Tag: private eye

Blondie Maxwell Never Loses

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★★★
“Miss-nority report”

This French film takes place a little way into the future, though society has undergone radical changes. Law enforcement is now privatized, with investigations contracted out to private investigators, who have to balance their costs in order to turn a profit on the cases they accept. One such PI is Blondie Maxwell (Langlart) – and to get the obvious out of the way first, no, she is not blonde It’s mentioned once, but never explained. She is currently on the trail of the terrorist Boloch, who has been mounting a campaign against Chronos Industry, the all-encompassing tech company, which is invested in almost every area of everyday life. The reward would go a long way to solving her perilous financial situation.

She gets a case to investigate the murder of an escort. It seems an open-and-shut case with the evidence squarely pointing at a journalist. However, something doesn’t sit right with Blondie, and the more she picks at the crime, the more it seems a set-up job. Even her getting the case seems suspicious, since authorities know she doesn’t have the resources to investigate it properly. The journalist claims the victim was actually his source, who was going to blow the lid of Chronos, not least a “dark” area of their network where murder for hire is bought and sold. Is he telling the truth, and what does this have to do with Boloch and his campaign?

As the tag-line above implies, this bears a significant resemblance to Stephen Spielberg’s Minority Report, with its tale of law and order run by technology. which someone on the inside gradually comes to realize isn’t as idyllic as it seems. This is rather less nuanced. At one point, a colleague of Blondie says, “Our job is to make the world safer. If that means sacrificing a little liberty, it works for me. It works for us all. It’s a choice we make as a society.” However, it’s clear Ivanowich’s sympathies are more aligned with Benjamin Franklin. This is very much a pre-liberty screed, though credit for being at least somewhat ahead of the curve with its concerns about artificial intelligence, an issue of increasing scrutiny in 2023.

Unlike Minority Report, it doesn’t have the budget to create a fully-fledged future society. This one looks like ours in almost every way, just with a few added bits of gadgetry, such as displays embedded into contact lenses. Maxwell’s main trait is her dogged determination to find out the truth, regardless of the personal cost, and she makes for an admirable heroine. As played by Langlart, she’s down to earth, though there were points where it seemed like the script had all but forgotten about Blondie. Either Ivanowich fell too much in love with the setting. or the story might have benefited from fewer characters and a sharper focus. Definitely not terrible though, and a good example of what can be done with imagination instead of budget.

Dir: Julien Ivanowich
Star: Léonie Langlart, Stéphane Dufourcq, Vincent Terrier, Boris de la Higuera

Ebony Hustle

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★½
“Credit where credit is due…”

When the best part of a movie is the opening credits, we have a problem. That’s the case here, with an 007-influenced montage that feels as if it cost more than the entire rest of the film to put together. However, by that point, the movie was already on thin ice, because the volume of the music was roughly three times that of dialogue in the pre-credit scene. Lunging repeatedly for the button on the remote is always a red flag for any indie movie, and proved accurate here. The same goes for the gratuitous name-checking of much better black heroines, such as Christie Love and Cleopatra Jones. They just draw attention to the deficiencies here – not that they are hard to see.

The unusually named heroine (Lamb) is a former stripper turned insurance fraud investigator, and unwillingly accepts a case to look into the disappearance of 16-year-old girl, Ny’Kia (Elizabeth). She had become part of the retinue of former gangster turned pastor, Caleb Truth (Chandler, who looks like you ordered Snoop Dogg on wish.com). He is supposedly a reformed character, and speaks all his lines in rhyme. This is an affectation which grows steadily more annoying, every time he speaks. It seems it may even have irritated the makers, because that thread – which I’d have thought would have been the main plot – is ended, alongside Truth’s doggerel rapping, with relatively little trouble by Ebony, when there’s still half an hour to go.

The remaining time is largely filled by Ebony’s romantic entanglements. She’s a highly predatory cougar, which seems something of a double standard, considering the way she goes after Caleb Truth, for activities that aren’t really that different. There are also far too many unconvincing FaceTime conversations, though at least these are largely free of the audio issues which infect many of the face-to-face scenes. There is one which does work, between Ebony and former husband, police detective Wayne (Stevenson), both expressing regret over their shared past. Both actors are convincing, and it offers a rare moment of emotion which feels genuine here. It helps it’s understated and quiet, standing in sharp contrast to the shrill yelling and show-boating which permeates just about every other moment.

