Author: Werner Lind

Double Play, by Kelley Armstrong

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

Some years ago, my Goodreads friend Mary J.L. gave the original novel of the author’s Nadia Stafford trilogy a favorable review, and that put it on my radar. As a rule, I don’t read novels that are only published in electronic format (it does have a audio version, but I don’t listen to audio books either), but I do read short e-stories; electronic publishing provides a forum for those works which no longer exists in print, what with the demise of general-circulation magazines. This tale, as a novella, occupies a middle ground, but commercially novellas are in much the same boat as short stories –a single one wouldn’t sell very well in print format. So I felt it was fair to treat it the same way, and thought it would be a good way to check out the series for myself.

From reading the descriptions, and some reviews, of the novels in the original trilogy, I figured I would have enough knowledge of the characters and their situation so as not to have a problem understanding this one. That proved to be true. However, a significant caveat is that this continuation does contain spoilers in the romantic-triangle aspect of the novels and some of the denouement of the third novel, Wild Justice, so readers who would be very bothered by that should read the series in order. (And regarding the romantic triangle, probably shouldn’t read either this review or the novella description!)

Ex-cop turned guest lodge owner/manager Nadia (“Dee”) Stafford’s action qualifications aren’t in question; but some might challenge her heroine qualifications since, as the Goodreads description makes clear, her unadvertised side occupation is as a hit woman. But Nadia’s not your average amoral, anything-for-money hired killer; she’s actually a lady with a very lively conscience, a concern for justice and the protection of the innocent, and a strict code of professional ethics to govern her extra-legal line of work. Though I haven’t read much fiction with assassin protagonists, I think they can be interesting characters when they approach their work with a sense of right and wrong and ethical obligation; and Nadia qualifies in that respect. Of course, I don’t endorse her career choice (and she’d actually agree that it’s objectively wrong, even though she’s not planning to quit). But I can still like and respect her, and wish her well; and when she’s willingly putting her life on the line to help someone in trouble, as she is here, I’m not one to deny her a “heroine” accolade.

When our story opens, Nadia and her lover, fellow assassin Jack (who was introduced in the first novel) are in the process of building a house in the woods near her lodge. At the moment, though, Jack’s in his native Ireland on business, and phone communication between the two is precarious because of their security concerns. In the first chapter, she’s approached by an acquaintance from a shadowy vigilante organization she’s had contact with before, who’s looking for Quinn, one of the organization’s operatives –and Nadia’s ex-boyfriend (pre-Jack). He’s dropped out of sight, and it’s clearly not intentional; he’s been kidnapped, by parties and for purposes unknown. In their milieu, just placing a missing persons report and letting the police do their job isn’t a practical option; so Nadia’s soon off to Virginia to help with the search and (hopefully) rescue, and the action takes off. (And don’t forget Jack in Ireland….)

The 17 chapters alternate between Nadia’s first-person narration and third-person narration, but from Jack’s perspective and in his vocabulary. Some readers may find his predilection for the f-word as all-purpose adjective and adverb wince-worthy –he doesn’t say it much, being notoriously laconic, but he thinks it repeatedly. (No other character uses it to that extent, however, and Nadia, while she might occasionally let slip a cuss word or vulgarism, doesn’t use it at all.). A Byzantine plot lies behind the kidnapping, and I deducted a star for ultimately contradictory plotting: a number of details in the previous chapters, given the denouement, don’t really make sense, IMO. (And, recalling the old TV show America’s Dumbest Criminals, the villain here could qualify for star billing on a World’s Dumbest Criminals show, if there were one.)

For all that, though, the story is a page-turner, and the two lead characters are, for contract assassins, genuinely likable. Readers of the trilogy already are familiar with them; but I got to know them here in a way that’s not possible just from book descriptions. We also get glimpses of their psychological baggage –Jack’s going back to Northern Ireland’s bloody Troubles in his teens, and Nadia’s as a past rape victim. (While the two aren’t married, their love for each other is sincere and has a good effect on their lives, and the references to their lovemaking aren’t very explicit.) While I hope the novels in the trilogy are better plotted, I still liked this literary appetizer enough to plan to give the series opener a try!

Author: Kelley Armstrong
Publisher: Traverse Press; available through Amazon, currently only along with the next novella, Perfect Victim – both as e-books and in paperback.

A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Element 42, by Seeley James

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

Earlier this year, because he knew that I’d greatly liked the two previous Sabel Security novels, my Goodreads friend Seeley James gifted me with the e-book editions of all of the remaining five. This was just an act of friendly generosity, with no actual request for reviews; but I’m glad to treat them as review copies, and (as always) to review them fairly on their merits. This book’s merits earn it very high marks, which came as no surprise to me!

Unlike some series, this one really should be read in order; you need the background of the first two to fully understand the characters and premise, and the previous experiences that shape their situation and relationships. (My reviews of the previous books, also provide background for this review, and a lot of the earlier comments would also apply here.) Here, Pia and her team of veteran agents stumble onto a scheme that clearly involves unethical biological research on natives in the jungles of Borneo. What else it ultimately involves –well, that would be telling, but plumbing the full depth of what’s going on will have our gallant band of heroes/heroines (where gender is concerned, Seeley’s an equal-opportunity writer!) facing danger and death on three different continents, with LOTS of lives, and maybe the future of mankind, at stake.  It’s worth noting that, while Pia earns her three-star kick-butt quotient here, we have at least three action-capable ladies among our characters here (one of whom is much more lethal than Pia is), and another one who grows unto the role.

