opportunity to remind readers that Hell is, at its core, a place of eternal torment, regardless of how well its human denizens have seemed to adjust to a new sense of tortured normalcy.

That said, the narrative nuts and bolts are not always utilized as effectively as the setting. The protagonist, the aptly-named Fool, is often so clueless that it becomes nearly impossible to sympathize with him, even though it is obvious from early on that he is a mere pawn in Hell's greater machinations. This tension manifests itself most directly in a pivotal clue that very clearly identifies the criminal culprit far earlier than Fool gets around to doing so; the resulting irony, however, is the frustrating kind, and it is nearly excruciating to wait for Fool to catch up. While I appreciate other demonstrations of Unsworth's finely tuned sense of irony (his main character is, after all, a detective who must investigate criminality in a place where it is encouraged and will never go punished), he may wander too far into the land of futility. In fact, he raises the stakes only at the very end of the novel, providing an inadequate payoff even if the murderer is duly identified. It's not all bad: the chase scenes are terrific and the violence is about as gruesome as it gets, occasionally becoming too much for me (even though, in hindsight, I probably should have expected it in a story set in a dreadfully realistic version of Hell). The characterization and overall plot, however, leave a bit to be desired.

Happily, these flaws do not prevent the book from having a shockingly appropriate ending, despite a reduced emotional impact. The various criminal threads are wrapped up as neatly as you would expect in a traditional detective story, and the secret is kept long (and well) enough to lend an air of intrigue for much of the book, even if Fool's blundering and the transparent narrative devices employed to keep him on the path often make for a rocky road. But the ending, a brutal twist that is wholly appropriate yet strangely unpredictable, is so brilliant, in its way, that it almost mitigates all of the book's other problems. I certainly expected a different conclusion and was pleasantly surprised to find that Unsworth chose a different ending, one that more closely fits the sense of futility that he so deliberately (and effectively) crafts throughout the novel. The Devil's Detective may not fully succeed as a detective story, but its vision of Hell is worth exploring for those interested in a surprisingly philosophical take on the subject.

Grade: B

Book 34: The Girl on the Train

The Girl on the Train

Paula Hawkins

For what are probably decent reasons, given some of the recent prospects, I often find myself hesitant to read the it book of any particular moment. When The Girl on the Train kept relentlessly popping upon my radar, however, I finally checked out a summary; this convinced me to cast aside my doubts and read the book as a thriller, if not exactly as a blockbuster publishing sensation. I was surprised (but no less impressed) by Hawkins's mastery of the form, from her succession of compelling narrators- each less reliable than the last- to the consistent suspense that kept me eagerly reading from start to finish. Despite choosing a fairly predictable crime and criminal, she entangles her characters and readers alike in a dense thicket of red herrings and false leads, to the point where one feels that almost any character, however minor, could convincingly turn out to be the culprit (or, at the very least, complicit). The numerous false leads and partial clues would be maddening in less skilled hands, but Hawkins possesses an uncanny ability to become utterly absorbed in her characters' minds, to the point where the book is as much a series of complex character studies as it is a mystery or a thriller.

Though I am always a bit skeptical of books that rely on unreliable narrators (casting aside the obvious postmodern counterclaim that no narrative viewpoint is ever truly objective, either from the author or within the context of the story), I think it's reasonable to claim that The Girl on the Train provides a classic case study for the creation and effective deployment of these types of narrators. Main protagonist Rachel's instability and penchant for lying to herself (and readers alike) contribute to the novel's permeating air of suspicion and suspense, while driving and interfering with the plot. Her growing panic is often palpable to the point of being transferred to the reader, no matter how irrational, frustrating, and utterly realistic her alcohol-addled inferences and decisions become; its ever-present effect on her judgment, even in absentia, provides a compelling portrait of the destructive power of alcoholism, trading heavily on a brand of dramatic irony that heightens the suspense.

Hawkins provides clues only haphazardly, revealing background information at a deliberate pace that suits the characters and the story. As contrived as the narration may seem, in practice it is essential to the book's tone and, indeed, its success. Alternate narrators jump in at appropriate points, providing necessary alternate perspectives that enhance and confuse the reader's understanding, as necessary; most importantly, each stands out as distinct, playing against the others and forcing the reader to confront and challenge all previous assumptions. When combined with the chilling immediacy of the present tense, the effect is, at times, stunning.

While Hawkins may not surprise seasoned genre veterans with the book's resolution and, indeed, some of its more crucial plot points along the way, the premise is remarkably original, rife with opportunities that the author does not hesitate to take advantage of. That she manages to pose and explore deep philosophical questions about our relationships to others, and our propensity for erecting little fictions as our own personal scaffolding (who, after all, has not wondered, in passing, about the lives of those we encounter only at a glance?). Her authorial sensibilities and disposition are remarkably literary, and the novel is as well-written as its voice is well-conceived and well-executed, with a structure that not only fits but also enhances its story, a complete project and in sum, a remarkable achievement. I finished the book eager to read it again, feeling that foreknowledge would only enhance my experience of the book in future encounters. Surprisingly ambitious for a book of its kind and for its sudden ubiquity, The Girl on the Train proves itself to be a specimen of that all-too-rare species, a literary blockbuster that ultimately deserves all of the positive attention that it has garnered.

