Tag Archives: murder

Instrument of Darkness, by Charlie Parker*****

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It’s a funny thing about long running series, how some of them become stale after a time while others just keep building. The Charlie Parker series by John Connolly is one of the latter, and with every addition to it I am more riveted, more amused, and more engaged than I was before. The Instruments of Darkness is the 21st in the series. My thanks go to NetGalley and Atria/Emily Bestler for the review copy; that said, this is one of the rare times that I would have laid out full jacket price if that was the only way I could obtain a copy.

This book is for sale now.

Charlie Parker is a former cop turned private detective with a terrible past. He stepped out to buy a newspaper one morning and returned to find his wife and small daughter savagely butchered; the guilt at not being home to defend them was overwhelming, if irrational. He dedicated himself to finding the person that had done it, and making certain they never did it again. Since then, he’s served as a professional snoop on behalf of other wronged persons. Because he often upsets people with money, power, and twisted morals, he often brings along his own muscle when he works, or in some cases, contracts with them to bodyguard his clients during the process. So it is this time.

The job has to do with a young mother whose baby has been kidnapped from its crib during the night. Colleen woke from the first sound sleep she’d had in forever only to find the nursery window open, and Henry gone from his bed. Later her husband Stephen finds a blanket in the trunk of her car, soaked in blood, which, when analyzed by law enforcement, turns out to be the boy’s blood. Stephen tells the police that he is sure she must have done it, and he leaves her.

But she didn’t. Of course not.

In his last few Charlie Parker novels, Connolly has added touches of horror and magical realism, and it’s only made his stories better. In particular, he is adept at sentient houses or other buildings. Sometimes it really is the structure; at other times there’s some sort of being that lives there, unseen. In this case it’s an old house built from a Sears Roebuck kit over a century ago, and so he names it “Kit No. 174,” and after it appears a time or two in the story, generally as the opening of a new chapter, I get the shivers just seeing the name. The narration tells us, “No one had ever spent long in it—or no one had ever lived in it for long, which is not the same thing. No, not the same thing at all.” There are some minor references to other houses that have appeared in the series, and these will delight the faithful readers that remember them; it did me. However, newbies that are just starting this series will be fine.

The recurring characters shine brightly here. The attorney that often hires Parker, Moxie Castin, opens the book, and we get a resonant character sketch:

“Moxie Castin was easy to underestimate, but only on first impression. He was overweight by the equivalent of a small child, didn’t use one word in public when five others were loitering nearby with nothing better to do, and had a taste for ties reminiscent of the markings of poisonous insects or the nightmares of LSD survivors…He lost cases, but not many, and his friends far outnumbered his enemies.”

Other recurring characters are the Fulci brothers, and when I see their names, I smile. They’re described as “two wrecking balls in human form.” Another is Sabine, a shy, tortured psychic that just wants the dead to go away and leave her alone, and best of all, Angel and Louis, a lawless couple of friends—the word “couple” applies in two different ways here—that Parker hires when things get spicy. If I smile when we are joined by the Fulcis, I beam when I see Angel and Louis. And in a nod to series regulars, there’s a point when Parker simply tells someone, “They’re coming,” and he doesn’t say who, but of course, we know exactly who. (Later he explains them for the uninitiated.) There’s a favorite passage of mine in which Parker is concluding an interview, done in a restaurant, and when he and the other person emerge, she sees them and asks,

“Are they with you?’

“They’re my associates.’

“They don’t look like private detectives. Don’t take this the wrong way, but they look like criminals. If they came into the store, I’d lie down on the floor with my hands behind my head.’

“Sometimes that’s precisely the effect we seek.’”

