Category Archives: social justice

Wolvers, by Taylor Brown*****

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Taylor Brown has become one of my favorite authors. He creates believable characters and memorable plots, and his recurring themes have to do with championing the poor and dispossessed, and an urgent sense of environmentalism. My great thanks go to NetGalley, RB Media, and St. Martin’s Press for the review copies. This book is for sale now.

Trace Temple hates wolves. His family has spiraled downward since losing its New Mexico ranch, a ranch that was in the family for generations, because of a massive legal penalty incurred by shooting an endangered wolf. It’s legal to kill a wolf that has preyed on one’s livestock, but the circumstances under which that can be done are very specific ones. Trace’s father thought he was shooting the wolf that had eaten his sheep, but he accidentally shot the wrong wolf, and it cost him and his family everything. The patriarch went to prison, and Trace’s mother developed an addiction that has become all consuming. So when some sketchy characters approach Trace and propose to hire him to shoot One-Eleven, the legendary alpha of a wolf pack that ranchers have long hated, he’s all in. But an experience that occurs while he’s on the hunt causes him to change his mind.

Once Trace is out of the running, the organization hires someone else, a man called Murdoch. Murdoch wants to kill the wolf, and he wouldn’t mind killing Trace, too.

The story starts a bit slow, then gathers steam as it goes. The Gila wilderness where all of this takes place is resonantly depicted, and given that nearly everything that Brown has written to this point is set in the Appalachians or some other part of the American South, this is all the more impressive.  The dialogue pops! There aren’t many characters in this story, and the two-legged characters that get the most ink are males; it’s all the more amazing, then, that Brown’s respect for women shines through, and it does so naturally. By the last quarter of this story, nobody could have kept me from finishing it.

There’s some gore here; the story could not have been told authentically without it. Humans get hurt, and some get dead, and so do wolves; but none of the damage is superfluous or titillating. And I loved the ending.

Brown explains what’s real and what’s fictional at the end of the book, and he even includes a two page bibliography for those interested in the subject matter.

I was lucky enough to have both the digital and audio versions of this story, and it’s the first time I’ve listened to one of Brown’s books. Ramiz Monsef does an outstanding job as narrator, and for that reason, I recommend this format for those that like audio books. But whatever your preference is, this novel is highly recommended.

Death in Mud Lick, by Eric Eyre*****

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The place is Kermit, West Virginia, population 382. Big pharma dumped millions of opioids here regularly with impunity—until this investigation was complete, anyway—causing deaths by the score. Death in Mud Lick tells how the tiny West Virginia Gazette and its stalwart journalist, Eric Eyre, blew the whistle on this outrageous practice and, in time, held the pharmaceutical firms responsible.

My thanks go to Scribner and NetGalley for the review copy. I’m years late, partially because I knew that this was going to be a grim tale. It’s for sale now, and though it is as grim as I feared, it’s also inspirational.

Kermit had just one pharmacy, but that was all it took. The parking lot was always jammed with cars from out of state; vehicles poured in from South Carolina, Ohio, Kentucky, and Virginia, among others. There was free popcorn for waiting customers, and patrons who picked up prescriptions sometimes strolled out of the shop and went directly to someone else’s car, where they would hand over the bag of pills and collect money. Nobody was held accountable, and in fact, opioids served as a local currency. You could buy gas with opioids; you could use them to tip your waiter. Nobody batted an eye.

Given these statistics, how was it that nobody was ever busted for this? Perhaps it was such an integral part of the local economy that it was accepted; then again, there were real doctors writing these prescriptions, and they were ridiculously easy to get.

Eyre won the Pulitzer for his coverage of this crisis. He continued his investigation even after he received a diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease, though it slowed him down some, inevitably. His narrative reads almost like a thriller, and all of us owe him a great deal. There are still plenty of addicts out there, sadly—you probably know at least one, and I certainly do—but the trajectory has been checked, and it’s all because of the free press.

I highly recommend this book to you. Thanks, Eric.