Grade: A

Book 33: The Best American Mystery Stories 2014

The Best American Mystery Stories 2014

Edited by Laura Lippman

Given its consistent high quality, it's almost easy to forget just how good the stories in the annual Best American volumes actually are, even when their relative quality dips for a year or two. Though the 2014 iteration of The Best American Mystery Stories has its fair share of disappointments, including a general sense of unevenness and a potentially poignant absence of actual mystery stories, it does offer a solid selection of excellent crime-centric fiction. The collection's most striking feature, perhaps, is its aforementioned lack of procedurals and, with them, tales that rely on the procurement and decoding of clues, red herrings, and tidy solutions. Even the closest example, Nancy Pauline Simpson's "Festered Wounds", is more of a period piece with a gotcha ending than a proper narrative of detection. Like the other stories in this volume, it is concerned more with philosophical explorations of the myriad causes and effects of crime and criminality than with the particulars of a given event.

This is not, however, to say that these stories do not traffic in suspense, twists, or other traditional genre staples. Joseph Heller's "Almost Like Christmas" and Patricia Engel's "Aida" effectively establish and exquisitely exploit dramatic tension with nearly every word; similarly, Jim Allyn's "Princess Anne" provides a twist ending that is surprising and inevitable in equal measure. Charlaine Harris's "Small Kingdoms", a fun thriller with a wicked sense of ironic, dry humor, may be the collection's most pleasant surprise, coming as it does from an author associated heavily with quite another topic indeed. Most of the contributors do pay tribute, however subtle or unspoken, to the tropes and tricks of more traditional mysteries; these allusions are rendered in different shades of subtlety to varying degrees of success. Likewise, the lofty literary ambitions that are on full display in nearly every story are about as hit-and-miss as they are in less genre-inclined environments. While some authors are able to harness the raw power and indescribable beauty of a perfectly selected turn of phrase, others spend too much time mired in a search for meaning and theme and thus pay too little attention to the intricate details of characterization and plot that ultimately determine the success or failure of any given story- mystery or not. I often found myself craving more action- a criticism that would absolutely apply if I were merely expecting good stories without any preconceived expectations of content.

As refreshing as it is to see an anthology that rewards authors for exploring the literary possibilities of genre fiction, it may be a bit of a stretch to present this collection as a group of excellent mystery stories; rather, it collects excellent stories that deal, however tangentially, with crime. The distinction may seem trivial, but as this series comes ever closer to its parent it may prove to be a distinction well worth considering. Nonetheless, it is encouraging to note that, though they may not be the types of tales expected of such a volume, many of these stories could easily go toe-to-toe with other fiction, in any genre, for sheer quality; despite my qualms about the title's (in)accuracy, the fact that the distinction between the best short fiction and the best short mystery fiction grows increasingly ambiguous every year is, to my mind, a positive development that I hope to see resonate across other oft-maligned literary niches. Insofar as it does contain a selection of stories that revolve around crime and criminality, The Best American Mystery Stories 2014 is a satisfying book, though it may not quite deliver on the promise of its title in conventional ways.

Grade: B+

Book 24: Chain of Events

Chain of Events

Fredrik T. Olsson

Everything about this book's jacket, from the plot description on the inside flap to the brief character blurbs on the back cover, says generic thriller, with a hint of science fiction thrown in for good measure. This is, more or less, what the book delivers, hitting all of the necessary bullet points to provide a somewhat predictable, yet mostly satisfying, experience. Olsson kicks off his high stakes, pan-European plot with a kidnapping and ably juggles several plot lines and viewpoints, focusing in turn on abducted cryptographer William Sandberg, his captors and the mysterious high-level organization they work for, his ex-wife (who is, naturally, an intrepid journalist determined to uncover the truth about his disappearance) and her intern sidekick, and a Dutch professor whose own girlfriend mysteriously vanished in similar circumstances. Some of the villains' asides feel misplaced, and Olsson never dives deeply enough into their psyches to really probe the delicate moral calculations that influence their previous and present actions. I'm inclined to praise Olsson for at least making an attempt to probe the complex morality of their choices- and for allowing the reader to glimpse the knowns, unknowns, and terrifyingly high stakes from their points of view- but the unconvincing result betrays the author's reluctance to assign blame in circumstances that seem to warrant it. The antagonist organization may not be filled with stock villains, which is in itself a welcome change of pace, but its perspective is rendered in black and white whether or not Olsson believes he works in shades of gray.

This is a bit of a shame, as the plot likewise begs- and even explores- some Very Big Questions about the nature of mankind's place in the universe and free will, for starters. This offers readers a surprisingly philosophical change of pace from the typical thriller, but its twists don't capitalize on even a fraction of their (considerable) potential. And while I do sympathize with Olsson's decision to leave his biggest question unanswered, as any attempted solutions would have almost certainly derailed the whole thing entirely, I couldn't help but feel a little cheated by his resolution of the plot's most pressing problem, plausible though it may be. This and other quality control issues arise not only from the book's reliance on the manufactured coincidences that drive the genre (forgivable enough, in context) but also from its halfhearted attempts to characterize the ostensibly minor viewpoint characters whose inner turmoil gradually becomes the hinge on which the entire book rotates. In these and other ways, Olsson asks the reader to exert a degree of philosophical effort that his book doesn't fully support and thus cannot fully reward.

