Like so many other talented suspense writers—Ross Macdonald, Dick Francis, P. D. James, Ruth Rendell—Leonard has won mainstream acclaim late in his career, with some of his earlier work (e.g., Unknown Man No. 89, 1977) outclassing his recent, much-touted output. And this new serving of downbeat, dark-humored cops-and-killers, though solidly entertaining in its grim San Juan/Atlantic City action, is less distinctive and less involving than several of Leonard's Detroit-based crimescapes. The impassive hero here is Miami cop Vincent Mora (think of East-wood or Bronson with a beard), a 40-ish widower who's recovering from a double-trauma—getting shot, killing a suspect—down in the Puerto Rican sun. Soon, however, Vincent learns that he's being trailed by ex-con Teddy Magyk, a vengeful psycho-rapist determined to destroy his old cop-nemesis. (A little rough-stuff seems to scare Teddy off.) Then, despite Vincent's best meddling efforts, his new San Juan girlfriend Iris—a tough, starry-eyed quasi-hooker—takes off to Atlantic City to become a casino "hostess" at Spade's Boardwalk. And when Iris promptly turns up dead in an A.C. rooftop fall (?), Vincent finds himself sleuthing (unofficially) in the glitzy casino milieu—while psycho Teddy (unbeknownst to Vincent) is also active in the neighborhood. Vincent falls for Iris' roommate, lounge-singer Linda; he connects Iris' death to shady casino goings-on involving the mob, money-laundering, a hoard of stolen rackets cash; he pretends to be a mob hit-man, pretends to be a high-roller, gets briefly seduced by the casino-owner's smart, sexy wife (with a few French bedroom-farce touches). But it's only after a matronly gambler is raped and murdered that Vincent begins to connect some of the Atlantic City mayhem to psycho Teddy. And the novel's final chapters follow Vincent's escalating duels with the elusive, nervy psychopath, who finally dies in a Puerto Rico showdown. . . after all attempts at legal punishment prove futile. An uninspired basic scenario—but Leonard enriches the proceedings with endearing/appalling supporting players, the vividly glitzy/sleazy casino milieu, and sharp dialogue that ranges from ugly-real to off-the-wall whimsical.
Pub Date: Feb. 28, 1984
ISBN: 0062121588
Page Count: 404
Publisher: Arbor House
Review Posted Online: April 4, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1984
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
Amateurish, with a twist savvy readers will see coming from a mile away.
A woman accused of shooting her husband six times in the face refuses to speak.
"Alicia Berenson was thirty-three years old when she killed her husband. They had been married for seven years. They were both artists—Alicia was a painter, and Gabriel was a well-known fashion photographer." Michaelides' debut is narrated in the voice of psychotherapist Theo Faber, who applies for a job at the institution where Alicia is incarcerated because he's fascinated with her case and believes he will be able to get her to talk. The narration of the increasingly unrealistic events that follow is interwoven with excerpts from Alicia's diary. Ah, yes, the old interwoven diary trick. When you read Alicia's diary you'll conclude the woman could well have been a novelist instead of a painter because it contains page after page of detailed dialogue, scenes, and conversations quite unlike those in any journal you've ever seen. " 'What's the matter?' 'I can't talk about it on the phone, I need to see you.' 'It's just—I'm not sure I can make it up to Cambridge at the minute.' 'I'll come to you. This afternoon. Okay?' Something in Paul's voice made me agree without thinking about it. He sounded desperate. 'Okay. Are you sure you can't tell me about it now?' 'I'll see you later.' Paul hung up." Wouldn't all this appear in a diary as "Paul wouldn't tell me what was wrong"? An even more improbable entry is the one that pins the tail on the killer. While much of the book is clumsy, contrived, and silly, it is while reading passages of the diary that one may actually find oneself laughing out loud.
Amateurish, with a twist savvy readers will see coming from a mile away.Pub Date: Feb. 5, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-250-30169-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Celadon Books
Review Posted Online: Nov. 3, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2018
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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