A crackerjack read from an author who seems to have taken Elmore Leonard’s rules of writing to heart.


Two getaway drivers from different crews are thrown together when a bank heist goes wrong in Savage’s debut novel.

Richie Glass of Beverly Hills, California, has squandered his money and privilege and is now a “drinker, gambler, antiauthoritarian, [and] smart-ass” in debt to the wrong people. Now, he works as a getaway driver for “a bunch of shit-for-brains bank robbers,” as he puts it. Calvin Russell is a professional carjacker and thief, much to the displeasure of his wife, who’s afraid that the criminal life will affect their young son. The only thing Richie and Calvin have in common—besides being in desperate straits—is that they’re both separately waiting outside the American Federal Bank while, inside, two crews are bent on robbing the place. Eight robbers wind up dead, leaving Richie and Calvin at large, and the people pulling the strings on the labyrinthine plan very much want what they have—which includes not only cash, but also a box of gold and silver coins. As the two drivers get themselves in deeper, their initially antagonistic relationship transforms into something like a friendship, and they’re forced to rely on each other when things break very bad. Overall, Savage delivers a credible and entertaining crime novel. Richie and Calvin’s relationship is sometimes reminiscent of that of hit men Vincent and Jules from the 1994 film Pulp Fiction, particularly in a dialogue exchange following a seemingly miraculous escape from certain death. The author has a lean, spare prose style: “Luke Stanton, the middle aged CPA who met a gangster in a bar and thought he could jump ahead by going into business with him, fell to the floor and moaned.” Although the plot about two screw-ups who “only made bad choices” certainly isn’t novel, Savage offers fresh wrinkles on noir tropes and has a welcome, mordant sense of humor. For example, at one point, a character comments to Richie and Calvin about how well an operation is going: “Yeah, well, you haven’t been hanging out with us very long,” Richie responds. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

A crackerjack read from an author who seems to have taken Elmore Leonard’s rules of writing to heart.

Pub Date: N/A


Page Count: 311

Publisher: Kurti Publishing

Review Posted Online: July 16, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2019

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Forget about solving all these crimes; the signal triumph here is (spoiler) the heroine’s survival.


Another sweltering month in Charlotte, another boatload of mysteries past and present for overworked, overstressed forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan.

A week after the night she chases but fails to catch a mysterious trespasser outside her town house, some unknown party texts Tempe four images of a corpse that looks as if it’s been chewed by wild hogs, because it has been. Showboat Medical Examiner Margot Heavner makes it clear that, breaking with her department’s earlier practice (The Bone Collection, 2016, etc.), she has no intention of calling in Tempe as a consultant and promptly identifies the faceless body herself as that of a young Asian man. Nettled by several errors in Heavner’s analysis, and even more by her willingness to share the gory details at a press conference, Tempe launches her own investigation, which is not so much off the books as against the books. Heavner isn’t exactly mollified when Tempe, aided by retired police detective Skinny Slidell and a host of experts, puts a name to the dead man. But the hints of other crimes Tempe’s identification uncovers, particularly crimes against children, spur her on to redouble her efforts despite the new M.E.’s splenetic outbursts. Before he died, it seems, Felix Vodyanov was linked to a passenger ferry that sank in 1994, an even earlier U.S. government project to research biological agents that could control human behavior, the hinky spiritual retreat Sparkling Waters, the dark web site DeepUnder, and the disappearances of at least four schoolchildren, two of whom have also turned up dead. And why on earth was Vodyanov carrying Tempe’s own contact information? The mounting evidence of ever more and ever worse skulduggery will pull Tempe deeper and deeper down what even she sees as a rabbit hole before she confronts a ringleader implicated in “Drugs. Fraud. Breaking and entering. Arson. Kidnapping. How does attempted murder sound?”

Forget about solving all these crimes; the signal triumph here is (spoiler) the heroine’s survival.

Pub Date: March 17, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-9821-3888-2

Page Count: 352

Publisher: Scribner

Review Posted Online: Dec. 23, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2020

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Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

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A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.

“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.

Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

Pub Date: April 10, 2018

ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7

Page Count: 400

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: Jan. 23, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018

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