It is to the author's credit that the book is successful, despite the fact that it ultimately falls short of the high standards it sets for itself. Olsson (through English translator Dominic Hinde) relies on the kind of straightforward, direct prose that drives the reader forward, even if his constant section- and chapter-ending mini-cliffhangers and foreshadowings become tiresome and worn in short order. He juggles the various science fiction elements convincingly, and his pandemic disease is just as terrifying and convincing as its many cousins. The multiple points of view enhance the tension more often than they distract from it, and the plot moves along at a solid pace throughout its many twists and turns, both seen and unforeseen. While I wish that Olsson had done a bit more to actually explore, or at least invite his readers to seriously contemplate, the philosophical conundrums he poses, the book clicks at a fundamental level and entertains, even if it aspires to more. Chain of Events is a capable thriller that provides sufficient bang for the buck despite some clumsy moments and wasted opportunities for greater depth.

Grade: B+

Book 7: The Best American Mystery Stories of the 19th Century

The Best American Mystery Stories of the 19th Century

Edited by Otto Penzler

With much of the 20th century now covered by a number of his mystery anthologies, editor extraordinaire Otto Penzler has recently turned his attention to the century that spawned the genre as we know it today. His introductions indicate that the collection is meant to introduce readers to the wide range of crime stories that were published throughout the 1800s, meaning that the stories do vary somewhat according to various measures of quality, but they run a surprising gamut from the overly moralizing products one expects of the early decades to the standard (but always pleasant) Holmesian detective stories and darkly ambiguous morality plays. The stories offering straightforward narratives of crimes and the resulting punishments do form the majority, but those that deviate from the script stand out more sharply because of it. Even the more formulaic stories can linger past their final pages, and the most basic among them often provide useful context for the others, if nothing else. Penzler may not have selected the best stories, per se, but his individual story introductions make it clear that the books represents his honest attempt to include the most significant works of short crime fiction from the era in which it came into its own. I am hardly an authority on either the genre or the time period, but as a casual observer I thought that the collection had a nice variety and balance: it was a pleasant- and welcome!- surprise not to read 30-odd variations on the exact same theme.

The book's chronological arrangement scheme, based on each story's earliest publication date, is both the obvious and, I believe, the correct choice. The exceptions- two "riddle stories" whose sequels are reprinted with the originals in this volume and Poe's two stronger Dupin stories- make sense, and the 200-page gap between the two (wholly unrelated) Mark Twain tales is forgivable by their vast differences in tone, theme, and structure. The benefit, of course, is that the reader can appreciate the ongoing development of crime fiction- and, indeed, fiction and language at large- throughout the years, sensing the patterns of influence and echoes that resonate throughout the collection. According to his introductory statements, Penzler deliberately included examples of less accomplished (but nonetheless popular) series like the Allan Pinkerton or Nicholas Carter stories, as well as the first known examples of such important tropes as the detective, ballistic evidence, thumbprint evidence, and the serial criminal. What the collection may therefore lack in overall quality is thus compensated by the overall narrative that emerges. Even when the stories do tend toward the formulaic, there is usually some compelling element to draw demanding and less discerning reader alike, often offering welcome insight into everyday life that cannot be found elsewhere in contemporaneous fiction and/or nonfiction. And while most stories take a predictable line toward morality, gender roles, and general cultural norms and taboos, some are shockingly dark- for their own or any other era. The Best American Mystery Stories of the 19th Century may be a slight misnomer, but it presents a pleasant variety of crime fiction that functions as a worthy introduction to the period and place.

Grade: A

Book 38: Small Plates

Small Plates: Short Fiction

Katherine Hall Page

Though Katherine Hall Page is the author of a long-running mystery series, I decided to pick up Small Plates anyway, figuring that short story mysteries are somewhat difficult to find. I found it to be a remarkably even collection, although my overall feeling was one of disappointment. Most of the stories star her longtime heroine, Faith Sibley Fairchild, and while first-time readers can easily become acquainted with Faith and the other regular cast members who make frequent cameos, Page has a tendency to introduce too many background details into these stories. It's lovely that Faith is such a well-rounded character with a robust history, but too many stories offer unnecessary backstory that is not only distracting but also misleading; the overall effect is not one of solid character development but, rather, of tedious exposition that verges on bragging. Page's tendency to over-explain is on display throughout these stories, which is all the more frustrating because she often abbreviates her treatment of other, more crucial story elements, such as resolutions. Stories such as "Across the Pond", "Hiding Places", and "Sliced" spend too much time building up to the last-minute surprise and far too little exploring the consequences of said twist, often abandoning the narrative just when things get interesting. This becomes a more egregious error when you consider that many of these sudden turns are telegraphed, or at least fairly easy to guess; though they are, as a rule, interesting and appropriate for the story at hand, they hint at greater themes and more intriguing tales that remain unexplored, left to the blank page and the reader's imagination. The exception is "The Proof Is Always in the Pudding", an amusing, if overly clichéd, period piece that offers its solution during a mid-story flashback, only to have our heroine discover the (very same) solution a few pages later, in a way that adds nothing to the story; still, though, its ending- unlike most of the others- is entirely satisfying.