Like the previous book, this one interweaves two narrative strands, one in third person and one in the first-person voice of Sabel Security agent Jacob Stearne. Also like the previous one, its premise builds a fictional narrative on the real-life realities of actual geopolitical problems and a world ruled by elitist corporations and governments that are almost totally devoid of any ethic except self-centered utilitarianism, and in the grip of a hubris that’s willing and eager to play God. (No, we don’t have any concrete evidence that anybody’s planning a scheme like the one depicted here –but at the same time, it’s a pretty plausible guess that there are plenty of people in high places who at least contemplate it, or would if they calculated they could pull it off.) Of the three books I’ve read to date, this one has the most action, with an almost manic pace, and the highest body count. We also have some more revelation of what makes Pia tick psychologically, and a hint of more revelations to come about the murder of her birth parents when she was five years old. (She’s operating to a big extent in vigilante mode here, but for me that’s not necessarily a negative thing; the book will force readers to consider how they feel about that, and my personal opinion of it is that it can be morally justified at times.)

The plotting is complex, and the chapters tend to end on cliffhanger notes, only to switch back and forth between equally precarious narrative strands. Seeley knows a great deal about high-tech surveillance equipment, weaponry, etc., and makes liberal use of what he knows here; but the reader doesn’t have to share that knowledge –we can just accept that things work the way he says they do, and go with the flow. If one had unlimited time to read, this would be a quick read; it took me nearly two months to finish only because I read it irregularly here and there in electronic format. (I’d have blazed through it a lot faster in paper format, and would have read it in one sitting if I could have!) No spoilers, but the ending was particularly good.

My reaction to the read wasn’t without a few quibbles. Although I sometimes got lost in plot details and couldn’t remember a connection, etc., I think that was mostly because of the piecemeal way I had to read the book over a span of weeks, not due to deficiencies in the narration. Mostly, I could follow the action sequences (not always; they’d be clearer in movie format, and this would be a great subject for movie adaptation!). But on at least three occasions, characters with their hands tied behind their backs reverse that by, apparently, jumping backwards through their own arms. I don’t believe this is physically possible, no matter how athletic the person is; and even if it was, I think it would result in two dislocated shoulders. Seeley also tends to forget details from previous books. It was established in the first two books that persons shot with Sabel Security tranquilizer darts need to be injected with an antidote to prevent possible allergic reactions (if I correctly recall the explanation); that requirement disappears here. Jacob specifically mentioned in the previous book that fellow agent Carla was married; here he tells us specifically that he never knew anything about her marital status, and it’s made clear that she’s single.

Bad language is probably within the limits of realism, and there’s no explicit sex (though, Jacob being Jacob, we’re not terribly surprised in the opening scene when he’s rousted out of bed, and is sharing it with a recently-met woman). But the revelation, at one point, of past messed-up sexual escapades and inter-relationships among some of the characters (not Pia) is so off-putting it inspires eye rolling. (However, while I recently dropped another series because I discovered that the author wants us to believe his protagonist really has conversations with animals, I don’t believe Seeley really wants us to believe Jacob has actual conversations only he can hear with the Roman god Mercury. IMO, we should understand this simply as a hallucinogenic coping mechanism when he’s not on his meds, and the “warnings” from that source as really deriving from a sixth sense and highly-keen natural senses and instincts. I could be wrong, though….)

Regardless of quibbles, though, I really liked the book and continue to really like the series. I’m invested in it for the long haul, though It’ll be autumn before I’m able to get to the next book. But I’ll be champing at the bit!

Author: Seeley James
Publisher: Machined Media, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Pieces of Modesty, by Peter O’Donnell

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

The six stories in this collection of short fiction featuring iconic heroine Modesty Blaise were all originally published in the Australian publication Pix in Jan.-Feb. 1970. O’Donnell intended them to be published in book form with illustrations by Jim Holdaway, then the artist for the Modesty Blaise comic strip; but Holdaway died that year, and the book-form collection wasn’t published for another two years. (See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pieces_of_Modesty .) In the interval, however, at least one of the stories, “A Better Day to Die,” was reprinted in an American magazine (I don’t recall which one), where I read it –I think in the spring of 1970, while I was still in high school. It was my first introduction to the character, and one of very few exposures I’d had in fiction to a kick-butt heroine (they were much less numerous in my youth than they’ve since become). My teenage self was pretty awe-struck by Modesty in action; so that gave me an abiding interest in her fictional exploits, although this is still only the second book by O’Donnell that I’ve read.

While this is the sixth installment of the series, because the stories are strictly episodic and not connected to each other, and are set at various times in the 60s, they don’t really have to be read after the first five novels to be understood and appreciated. (It would probably be best to read the first novel first, just to provide a foundation.) In a couple of stories, references are made to events, and characters reappear, which are probably drawn from the novels; but any information about past events that we need to know is supplied. Five of them are written in third person; “I Had a Date with Lady Janet” is unique in that Willie narrates it in first person, which helps to develop his character more deeply. The settings are mostly British or continental European, with one tale taking place in South America. All six adventures involve Modesty in a wide variety of situations, which illustrate various aspects of her personality and abilities; that may explain the collection’s odd title. (Don’t worry –Modesty is not dismembered!)