I can see where the makers were trying to go. It’s just that they managed to ignore all the elements which made black heroines of the seventies so memorable. Here’s a clue, it wasn’t flirty chat-chat with younger men over the telephone. Not to say the likes of Foxy Brown weren’t sexual creatures: it just never felt it was their main raison d’etre. Here, it feels like… well, Ebony may have left the strip-club, but the strip-club never left Ebony. Her crime-fighting trails in, a long way behind and seeming little more then an afterthought. Any time this feels like it might be achieving its ends, something happens – such as Ebony’s boss appearing, an early contender for worst actor of the year – and it all comes crashing back to earth.

Dir: Jamezz Hampton
Star: Michelle l Lamb, Andrew Chandler, Ryan Elizabeth, Joel Stevenson

The Adventures of Shiela Crerar, Psychic Detective, by Ella M. Scrymsour

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Literary rating: ★★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆

Detectives as protagonists entered the realm of English-language fiction in the 19th century, especially in its later decades, and quickly captured the fancy of much of the reading public. The earliest examples, such as Poe’s Auguste Dupin, Sherlock Holmes, and Chesterton’s Father Brown, find their adventures solely in the natural world. But it wasn’t very long before other writers took the basic idea into the supernatural realm, to create the figure of the occult or “psychic” detective, such as Flaxman Low or William Hope Hodgson’s Carnacki, a solver of mysteries that involve, or at least often involve, the weird and uncanny. Like their natural-world counterparts, the occult detectives in this formative era were nearly all male.

But in Shiela Crerar, the heroine of this six-story cycle originally published in The Blue Magazine in 1920, Ella M. Scrymsour (whose full name was Ella Mary Scrymsour-Nichol) created a distaff incarnation of this type of figure, who can hold her own with any of her male colleagues. I first encountered the character in “The Werewolf of Rannoch,” a story in a horror anthology I read back in 2020. (Prior to that, I’d never heard of the character or the author.) Guessing correctly that Shiela was a series character, I tracked this book down in the Goodreads database; and having gotten it as a gift this past Christmas, I was very pleased to finally get to read all of Shiela’s exploits!

Orphaned as a child, Shiela Crerar was happily raised by an apparently bachelor uncle, a Highland laird with a lot of lineage but not a lot of money. The Sight ran in the family; both she and Uncle John were strongly psychic (her gift –or curse– as she’ll discover early on, allows her to see ghosts, something most people can’t), and she shared in his interest in and study of the paranormal. She’s a kind-hearted, frank and down-to-earth young woman who loves nature and likes to read; she’s also one with considerable determination and a strong will.

His sudden death when she’s 22 leaves her the owner of his smallish estate, Kencraig, but it’s heavily mortgaged. Not willing to sell a place that’s profoundly dear to her, she rents it out on a five-year lease, resolved to find a line of work that will ultimately let her pay off the mortgage (while providing for her in the meantime). When nothing else offers, she hits on the idea of offering her services as a psychic detective. (All of this is presented to the reader in the first few pages of the first story, “The Eyes of Doom.”)

As we learn in the last story, “The Wraith [the back cover copy incorrectly gives that word as “Wrath”) of Fergus McGinty,” her mission takes her five years to complete. That she completes it isn’t really a spoiler; from the beginning, I think that most readers would surmise that she will. Her career as an occult detective involves her in some very intense and dangerous experiences, well titled as “Adventures.” Besides the ones already mentioned, the other stories are “The Death Vapour,” “The Room of Fear,” and “The Phantom Isle.”

Her clients are mostly well-to-do Scots gentry, and her travels will take her to various Highland locales, including the Isle of Skye and its environs. She’ll deal with mostly supernatural phenomena (one story centers around what proves to be a case of very grim psychic imprinting), including murderously vengeful revenants, a homicidal “Elemental,” and lycanthropy. The latter is explained here as astral projection, in which the sleeping werewolf’s astral self projects –sometimes unknown to the projector, but in some cases deliberately– and can take on the substantial form of a ravening human-beast hybrid.

Scrymsour’s tales are plot-driven, straightforward, suspenseful and intense, with a real sense of danger and menace. Her prose style is direct and (along with the relatively short length of the collection) makes for a quick read. Most of the stories involve a backstory rooted in fictional (but realistic) events in Scotland’s long and often bloody history, including savage clan warfare and the failed Jacobite rising in 1745 and its vicious repression. I felt this exhibited some affinity to M. R. James’ “antiquarian” approach to the supernatural tale, which for me was a plus.

There’s some effective reference to Celtic and other occult lore. Scrymsour furnishes her heroine with a love interest introduced in the first story, Stavordale Hartland, so there’s a note of clean romance. If we picture the stories as taking place from 1915-1920, it’s not clear why Stavordale’s not in the military; but the Great War isn’t reflected anywhere in this corpus at all. Shiela packs a pistol and can use it effectively (the author describes it as an “automatic revolver,” which tells us that she knew virtually nothing about handguns!), but that plot element only appears in one story.