This inconsistency, I believe, highlights Page's central fault: though she has a fantastic knack for creating believable characters and bringing her suburban Boston, midtown Manhattan, and rural Maine settings to immediate, vivid life, she just cannot use subtlety to her advantage. The mundane is explained- often ad nauseum and usually in far more depth than a short story warrants- and the unique is suited only for cameo appearances that quickly lead to more tedium. Too many times I found myself backtracking over poorly constructed, confusing sentences, and the book contains a startling number of simple errors, misplaced words, and missing commas that an astute editor could easily fix. The writing is far from lazy- nor is it belabored, for that matter- but it is often marred by an inherent clumsiness, a lack of intuition for what information to include, when to include it, and how to effectively do so, all errors that are magnified greatly in short fiction. Likewise, the dialogue often rang untrue to me, with characters explaining things to each other that each surely must have already known and using strangely formal language that yanks the reader right out of the story.

All is not horrible in Small Plates, and I have no doubt that a certain kind of reader would be happy to gloss over some of these faults and appreciate the stories that lie underneath. Page's overly saturated prose does not mar the tactfully paced, appropriately tense, and emotionally effective "The Two Marys" and actually suits "The Would-Be Widower". The latter story is by far the collection's strongest, a darkly funny tale whose final twists resonated perfectly despite the fact that I had mostly predicted them about two paragraphs in. This story, and elements of the others, prove that Page has the imagination and some of the right instincts to write compelling, clever mystery stories; nonetheless, I still feel like she over-thinks her writing, trying too hard to cram everything in and not trusting her stories and characters to speak for themselves. Again, this kind of style can work in lengthier fiction, but short work magnifies the error of every extraneous aside, every misplaced modifier, and every unnecessary bit of information. I really wanted this collection to be fantastic, and I would really like to see Page step a bit more outside of her comfort zone to really explore what happens to her characters after she drops the curtain. As it stands, however, I fear that Small Plates- while showcasing the Page's cleverness, sympathy, and surprisingly dry humor- is a victim of its own prose, comprised of good ideas that get away from the author, strong characters who can't quite become believable enough, and compelling stories that are not allowed to simply breathe, or be, or truly embrace what they are.

Grade: C+

Book 24: The Amazing Harvey

The Amazing Harvey

Don Passman

It is continually amazing to me how authors can invent new ways of working with a standard group of tropes, a process that makes many stories seem familiar while retaining an element of freshness. On some level, The Amazing Harvey is a fairly boilerplate mystery novel, a lawyer-heavy procedural that traces the story of a narrator falsely accused of a crime, down to the twist that brings together some minor details mentioned in passing earlier in the story and conveniently wraps everything up rather neatly. The mystery genre's stereotypes are so sturdy and reliable that the preceding sentence doesn't come close to warranting a spoiler alert (I hope), but this book- this particular procedural among many- is nonetheless a whole lot of fun, mostly because of the unique elements that Passman brings in. The main character (and narrator) is a magician, an inspired choice in a genre that relies so heavily on the keenness of characters' and readers' observations. Who better to determine how the impossible (in this case, very strong scientific evidence linking an innocent man to a crime) is accomplished than someone whose goal in life is to perform similar feats nightly on the Vegas stage? It is obvious that Passman is fond of and reasonably knowledgeable about stage magic (he seamlessly sneaks in references to greats like Houdini and contemporaries like David Copperfield), and telling that he never reveals the secrets behind the big illusions mentioned in the book, though he does refer to some of the well-worn tricks of the trade. Utilizing a  magician also allows Passman to include some silly elements, like an endearing pet bird, and locales like the Magic Castle, which provides a nice backdrop for some otherwise unremarkable scenes.

The Amazing Harvey's greatest asset is, perhaps, Harvey himself, who proves to be a suitably quirky- and capable- narrator. His sarcastic banter and cynical asides make the book enjoyable and set it apart from a slew of similar works: the story's hardly new, the twist is clever but not earth-shattering (though it is, apparently, scientifically plausible), and the supporting cast includes its fair share of stock characters, but I constantly looked forward to returning to Harvey every time I put the book down. He can be a bit thick, to be sure, but he has a hidden cleverness about him; most importantly, he is a convincingly normal guy in a genre strewn with the smartest, toughest, baddest, and best. Though the book consistently has a ring of truth to it, largely because of Harvey's mix of charm and all-too-familiar flaws, Passman does occasionally err on the side of over-inclusion, particularly during an utterly bewildering foray into a completely irrelevant moral controversy that adds nothing to the book or to the national conversation. Likewise, while he should be commended for his attempt to flesh out some of the supporting cast, his efforts sometimes come across as unnecessary padding or, worse, attempts to elicit unwarranted sympathy that could have been earned through more productive methods.

In a way, though, Passman's greatest trick is to weave what seems to be a collection of very small threads into an entire novel. Aside from the error mentioned above, every subplot, slight narrative distraction, and minor character adds in some way to the general tenor of the book, from Harvey's many wry observations to his attorney's fluctuating level of tolerance for them. The main plot alone wouldn't be enough to sustain an entire novel, even one that passes by as quickly and pleasantly as this one, but somehow the story comes together and captivates readers. The book's plausibility is never forced, and events its occasional stock situations seem realistic enough; after all, even the most familiar and worn stereotypes and tropes have to come from somewhere. Thus we have a novel that is seemingly unexceptional yet somehow pleasant, fresh, and a lot of fun. The Amazing Harvey proves that the key to providing good entertainment doesn't lie in having the latest, greatest, most difficult tricks up one's sleeve but, rather, in cultivating and cashing in on the kind of charisma embodied in its eponymous main character.