The Hadacol Boogie, by James Lee Burke*****

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The Hadacol Boogie is the 25th in the Dave Robicheaux series, and in some regards, it is the best. My great thanks go to NetGalley and Grove Atlantic for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

All of the books in this series boast complex plots and resonant characters. Particularly rich is the relationship between Dave and his former cop partner, Clete Purcel, whom he has known since early childhood. In most stories, Clete is a loose cannon—the reason he is no longer a cop, but a private eye—and Dave is his moderating influence.  “For whatever reason, Clete could not resist swatting a hornet’s nest wherever he went.“  But this story presents a shift, in which Dave is not fully in control of his own behavior. I have never seen anyone else, whether writing fiction or nonfiction, refer to a “dry drunk,” which is when a recovering alcoholic, without having consumed alcohol, exhibits the behaviors of a drunk, with terrible impulse control and bouts of rage. Dave does some of that here, and Clete is the one to rein him in.

But that isn’t the greatest thing about this story, to be honest. I’m ready to be done with mysteries involving alcoholic protagonists, and so Burke’s excellent writing skills prevent me from throwing up my hands or rolling my eyes, but the “dry drunk” isn’t a compelling part of the narrative for me. No, apart from the fact that Burke is a compelling craftsman—the Denver Post once called him “America’s best writer”—this particular novel is interesting to me because Burke has, at last, developed a female character that doesn’t fit into the Madonna-whore dichotomy that marks most of his earlier work. (An earlier exception is Dave’s boss, Helen, but it feels as if Burke is cheating a little bit there. I enjoy reading about Helen, but it’s clear that the one and only reason she isn’t dying to hop in bed with Dave, like every other female character has, or has wanted to, is because she is a lesbian.) Valerie Benoit is Dave’s new partner. It doesn’t take long for us to be aware that Detective Benoit has a thing for Dave. She’s young, he’s 60, but damn, he’s such a hot guy. At this point I’m ready to toss my reader across the room. Please, no! No! But the story doesn’t follow the trajectory that other women tend to do in Robicheaux’s books. Benoit wants Dave badly, yes, and I wish he’d left that out of this, but he didn’t. The thing that makes this story different is that Benoit is developed as a character should be; her love for Robicheaux isn’t all that we learn about her, nor necessarily the most important. And she and Dave don’t land in bed.

How cool is it for a highly successful writer to show this kind of growth when he’s past 80? I am so damn impressed, and I hope that we continue to see Benoit, not as his wife or his lover, but as a separate character with an independent identity.

I confess that I have never understood the culture of the place where this story unfolds; there are social formalities and intricacies mentioned that simply don’t apply in 2026 Seattle. I suspect these niceties also apply to the author, so it’s just as well I haven’t met him; I have no doubt I’d stick my foot in it, probably sooner rather than later.

Like the other books in this series, this one will appeal most to readers that lean a bit to the left, and that enjoy a literary mystery. There’s plenty of action here, but those that don’t want descriptive settings and allegory should probably go find themselves something else to read.

This book can certainly be read as a standalone, but it will resonate even more to the faithful that have read some or all of the series, as it does build on earlier events. Highly recommended.

The Next One is for You, by Ali Watkins****

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One of the most hotly contested political issues for English speaking people during the 1970s and 1980s was the battle taking place in the North of Ireland between its original inhabitants and the British government. This reviewer was deeply interested in the conflict while it took place, and so when I saw this book, The Next One is for You: A True Story of Guns, Country, and the IRA’s Secret Army, by Ali Watkins,my heart began to pound before I’d read a single page. My thanks go to NetGalley and Little, Brown and Company for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

The fight between the working-class citizens of Belfast and the middle-class Protestants, who worked hand in glove with the British Crown, has roots that are centuries deep. Watkins reviews these without going into the weeds, and leads us up to modern times succinctly. I appreciate her fair discussion of the manner in which the Irish Republican Army, or IRA, developed and burgeoned. (U.S. readers new to the topic should know that ‘Republican’ was part of the name due to a desire for the Irish Northern counties to be restored to the Republic of Ireland, not because of any political similarities to the Republican party in the U.S.A.) Initially the movement was modeled on the Civil Rights Movement of the United States, with large, peaceful marches; there were signs, songs and speeches given. People packed lunches and took their children with them. But these protests were violently repulsed, with police and the military surrounding the participants so that there was no escape, and then shooting them like wooden ducks in an arcade.