There’s not a lot of directly described gore here, but there is reference to mostly off-stage past grisly atrocities, and to present-day violent deaths of animals and humans, both adults and children; and in one case the murder of a two-year old child in real time, though it’s not described in detail and is over in four sentences. Unfortunately, Shiela’s heroic qualities don’t include quick reaction time; my biggest peeve with the book was that she failed to act in time to prevent this! Scrymsour’s characterizations are not sharp; Shiela is the best-drawn character, but Stavordale isn’t developed as much, and the chemistry between the two doesn’t come across as strong.

He also tends to address her with phrases like “little woman”, which I found irksome. But I didn’t find the message of the story cycle to be sexist; he wants her to give up her detective work and marry him, but she won’t do that until she completes her self-set mission. And though one reviewer holds the theory that Shiela’s psychic powers depend on virginity, so that marriage will destroy them, to my mind the conclusion of the last story suggests the opposite; Stavordale comes to realize that her Sight is a permanent part of her, whether she uses it to further a paid career or not.

Author: Ella M. Scrymsour
Publisher: Wildside Press; available through Amazon, currently only as a print book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Stormy Weathers

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★★½
“Scattered outbreaks of interest.”

Within ten seconds of Chris having entered the room when this was on, she asked, “Are you watching Moonlighting?” No, I wasn’t – but it’s certainly a valid question. Just a couple of years earlier, Shepherd had finished off a run playing a private eye alongside Bruce Wills on that highly successful show. And here she is, again playing a private investigator on television, with a fondness for cracking wise and showing off her legs. What are the odds? Well, there’s absolutely no doubt the makers of this knew exactly what they were doing by casting Shepherd. Though I also suspect that they were hoping to ride on the coat-tails of the similar V.I. Warshawski, which came out the previous year. Its commercial failure won’t have helped this, and it feels like a pilot that never got picked up.

Samantha “Don’t call her Stormy” Weathers (Shepherd) takes on the case of dishy Italian aristocrat Gio (Beltran), seeking to discover what happened to his elder brother, who vanished in Los Angeles 15 years previously. Their father died recently, and he needs to establish inheritance. He contacts Sam because her late father, an LAPD homicide cop, had reached out at the time and been told the brother was disowned. It was the last case Weathers Sr. worked there, before quitting the force to start the detective agency. Sam discovers the case seems increasingly likely involved in that decision. With the help of trusty hacker Squirrel (Schlatter) and muckraking journo Bogey (Salinger), she discovers a conspiracy stretching across the years and involving Black Power activists, drug-runners and current high political office.

It’s almost entirely predictable, and if you can’t guess who the bad guy is before the big twist, you haven’t been paying attention. Not that I’d blame you for that, as this is as formulaic as it is obvious. However, it benefits from a strong supporting cast with a lot of familiar faces. I spotted Kurt Fuller (Robocop), Roy Thinnes (The Invaders), Zelda Rubinstein (Poltergeist), Tony Lo Bianco (God Told Me To) and Vonetta McGee (Blacula), and they all provide good service. Shepherd is also solid enough, even if as mentioned, the character seems perilously close to Maddie Hayes.

The action is lightly sprinkled, and feels more like a side-dish than the main course. But there’s a decent sequence where Sam is trailed by two goons, only to lure them into a deserted warehouse and dispatch them with surprisingly ruthless efficiency. There’s also a reasonable about of running around and climbing, which – as the poster suggests – seem to be there as much to show of Sam’s gams, as in furtherance of any elements of the story. It is curiously dated in some aspects, from a time where computers and mobile phones were very much in their infancy. What Squirrel does could basically be done by anyone on Google, and the multiple Terminator 2 references also pin this firmly as a product of 1992. I was never truly bored here: on the other hand, I was never very interested either.

Dir: Will Mackenzie
Star: Cybill Shepherd, Robert Beltran, Charlie Schlatter, Diane Salinger

Real Dangerous Place, by K. W. Jeter

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Literary rating: ★★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆

Note: My previous reviews of this series had incorrect information on the series numbering, and about the relationship of this printing to the first one. That first printing had seven volumes. If Lincoln Square Books reprints all of the series, their edition will have six, because they combined the original Real Dangerous Girl and  Real Dangerous Job (which form a single story arc) as Parts I and II of a single novel with the first title. However, they did NOT combine any of the later novels, which all have their original titles; the next two, including this one, were divided into Parts I and II to start with. I apologize to readers for the earlier misleading information; but a late correction is better than no correction!