O’Donnell writes with a very readable, professional style, and creates captivating story-lines centered around well-developed characters. His plots aren’t overly convoluted, and their various elements dovetail nicely; that doesn’t keep some of the stories from having surprise twists, which grow naturally from the soil of the tale itself, as legitimate surprises should. (I did guess the general outline of one, before the author revealed it.) This is, of course, action-adventure pulp fiction; unusual, extreme and sometimes life-threatening situations are the norm, and our main characters are larger than life. That doesn’t mean the writing lacks literary quality, nor that it’s without realism, psychological and otherwise. Neither of those are in fact lacking; and neither is moral vision, and the ability to evoke serious thought about ethical questions. The author just evokes the kind of thought about them that today’s literary-critical clerisy doesn’t welcome, because he thinks that right and wrong are real categories, and that virtues such as courage, loyalty and justice actually ARE virtues.

In commenting on individual stories, I want to avoid spoilers. I’ll say simply that “A Better Day to Die” presents a serious, balanced and fair debate between absolute pacifism and the position that violent resistance to murderous and other harmful aggression is a legitimate last resort to protect the inoffensive, including oneself. (Modesty maintains the latter, and O”Donnell clearly agrees with her, as I do –but she respects the pacifist position.) “The Giggle Wrecker,” set mainly in East Berlin in the days of the Cold War, brings back the memory of that era vividly, and to my mind refutes the claim of some that there was an absolute moral equivalency between the West and Soviet totalitarianism. Willie’s narrative and “A Perfect Night to Break Your Neck” are noteworthy for their positive portrayal of physically handicapped characters (both of whom not only pull their weight, but enjoy serious romantic relationships with partners who appreciate them as persons).

“Salamander Four” is the only selection here that indicates Modesty’s openness, on occasion, to uncommitted sex (although there’s no explicit sexual content there, or in any of the stories), but the psychology of it is understandable and she comes across to me as misguided rather than callous and selfish –it’s clear that her intention isn’t knowingly to be hurtful or exploitative. Finally, “The Soo Girl Charity” is the most disturbing of the stories, in that (though without being graphic) it provides a look into the dark reality of the exploitation of women by sexual sadists, and into the even darker reality of what pounded-in cultural brainwashing of females to accept patriarchy and male domination actually does to their psyches. (I didn’t feel that the victim here being Asian indicates racism or cultural stereotyping; I think that simply reflects a reality that, at least in the 60s, traditional rural Asian cultures still tended to promote that kind of brainwashing to a greater degree than Occidental ones –even though the sexism of our culture is bad enough.)

One quibble I had with the latter story is that I thought the premise had Modesty and Willie acting (at least, for their current post-Network situation) out of character in a couple of respects. A more important issue was with a comment about a brutal gang rape of a teen girl that occurs in one of the stories. That the incident could realistically be expected to happen, given the mentality of thugs put in a position to dominate unarmed females, I don’t deny (sadly, it would be more unrealistic if it didn’t); O’Donnell doesn’t treat it graphically and clearly disapproves of it. But afterwards he has Modesty thinking, at one point, “Just as well it had been Rosa. She was a sturdy peasant type with nerves like sisal. In a little while she might even begin to relish the cachet of having been raped by guerillas.” To be sure, the author doesn’t suggest that she relished the rape itself. But in the first place, I don’t think being raped carries any cachet, in a culture that sees virginity as a valuable commodity and sees rape victims as “damaged goods.” In the second place, I can’t imagine that this would be a reaction Rosa would ever have, nor that the idea would be one that Modesty (who was a rape victim herself in the past) would ever think. It comes across as the kind of insensitive, emotionally tone-deaf perception a male author might have who doesn’t have any real ability to imagine the actual psychology of a rape victim.

Overall, though, these caveats didn’t keep me from really liking the collection as a whole. Modesty is one of my favorite action heroines, and one whom I see as, on the whole, a pretty good role model –she has her faults, which are recognizable; but if both male and female readers pick up on emulating her virtues, they’d find a great many to aspire to. I’m glad to have spent this interlude in her fictional world, and still hope to read more of the Modesty canon eventually.

Author: Peter O”Donnell
Publisher: Souvenir Press, available through Amazon, currently only as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Bring It, by Seeley James

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

It took me about six years after reading the series opener to get back to the adventures of one of my favorite action heroines, Seeley James’ Pia Sabel; but I only wish I’d done so a lot sooner! Some of my comments in my review of the preceding book, The Geneva Decision, are relevant here as well, and that review also explains something of the premise and who Pia is. In this second book, we learn significantly more of her backstory (and the revelations are corkers –but no spoilers here!).

However, I liked this book even better. Here, there were no interspersed deus ex machina revelations to jump over plot obstacles, and for the most part I could visualize the action scenes better (with only a couple of exceptions). I attribute this to the author’s increasing skill at writing. A review by a Goodreads friend had stated that Pia isn’t the main character in this novel; I also knew that Seeley had opted here for using Sabel Security agent Jacob Stearne as a first-person narrator (actually, his narrative thread only comprises part of the book), and that Pia is kidnapped early on by the baddies. Since, for me, her character is the main draw of the series, all of this was somewhat off-putting; I feared that she would be largely inactive and off-stage here.

But I needn’t have worried; I would definitely dispute the assessment that she’s not the main character, and I can categorically guarantee that she’s neither inactive nor off-stage! Although the two characters are distinct and not clones of each other, in some ways Jacob reminds me, in his personality and his relationship to Pia, of Peter O’Donnell’s Willie Garvin and his relationship to another kick-butt heroine, Modesty Blaise; both Willie and Jacob are utterly clueless in their certainty that recreational sex is a perfectly harmless pastime and that any woman they meet should be a potential partner, and both are apt to prompt some eye-rolling moments from readers who aren’t similarly clueless. (There’s no explicit sex in the book, however.)