Poverty was widespread in Belfast and its surrounding areas, with few jobs, and miserable living conditions in government subsidized apartments. “A Catholic surname got you passed over for jobs, if you even got the chance to apply.”  There was no Bill of Rights, and when armed forces chose to search someone’s home, they announced themselves by kicking the door in. The situation was intolerable.  And so, when peaceful protest was no longer possible, there were two choices remaining: armed struggle or defeat. “The goal: to expel the British from Northern Ireland, whatever the cost.”

Because such a large portion of the U.S. population is of Irish descent, these circumstances were of great interest in America. When the IRA broke off from the more traditional, less militant (and ineffective) organization that already existed, it wasn’t long before many Americans wanted to help in some way. Two organizations developed in the States, and this is much of what Watkins discusses. Clan na Gael was an Irish solidarity organization that had existed in the U.S. since 1867. It became an important element in the Irish struggle, organizing politically, and raising funds. But in order to gain widespread appeal, there needed to be an additional organization that existed for those that wanted to contribute financially to the poor of Belfast without also supporting the armed fight. In 1969, NORAID was born.

A disclosure: this reviewer was a great supporter of both organizations during that time. In fact, I once won a raffle from the Clan, which netted me a wheelbarrow of whiskey! Since I don’t drink, I took one bottle for my spouse and donated the rest back to the Clan. I never joined the Clan, primarily because I wasn’t asked.

Watkins discusses the history of both organizations as well as the key individuals that brought them about. She does a magnificent job and brings a treasure trove of outstanding documentation, right up until nearly the end of the book, at which point she inexplicably lapses into the journo-speak of the period, blathering about “senseless violence” in an abrupt shift that made my jaw drop. She had already explained, very capably, just why a nonviolent struggle was completely impossible. The devastating numbers of Irish youth that died during this campaign is indeed heartbreaking, but at the same time, just what else were they supposed to do? No foreign government was even remotely interested in assisting them; the British government was a key ally of the U.S. government, and had something of a headlock on its protectorates. And while I respect that the author had to conclude the book in one way or another, just admitting that there was no clear solution would have been vastly better than parroting American mainstream media of the time period. What the what?

Nevertheless, those with an interest in this struggle should get this book and read it. Just bear the ending with a grain of salt.

King Sorrow, by Joe Hill*****

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Arthur Oakes is in a jam. He is a student at Rackham College in Maine, and to make ends meet, he has a work-study position in the library’s rare books collection. But he finds himself unexpectedly being blackmailed into stealing books from that very place, a nightmare of epic proportions; the solution proves to be an even greater nightmare. He and his friends summon a dragon to get rid of the blackmailers, but now the dragon won’t go away.

My thanks go to NetGalley and William Morrow for the review copy. This outstanding tome is for sale now.

This author has no doubt learned to take comparisons between his writing and that of his mega-famous father, Stephen King, in stride. My own impression from reading both is reaffirmed here: he’s every bit as good and perhaps, at times, better. His father has mellowed in his old age, and he’s become reluctant to kill his most sympathetic characters. Hill, however, has no such compunctions. It increases the suspense to know, while reading, that he actually might do that.

Arthur has become involved with a townie, Gwen Underfoot, whose family has cleaned for the family of his friend, student Colin Wren, for generations. Add in some other friends, Alison Shiner and the twins, Donna and Donovan—clever of Hill to insert some D&D into a dragon story—and we have a cabal.

