Review of THE GOLDEN KEY

TITLE: The Golden Key

AUTHOR: Marian Womack

320 pages, Titan Books, ISBN 9781789093245 (softcover)

DESCRIPTION: (from the back cover): London, 1901. After the death of Queen Victoria the city heaves with the uncanny and the eerie. Séances are held and the dead are called upon from darker realms.
Samuel Moncrieff, recovering from a recent tragedy of his own, meets Helena Walton-Cisneros, one of London’s most reputed mediums. But Helena is not what she seems and she’s enlisted by the elusive Lady Matthews to solve a twenty-year-old mystery: the disappearance of her three stepdaughters who vanished without a trace on the Norfolk Fens. But the Fens are a liminal land, where folk tales and dark magic still linger. With locals that speak of devilmen and catatonic children found on the Broads, Helena finds the answer to the mystery leads back to where it started: Samuel Moncrieff.

MY RATING: Four out of five stars

MY THOUGHTS: I’m reviewing an ARC kindly provided by the good folks at Titan. The Golden Key releases to bookstores on February 18, 2020.

Those who know me will not be surprised that I was intrigued by the premise: female occult detective meets man with a shadowy past while investigating a very gothic missing-child mystery. And there is much to enjoy in Womack’s novel.

The mood, whether the scenes are set in downtown London or the Norfolk Fens, is wonderfully evocative of the period. I truly felt like I was reading a Universal Monsters movie in novel form at points, and a classic gothic suspense novel in others. (In the London scenes I couldn’t help picturing Dwight Frye as the beleaguered Samuel Moncrieff and Edward Van Sloan as his mysterious uncle.)  The author captures equally well the confusion and crowd-inducing claustrophobia of London streets and showhalls, the stuffiness of the parlors and clubs of rich Londoners, the ugliness of remote insane asylums, and the dizzying otherworldliness of rural areas like the Fens.

The point of view shifts between three main protagonists: the confused and grieving Samuel Moncrieff, the incisive and methodical Helen Walton-Cisneros, and the inquisitive but innocent Eliza Waltraud. All three are well-drawn, interesting characters, and dividing the story among them allows the author to show the reader more of the hidden pieces of the world these characters are moving through. Eventually all three threads weave together and the characters learn from each other what the reader has already started to piece together. I don’t think Womack is ever truly trying to mislead the reader in regards to the main plot: it’s pretty clear from early on what Samuel’s secret is (or at least, what part of it is), and it’s fun watching the author drop the clues in the characters’ paths and how they don’t realize at first what they’ve just learned. In the chapters told from the POV of Samuel, his confusion, grief, and memory-loss come through very clearly; anyone who has ever had a traumatic experience will recognize the stages Samuel is going through. In the women’s chapters, Womack shows us a great deal about the way women were perceived at the end of the Victorian period, especially women doing work normally “reserved” for men, and what these women had to do to be taken seriously.

The POV chapters are also interspersed with magazine and newspaper articles about goings-on that surround the main and supporting characters: announcements and descriptions of séances and such. These add to the sense that bigger things are happening than even the characters are aware of, and each feels period-appropriate.

If I have one complaint about the novel, it’s that sometimes it feels like the author is trying to do much. Part of that is the overall tone, which seems to shift from Gothic to Lovecraftian to Faerie story and back throughout the narrative. If Womack is intentionally trying to mislead the reader at all, it’s in what type of story she’s trying to tell: the description makes us expect Holmesian Gothic but there are points where the story feels like cosmic rather than supernatural horror and other points where I expected a member of the Fae court to appear. The fact that the author captures each of these styles perfectly without descending into, say, the purple prose of Lovecraft, mitigates the disjointedness of style quite a bit. (And I should note: I’m not convinced the author is intentionally trying to confuse or mislead the reader: I think she just enjoys all three styles and wanted to incorporate them all into the same book.) There’s also a good deal of attention paid to some subplots that don’t really seem to pay off: the death of Queen Victoria and the details of Eliza Waltraud’s past feel like they should be more important to the main events of the novel (although at least the details of Eliza’s parents add to understanding her character), while Count Bévcar is given more attention in the early pages than feels warranted by the conclusion of the book. The subplot in the second half of the book regarding the way female mediums are investigated for fraud as compared to males also feels like it doesn’t add to what at that point is a fast-moving push towards the novel’s eerie and open-ended conclusion. I expected the Bévcar and Madame Florence subplots in particular to connect more solidly to the main thread than they actually did.