They differ, though, in that while Willie adores Modesty, he thinks it would be an impermissible “liberty” to entertain romantic fantasies about her, but Jacob definitely has romantic fantasies about Pia. (Of course, he also has feelings for another of our old friends from the first book, his colleague Agent Tania –but that doesn’t inspire fidelity to either woman.)

Another aspect of this book that’s superior to the first is the seriousness of the theme, because here the author takes a hard fictional look at the real-life underbelly of America’s Deep State, where an out-of-control, largely unaccountable security apparatus can too often be run by sociopaths who think only in terms of “us against them” rather than right vs. wrong, see morality and law as quaint superstitions, and can and do carry out outrages (up to and including murder) against innocents, including American citizens. (Yes, the horrors of Operation Snare Drum here are fictional –but there have been documented crimes by U.S. government personnel or “contractors” that aren’t fictional.)

To his credit, Seeley doesn’t portray this as a partisan issue with just one establishment party as the bad guys, because it isn’t; it’s not a Republican vs. Democrat issue, but of decent Americans of whatever party label vs. traitors to our ideals regardless of what party label they use. (Though this was written during the Obama administration, it’s set after it, with a fictional new President of unspecified affiliation.) It’s a needed eye-opener for any American who cares about the rule of law and ethics in government –which is why I’ve recommended it as not just for genre fans!

A quick disclaimer: Seeley and I are Goodreads friends (though he’s not very active here), but I bought my copy of this novel myself, and my rating wasn’t at all affected by his “friend” status.

Author: Seeley James
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 2 of 2 in the Sabel Origins series.

Pirates! by Celia Rees

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

Although I haven’t read much pirate-themed fiction, I find the premise interesting; so I’ve had my eye on this historical novel ever since the BC library (where I work) acquired it. It definitely didn’t disappoint! Set mostly in the early 1720s, with some stage-setting in the years leading up to those, this action-packed tale follows the life and adventures of first-person narrator Nancy Kington (b. ca. 1704), the daughter of a Bristol merchant, who finds herself packed off to the family’s plantation in Jamaica at the age of 15, and is subsequently led by circumstances to voluntarily sign articles on a pirate ship.

Pirates, of course, are sea-going robbers; by definition, they forcibly steal other people’s property for their own profit. Obviously, they’re off of the ethical strait-and-narrow path, and in shady moral territory. The piratical profession most naturally appeals to brutal and self-serving types who don’t have any particular moral sense or empathy with their fellow humans. (Some may be more brutal and selfish than others –and some spectacularly evil and sadistic types may find the pirate life an opportunity to gratify their propensities.) Like Robert Louis Stevenson before her, British writer Rees gives full recognition to that reality.

To a greater extent than Stevenson, though, she recognizes that there can be a range of nuanced moral qualities among pirates, with not all of them quite fitting that model –especially in a time and place where patriarchy and male chauvinism, legalized slavery, and institutionalized inequality and injustice greatly constrict many people’s lives and choices, and might render the right side of the law as morally dicey as life under the Jolly Roger. (That’s not unlike the situation in the Old West, or in medieval Europe, where “outlaws” might sometimes be decent people pushed outside the law by others using the system for their own gain.) Personally, I think that pirates who aren’t brutal and selfish as such, and who do have a strong moral sense and a concern for others, can be interesting characters in the ways they navigate the shades of grey that their position necessarily entails; and that’s true of our heroine here. (Yes, a lady who happens to be a pirate can be an honorable and admirable heroine!)

This is fiction in the Romantic tradition –that is, fiction that seeks primarily to evoke strong emotional responses from the reader, sometimes enhanced, as they are here, by extreme situations and exotic settings. The Romantic aim is fully fulfilled here; I was taken captive by this pirate right away, turned the pages as fast as I could at every opportunity, and experienced a wealth of complex emotions throughout the story. (It’s not, however, a “romance novel” in the Harlequin sense –though it has clean romance as one strand of the plot, which I appreciated– and it doesn’t “romanticize” things like piracy, slavery, and the grim realities of ocean-going life in the 18th century). It’s also fiction with serious food for thought, as well as rousing adventure, and a very moving portrait of cross-racial friendship. Like most modern Romantic fiction, though, it borrows Realist techniques, with a concern for verisimilitude and historical accuracy. (In common with some other authors, Rees used the contemporary nonfiction A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates, which she and some others attribute to Daniel Defoe, as a key source.) Nancy’s narrative voice is engaging and quick-flowing, with a slightly archaic flavor in word choices and diction for realism, but is much easier to read than an actual 18th-century narrative would have been.

Born in 1949, former schoolteacher Rees is an accomplished novelist, the author of some 19 books, and a History major (she actually had a double major, but History was one). Her publishers market her books to the YA age group (and the BC library put this one in the Juvenile section on that account), in this case probably encouraged by the fact that Nancy and her friend and fellow pirate Miranda are in their teens. Bad language of the d-word sort is present but relatively restrained, rape or attempted rape and prostitution are part of their world but not portrayed in great detail, and while there are some very violent and grisly moments, Rees doesn’t wallow in them. The content here, IMO, wouldn’t be harmful to a healthy teen; and I could see plenty of teen readers of both sexes eating it up with a spoon and asking for more. But it could just as easily have been marketed as an adult novel; there isn’t anything stereotypically juvenile or “kiddish” about it. (Teens in Nancy and Miranda’s day were expected to grow up quickly, and our gals here definitely did –they have far more in common, in their capacities and general attitudes, with today’s adult women than they do with typical modern teens.)