One of the earliest points of interest for me is that nobody in this circle of friends seems to doubt for a moment that the effort to summon a dragon will be successful. I had expected self-conscious eyerolling, but their approach is well researched and oddly businesslike. King Sorrow arrives with a vengeance, and he does not disappoint! The saga that unspools from there is an epic one, over 800 pages, so those that like to hurry through short novels will need to steer clear or adjust their thinking. As for me, never at any point did I see anything that resembled padding. There is never a slow moment, and while at the outset I made a point not to read this story too close to bedtime, lest it affect my dreams, once I reached the story’s climax there could be no stopping till the journey was completed.

I don’t read a lot of horror these days; most grandmas don’t. But when I make an exception, I want it to be damn good, and this book qualifies. Highly recommended to those that appreciate things that go bump in the night, and especially dragons.

Vigil, by George Saunders*****

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George Saunders is a luminary in the world of literary fiction. His latest novel, Vigil, tells the story of Jill Blaine, also called “Doll,” a formerly alive person who’s now tasked with escorting dying souls on Earth to their next destination.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House for the review copy. This book will be available to the public January 27, 2026.

Ms. Blaine, our protagonist, has been tapped hundreds of times to transition the dying to their next stop, but this time it’s different. Others needed to be comforted and consoled; KJ Boone, however, does not. He’s an oil company executive that has oh, so much for which to atone, but he doesn’t see it that way. Boone has more self-esteem, more rampant self-regard, than almost anyone else on the planet. So, in one sense, Blaine isn’t really needed, and yet she is.

Saunders writes some of the most whimsical prose I’ve read anywhere. This novel isn’t getting as much love from some other reviewers, and when I read what they have to say, a bit puzzled by the lukewarm responses, I see why. Saunders has written other books, in particular, two other massively successful novels, Lincoln in the Bardo and Tenth of December.  To reviewers that read and loved either of these, that is the standard to which he will forever be held. I have no such outsized yardstick by which to measure this writer. Both of those books are in my queue, but I haven’t read a word of either one yet, so I measure his novels by the same yardstick as I use for every other author, and frankly, that seems fairer to me.

Therefore, when Jill Blaine plummets to Earth headfirst and sinks nearly to her waist in the dirt, feet sticking up, then has to pull herself back out, I read it and laugh like hell.

I won’t give any of the plot away; this is a short book, after all, and you deserve to be surprised by everything that takes place inside it. However, in addition to its original and vast humor, the story examines some philosophical questions. What do we owe the world and its people? What is chosen, and what is inevitable? Humor is a great way to explore these issues, because we are confronted with them while we’re in a relaxed state; we don’t become defensive before a question is even asked.

Highly recommended to those that love fantasy and philosophy and can use a good, hearty laugh.

My Name is Emilia del Valle, by Isabel Allende****

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“Aren’t you afraid, Angelita?’ I asked her. ‘All the time, but I don’t think about it. I want to die with my boots on my feet,’ she answered…

“I did not know who I truly was until circumstances put me to the test.”

My Name is Emilia del Valle is the newest novel published by feminist icon and author Isabel Allende. The story is a fictionalized account of a journalist that travels from California to Chile, where war has broken out. Because she is a woman, her editor resists sending her, and then, under pressure, agrees that she may go, but only to cover human interest stories in the city. Those that have read any book ever by Allende will know instantly that this is not what our journalist does.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House Ballantine for the invitation to read and review. This book is available for sale now.

Like all of Allende’s protagonists, Emilia is a woman that refuses to be constrained by the expectations of the time regarding gender. She is possessed of feverish curiosity, and once she finds herself in the thick of the conflict, she has no interest whatsoever in finding and maintaining a safe, distant place from which to report. She assists the “canteen girls,” who provide water to fallen soldiers, along with minor first aid. Emilia learns first hand about the horrors of war, and she is forever changed by it.

This conflict is one that isn’t widely reported, and Allende writes about it so that it may not be forgotten. Ten thousand died here, mostly men from poor families, killed for no good reason. Emilia’s experiences highlight the disparity in treatment according to social class and wealth, as well as gender.