Having read (and reviewed) the previous volumes in this action adventure series, all of which got high ratings from me, I was glad to follow along with this next installment. Most readers of this book will probably have read the earlier ones –and should have, since this series is one that absolutely needs to be read in order. (This review will contain some spoilers for the preceding book, though not for this one.) Likewise, most readers of this review will most likely have read my takes on the preceding volumes, so will already have a basic idea of Kim’s personality, family situation, and back history.) The main body of this story takes place on one day, mostly in a tense hostage situation, and Part I ends in a cliff-hanger in the very middle of that situation.

The most obvious difference between the previous installments and this one is that we’re no longer in our familiar upstate New York setting. Landing on her feet at the conclusion of her previous adventure, our rough-edged heroine had wangled herself a job as chief of security for her deceased boss’ erstwhile newly minted partner, Mr. Karsh (whose business practices unfortunately aren’t any more ethical or strictly legal than the late Mr. Falcon’s, though he also aspires to a veneer of legitimacy). In the interim between the two books, his far-flung business enterprises have taken him to L.A. for an extended stay, so he’s re-located Kim and Donnie (I’d say she’s now at least 18, if not 19, and Donnie’s 12-13) there along with him. When our story opens, Kim’s making better money than before; she and Donnie can afford a better apartment, and Karsh’s gotten him into a private school that caters to special-needs kids. She’s thinking that their situation is looking up; but with her luck, it can go south very quickly. And then things get really hairy, when she finds herself, in a Karsh-owned equipment truck, in the middle of a late afternoon traffic jam on an elevated L.A. freeway, in which Donnie’s school bus is also stuck –and shooting and explosions start to happen.

That brings us to another difference, or set of differences, from the previous books. Here, the unity of time and location is much tighter. Events are also, in a sense, more straightforward. True, Kim doesn’t have a clue why a gaggle of heavily armed thugs have set off vehicle explosions that block 50 or 60 cars between them, with no escape, and neither do we as readers; Jeter will disclose their leader’s plan and motivation only very gradually. But figuring out who the enemy is here isn’t going to be a problem; they’re toting their assault rifles quite openly. There are also a number of scenes and events here to which Kim isn’t privy at the time. Given that she’s our first-person narrator, that’s a challenge to pull off, but Jeter does it successfully. He’s already used the technique, in previous books, of her describing a scene the way she imagines it went. (But as Kim says, “The thing about my imagination, though –I’m not usually wrong about whatever I come up with. Kind of a gift, that way.” :-) )

Here, he just has to use it a great deal more. Finally, there’s not a lot of moral ambiguity or grey areas in this tale; anybody who’s not morally brain-dead can recognize that the perpetrators aren’t doing good things, and Kim doesn’t need to agonize over whether it’s right to try to mess up their plans and hopefully get Donnie to safety -and herself and maybe others as well, if she’s lucky. That’s pretty much a given. The real question is whether she can rescue anybody. (The cover art here is highly misleading; Kim never has a pistol in her hand in this book.) Her treasured .357 is in her shoulder bag in her boss’ car (long story), and the head thug quickly relieved her of the Ladysmith in her thigh holster. So she’s unarmed, and not blessed with a physique that gives her much advantage in hand-to-hand combat, nor martial arts skills. But she does have guts, smarts, and determination; and her colleague Elton (whom we met in the previous book), who’s with her in the truck, has the same qualities.

The action-adventure aspect of the story is more prominent here than in the previous books (though Kim herself gets to display her chops only towards the end –she’ll more than make up for that, however!), and is presented with a good deal of tension, suspense, and excitement, punctuated by explosions and mayhem. (Hollywood disdains to adapt indie or small-press books as films; that’s their loss in this case, because the narrative has a highly cinematic quality. It would be tailor-made for adaptation as an action film, and would probably be very popular at the box office.) Strong characterization is an asset, as always in this series; Donnie in particular comes into his own here (and we actually learn what his medical condition is; it’s esophageal atresia, and compounded in his case with complications from surgical infection, it’s life-threatening). And don’t sell him short in a crisis, either; yeah, his legs are useless, but his big sister isn’t the only sibling in that family who’s got fighting spirit…. Bad language is restrained (no obscenity, and not much religious profanity), and there’s no sexual content; Jeter’s prose is vivid, and the narrative is fast-paced.