This particular edition of the book has a moderately interesting interview with the author (originally published in a Michigan newspaper), and a few pages of discussion questions and activities, aimed at younger readers, that could be used for common reads in a book club or classroom. At the time it was published, the novel garnered a number of prestigious accolades from the likes of the American Library Assn., the International Reading Assn., etc. For once, I think it deserved every critical recognition it got (and I don’t often agree with the critical community!).

“You may wish me luck, or curse me for a damnable pirate,” Nancy writes near the close of her account. This reader opted for the first choice, without apology!

Author: Ceilia Rees
Publisher: Bloomsbury, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book

The Apocalypse Door, by James D. McDonald

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

I recommended this novel mainly for fans of action-adventure/espionage fiction. It was also a bit of a head-scratcher for me –as well as for the main characters!– whether their adventure is actually in the realm of the supernatural or of science fiction. There are definitely elements that could be explained in terms of the latter. But we also have a scenario of supposed would-be supernatural intervention to usher in the end of the present world order, as described in the biblical book of Revelation (given the title, that’s hardly a spoiler), which is presumed to be a bad thing. (In books and films with that premise, it’s always presumed to be a bad thing).

A valid criticism that could be made of that whole sub-genre is that it’s theologically illiterate, regardless of whether you’re talking about Christian, Jewish, or Moslem theology. None of these faiths view God’s final action at the end of history, to deliver the righteous from evil and oppression and usher in an eternal order of true peace and justice, as a bad thing; and none of them imagine that it can be brought about or jump-started by demonic or human manipulation. A second valid criticism of this particular book, IMO, is that the integration of the supernatural and SF elements here is clunky and unconvincing.

Those criticisms aside, however, this is a very gripping, exciting read, that moves along at a rapid pace right out of the starting gate. We have two distinct narratives here, alternating: a main one set in the author’s present (2002), laid out in the numbered chapters, and an earlier one from 1980, interspersed between each chapter in short sections titled “In-Country.” How the one strand is related to the other isn’t clear until near the end, although one connection comes into focus sooner than that. This is a challenging structure for a novelist to pull off, and to my mind Macdonald does it very well; both strands held my interest, and the rapid cutting between the two made for a constant cliff-hanger effect. I was completely hooked for both of them early on.

“Peter Crossman” is our narrator for the main narrative (he indicates at the outset that this is an alias). He’s an ordained Roman Catholic priest –and also a high-ranking Knight Templar, for our premise here is that after they were slandered and suppressed in 1307, the Templars continued to exist underground, and still operate today as a secret agency for fighting evil. Much of their M.O. is similar to secular counterparts such as the CIA or MI6. (Macdonald’s Templars are thoroughly orthodox Roman Catholics –there’s no attempt here to make them into closeted heretics.) For the particular assignment he’s been given, he’s assisted by a younger colleague whose performance he’s to evaluate, and he also soon gets the unexpected assistance of Franciscan (Poor Clare) nun Sister Mary Magdalene.

But pistol-packing Maggie’s not your typical nun; she works for the Clare’s Special Action Executive Branch –a distaff equivalent of the Templars– as an assassin. Another quibble here, even if you’re prepared to accept the idea that the forces of good can permissibly employ extra-legal lethal force against evil, is that the Clare’s leadership don’t vet their contracts very well; Peter and Maggie (who’ve met before) encounter each other here when she’s sent to kill him. (That’s not much of a spoiler; we learn it in Chapter 2.) Obviously, when she finds out that her mark is one of the good guys, she doesn’t carry out the hit; but in her shoes, that would make me seriously aware that something’s amiss back at headquarters! But that aspect isn’t explored. The ensuing mission, though, proves to be challenging, lethally dangerous, and twisty as a pretzel.

Peter’s narrative voice is streetwise and heavily leavened with wisecracking humor, with the perspective of a tough veteran of too many years of rough-and-tumble action that’s exposed him to the depths of what evil humans are capable of; he doesn’t have any illusions about his fellow men or himself. But his faith rescues him from cynicism, and the reality of the Divine and the spiritual is taken seriously here. (Macdonald was raised as a Roman Catholic, I don’t know if he practices now, but he knows the nuances of Catholic belief and practice.) Good use is also made here of Templar history, and the history of their disreputable offshoot, the Teutonic Knights.

This is a very quick read, with little bad language (a few vulgarisms, one f-word, and no profanity) and minimal violence; what there is isn’t graphic or dwelt on. Three stars is my best estimate for the kick-butt quotient; by her own admission, Maggie’s killed people in her line of work, and when the good guys have to throw lead here, she throws it right along with the rest -–though when the smoke clears and the bodies are counted, as in real life, it may not be easy or worthwhile to figure out who shot who. The one sex scene in the 1980 narrative isn’t very explicit, and occupies three short sentences. (Peter finds Maggie sexy, as most males would, in holy orders or not; but that’s just a morally neutral quality she happens to have, and both she and he take their celibacy vows seriously.) Our hero and heroine aren’t plaster saints, but unlike some reviewers, I didn’t find either of them “blasphemous” nor bad representatives of their faith.

This is a stand-alone novel, a fact that has pluses and minuses; I’m not looking to get sucked into another series, but I actually wouldn’t mind following Peter and Maggie as series characters! (The author has penned some Peter Crossman short stories, which I might look into.)

Author: James D. Macdonald
Publisher: Tor, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.