Grade: A-

Book 23: Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Thomas Sweterlitsch

I'm a sucker for a good apocalypse story, and when I picked up Tomorrow and Tomorrow, knowing that that it hinged on a post-nuclear Pittsburgh, I expected that that's what I was going to get. Instead, I ended up reading a very well conceived blend of cyberpunk and mystery, with a bit of dystopia thrown in for good measure. Though the novel is ultimately driven by a suitably winding plot and effective emotional angst, its core lies in its wonderfully lifelike, fully realized setting, where a constantly connected society accesses an invasive, ad-laden Internet directly through brain and corresponding retinal implants. Other aspects of this near-future society include the aforementioned bombed-out Pittsburgh, an overly cynical (and cynically overplayed) extrapolation of reality TV trends, and a characteristically dystopian political structure. Yet despite the familiarity of these near-future tropes, Thomas Sweterlitsch somehow manages to create a meaningful society that reflects and expands upon our own while enhancing the story at hand and allowing for natural character development. Hero Dominic's fascination with archived images of pre-bomb Pittsburgh, available to refugees, researchers, and curious outsiders alike, is more than an info dump about the types of technology available in this imagined future (and, likewise, more than a not-so-subtle statement about our own increasing use of surveillance in purely civilian contexts); it exposes a crucial element of his character and allows him to be sympathetic, frustrating, and all-too-familiarly human. One cannot rightfully accuse Sweterlitsch of being a master of subtlety, but Tomorrow and Tomorrow contains enough nuance and fresh ideas to balance its bludgeoned stereotypes.

Even the plot carefully- and successfully- straddles this line. It is at times unclear whether characters (and readers alike) have plunged into a murder mystery, political conspiracy, or techno-thriller, and some seemingly played-out tropes are happily undermined (or at least counteracted) throughout the book. Whether this is intentional or not is up to debate, but what remains is a novel that is enjoyable despite its reliance on a number of well-worn ideas and twists. That said, however, the book does fail to thoroughly engage and/or expand upon many of the ideas within. This isn't a problem of over-saturation; though the book is packed with ideas, they all jive, with the exception of the weird way that irrelevant brands permeate the narrative. They only rarely provide insights that are nonetheless immediately undermined by the relentless, pointless parade of mentions that precede the few relevant points. Likewise, seasoned readers may shrug at yet another book that attempts to exploit a perceived societal descent into increasingly depraved tastes; while this kind of commentary is welcome and certainly not wholly irrelevant, it can be difficult to accept a society that begins to rate the "fuckability" of murder victims as soon as their mutilated bodies are discovered (though Sweterlitsch must be commended for absolutely nailing the word choice on that one). There are other times, however, where yet another overripe trope leads in an unexpected direction, usually without the author beating it to death either in its appearance or in its ultimate change in direction.

Perhaps most disappointing is the book's failure to provide the kind of emotional resonance than it should. This is partially due to uneven plot pacing, where thinly masked foreshadowing and subplots disappear long enough to distract readers but reappear too quickly to be true surprise sleeper elements, and to too-frequent deployment of world-building. While the world of Tomorrow and Tomorrow is rich, it is unclear where certain plot threads are supposed to lead; why, for example, make damaging insinuations about the government without properly following through? While the last thing the genre needs is yet another dystopian book pitting One Normal Guy (or, of late, One Normal, Insecure Teenage Girl) against the Evil Government, the novel's brief, implied appeal to Greater Stakes is, in the end, a disappointing feint dismissed out of hand at the conclusion, which itself is too quick, relies too heavily on implications, and still strangely drawn out. Even more egregiously, the relationship between survivors and those they lost in the bombing- which unquestionably forms the emotional core of the novel and allows it to resonate- becomes almost an afterthought at the end. The effect is to transform a profound novel about the power of loss into yet another thriller that happens to be set in the future.

Thus, Tomorrow and Tomorrow is defined to a large extent by a number of missed opportunities: I firmly believe that there is a truly great novel, perhaps a classic, hiding in here somewhere, though it seems we must settle (for now) for a satisfying book that shows the great promise of its author (who is, it bears mentioning, a first-time novelist). It is often easier to notice and dissect aspects of books that fail, but I feel like this does a bit of a disservice to Sweterlitsch, who by and large manages the complexities of his near-future quite deftly. He manages to effectively unite several genres without adhering too strictly to the expected and without becoming bogged down in any of them, and his characters are as compelling and complex as his setting. There is so much inherent and unassuming promise in this book, which comes tantalizingly close to providing meaningful, transcendent explorations of the depths of loss, love, and forgiveness for the unforgivable, and I eagerly anticipate the author's next foray into fiction. That said, Tomorrow and Tomorrow still falls slightly short of the mark, providing a compelling future setting, compelling characters, and a compelling plot, but failing to fully capitalize on the emotional power that lies somewhere within its core.