Continuity/editing issues, as in the previous book, are the one significant flaw here. An important plot point results from a scuffle that supposedly took place earlier; but in the earlier part of the book that describes that encounter, there was clearly no scuffle at all. At one point, Kim refers to being aware of something she actually couldn’t have known until later. Most glaringly, a character who’s shot dead with a close-range pistol bullet between the eyes appears two pages later, walking, talking and menacing people. In fairness, I had to deduct a star for those issues, but they didn’t keep me from really liking the book. (All of them could be fixed with fairly slight editing.) For series fans, it’s a must-read; and I think most fans of clean action-adventure, especially those who appreciate a protagonist from the distaff side, would greatly like this series if they’d try it.

Author: K. W. Jeter
Publisher: Lincoln Square Books; available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Casey Jones Mysteries Vol 1-3 by Katy Munger

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Literary rating: ★★½
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆

While omnibus editions of series are often a good way to pick up a large volume of content for a discounted price, they do have their downside. Especially for someone like me, who is basically bloody-minded and regards the dreaded Did Not Finish as a badge of failure. So even when a book is not that entertaining, I still find myself slogging on: and when there are three volumes in one, its a process which naturally takes that much longer. I think if I’d had just the one story here, I’d perhaps have looked upon this with a kinder eye. Three was tough, not least because the final story was the longest, occupying a solid forty percent of the set, and is also the least entertaining of the trilogy.

The heroine is a private detective – albeit rather unlicensed, due to a previous felony in another state – operating out of Raleigh, North Carolina. Because of her status, she works under Bobby D, a 360-pound eating machine in PI form, though it seems that Casey is a little on the well-built side herself. For example, one of her breakfasts is itemized as “A pound of grits and butter – never mind the fried eggs, sausage and biscuits,” or she describes herself as “chubby at first glance, and stocky at second.” This does not seem exactly to be reflected on the book cover (right), and gluttony isn’t the only one of the seven deadly sins of which she’s fond either. She has quite the wandering eye, and at times it feels as if there’s hardly a man who crosses her path – be they cop, suspect, witness, or merely a convenient to hand bar-tender – about whom she does not have carnal thoughts, to some degree. I mean, it’s a legitimate part of her character, but I’d prefer to have seen the same effort put into delivering action.

There too, the cover’s accuracy must be questioned, offering a level of gun-toting that’s never quite achieved.  Though at least in the first couple of volumes, the plot is decent. #1, Legwork sees a political campaign derailed when a corpse shows up in the driveway of one candidate’s house, for whom Casey has been working as a bodyguard. This job gets upgraded to finding the killer, which gets her involved in a murky conspiracy of real-estate corruption. It could easily have toppled over into needless complexity, yet Munger manages to keep everything clear and moving forward. Part two, Out of Time, has her trying to clear a woman who is on Death Row for murdering her detective husband, and there’s a similarly tangled web here, this time involving police misconduct. It does actually have a meaningful and reasonably exciting climax, in which Casey is hunted through the woods by a corrupt cop.

Then there’s the third part, Money to Burn, and that’s where scenario fatigue really set in for me. It’s perhaps also where the fact these are almost period pieces nowadays (the first volume was originally published back in 1997) hurt the books most, with a slew of elements which felt particularly anachronistic to a modern reader. A tobacco company scientist is murdered, opening the door to a mess of corporate shenanigans, rich familial strife, a serial rapist and a far too long description of the heroine’s attendance at some kind of debutante ball, about which I cared not in the slightest. There’s almost a class struggle subtext here too, with Casey repeatedly feeling her low origins when operating in the world of high society. It’s an unengaging mix between Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous with The Jerry Springer Show. I persisted, yet am now completely burned out on Ms. Jones. Wild horses probably could not drag me into reading parts 4-7.

Author: Katy Munger
Publisher: Thalia Books, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1-3 of 7 in the Casey Jones Mystery series.

Wild Justice, by Kelley Armstrong

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Literary rating: ★★★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆

With this 2013 novel, Armstrong brings her original Nadia Stafford trilogy to a satisfying conclusion (although the two later novellas carry on the story in a rewarding way). Again, six months have passed since the previous installment, so our chronological setting is the latter part of October, 2007.

By the end of the second novel, Nadia had recognized that her true romantic feelings are for Jack. But she also concluded that her taciturn and seemingly unemotional mentor didn’t return them (although readers might be less sure of that). So in the intervening months since, she and Quinn have added a sexual component to their long-distance relationship (they get together about once a month). For readers who view sex as expressive body language for a total self-giving in life-long love and fidelity, it’s not hard to predict that introducing it into a situation where both parties profess no hurry to be committed (and one is in love with someone else) is likely to end in emotional disaster.