A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Ride the River, by Louis L’Amour

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

Goodreads characterizes this novel, set in 1840, as the fifth volume in the author’s Sackett series. The fictional Sackett family, in L’Amour’s writings, are descended from tough, larger-than-life Barnabas Sackett, who emigrated to America in the 1600s and settled on the frontier, and who laid down a law for his descendants that whenever a Sackett was in trouble, the rest were bound to lend their aid. This book is indeed about a Sackett, and no doubt chronologically the fifth in that sequence. But the sequence forms a multi-generational saga in which the individual books are generally about different people; though some knowledge of the family origins, as mentioned above, might be helpful (and is repeated in the text of this book, for readers who didn’t read the series opener), they can be read perfectly well as stand-alones. (I haven’t read any of the other Sackett novels.) L’Amour also wrote sequences of novels and stories about two other fictional families that bred adventurous pioneers, the Chantrys and the Talons, whose paths sometimes cross those of the Sacketts –and the paths of a couple of the Chantrys will bring them into this tale as well.

Sixteen-year old Echo Sackett, of the Tennessee Sacketts, lives in the mountains with her family. Her pa is recently dead; her brothers are on an extended trapping expedition further west, and her uncle is laid up from a bear attack. So when an unusual circumstance brings an ad in a peddler-borne Pennsylvania newspaper to light, seeking the youngest descendant of one Kin Sackett to claim an inheritance, it falls to Echo to undertake the long and somewhat dangerous round trip to Philadelphia to receive and bring back the money. Readers accustomed to judging teens by the most immature and irresponsible examples that 21st-century American entitlement culture can produce might well see this as a foredoomed exercise that should never have been contemplated. But Echo is a product of a very different kind of culture. A crack shot who packs a pair of Doune pistols (see this link: http://firearmshistory.blogspot.com/2010/12/pistols-highland-pistol.html ) and is accustomed to shooting game for the table without missing, self-reliant, mature and capable Echo is a formidable young woman, not a child. She might need her cool head and firearms skills (and her “Arkansas toothpick”) on this trip, because there are those who didn’t want that ad seen to start with, and who’d prefer to have that money in their own pockets, rather than hers.

One reviewer said he felt this novel was “gimmicky.” I’m not sure what he considered the “gimmick” –possibly the protagonist’s gender, or the Sackett family’s clannish ethos of sticking together and helping each other in the face of trouble, including attacks by outsiders. Personally, I didn’t consider either element a gimmick. For me, seeing competence and fighting skills on the distaff side of the equation is a strong plus; I don’t see those kinds of qualities as inconsistent with female nature in any way, and Echo has plausible reasons for her characteristics. The Sackett ethic strikes me as something all families could profit by internalizing, and as such a worthwhile message for contemporary society. L’Amour’s knowledge of his settings, from 1840s Appalachia to distant Philadelphia, and of relevant history, is clearly extensive; he brings his world to life well. The characters, especially Echo herself, are vividly drawn and evoke reactions from the reader. In much of his work, L’Amour’s plotting is often predictable, but he managed to take me by surprise with one key development here –in a good way! There’s no sex and very little bad language here, and respectful treatment of a black character. With plenty of effective action scenes, the book is a pretty quick read.

There’s also a element of low-key, but serious, romantic attraction that develops in the book. For some readers, this will be problematic because of Echo’s age; while the age difference per se isn’t excessive, at this time of her life, it happens to put her love interest above 18 while she’s below that age. This didn’t scandalize me, in context; as I said, Echo is a woman, not a child (and in her community, she’s considered to be of a normal marriageable age). I didn’t consider the mutual attraction to be in any sense pedophilic or abnormal.

My one criticism of the book is the slipshod writing/editing in several places. Echo serves as first-person narrator for most of the book; but for scenes to which she isn’t privy, or where he wants to give us a different perspective, L’Amour occasionally uses other viewpoint characters, in third person. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, and it even enhances the story at times. But at other times, L’Amour forgets which narrative thread he’s using, and is inconsistent with pronoun use in the same sentence or paragraph. That takes a reader out of the story, and is particularly frustrating when you’re reading this aloud (as I was, to my wife). Just for that reason, I deducted a half star.  But that didn’t keep me from really liking the book! Any read by L’Amour has always been a winner for me, and this one was no exception.

Author: Louis L’Amour
Publisher: Bantam, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.
Book 5 of 19 in the Sacketts series.

Trial by Twelve, by Heather Day Gilbert

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

Stylistically and in terms of its general tone and vision, this second volume of the author’s A Murder in the Mountains mystery series, set in contemporary West Virginia, has much in common with the first book, Miranda Warning. It’s also set in the fictional small town of Buckneck (near real-life Point Pleasant, in west-central WV near the Ohio River), and a number of the characters from the first book are here as well, especially protagonist Tess Spencer and the family she married into. We have the same leavening of humor, the same realistic characterization, and the same affectionate evocation of modern mountain life.

Even the structure is the same; through much of the book, Tess’ first-person, present-tense narration in normal text is supplemented, at the beginnings of the short chapters, by one or more italicized paragraphs from the unsigned and undated letters of a father to his child. As in the first book, we quickly get the idea that the two strands of material will prove to be related. Here, we also quickly form the suspicion that, in reading these letters, we’re glimpsing into the insane world of a serial killer. But while I didn’t review the first book here, there are developments in this book that I thought entitled it to a slot on this site’s roster of action-female reads (though no spoilers from me!).