But despite those two minor complaints, this is a wonderful gothic horror novel with interesting characters whose mysteries and fallibility draw you in and make you want to see what will happen next.

My instinct is to give The Golden Key three-and-a-half stars. But as Goodreads and Amazon don’t allow half-stars, my policy is to round up.

Review of BROTHERS KEEPERS

TITLE: Brothers Keepers

AUTHOR: Donald E. Westlake

304 pages, Hard Case Crime, ISBN 9781785657153 (paperback)

DESCRIPTION: (from the back cover) “Bless Me Father, For I Have Rented.”  What will a group of monks do when their two-century-old monastery in New York City is threatened with demolition to make room for a new high-rise? Anything they have to. “Thou Shalt Not Steal” is only the first of the Commandments to be broken as the saintly face off against the unscrupulous over that most sacred of relics, a Park Avenue address.

MY RATING: four out of five stars (check this on Goodreads to be sure)

MY THOUGHTS:

While the cover art by Paul Mann makes the novel look like a Bondian spy adventure, Brothers Keepers is yet another fun caper novel from the great Donald E. Westlake (and seriously, I know I say this every time I review a Hard Case Crime Westlake re-release, but … how did I make it so long without reading any Westlake at all? Every title of his HCC has released, I’ve loved).  It’s almost a Shakespearean comedy: there’s manipulation, mistaken identities, sexual innuendo and actual sex (on the beach and near it), cunning wordplay, and (spoiler alert) a happy ending, of course. It’s light, frothy, funny – but also a bit philosophical.

The monks in question are of the Crispinite Order of the Novum Mundum – dedicated to the contemplation of Travel, but not to Traveling itself, unless absolutely necessary. Yes. An order founded by an immigrant who was visited by the patron saints of Travel wherein the members actually dislike the very idea of Travel and do their best to stay safely walled off from the world. So of course, some of them end up having to leave the monastery for more than just the time it takes to go buy the Sunday paper at a nearby newsstand, and hilarity ensues. But in among the humorous stuff, Westlake allows us to think about the nature of Travel, of how it’s changed over the past few centuries as technology has made it easier for us to work farther from home and to get from point A to point B, and of how the increased ability to Travel has changed the way people relate and react to each other. That he accomplishes this without browbeating the reader is a testament to his ability as a storyteller.

Our narrator is Brother Benedict, who came to the monastery on the rebound from a failed relationship. If that’s not a trope, I don’t know what is – but Westlake tweaks it in subtle ways, giving Benedict depth and a compelling character voice. He’s a simple man and the life, and lack of temptation, suits him. Of course, temptation gets thrown in his lap, in the form of the daughter of the landlord selling the property.  For me, Eileen Flattery was the weak point in the novel. She never quite rises above being a spoiled, disaffected rich girl, just as the rest of her family and close circle of friends never rise about being selfish (at worst) or self-absorbed (at best). Benedict’s interest in her catches her attention, but it’s more the novelty of getting a monk to renege on his vows, and how her parents will react, than love of Benedict himself that motivates her.

It turns out that while the monastery itself can’t be sold, the land it was built on certainly can be, and the transfer of ownership is virtually complete. There’s a clause in the lease that would give the monks options to fight, but the original lease can’t be found, even though it should rightly be in the monastery office. The shenanigans involved in attempting to find the lease and other primary documents that would support court action are probably the funniest in the novel. Dusty attics, illuminated manuscripts made from mundane documents, art projects left behind by previous Abbots of the monastery … all are props the author uses to shine a light on the personalities, and previous life experiences, of Benedict’s fellow monks. The monks aren’t treated as one-note jokes or as a uniform species; all of their backstories are explored in small moments and bits of dialogue that give them real dimension. There’s a former banker, a former lawyer, a former conman, a former political activist, and more. Each of their knowledge bases comes to play, but it’s Brother Benedict who ends up having to Travel further than any to convince Eileen to help them.

It’s no surprise that our narrator turns out to be the least worldly man among his peers, and this sets up an interesting counterpoint: the monk most willing to Travel on the monastery’s behalf is the one with the least experience in navigating the world outside the monastery. Benedict’s travails and temptations make up the middle of the book and his wide-eyed innocence makes them funnier than they’d be if told in any voice but his own.