That’s what happened here, about a month ago,with Quinn wanting to move in the direction of engagement and marriage and Nadia not willing to, leading to a messy breakup that left him very hurt and her “feeling like [vulgarism deleted].” :-( On top of that stress, when this book opens, she’s in rural Michigan on a job (of the kind that she doesn’t advertise). That quickly results, though through no fault of her own, in a traumatic event which has her on the point of meltdown. But before long, she’s in for a moral and emotional ordeal which will make her present distresses look relatively mild.

Both previous novels have made us aware of the formative event of Nadia’s life, which happened when she was only 13. That was the night she and her beloved 14-year-old cousin Amy (with Nadia along because, as usual, she was trying to keep the headstrong older girl out of trouble) got taken to a lonely woodland cabin by a budding psychopath in his early 20s named Drew Aldritch. Nadia was able to escape and run for help, but Amy still ended up raped and killed. At the trial, Nadia wasn’t called to testify; and it didn’t help that Amy was a bit of a “wild child” with a reputation as a flirt.

The defense exploited that to claim that the sex was “consensual,” and that Aldritch strangled his victim to death “accidentally.” So the jury acquitted him. (Yes, this is fiction; but sadly, even in real life, there are jurors who would actually be that idiotic.) He left town immediately; and Nadia hasn’t seen him since. But the horror of the tragedy, and the survivor’s guilt, has stayed with her for 20 years, shaping her into the adult woman she became, and leaving her with intermittent nightmares from which she still wakes up screaming.

Jack knows something about the baleful influence of teenage trauma (and we’ll learn something, in the course of this book, about his past and how it shaped him –our leading lady here isn’t the only character with painful baggage). Early on, Jack discloses that, on his own initiative, he’s tracked Aldritch down to where he’s now living in Ohio under his latest alias, and working, of all things, as a small-town cop –and there’s good reason to believe that his behavior and proclivities haven’t changed for the better in the ensuing decades. So Nadia now has to decide what to do with this knowledge. Whatever happens, this trip down Memory Lane is not going to be a pleasant stroll; and it will prove to be a dark, harrowing, twisty and dangerous one, with more than one major surprise.

As usual, there’s a genuine mystery (actually, more than one) at the heart of this tale; and solving it, and surviving to the point of solving it, will be a challenge. (Luckily, Nadia’s tough and resourceful.) In terms of style, this book is much of a piece with the preceding ones in most respects, including the language issues. Again, there’s no explicit sex, but there is some unmarried sex that takes place, and some scenes are steamier than some readers might want. Romance, and related angst, doesn’t take over the plot, but it plays a more important role than it has up to now, and there will be a significant development in that area. (The books definitely are best read in order.) At one point, a character imparts a crucial piece of information that later developments show that he wouldn’t have known, but that’s the only logical slip; in the main, the plotting is impeccable. For any readers who liked the first two books, this one has to rank as a must-read; and I don’t believe any of them will be disappointed with it!

Author: Kelley Armstrong
Publisher: Penguin Group; available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Made to Be Broken, by Kelley Armstrong

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Literary rating: ★★★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆☆½

Although I first experienced this series through the two sequel novellas, this second installment of Armstrong’s Nadia Stafford trilogy would be best read after the series opener, Exit Strategy. References are made to events in the first book, and to parts of Nadia’s backstory which are detailed there, and these are much more meaningful if you’ve read the first installment. Even more importantly, Armstrong really introduces Nadia’s complex character and current circumstances in depth in the first book; the development she undergoes here presupposes that foundation. (That’s also true for other characters from that book who continue to play roles here; you need the full-orbed picture to understand them.)

Some six months have passed since the events of the earlier novel. Nadia’s kept in contact with Quinn, a U.S. federal cop who secretly moonlights as a vigilante assassin. He’s romantically interested in Nadia; her feelings about him are more ambiguous (even to her), but she values his friendship. As a teen, she came close to qualifying for Canada’s Olympic distance shooting team. That gives her very formidable skills with a sniper rifle; and when this book opens, she’s peering through the scope of one from a belfry in downtown Toronto. Quinn’s solicited her help with one of his hits. That particular episode, though, is over quickly and painlessly for all concerned. It serves mainly to remind us (and to clue in readers who skipped the series opener) that as fictional female sleuths go, our protagonist is not nearly so law-abiding a member of that sorority as, say, Nancy Drew. She is, however, one who has some investigative know-how, which she’s willing to use in a good cause if it’s needed –and it’s soon going to be, sorely.

