Showing posts with label Talton Jon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Talton Jon. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Back to Square One

Have you ever wanted a do-over for some parts of your life? Or at least an opportunity to choose a different one of Robert Frost's paths? Many of us, if given the opportunity, can at least dream about it. But dealers in fiction have all the tools at their fingertips to create salad days in a well-established mature character, or at least present a more youthful portrait of their protagonist. Authors do this by writing a prequel.

The word "prequel" is of recent origin. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word "prequel" first appeared in print in 1958. It was used by the well-known Anthony Boucher of mystery writing and Bouchercon fame. He used it in an article in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction when he referred to a specific work. In the 1970s and 80s, it came into wider use when describing movies like The Godfather: Part II, which took place temporally before The Godfather. I knew this word was not listed for any spelling bee in my school.

I really enjoy prequels, because they give the readers an insight into the development of a favorite character. Some readers don't care if books in a series are read in order, but I prefer orderly progression of aging, relationships, and career development.

Undersheriff Bill Gastner is a favorite character of mine in Steven Havill's Posadas County series. In the more recent books, he has retired from law enforcement and Estelle Reyes is the new Undersheriff, but in One Perfect Shot, the eighteenth book in the series, Havill takes us back to a time before the first book in the series took place. We've gone back a decade or so earlier, when Gastner is Undersheriff. Gastner is called to the scene of Larry Zipoli's death, a county road in broad daylight, where Larry has been shot and killed while working grading a road. The case is one that fits Bill to a tee; a dead man in unusual circumstances, no apparent clues, but a puzzle for which the pieces are out there and he will find them and put them together.

In this case, he also has at his side Estelle Reyes, who is on her first day in the job of Deputy for the Posadas County Police. We learn she is gorgeous, which is something not focused on in other books in the series.

The story foreshadows her special intuition and very sharp eyes when it comes to incongruities at the scene of the crime. Bill Gastner is as solid and unflappable as ever, and he walks her through the initial points of good law enforcement.

Kurt Wallander, Henning Mankell's solitary and somewhat morose Inspector is not exactly mysterious, but The Pyramid, which was written after eight earlier books in the series, tells the story of Wallander's beginnings and explains some things about Wallander that we might have wondered about in other books. This collection of five stories explores Wallander's early career as a rookie cop. It also details his relationship with the girlfriend who later became his wife. Some things were predictable: no one could have spent much time with that woman without coming to despise her. She kept Wallander under her thumb, but somehow he still loved her, years after their divorce.

It became easier for me to understand his relationship with his daughter, Linda, and the pattern of self-denigration when he mentions it in the books. One cultural tidbit I found interesting is that when his daughter went to college at 18 years of age, she was considered on her own financially. Really! Where was this man's head? Solving murders of course.

I consider The Chalk Circle Man by Fred Vargas a prequel only in a sense. It was the first in the Chief Inspector Jean-Baptiste Adamsberg series, but it was published in the U.S. after five years and four other books.

Adamsberg is a very unusual but very engaging character. He is somewhat of a genius at getting to the heart of a pattern. He has a distinct intuition about weird events and people. On the other hand, he loves one woman deeply but treats her badly. His main mission in life––besides his work––is to find his Camille and then drive her away. He is now the head of the Paris murder squad.

In The Chalk Circle Man, we get to meet Adamsberg as he is leaving the small town in the Pyrenées where he spent his childhood as a barefoot boy running around the foothills, and where a police inspector once told him he was not cut out to be a policeman because there was no room for wild creatures like him. By this she meant his curious way of solving murder after murder by a combination of uncanny instinct and intuition.

Now, at the age of 45, he has the respect of those around him because of his intuition for solving crime, but as a newcomer to Paris he is still an outsider. His charm is insidious, though, and when strange chalk circles begin appearing on the pavements overnight––all of which encompass bizarre objects––his squad believes Adamsberg's assurance that one night the chalk will encircle a murder victim. And the search for the culprit is on.

Reading this book before the others adds a new dimension to the Adamsberg character that augments the enjoyment of the rest of the series.

Sometimes when I start a new series, I look at the website Stop, You're Killing Me! to check out the order the series' books are written in, and if there is a prequel I read it first. I did this with Cactus Heart by John Talton. In it, David Mapstone, who is a former history professor, has just been hired by the Sheriff's office in Phoenix. His job is to be related to the investigation of cases in which the history of the area is a factor.

His first case begins after the chase of a thug into a warehouse exposed the bones of a decades-old child murder that has little fingers reaching into the present, as well as to the past of some very important people in the city. This early story introduces us to a bit of Mapstone's past and lays a nice foundation for the future books, although they would have been fine without it.

Phoenix
There are history lessons in all of Talton's books that I find fascinating. They are mostly about the evolution of Phoenix from cattle town to the fifth largest city in the country, and about how Arizona has morphed to its present state.

If you were to write a prequel to the mystery that is your life, how far back would you go? I think a person's life in their twenties is the perfect place to start. There is still dampness behind the ears, but it's a decade of great change and usually a time when future paths are set upon. Mankell talks about these years. On the other hand, there are those who think that life begins at 40 (I never met one of these people, mind you)––in which case, some of these prequels are set in the right time.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

The Russian Prisons Must Be Empty

Why do I say that? Because the only conclusion I can reach after reading these books is that all the Russian bad guys are elsewhere.