Pregnant in the first book, Tess is now mom to a roughly year-old toddler. She’s gotten back into church, and into a rekindled faith that plays a role in her life, but doesn’t overpower the plot of the book. Also, she’s finally gotten her concealed carry permit (so her fans don’t have to keep worrying about her being arrested :-) ), and she’s gotten a Glock of her own, which she packs in a hip holster and generally doesn’t leave home without. Back in the work force, she has a new part-time job booking appointments at a fancy spa near Buckneck. It’s a position that suits her well –until, in the first chapter, workmen digging for a swimming pool behind the spa unearth what proves to be a veritable boneyard of female skeletons, killed with arrows to their chests. These deaths took place years ago –but then a fresh corpse turns up….

As a rule, I tend not to like the idea of serial-killer fiction (and nonfiction), and normally avoid it. But despite that, I really liked this book –the killings aren’t directly described, and there’s no wallowing in grisly gore. Although I pegged the killer’s identity pretty early on (that’s not unusual for me in my mystery reading), there were still questions I hadn’t answered, and the denouement managed to pack a surprise. I did find it somewhat dubious that a police detective would involve Tess in his investigation, despite her performance in the earlier book; and even more dubious that an inveterate tobacco-chewer would give up the habit, even temporarily, on the basis that he does here. But these quibbles aside, this was still a quick, enjoyable read, a re-connecting with some of the characters from the first book, and a chance to observe the continuing growth of an engaging protagonist.

As a Christian author, Gilbert avoids profanity and sexual content. Religious content in the book is low-key, and occurs naturally through the experiences of the characters; readers won’t find it “preachy.”

(Readers interested in such features will be pleased that the author has shared a recipe for “Cousin Nelma’s Banana Pudding” in the back of the book. I haven’t tried it, but it actually sounds like it would be pretty tasty, and relatively easy and inexpensive to make.)

Author: Heather Day Gilbert
Publisher: WoodHaven Press, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
Book 2 of 3 in the A Murder in the Mountains series.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

The Sheriff’s Surrender, by Susan Page Davis

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

Having started our acquaintance with the Ladies Shooting Club trilogy last year with the third book, The Blacksmith’s Bravery (long story), my wife Barb and I are now reading the other two volumes in order. Neither of us were disappointed in this one! My reviewing it here was a happy surprise. Although the covers of all three books feature gun-toting women, and a basic plot current of the trilogy is women learning to take responsibility for defending themselves and others, the heroine of the third book wasn’t actually called on to engage in any gun-fighting action. So I assumed the same would be the case here. But [at the risk of a mild “spoiler” –though for fans of this site, this will add interest rather than spoil it :-)], in this series opener, our heroine does need to step up to the plate with a Winchester. (Contrary to many fictional and movie depictions, rifles were used more for serious shooting in the Old West than six-guns). Despite that difference, though, both books have a lot of similarity in tone, content and style. Since I gave the concluding volume five stars on Goodreads, that’s a good thing!

In 1885 small-town Idaho, young Gert Dooley keeps house for her widowed brother, the town’s gunsmith. One thing she can do to help him is test fire the guns he repairs; and she’s gotten to be a crack shot over the years of doing this. When the town’s longtime sheriff is murdered in his office (the titular sheriff is his replacement), the usually quiet community is spooked; and a widowed storekeeper friend asks Gert to teach her how to use her late husband’s Colt, in case she needs it to protect herself or her business. There’s initially no thought of creating a club as such; but as other crimes follow and other women join in the lessons, the Ladies Shooting Club takes shape. Reactions among the community’s menfolk aren’t uniformly supportive –but not uniformly hostile either; stereotypical role expectations of female helplessness weren’t so ingrained in the late 19th-century West as they’d become later.

Despite the historical setting, the issue the novel poses is very contemporary, and hotly debated even today. Male chauvinists tend to see any use of weapons by females as transgressive of patriarchal norms. And while all feminists believe in “empowerment” for women in some sense, many of them either feel that pacifism is ideologically essential to true feminism, or believe that the State and its agents have an absolute monopoly on legitimate use of lethal force, which renders use of a gun for self-defense by ordinary citizens as nearly as bad as using it to attack an innocent. But another strand of feminism rejects that thinking, and views responsible and educated gun ownership as a legitimate tool of women’s empowerment. It’s not hard to deduce from this book what view of that matter Davis takes.

There’s nothing tract-like about this novel, however, any messages emerge naturally from the story itself. Christian faith plays a role in the lives of Gert and other characters, and of the town –the coming of a preacher and his wife to form a nondenominational community church is an important event, as it really was in many Western communities, where organized religion came more slowly than it did in the more easily-settled Eastern states– but the author isn’t “preachy” in her handling of this. The club is also a vehicle for creating female camaraderie and friendship that crosses social divides set by class, religion, and Victorian attitudes (it’ll eventually include both the preacher’s wife and a saloon owner and her girls), and some characters will have lessons to learn in that area.

But the main focus is on the question of what’s behind the sudden rash of arson and violence in the community. I’d describe this as a Western (and there’s horses, guns, a posse, and gun-play at the end), but it embodies very real characteristics of the mystery genre as well. (While I guessed the identity of the villain early on, I’m not sure many readers would –and you might have fun testing your own wits!) And in the background, we have regard and respect growing into love between a worthy man and woman.

Since this was the second book we read of the series, as Barb said, it was “like visiting old friends.” I’d recommend to new readers, though, that they read the books in order. And for us, it’s now on to our third book (which is actually the trilogy’s second), The Gunsmith’s Gallantry!

Author: Susan Page Davis
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.