Even with her off-the-books side income, Nadia can’t afford to pay more than a tiny staff at her guest lodge; but out of kindness, she’s given a job as assistant housekeeper to a 17-year-old girl from the nearby small town of White Rock, Sammi Ernst. Sammi’s foul-mouthed, barely literate, and has a chip on her shoulder; the latter isn’t surprising, given her life situation. She’s the out-of-wedlock daughter of Janie Ernst. Both women are widely looked down on in the community –Janie because she’s a drunken, mean-tempered, self-centered deadbeat, and Sammi mainly because she has Janie for an (abusive) mother. Also a single mom herself, Sammi’s not promiscuous like Janie (she had a single affair, with a visiting rich college kid who wasn’t interested in marriage or fatherhood, and left her to bear his unacknowledged daughter alone); and also unlike her own mom, she genuinely loves baby Destiny, and wants to work to support her, rather than making a dead-end career out of welfare dependency as Janie has.

When, soon after Nadia’s return home, Sammi and Destiny don’t come back from their usual evening walk in the woods, there are things that strongly suggest to our heroine that their disappearance wasn’t voluntary. But White Rock’s police force is small, not especially competent, and has other priorities; and the two senior officers despise Nadia because of the way she was kicked out of the force years ago, so aren’t disposed to take anything she says seriously. As far as they’re concerned, Sammi obviously just ran off; because, hey, that’s what trashy teens can be expected to do, right? Most of the townsfolk are quite content with that explanation. (Janie’s only feeling about the matter is anger at losing the rent money she charged the girl.) Of the few who aren’t, Nadia’s the only one actually capable of looking into the matter. But though Jack’s been out of touch for about six months, he’ll soon be at the lodge recovering from a broken ankle. (And don’t forget about Quinn, either.)

This is a gritty, page-turning mystery, reflecting the violent stylistic school associated mostly with American writers (rather than the more cerebral traditional school of Doyle and Christie). A number of people are going to die here, not all of whom deserve to, because we’re dealing with ruthless villains with no consciences. (While this is fiction, it looks at a dark underbelly of anomic modern society in a way that could easily be true.) And Nadia being who she is, the mode of dealing with some of these types may be with the business end of a pistol. As another reviewer commented, her ethics and moral compass may not be something all readers endorse (I don’t, as such –and Nadia doesn’t claim saint status for herself, either).

But she does HAVE ethics and a moral compass; and for me, the way she sincerely tries to grapple with balancing it with the realities of a very grim world, in which the law doesn’t always serve justice or protect the helpless, is one of the great strengths of the series, and a source of its considerable emotional power. That’s as true of this book as of the others. Despite the body count, there’s no wallowing in blood and gore, and no sex as such, though there are a few “sexual situations.” Romantic feelings and angst are not a major strand of the plot here. Nadia’s narrative voice, IMO, is perfect for these books. The one negative is the amount of f-words and profanity from some characters, especially Jack. I admit that this is “realistic” for speakers who are steeped in this milieu, and have the backgrounds that some of them do; but I don’t really need that much pedantic realism. But the strong character portrayals and serious moral reflection here earn the book its stars despite that factor.

Author: Kelley Armstrong
Publisher: Bantam Books; available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Backstreet Justice

  By

★★½
“V.I. Boreshawski”

It’s difficult to put a finger on exactly what makes this so flat and uninteresting. The individual elements are fine – or, at least, don’t stand out as being particularly troublesome. However, the end product failed to hold my attention, particularly over the second half. It may be a case of the whole being considerably less than the sum of the parts, though if there was a single factor, I’d have to point at the story. This is probably too complicated for its own good, especially in a 90-minute movie: less would likely have been more.

Maybe it’s just the lead actress’s name, but as the tag-line above suggest, I was getting a distinct vibe of V.I. Warshawski from this. That film, starring Kathleen Turner, came out a few years previously, though wasn’t a big success. Still, there’s something similar here, with a female private eye who cracks wise, in a chilly Northern city (here, Pittsburgh; there, Chicago). The main difference is the heroine here, Keri Finnegan (Kozlowski), is burdened by the death of her father. He was a cop who died in the line of duty, but with a severely tarnished reputation, having apparently been on the take. This has hung over his daughter ever since.

As the film begins, she is on the hunt for a serial killer whom the local cops seem unable to catch – initially, it seems he may be a member of the force. However, it increasingly appears not to be some random psycho. Keri uncovers evidence suggesting it’s part of a plot to make the area undesirable; this will then drive down property prices, allowing a local speculator to come in and pick up a bargain. And this isn’t anything new. The evidence points to this kind of thing happening for a very long time – indeed, it appears increasingly like there may be a connection to her father’s death. Needless to say, there are a lot of people who have a very strong vested interest in keeping the past buried.