Barbara Nadel writes the excellent Inspector Cetin Ikmen series that takes place in Istanbul, Turkey. Once known as Constantinople (and even if you paid no attention in geography class, you would know this if you ever listened to the They Might Be Giants song "Istanbul"), the city overlies the Bosporus and is the crossroads of Europe and Asia.

In Nadel's Petrified, Ikmen's junior colleague Mehmet Süleyman is wandering around the Grand Bazaar and is sickened by the men in the "mobster" uniform of leather jackets, whatever the weather, and a gaudy display of gold jewelry. Alongside them are their even more ostentatiously bedecked women, and Süleyman wonders: when had this become normal? There had always been gangsters in the city but this, the Russian mafia, was crime on a different level.

Süleyman is investigating crime boss Valery Rostov, suspected to be the head of Istanbul's Russian organized-crime ring that has its fingers in every dirty pie in the multicultural city. The big case on the plate of Süleyman's superior, Cetin Ikman, is the disappearance of the twin children of a famous, and infamous, local artist. As Mehmet worries that Süleyman is being manipulated by Rostov, he also begins to see links among the Russians, the lost children and the bizarre artwork of the children's father.

Five thousand miles away in Detroit, the Motor City, in Michael Koryta's first book, Tonight I Said Goodbye, PIs Lincoln Perry and Joe Pritchard are trying to save what remains of a family from another set of vicious Russian mobsters. This book's page-turning suspense made Koryta a finalist for the 2005 Edgar Awards' Best First Novel category.

Let's move west, out to Phoenix, Arizona, where they say it's a Dry Heat (Jon Talton). Talton's series features David Mapstone, a history professor turned cold-case expert for the Maricopa County sheriff's department. His wife Lindsey is in the department's cybercrimes unit, which has just had a triumph against—you guessed it—the Russian mafia. But don't start the Stolichnaya toasts too soon. When three members of Lindsey's unit are killed in a hit, David and Lindsey are forced to go into hiding. They must keep their heads down while he works on a 50-year-old murder of an FBI agent, and they try to figure out how to stay alive long enough to bring justice to both the past and present.

New York City has always been a mecca for all the world's peoples. Reggie Nadelson tells us that it's knee deep in Chechens, Azerbaijanis and, of course, Russians. In her Red Hot Blues, Artie Cohen is an NYPD cop who grew up in Moscow. When former KGB general Gennadi Ustinov is killed while appearing live on a New York talk show, Artie is put on the case. After all, Artie speaks Russian. Not that it's so easy for even a Russian-speaking New York cop to try to find the truth when it leads to the Russian mafia enclave in Brighton Beach. Artie's investigation reveals secrets involving small Russian nuclear devices and requires him to return to Moscow, where he must confront his secret past as the son of a KGB superstar father and a Jewish mother.

These days, Eurocrime is very popular, and we read crime fiction from all over the continent. In Siren of the Waters, by Michael Genelin, Jana Matinova is a commander in the Slovak police force and a woman with a difficult past during the Communist era. Matinova teams up with a Russian colleague to track Koba, a ruthless and sadistic Russian master criminal they suspect of directing a sex slave network. Their investigation takes them to Ukraine, Strasbourg, Vienna and Nice, all places caught in the octopus-like tentacles of the Russian mafia, hunting for Koba as he, in turn, levels his sights on a beautiful young Russian woman as his next prey.

In Three Seconds, by Anders Roslund and Börge Hellström, it's the Russian mob's little brothers, the Polish mafia, who keep an active presence in the Swedish prison system. The perverted theory that benefits both the mob and certain elements of the state is to provide drugs gratis while the felon is imprisoned, and he will do anything required to keep the goods coming. The drugged-up inmates are more easily controlled and help save money on prison guards. The numbers of these men coming out of prison then swell the ranks of the mafia.

After reading these books, I began to wonder if there is any place where purely home-grown crime predominates now. It looks like it takes an island for that. Someplace like Iceland, Australia or Antarctica. Cuba might be out for the Russians these days. They don't seem to have much love for the Russians there now and there isn't much money to be made there. Anyway, all the getaway cars were made before 1950 and are held together with duct tape.

But now that I think about it, plenty of Russian bad guys have kept their dirty work at home. After all, Martin Cruz Smith's Arkady Renko and Stuart Kaminsky's Porfiry Rostnikov seem to be just as busy fighting crime in Moscow today as they were 20 years ago. And to be completely fair, I seem to recall that in Smith's Gorky Park, the main bad guy was actually an American.

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I enjoy listening to music while I read and ponder. I am including a part of of my iPod playlist that reflects some of the ambiance of the locations of these mysteries:

"Arabesk" by Kiraç
"Motor City" by Neil Young
"Torn" by Creed
"Fear" by Sarah McLachlan
"Marche Slave" by the New York Philharmonic
"Mon Dieu" by Edith Piaf
"Porque" by Raul Malo
"Como Baile Marieta" by Orestes Vilate
"The Name of the Game" by ABBA

[Unfortunately, the embedded HTML coding that allowed the music to actually play was creating problems for some Chrome and Internet Explorer users, so we've removed it. We'll replace it after troubleshooting. We're sorry for your inconvenience!]