The writing is first rate as always. However, in most of her earlier novels, the author found a way to intersperse shocking or horrific passages with some that were uplifting, and often very funny. I would bark with sudden laughter at some witticism that I had not seen coming. I wish she had done that here. When there’s too much horror and bloodshed, it is tempting, natural even, for readers to tune out, let the words wash over us. And while there is romance here that provides some relief, I would have liked more.

Nevertheless, those that love historical fiction, social justice, feminism, and especially those that love Allende’s writing will want to read this book.

Words for My Friends: A Political History of Tupac Shakur***-****

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3.75 stars, rounded up.

Tupac Shakur lived for just 25 years, but he left an outsized legacy. Author Dean Van Nguyen has published a “political history,” a biography of sorts focusing on Tupac’s political ideology and the foundation on which it was formed. My thanks go to NetGalley and Doubleday for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Van Nguyen begins his narrative with an overview of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and ‘60s.  This is an area I’ve studied fairly closely, and so there was no new information in it for me, but I could see its value in a community college Black Studies or general history course. Once we’re past that, we enter into Tupac’s family background, and from there forward, his personal and political upbringings are intertwined. His parents were members of the Black Panthers, a militant, armed group of rebels seeking to force equity for Black people in the U.S. from a government that was long on promises and short on substance. There is a tremendous amount of the book given to the history of the Panthers, and most of what is recounted occurs either before Tupac was born, or while he was an infant.

Here’s my takeaway: I have often been curious about the Panthers, whose struggle I knew in broad strokes, but few specifics, and so this is interesting to me. But the book’s title has led me to believe that this book is primarily about Tupac, and we are at around the 40% before he even comes into the narrative. This is my sole complaint about this work, but it’s a significant one. Had the title been clearer that this is really a history of Tupac and the Black Panthers, I probably would have still read it, but because of the way it’s promoted, I feel frustrated when the 20% mark goes on by, then the 30% mark, and apart from a brief reference or two, Tupac isn’t even in it. In fact, we learn more about his mother than we do about him.

Once we do get to the meat of the matter, this is riveting material. What a gifted man he was, and yet he was still coming of age when he died. He loved reading classical literature, and he attended a fine arts high school where he was better able to develop his interests and talents, playing in Shakespearean productions; but as is often the case for children in low-income households, about the time he put down roots and made connections, his mother had to give up their lodgings, and that meant moving to a new town and a new school.

 This happens again and again. Single motherhood is hard anyway, but once you bring crack into it, the game’s all but over. And (here I suppress a primal scream,) because his father isn’t there and his mother is struggling, Tupac believes he must take care of his mother and long, long before he is old enough to bear such a burden. Teachers everywhere have seen that kid. He might be Black, Caucasian, or any other ethnic and racial background; he might be a she, for that matter. But children that take the responsibility that belongs to the head of the household are under a whole lot of stress, and the fracture lines often don’t show in their teens. They look as if they’re handling the job like an adult, often being praised by those in authority for their organization and focus. But—ask a social worker here—when they hit their twenties, that’s when they start falling apart. Because kids cannot be adults. When they are forced into the role, it will break them, sooner or later. And it seems clear to me that this is part of what led to Tupac’s early demise.

There’s a lot of interesting material packed into the relatively small part of the book that he occupies. We learn about the other famous performers he meets and befriends, first in school, then professionally, and about the political ideas he explores, serving for a while as a member and organizer of the local chapter of the Communist Party’s youth group. His willingness to dive deep into ethical and political ideas is reflected in his music, and to my knowledge, there is no other rapper that has included respect for women, along with an overtly pro-choice message, in their recordings. But just as his star begins to rise in earnest, he is killed.

Those considering reading this book should either be ready to read extensively about peripheral issues and events that don’t directly include Tupac, or should be ready to get the book with the intention of skipping a lot of material. As for me, I’m glad I read it.

Clete, by James Lee Burke*****

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Mortality is mortality. It comes to you when it’s ready. We don’t set the clock.