Kozlowski, best known for her role in Crocodile Dundee, does a decent job as Keri, and seems to embrace the physical aspects of the role, with a fair amount of running, jumping and mild to moderate fisticuffs. The rest of the cast aren’t bad either, though few of them escape the obvious characters typically present in such things. I just didn’t find myself caring enough (read: at all) about what was happening. There wasn’t much of a sense of threat, despite a heroine who has to engage in some Perils of Pauline-esque narrow escapes, e.g. lobbing an explosive device out of the window, just before the timer reached zero. I think it may be that the nature of the threat is kept nebulous and hidden for too long. But the time it became concrete, it provoked little more than a shrug of my shoulders, and I then went back to surfing idly on my phone. It’s all far too forgettable.

Dir: Chris McIntyre
Star: Linda Kozlowski, Paul Sorvino, Hector Elizondo, John Shea

Enola Holmes

  By

★★
“Puts the ‘no’ in Enola.”

Complete ranking of Enolas

  1. Enola Gay
  2. Enola Holmes
  3. That’s it.

I’m probably not the only one who spent much of the film humming OMD’s classic Enola Gay to themselves – released 40 years ago this month, coincidentally. And, sadly, it remains my favourite Enola, by quite some distance. This was more annoying than anything else, though I’ve never been on the Millie Bobby Brown hype-train. I didn’t think much of Stranger Things, and her performance in Godzilla: King of the Monsters, interfered with what I want to see i.e. monsters fighting. Here, I found her more irritating than engaging, though in her defense, she wasn’t helped by some poor directorial choices.

This get off on the wrong foot at the very start, Enola (Brown), Sherlock Holmes’ sixteen-year-old sister, breaking the fourth wall and addressing the audience, something she does frequently. Director Bradbeer used this technique in TV series Fleabag, but I’m not a fan: it takes me out of proceedings, reminding me I’m watching a film. What follows is less a convincing evocation of 1900 England, than contemporary America playing girl power dress-up, with “nasty women” blowing things up as they seek to defeat the evil patriarchy. One of these is Enola’s mother (Bonham-Carter), whose vanishing without warning starts things off, causing Enola to begin searching for her, based on coded clues left behind. It escapes me quite why the missing parent couldn’t simply write, “Dear Enola, Gone off to be a suffragette. Love, Mum.”

Not that it matters, because Enola rapidly abandons this quest entirely, in favour of a case involving the young, attractive and entirely personality-free aristocrat, Viscount Tewkesbury (Partridge), whose vote is crucial to get a reform bull passed, expanding the ability to vote [in reality, no such change took place until almost twenty years later – but hey, why let facts stop you from twisting history for your political points?]. On his trail is a mysterious and ill-intentioned man (Gorman), with whom Enola crosses paths. She also has to fend off attempts by her other brother, Mycroft, to have her consigned to a very Handmaid’s Tale-looking boarding school. This is intended to have Enola brainwashed into being the quiet and submissive woman society expects.

The politics on view here are cringeworthy, particularly from Mrs. Holmes, who speaks almost entirely in feminist fortune-cookies, such as “Don’t be thrown off course by other people. Especially men.” It’s one of those cases where merely leading by example isn’t enough: you have to virtue-signal your morality by announcing it, explicitly and repeatedly, which I find immensely off-putting. Hence, we get gobbets of political sermonizing, such as Sherlock (Cavill) being told, by a black, female martial-arts teacher – something I’m fairly sure wasn’t common enough  in the Victorian era to pass without comment: “You don’t know what it is to be without power. Politics doesn’t interest you… because you have no interest in changing a world that suits you so well.” You go, sister!

Speaking of which, the portrayal of the great detective is no more accurate than the other element. “Sherlock Holmes always works alone!” proclaims Inspector Lestrade. Uh, I guess the creators never heard of Dr. Watson, an intrinsic character, from the very first Conan Doyle story? You just never get any sense of keen intellect from Cavill’s performance. Guess they didn’t want to overshadow Enola and her Big Brain. Yet, under all these flaws, is a decent movie, trying to get out. The look of things is lovely, and some of the action sequences are well-handled, even if a slip of a girl like Enola hardly seems equipped to trade blows with grown men.

Maybe they could have made more use of her archery skills (above), which are set-up, then entirely forgotten. Like so much else, that gets lost in the rush to cram an “uplifting” message into the movie, rather than letting one flow organically from it.

Dir: Harry Bradbeer
Star: Millie Bobby Brown, Louis Partridge, Henry Cavill, Burn Gorman