Grade: B+

Book 20: Chicago Blues

Chicago Blues

Edited by Libby Fischer Hellmann

Though I will only be calling Chicago home for another week or so, there is something about the city that has drawn me in and captivated me. New York and Los Angeles may be larger, but Chicago has a culture and a sprawling history all its own. Libby Fischer Hellmann may not have taken a drastic logical leap when realizing that the city in its various forms provides a perfect, ready-made backdrop for mystery stories- or when suggesting that this atmosphere is also particularly conducive to blues music- but the resulting volume, Chicago Blues, is a fitting ode to the city's darker moods. The stories themselves are a bit uneven and rarely helped by Hellmann's decision to group them thematically; the editor's heavy hand is most evident, perhaps fittingly, in the first and final sections. Though readers familiar with blues music and Chicago's importance to the genre will feel immediately at home, this opening salvo can easily turn off readers who are less well versed in this aspect of the city's history; the first few stories seem to require an unspoken knowledge and readers cannot be blamed for wondering whether the remainder of the volume will be the same. Similarly, while it is amusing that two authors contributed stories that take place on Lower Wacker Drive, placing them in direct succession at the book's end does a disservice to both. Both Brian Pinkerton's "Lower Wacker Blues" and Barbara D'Amato's "The Lower Wacker Hilton" do an excellent job of evoking the spookiness of their unique shared locale, but they seem to fade into one another despite being entirely different types of stories, leaving the reader unsatisfied and forcing the collection to go out with a disappointing whimper.

Editorial mistakes aside, this is a strong and varied collection that includes both the expected police procedurals and more contemplative stories that use crime and criminality as a jumping-off point rather than a central theme. The more typical stories, most of which are executed well enough to keep readers interested during the act of reading them, are punctuated by a few standout stories that resonate, largely due to excellent finales: Michael A. Black's "Chasing the Blues" brilliantly hides its emotional core in a solemn last line following a series of brash recollections by a long-serving cop; Sam Hill's "The Sin-eater" gradually reveals its true nature to its protagonist and reader at a similar slow-burning pace; and Sam Reaves's mafia-infused "The Test" keeps readers hooked despite (or perhaps because of) its reliance on old mafioso stereotypes. Many of the other stories may be relatively humdrum examples of their particular genre, but that genre begins from a point of strength with its focus on plot, and only one or two of the stories herein are truly bad.

For a collection with few distinguishing characteristics and fewer truly remarkable stories, Chicago Blues is noteworthy for its authors' clear understanding of- and affection for- the city. As natives and/or residents of Chicagoland, they don't limit themselves to the city's more iconic locales, which gives their contributions a kind of gritty credibility. As a recent transplant myself, I was pleased to see successful cameos by the Chicago Cubs, Jack Ruby, and my (marginal) local L stop. The characters, like the city's residents, run the gamut from old-timey syndicate criminals to high-powered executives, and though the plots may feel recycled at times most crime aficionados and casual readers alike should find enough within to sustain their interest. Chicago Blues may not be an exceptionally well-curated collection, but it does offer several welcome glimpses into the city's criminal tendencies.

Grade: B

Book 14: Agents of Treachery

Agents of Treachery

Edited by Otto Penzler

With a sort of hectic work schedule (this is my 16th-straight day at one of my two jobs), I figured that a short story collection would be a wise selection for my next book. I was immediately attracted to Agents of Treachery because of my fondness for spy stories and my present reluctance to get involved with lengthy, ongoing series; I have always enjoyed the few espionage stories that crop up in the Best American Mystery Stories volumes from time to time, and I figured that an entire collection of high stakes escapism would be right up my alley. Happily, I was entirely correct. Though shades of Charles McCarry's "The End of the String" and James Grady's "Destiny City" (both absolutely excellent) were familiar to me because I had read the corresponding Best American volume, I enjoyed being drawn into these worlds again, particularly in the latter story, and found them just as suspenseful as upon first reading. There is, in fact, only one total dud in the book, Lee Child's "Section 7(A) (Operational)," which is filled to the brim throughout until an absolutely awful failed attempt at a gotcha ending- if that's even what it is.

Child's clumsiness is highlighted by those stories that successfully pull off the kind of plot twists and surprise revelations that make the best spy fiction work, even when they're a bit obvious, and many of the stories have pitch-perfect finales that made me want to immediately re-read them. Chief among these are James Finder's "Neighbors," a humorous take on modern paranoia, and "Father's Day," which offers a devastating glimpse of  the War on Terror. Likewise, Olen Steinhauer's "You Know What's Going On is a standout for its parallel narrative structure that proves, yet again, that oft-maligned "genre" fiction deserves far more credit than it gets and that good literature can be innovative, emotionally resonant, and, you know, entertaining. "The Interrogator" is an excellent example of this kind of self-aware fiction, using suspenseful story elements, a familiar genre setting, and a suitably ambiguous ending to form a moral exploration of interrogation methods. Many of the authors use more cloak and less dagger, but there stories are only the better for it, expertly balancing the fun of escapism with the moral ambiguity of the postmodern world. All told, editor Otto Penzler's all-star lineup exceeds all expectations, and Agents of Treachery offers an enchanting variety of spies, settings, and stories sure to please most readers.