The Dave Robicheaux series by James Lee Burke is one of the finest ever written. As the faithful know, Clete Purcel is Dave’s partner in whatever he does. Once they were cops that called themselves “The Bobbsey Twins from Homicide.” (You probably need to be a boomer to get the reference.) Now they are on their own, but they are still like family to one another. This is the 24th in the series, and it’s the first to be told from Clete’s point of view. It’s a brilliant idea for two reasons: first, because Clete is a well written and wildly popular character, and also because it gives us a chance to see Dave through someone else’s eyes, someone that loves him, but isn’t him.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Grove Atlantic for the invitation to read and review, along with my profound apology for being so very late. This book is for sale now.

In this installment, a new drug ring has come to Louisiana, and it’s creating still more violence, more death, and more crime in general. Clete, who is now a private detective, is hired by a woman named Clara Bow. (If the name rings bells, it’s because the real Clara Bow was a famous movie star from the silent film era.) The Clara that hires Clete wants him to look into the activities of her skeevy ex-husband. Once he begins, we hardly have enough time to breathe. Clete hits the ground running, and there are no slow passages till the book concludes.

My favorite passages are the ones in which a woman named Chen, whom Clete rescues, then falls for, tells him how he appears to her. Here’s one: “You always gentleman, Mr. Clete. Your cats sleep on your face and you no mind. The world kill men like you because you brave and you kind.”

Later, Chen promises him that she won’t go back to taking drugs. “That because I go to a meeting every day with the Work the Steps or Die Motherfucker group. The Motherfuckers are very nice.” He advises her not to use that term in public. Don’t you love it?

Like every book in the series, this one moves seamlessly from scenes with quirky characters and dark humor, to glorious literary passages that I have to read more than once just to admire the writing, to passages that are gritty and violent and occasionally terrifying. Let me put it this way: you will never be bored.

Can you dive in mid-series? I did; then I became so enamored that I went back and read all the rest of them.

Highly recommended.

Apostle’s Cove, by William Kent Krueger****-*****

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Apostle’s Cove is the 20th novel in the Cork O’Connor mystery series by William Kent Krueger. The series takes place in a fictional town of Aurora, Minnesota near an Indian Reservation. Most of the characters are all or partly Ojibwe (also known as Chippewa, or Shinnob). Apostle’s Cove is an area with spectacular views, and it is home to the malign widow of an enormously wealthy man, who built a mansion there.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Atria Books for the review copy. This book is available to the public now.

This story commences with Cork receiving a call from his son, Stephen, who’s working with The Great North Innocence Project, an organization that helps people that have been wrongly convicted. Cork is a restauranteur and private detective now, but Stephen tells him that during his time as sheriff, Cork sent an innocent man to prison. For 25 years, Axel Boshey has been serving out a lifetime term for a murder he didn’t commit. He confessed to it in order to shield the person he thought to be the actual killer. Now Stephen wants Cork to go back, untangle the mess, and get Axel out of lockup.

The story—and the series—is helped considerably by its appealing recurring characters. The two most compelling ones are the very oldest—Henry Meloux, an ancient wise man that lives in the forest and counsels those that seek his help—and the very youngest, the seven-year-old grandson affectionately known as Waaboo, a child with supernatural powers to whom the spirits speak.

Halloween is fast approaching, and there is great excitement as the small community prepares for it. Waaboo is excited, yet also troubled. The Windigo, a cannibalistic spirit, is nearby, and it’s hungry. It isn’t here for Waaboo, but nevertheless, he is disturbed by it.

The story is complex and, in most regards, believable. I read multiple books at a time, but while I read this one, the others became sidelined much of the time. This series is reliably well written and entertaining, and so it is with Apostle’s Cove.

Can you jump in mid-series? I did. I began reading it with the 18th in the series. Whereas it’s more fun once you recognize the characters, there’s nothing that will confuse a new reader.

Highly recommended to those that enjoy the genre.