working class protagonist | Seattle Book Mama

Fans of Adrian McKinty’s Sean Duffy mystery series, celebrate! The eighth installment, Hang on St. Christopher, is out, and it’s well worth the wait. My endless thanks go to NetGalley and Blackstone Publishing for the review copy. This book will be available to the American public tomorrow, March 4, 2025.

When we rejoin Duffy, he’s a part-timer with the Royal Ulster Constabulary, driving a desk:

Until a year ago, doing boring paperwork had only been my cover, because I’d really been a case officer in charge of handling an IRA double agent in the police, who we’d turned into a triple agent working for us: feeding the IRA false intelligence and trying to pick up tips. But the stress of playing for us and them had finally taken its toll on Assistant Chief Constable John Strong, who had a coronary event in his back garden, where he’d been pruning his pear tree with a chainsaw. The chainsaw had avoided killing him, but it had laid waste to several of his prized garden gnomes before the cutoff switch kicked in. It had taken him an hour to die out there, gasping for breath in the summer heat among the severed heads of his gnome army, and those of us who knew about his crimes and betrayals had considered that justice.

For the uninitiated, this is typical of McKinty’s writing style, providing essential information in a tightly worded space, but also including, now and then, some unexpectedly hilarious tidbits. It prevents his prose from becoming too dark to be a fun read.

And dark it does become. You see, Detective Sergeant Lawson, who was once Duffy’s underling and whom Duffy still outranks, is on vacation—sorry, holiday—on the Continent, and wouldn’t you know that a particularly interesting and urgent sort of murder takes place while he’s gone? Duffy is on his way out the door, ready to retire to his suburban home in Scotland where his girlfriend and daughter await, when he’s tapped to go to the scene. Of course, he can turn the whole thing over to Lawson once he’s home; it’s only for a couple of days.

As if.

There are two things that as a reader, I rarely do anymore, and one of them is to stay up late to finish a book. Why should I? I’m retired. I can finish it in the morning if I choose, when I’m rested. The other is to feel sorrow when a good book has ended. I always have dozens sitting in my queue, so even a good book that’s finished is a title I can check off my list, right? But just like Duffy’s tranquil—okay, boring—suburban idyll, all that goes out the window for this one. I stayed up long after my light is usually extinguished, and I mourned when I realized there was no more of it to read.

Once the adrenaline had faded, I wondered where my usual cynicism had gone. I’m a tough customer when it comes to mysteries, and in this one, Duffy does about a million things that cops never do in real life, taking all sorts of crazy risks, doing things at his own expense and on his own time. Why do I believe this story? Because I do. I believe every stinking word of it. And then I realize that it’s the character. McKinty has developed Sean Duffy so well that I know that while cops in general don’t do these things, Duffy absolutely does. Part of it is his thirst for justice; part of it is his inner darkness, a slight, or not so slight, death wish.

If I could change one thing, it would be to have the 9^th Sean Duffy mystery available now. Right this minute. I have some excellent books in my queue, but there’s not a single one that I wouldn’t drop like a hot coal if I were given another Duffy book.

Can you read it as a stand-alone? You can, but it would be silly, because when you finish, you’ll be online searching for ways to get the first seven in the series. Do what you gotta do, but read this book.

American Spirits is a collection of three short stories that take place in the fictional New England town of Sam Dent. My thanks go to NetGalley and Alfred A. Knopf for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

I wasn’t sure this book would be up to Banks’s usual standard, as it was published posthumously, more than a year following his death. Sometimes a successful author will have a book that isn’t their best, and they’ll toss it in a drawer in hopes of improving and publishing it later. When they die, their heirs find the book and seeing dollar signs, send it off to a publisher. Still, though, Russell Banks’s sloppy seconds are still going to be vastly better than your average successful author’s best effort, so I decided to take a look. And holy crap, it’s actually one of his finest!

One thing any uninitiated reader must know is the Banks is brutal. If the story seems to be leading up to something pretty bad happening, the unwary might anticipate that the author will pull it out of the water at the last minute in order to send the readers away with smiles on their faces. Banks doesn’t do that. With stories by Banks, the main question is whether all of the important characters are going to die, or only some of them. He is unflinchingly brutal, but oh honey, he does it so well that I wish I could thank him for it!

One of the things that underlies everything Banks writes is his deep knowledge of, and appreciation for, the working class. His own hardscrabble background most likely plays a role, but one way or the other, the struggles of the ordinary man or woman, usually living in rural parts or small towns in New England are depicted with such care, distilling vast amounts of tiny details into the briefest of spaces that I believe the character and I believe the setting. Banks is also, to the best of my knowledge, the first to set a story in a manufactured home or mobile home court.

The first story, “Nowhere Man”, is about a man that sells off part of his land to a newcomer, partially because of a private agreement that the two make, but that isn’t ever codified. The new owner eventually goes back on his word; the original owner is having none of it; and then all hell breaks loose.

The second, “Homeschooling,” is about an average family whose life is changed when newcomers with a somewhat bizarre parenting style move in next door; when the emaciated children sneak over at night to beg for food, they become involved.

The final story, “Kidnapped,” is about a couple of senior citizens that are kidnapped and held until the drugs that their grandson’s addicted mother has filched are returned.

When I read Banks, I tell myself not to get attached to the characters, but he’s smarter than I am, so I can’t help myself.

There is something deeply satisfying in reading an author that has the confidence to buck literary trends. I wish that Banks, who was twice nominated for the Pulitzer Prize, could have lived and written fiction forever, but the legacy he has left us is the next best thing. Highly recommended.