Grade: A

Book 13: The Best American Mystery Stories 2012

The Best American Mystery Stories 2012

Edited by Robert Crais

Year in and year out, I'm amazed at the sheer variety offered in these volumes. Though the traditional detective-type stories are few and far between, they are mostly enjoyable, offering unique takes on the genre as writers successfully reinvent the compelling narrative of a man (occasionally a woman) staring down a mystery. More common, however, are the more literary stories that somehow integrate crime, often in varying and unusual ways. The inherent variety will please most readers, though the stories do, of course, vary greatly in quality. Yet guest editor Robert Crais has selected a strong group of stories to represent the year in crime fiction, and The Best American Mystery Stories 2012 is a welcome addition to and continuation of the series.

Grade: A

Book 9: The Second Son

The Second Son

Jonathan Rabb

Set several years after the events of Shadow and Light, The Second Son concludes the Nikolai Hoffner trilogy. Like its predecessors, the book places its hero at the center of Europe's interwar troubles, this time taking place in Nazi-era Germany and revolutionary Spain; like its immediate predecessor, it tries just a bit too hard to shoehorn a plot into a vibrant setting. Hoffner remains a vividly drawn protagonist, affected by his prior adventures and aged not only by the passage of time but also by his sons' diverging political paths: one is enmeshed in revolutionary Barcelona, while the other (thought part Jewish) is entranced by- and close to- the rising Nazi elite. It is this entanglement that provides the novel with its emotional core, and the brutality of Rabb's plot mirrors that of the historical setting as Hoffner's life spirals into chaos (alongside much of Europe). This book is more introspective than the previous Hoffner novels, and as a result Rabb's efforts to integrate his fictional story with actual historical events are a bit less clumsy, though there are quite a few convenient encounters and celebrity cameos that are alternately charming and intrusive. The chronological gap between Shadow and Light and The Second Son also detracts from the novel's raw power; though Hoffner retains a consistent personality, one feels that there's quite a bit left unsaid, which draws the reader out of the narrative and calls attention to the conceit that is always the slightest bit noticeable, despite Rabb's best efforts. All told, however, The Second Son provides a fitting conclusion to the saga of Nikolai Hoffner as the Europe he belonged in thrashes in its death throes.

Grade: B+

Book 2: The Best American Mystery Stories 2011

The Best American Mystery Stories 2011

Edited by Harlan Coben

As series editor Otto Penzler repeatedly says in his introductions to the annual Best American Mystery Stories volumes, the modern mystery genre is hardly limited to Homes-esque detective stories, matter-of-fact police procedurals, and noir. While it is somewhat disappointing that so few of these stories do appear in the 2011 offering, its examples, Loren D. Estelman's "Sometimes a Hyena" and  Max Allan Collins's "A Long Time Dead," the latter a continuation of Mickey Spillane's notes for an unfinished Max Hammer story, are well-chosen and exemplify the strengths of the sub-genre. Readers need not be familiar with the story's pre-existing central characters to appreciate the plot twists and hard-nosed protagonists. Despite the skill behind these tales and S. J. Rozan's "Chin Yong-Yun Takes a Case," a similar story of detection, the bulk of these stories take a different tack, often focusing on the criminals rather than those who catch them. Among these are some of the best stories among an impressively strong and varied group, each with a unique take on crime and criminality that contributes to a holistic understanding of the genre and, perhaps, a more nuanced look at human nature. These stories range from the sympathetic to the damning as readers take an exhilarating peek behind a hitman's shoulder ("The Hitter," Chris F. Holm), learn why a serial rapist-and-murderer is driven to such deeds ("Clean Slate," Lawrence Block), and watch a complex terrorist plot come together ("Destiny City," James Grady).

These are just a few of the most instantly memorable works from a collection that, impossibly, has no duds. As expected, some stories linger longer than others, but the remarkable variation from story-to-story will leave readers hooked, and the collection functions as an introduction to modern mystery fiction as well as an essential grouping for longtime fans. Far from focusing on traditional plot-driven procedurals (not that there's anything wrong with that), guest editor Harlan Coben has pieced together a group of stories that would, for the most part, fit right alongside any "literary fiction" gems the year should produce (though, shamefully, none appear in the book's litfic counterpart). Genre fiction is misunderstood and, quite frankly, goes places that straightforward fiction cannot and often isn't willing to. By carefully examining some of humanity's deepest and darkest impulses, the authors represented in this collection create compelling and relatable stories that should not be ignored by the mainstream. I am far from a connoisseur of mysteries traditional or new, but this collection had me absolutely hooked from the first line (despite Coben's terrific failure of an introduction, in which intended self-effacing comes off as intolerable smugness) to the final gunshot. I am unqualified to say whether The Best American Mystery Stories 2011 collects the year's most admirable works in the genre, but I feel perfectly comfortable recommending each and every one of these stories for readers of all kinds; the collection is simply fantastic, and there is a lot more variety herein than one might presuppose.