I don’t want to give away too much about how that previously-mentioned happy ending comes about, because Westlake slyly tweaks the typical “third act reversal and reveal” model. Suffice to say, the last third of the book is as fun and tongue-in-cheek as the rest of the book.

If you’re looking for a fun romp, this is definitely a book worth picking up.

Review of L.F. Robertson's MADMAN WALKING

TITLE: Madman Walking (Janet Moodie #2)

AUTHOR: L.F. Robertson

376 pages, Titan Books, paperback and e-book formats, ISBN 9781785652837

DESCRIPTION: (from Goodreads): Howard Henley is not an easy case. After a disastrous attempt to defend himself, his only chance of escaping the death penalty is an appeal, and lawyer Janet Moodie is called in to work the investigation. The client is uncooperative, likely schizophrenic, although he’s never let a psychiatrist near him long enough to get a proper diagnosis. Convicted of arranging the shooting of a drug dealer, even on death row Howard doesn’t seem to understand the severity of his situation. It is up to Janet to discover just what was done and by whom, and to determine whether to risk putting her client on trial again.

MY RATING: Three out of five stars

MY THOUGHTS: disclaimer: I received an Advanced Reading Copy from Titan Books in exchange for an honest review. I’m a bit late in providing that review, as the book was released on May 15th, 2018.

I’ve struggled a little bit with composing this review, wanting to judge the book on what it is rather than what I expected it to be. Based on the back cover copy, the trailer-park cover art, and the set-up of Howard Henley’s character in the first few chapters, I was expecting something a bit grittier, more fast-paced and action-packed. What we get instead is a slow-paced, character-filled series of courtroom scenes interspersed with potential witness interviews and a large dollop of what series lead Janet Moodie’s personal life is like. While it wasn’t at all what I was expecting, it was still an interesting read.

What I found most interesting was Robertson’s far more real-life-like description of the legal proceedings. Television police procedurals and movie thrillers make it seem like police investigation and court proceedings resolve themselves in the space of a few sound cues, and of course that’s far from true. Janet Moodie’s involvement in Howard’s case takes the better part of a year in the characters’ lives, overlapping with other cases she’s involved in which are peripherally mentioned. (And that’s outside of the over ten years Howard is in prison for the crime after his own botched self-defense.)  The slow, meticulous descriptions of the hearing scenes as Janet and co-counsel Mike try to convince a judge that there’s sufficient new evidence to warrant a new trial pulled me in, and really made me think about what the legal process is like, how slow the gears of justice grind. They were the most compelling parts of the book.

The voice Robertson gives her main character, in first-person narrative, is breezy and easy to relate to. There’s not a lot of heavy description of rooms and environment and people – Janet describes things the way most people would when asked “hey, tell that story about the time you defended…” Just enough detail to help us picture, not so much that it feels unnatural as conversation versus journal entry. I left the book feeling like Janet Moodie is someone I could sit and chat with over a nice coffee – or maybe some of her homemade apple cider. She’s nice. She’s smart and efficient, but down-to-earth. Her story is littered with personal trauma (the suicide of a husband) and missed opportunities (her now-grown son lives happily in Australia) and full of neighbors and former co-workers who seem equally nice. The ratio of personal scenes to courtroom events is roughly equal and really gives a good sense of who Janet is. And there’s even an adorable dog companion. There are also a few hints to what happened in the first book in the series, but presented in such a way that a reader new to the series with this book (as I was) will not feel lost; it was only after finishing the book that I read a blurb for “Two Lost Boys” and found out which of the previous clients mentioned had actually been the focus of that book.

Where the book lost me a little bit was in the presentation of Howard Henley. In an effort to prove how disconnected from reality the man is, the author puts just a little bit too much emphasis on the idea that there’s a conspiracy behind why he’s in jail when his innocence is pretty plain. The actions of certain supporting characters throughout the book make it feel like Howard’s theory is not just schizophrenic paranoia. The combination of these two strands, repeated several times throughout the book, had me expecting a twist or reveal that never comes. Don’t mistake me – there are plenty of actual twists and red herrings in the book that all make sense / make for great mis-directs … which is why the emphasis on the conspiracy theory aspect felt even more forced, one more misdirect than the book actually needed. And that detracted from my enjoyment of the book just enough that I ultimately have to say I liked it, but it didn’t totally blow me away. That said, I’d probably read another book in the series simply based on Janet Moodie’s conversational voice and the author’s clear knowledge of the legal system.