A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

The Housewife Assassin’s Handbook, by Josie Brown

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

My preferred format for reading is paper; and that’s the only format I support financially, since the only language Big Publishing understands is dollars and cents. Even for a reader like myself, though, e-books have their uses. Writers can offer particular books for free in that format, and that makes it possible to read them first in order to check the quality before you buy the paper edition. And sometimes that opportunity saves you money that would have been wasted if you’d taken a chance on the paper book to begin with! For me, this series opener (which Brown makes available free in e-book format on a permanent basis) was one of those books I was thankful I didn’t have to spend money on, which I’d have regretted.

The novel’s premise is intriguing enough, and the harrowing first chapter grabbed my attention effectively. We’re plunged into the action right away, with present-day events narrated by protagonist Donna in present tense. At the first opportunity, she drops back into a flashback (in past tense) that gives us an introduction to her childhood and family background –and yes, that’s relevant!– how she met her husband, their few years together, and her discovery, after he was identified as the dead victim of a car wreck on the night she gave birth to their third child, that he had a BIG secret: the corporation he worked for was a front that contracted to do wet work for the CIA, and he was an assassin, most recently assigned to help bring down the Quorum, a shadowy organization of ex-government assassins who’ve gone rogue and are out for profit. (They planted the bomb in his car.) We also learn how, needing to support her kids and wanting to better protect them (long story!), and wanting vengeance on the kinds of scumbags who made her a widow, she subsequently agreed to go to work for Carl’s employer, in his old job. (That’s not as big a stretch as it would be for some women –she learned to shoot as a kid, is naturally talented for and very good at it, and met Carl at a firing range.)

While I was reading the first few chapters, I expected this to be a four-star read. The body of the novel itself (we’ll talk about the italicized chapter beginnings below!) actually is more serious in tone than comedic, although it does have some deadpan humor that arises from the incongruities of Donna’s job responsibilities vs. her domestic ones. Her reflections about the ethics of what she does aren’t approached flippantly, and she’s a well-drawn character who earned my sympathy and respect –a very tough woman, morally and physically, but essentially a good and decent person and a caring mom (who intends to survive and be there for her kids). Brown creates a situation that’s fraught with moral and emotional complexity and shades of gray to start with, and then ups the emotional ante exponentially with a new development –followed by some more really compelling twists and turns, the first one of which I didn’t see coming. (I did suspect the second one.) None of the other characters are developed as fully as Donna, but they’re believable, and the author does conjure a sense of place with the southern California setting (in Orange County). And I liked the depiction of family life, and Donna’s relationship with her kids.

In fairness, I also need to defend Donna against the complaint of one reviewer, who regards her as a moral pariah because she lies to her kids, at a very serious level. Well, yes, she does (although she doesn’t like that situation). But as a reality check, these kids are 12, 10 and 5 years old, with big mouths, limited impulse control, and a child’s immaturity and deficient understanding of danger and the complexities of real-world situations. Even if the lies involved are extreme, telling them the truth in a life-and-death situation, where things they do and say could have disastrous consequences, is not a course I’d advocate.

The principal problem I had here was that the plotting is simply not well thought out, and not convincing. One could argue that the essential premise is far-fetched; but I was okay with suspending disbelief that far. (Whether or not black ops organizations would hire a single mom with kids is a matter of speculation, since real life organizations like this don’t publicize their personnel policies. :-) ) But even within the premise Brown creates, much of her plotting simply doesn’t stand examination. Some of the major actions by the villain(s) are at cross-purposes with some of their other major actions; several events that take place here would involve the police in the story, at a level that couldn’t be ignored, but there’s no indication of that here; Donna’s reasoning for one major decision is weak and unconvincing; and Acme (the company she works for) would be much more actively involved in the decision-making at the end, not passive as it is here. Also, characters could not realistically suddenly just shrug off previously incapacitating wounds (which happens here twice), and there are other significant logical slips that took me out of the story. The author writes prolifically, but she apparently wrote this novel too quickly to take her craftsmanship in plotting seriously, or to put any real thought behind it. (That’s a real shame.)

Finally, a word is in order about the titular “Handbook” aspect. As a gimmick here (and as nearly as I can tell, in the other 15 books of the series as well, though I haven’t read them) Brown prefaces each chapter with short, italicized snippets giving supposed household hints that blend home economics with mayhem. These are unrelated to the story-line (though some may have a passing thematic connection to something in the chapter), don’t advance it in any way, and don’t reflect any things that Donna might actually do. Instead, they’re intended to be humorous (often depending for their humor on exaggerations that are completely over the top). Some readers like these (one reviewer found them to be her favorite aspect of the book!); so as the saying goes, “Your mileage may vary.” Personally, though, their humor generally fell flat for me; it typically strains too hard, and comes across as weak (or nonexistent) and forced. I found them an irritating nuisance that the book would have been better off without. Good fiction doesn’t need gimmicks to appeal; and if the author had given us a tight, plausible, well-constructed plot, this novel wouldn’t have needed any gimmick either.

Ultimately, I gave this two stars rather than one, in consideration of its positive elements; and I did finish it (I had to see how it ended!). But I don’t plan to continue reading the series.

Note: The book includes several episodes of explicit sex –including one that’s very abusive and disgusting, although there’s a defensible literary reason for describing it– and other sexual situations (in the opening scene, Donna’s posing as a prostitute). There’s also some bad language, including the f-word (though in Donna’s vocabulary, the latter is only a verb used in unloving contexts, not an all-purpose adjective/adverb) and in the sexual scenes, vulgar terms for some body parts. Most of the other bad language here is strictly of the d- or h-word sort.

Author: Josie Brown
Publisher: Signal Press, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.

A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.