Grade: A

Book 36: Shadow and Light

Shadow and Light

Jonathan Rabb

This book, set a few years after the events of Rosa, continues the story of German detective Nikolai Hoffner and, in a way, interwar Germany. This installment takes place in the 1920s and, as its title suggests, uses the burgeoning German film industry as historical decoration. Though the book does a good job of focusing on its main character and his sons, who play an expanded role in this novel, Rabb's eagerness to evoke the era occasionally gets in the way of the narrative. Readers can feel the almost unseemly effects when major historical developments are dropped right into the primary narrative path, and though Rabb has clearly done a significant amount of research the details sometimes feel a bit too convenient. Just as in the previous installment, major historical figures make cameo appearances that feel too unlikely to contribute to a sense of realism, as was likely the author's intention. Likewise, Rabb goes a bit too far overboard at times in pursuit of shock value, and the horrors he depicts (though secondhand) feel a bit sadistic even for a series predicated on murder mysteries. The images do leave a lasting impression and certainly paint the right-wingers in a sufficiently horrifying light, but at times they feel exaggerated, more like props to prove a point than essential parts of the story's fabric. Nonetheless, Rabb's vision of Weimar-era Berlin is captivating, and the central stories compelling enough to maintain the reader's attention. Hoffner himself seems drawn straight from life (though biographical details are occasionally revealed in clumsy information dumps) and, ironically for a fictional character, provides a sense of realism when history seems exaggerated to suit the author's needs. Shadow and Light is far from revelatory, but provides a sufficiently interesting mystery that continues the development of its compelling lead detective in a unique historical setting.

Grade: B

Book 24: Rosa

Rosa

Jonathan Rabb

What do you get when you take a  somewhat disgruntled, experienced police detective, a volatile Central European country teetering on the brink of political disaster, a brutal crime, and hints of corruption? Jonathan Rabb's novel Rosa indeed has the classic elements of a noir mystery, and successfully weaves them into the tapestry of pre-Weimar Germany. Detective Nikolai Hoffner is at once unique and standard, a no-nonsense policeman with his own deep character faults who can nonetheless be counted upon to do the right thing. Though he alternately comes across as a cardboard cutout and as a fully fleshed character, he is sufficiently interesting and complex to continually drive the story forward. So it is with the plot, divided into two main halves but placed within the scope of plausible- if slightly unlikely- historical fact. The story combines glimpses into Hoffner's personal life and past with a cascade of discoveries that reveal a much more complex case than either the main characters or the reader initially assumed. Though there is little that is surprising within Rosa, it boasts a strong cast of supporting characters and a nice mid-story plot twist that adds depth and historical interest along with a hint of originality that sets this book apart. Though Rabb easily falls into the historical cameo trap, involving unsavory characters from the future Nazi Germany as well as- somewhat less plausibly- Albert Einstein, he knows his stuff, and convincingly portrays postwar Berlin with the assistance of a strong supporting cast. While there is nothing to particularly recommend the prose, Rabb is efficient and effective at revealing details and maintaining suspense without wielding too much authorial dictatorship. Regardless, the book is tightly plotted, and Rabb should be commended for refusing to allow too many gotcha moments- everything fits together neatly, but appropriately, without undue editorial wrangling. Sure, the scope gets a bit out of hand at times, but can one really erase knowledge of Germany's near future? The book manages to posit an alternate history without vitally altering anything of paramount significance, and gains some thematic depth and historical resonance in the process.  Ultimately, Rosa hits all the right notes and creates a convincing scene and story, satisfactory to mystery fans and historians alike.

Grade: A-

Book 22: Fables: Legends in Exile

Fables: Legends in Exile

Bill Willingham and Lan Medina

Fairy tale re-tellings have been a popular genre recently, but Bill Willingham's Fables graphic novel series appeared slightly ahead of the curve, both in time and in skill. It is obvious from the beginning that Willingham has constructed a fictional universe that extends far beyond this story, a functional detective narrative whose novelty lies far more in character than in plot. Though the plot, such as it is, is fairly straightforward, it is a brilliant way to introduce a wide cast of characters who will presumably take center stage in following installments. As a typical detective story, it is well constructed with plenty of twists to hold readers' interests, a functional and firmly defined narrative in which to place and develop unusual elements. Also wise is Willingham's choice to put familiar characters Snow White and the Big Bad Wolf on center stage, allowing readers to glide into this parallel reality with relative ease, while allowing the authors to highlight their chosen deviations from the traditional stories. Character development is key in Fables, and it is truly delightful to tag along with Willingham's modern, realistic re-imagining of these familiar faces, of whom Prince Charming, it must be said, is the pinnacle. Recasting the prince as a vapid and self-serving frat-boy type is fitting and insightful and inserts an element of humor into an otherwise fairly grim (ha) murder story. What is remarkable about Fables is not any of its singular elements- the dialogue, plotting, and art are all on the functional side- but the way in which they combine to create an enticing and believable world, populated with characters that are at once familiar, exotic, and new. The art is sufficient, done in a more traditional comic book style that suits the narrative well enough to stay out of the way and allow for efficient storytelling. The collected volume is also accompanied by a short story from Willingham, and though his prose leaves much to be desired, the story fleshes out some of the backstory without clogging the main narrative line, which contains just enough history to entice and explain but not enough to overwhelm the current plot. Fables: Legends in Exile is a great debut, a comic that presupposes only a basic introduction to western culture and fairy tales and one that shows remarkable restraint in creating a novel narrative fabric that will entice readers to read subsequent volumes.

Grade: A