The Girl with The Brown Fur by Stacey Levine

Originally published in Gently Read Literature, November 2011 issue, with the title "Missed by Casual Contemplation"

“There’s such a terrible tension that exists between something and nothing.”

Such are the words of a tired nurse towards the end of one of Levine’s short stories, and it becomes a theme throughout this collection. All of the tales are unique, and not a single one complies with the reader’s predictions. Rather than being confusing, though, it illustrates the complexities that are present in everyone’s life.

The stories show a mastery of depiction—scenes are created that are completely unknown and sometimes impossible. So how is it that they feel so real? Because amidst the inconceivable lie basic truths. For example, in “Alia,” a young woman desperately wants a family. Yet her method of assimilating into the life of a friend goes awry. As her own personality submerges, she recognizes, “I was younger than I had been, I felt much older; and in the future, we would all become unimaginably older, diminished…”

“And You Are?” questions the identity of a time-obsessed woman who finds that merely going to the movies once a week makes life exciting. Her small-town life and her edge of hostility belie her words, as she reveals an unexpected insight (and possibly an explanation):

“The good side of life was simply better…though there were sides to life that were neither good nor bad; there were sides that were both, too; there was yet another side that no one could seem to express, and though there should have been no further sides to life, unfortunately, there were.”


It’s these other sides that repeatedly surface, at times just as a glimmer, in these tales. Perhaps Levine has discovered that addressing these realities through the language of make-believe will make them easier to accept, or grasp. Maybe they’re not even meant to be accepted, but rather to act as a launching point into thinking deeper than we may find comfortable.

In “Sausage,” an improbable factory of upside-down bicycles makes sausage by enslaved workers. At the point of escape from the horror, one worker’s experience translates into a slanted commentary on the pharmaceutical industry.

“Let’s now look at all the shame you’ve ever endured and collect it together as in a little half-shell, so you can feel it all at once, along with the fallacies to which you cling, and then, perhaps, you will see yourself more clearly.


‘We will learn why you chose to take on the guilt of another, and why you wanted to be more free, and tried, sometimes, to escape into sleep, with the white tablets you so cunningly ground into powder…’”

As a whole, the collection of tales feels like an exploration of the disparity between the inner self and outer actions that frighten us. Does anyone really want to admit that their identity, if replicated down to the DNA structure, may not appear the same? This can’t be read quickly and set aside; there’s another dimension that I fear might be missed by the casual contemplation.

Special thanks to Ted Pelton of Starcherone for the Advance Review Copy.

Thanks to Daniel Casey, editor of Gently Read Literature, for the publication of the original review.

Voices by Arnaldur Indridason

As a treat, I bought several books in the Reykjavik series by Indridason, and this week I'm goofing off with Icelandic crime.  This is an older title...Hypothermia is the most recent (I think), and one I reviewed last year. 

In Voices, the ensemble cast of three detectives is great--they all seem fully developed and competent, complementing each other's styles.  As far as the story goes, this was intriguing and fast-paced, but not particularly unusual in terms of plot.  In fact, I can't even say much about the outline without giving anything away.  Maybe I'm jaded, but I kind of knew where this was headed much earlier than any of the detectives did.  I was sort of surprised at the naivete they had that prevented them from solving the puzzle sooner.  That said, it was still an entertaining read.

Two complaints:  Eva Lind is the troubled daughter of the main detective, who is troubled in his own way after losing his brother decades before.  The interaction between the father and daughter is frustrating.  She seems incredibly whiny and childish, and he's far too patient to be for real.  While he seems to dwell on his loss for much of the book, it doesn't feel invasive.  While her self-pity is just obnoxious and less sympathetic.  I'd have loved to have seen less of her. 

The other thing is that for some reason, Iceland's unique location doesn't appear in much of the settings;  instead, Icelandic motif sweaters get a lot of mentions but not the actual geography/geology/history of the region.  Sure, almost all of the scenes take place in a hotel, where artifice reigns, yet still, I wished for more of the scenery...the George Gudni landscape that is both awe-inspiring and frightening at the same time.  Sadly, Gudni passed away recently in June, which actually inspired my seeking out this series of novels. 

 
Two sublime Gudni photos...

The Broken Blue Line by Connie Dial

It's going to be difficult to avoid sounding over-enthusiastic for this novel.  Because seriously, it's very good.  I haven't read this tight of a police procedural in awhile...years actually.  Several factors make it stand out-hopefully I can articulate these enough to explain why this is a great book.  So what's it about? A group of experienced detectives work with the Internal Affairs department to stop a crime spree organized by several lower-ranking officers. These have created a gang that stockpiles weapons and stolen goods and seems unhesitant to use violence against innocent civilians. Los Angeles is a complicated setting for such an investigation, as the freeway traffic and distance between key

locations serves to protect the gang and allow them an easy way to disappear into the city.

The Broken Blue Line has a complex plot with plenty of twists, yet the characters are built well enough to make it interesting.  Many novels, especially a crime novel, sacrifice plot for character buildup or vice versa.  This had an interesting balance of 'regular' policemen solving a crime: no hot shot renegade appears to solve the multi-faceted drama, but rather ordinary and somewhat average guys work together.  Of course, there's the usual friction between top level brass and the detectives in the street, but the author doesn't let that sidetrack the plot.  Best of all, even towards the end, when I usually can guess what will happen, I was totally surprised.  This is because the author, Connie Dial, doesn't go overboard in foreshadowing events, so the tension is propelled forward in a concise, riveting pace that doesn't give anything away.

Another factor is that while the story takes place in Los Angeles, there is no celebrity angle, nor reference to the cliche LA stories that appear in movies or books (no Russian mafia, no Japanese Yakuza, or Chinese triad).  The story is far more realistic and believable, most likely because the author is a former LAPD commanding officer with 27 years on the job.  The level of detail and protocol is precise, and I appreciated more about the details of the officers level of dedication.

I think I especially liked it because, unlike many female authors who write crime, she doesn't make the story all about one fashionably dressed female character who butts heads with her ignorant male coworkers.  In fact, for the most part, the main characters are all male.  Three women, significant to the plot appear, but none are typical.  The Patricia Cornwell books annoyed me, years ago, because it was always her main female character in conflict with her male colleagues in every single book.  The Sue Grafton novels feature some interesting plots, but the wise-guy female character seems to depend more on wit and cutesy tricks than actual detective work.  Then there are the ones who depend on layering their narrative with name-brands and emotional baggage that they feel are essential to make a believable female character.  Lastly, there are some who are incredibly vulgar and/or gory, creating a book more known for being explicit than for a great plot.  This story takes the male/female conflict out of the picture and makes it a complete non-issue.

It's a fast-paced read, with a satisfying conclusion.  There were a few elements that distracted me: one minor and probably petty observation was that most of the characters have names of six letters and are very bland sort of names.  I kept getting Connor and Cullen mixed up, and other similarities in the names of characters was a minor annoyance.  At one point, there seemed to be a minor plot discrepancy that stopped me in my tracks going, huh?  Lastly, the lead detective, Mike Turner, while wise on the job is especially knuckleheaded in his relationship with his ex-girlfriend who plays mind games endlessly.  But in all, I enjoyed the little bit of escape it provided, and not having to dive into a bunch of gore was refreshing.  It'd be a great movie!

Special thanks to the Permanent Press for the Advance Review Bound Galley.