Oh, there’s so much more, but you need to find these things for yourself. The story is on the gritty side, but not nearly as much so as some of the others in the series. In fact, I generally have a policy of not reading this series at bedtime, lest it enter my dreams. I violated that policy once, and I did indeed have a dreadful night afterward. And so I behaved myself until I hit the last twenty percent, and at that point, I knew I would read it until it was done, regardless of the time or proximity to lights out, because I had to see the resolution. I had guessed, long before, whodunit, but that felt beside the point. So I stayed up and saw it through…and I’m not a bit sorry.

Highly recommended to those that love the genre, and especially to Charlie Parker buffs.

Little Underworld, by Chris Harding Thornton***

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Chris Harding Thornton debuted in 2021 with Pickard County Atlas, a book I loved so much that I’ve had a finger in the wind ever since, hoping to score a galley of her next book. This is it. Sadly, I don’t love it the way that I did her first endeavor; perhaps I just loved the first one too much.

My thanks go to Net Galley and Farrar, Strauss and Girard for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Our protagonist is Big Jim, a former cop now working as a P.I. He and his friend Frank, who is still a cop, take a man named Vern out to the river to beat the crap out of him for molesting Jim’s child. The plan is to smack him around and run him out of town, but at the last minute, Jim has a change of heart and snuffs him; Frank covers for him.  This is how the book opens.

My problem is that a great deal of information gets dumped at the outset, primarily characters, and by the thirty percent mark, I am still trying to keep them straight. It took me a ridiculous amount of time just to remember that Jim is the main character. I can’t recall the last time something like this has happened. There is rampant corruption in Omaha, Nebraska during the era of Prohibition, and there are a lot of local politicians whose names get thrown into the melee early. All of them are male and Caucasian, and while I believe that’s historically accurate for the time and place, it doesn’t help me keep them straight. By the halfway mark I have a better sense of who’s who, but I have reached a state where I have to force myself to read the book so I can write the review.

I would have liked to see at least one female character developed in here somewhere.

The pluses here—and there certainly are pluses—have to do with the author’s abundant skill as a wordsmith. This is grit lit, to be sure, and those with sensitive dispositions might want to steer clear. For me, though, when a character is described as “a guy whose canned meat had half the city’s fingers in it,” I love it. There are a few other moments of very dark humor that run along the same rails. What’s clear is that life is cheap, and Prohibition Omaha is a violent, vicious place to be. At one point, Jim wonders if there’s a single building in town that doesn’t have eight or ten corpses concealed in the concrete; in another, he reflects that “there wasn’t much risk of finding anyone innocent in Omaha.”

The second half of the story is better than the first half.

So there you have it. My advice is that if you want to read this book, get it free or cheap, but don’t pay full cover price for it. Meanwhile, I still have mad respect for this author; I look forward to seeing what she produces next.

The Hunter, by Tana French*****

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In 2020, Tana French gave us The Searcher, the first in the Cal Hooper detective series. By that time I was already an established fan, but I loved that book particularly well, for reasons I’ll revisit in a moment. Now we have the second in the series, The Hunter, and if anything can reduce this crusty old English teacher to a blushing fan girl, this is it. Two books in, this is already on my short list of favorite series. My thanks go to NetGalley and the Penguin Group for the review copy. This book will be available to the public Tuesday, March 5, 2024.

The series debut introduced the characters, with the protagonist being a retired Chicago cop that found this tiny Irish village on vacation and, needing a new home far from his ex-wife, yet affordable, discovered a bargain fixer of a home and decided to stay. The story’s main problem revolved around a nearly feral tween that kept popping up at Cal’s place. The scrappy little stinker that was relieving Cal of food, occasionally, and doing other unsettling things turned out to be a girl; her name is Teresa, but she’s known as Trey. Her family was in dire straights following the departure of Trey’s father; her brother had left, intending to return, but never had. The mystery was where Trey’s brother had gone, what had become of him, and why. In the interim, she became greatly attached to Cal, who enjoyed her company and taught her some woodworking skills, but also kept a careful distance, lest rumors start and grow.

Now Trey is a bit older, and she is more civilized. She is close to both Cal and Lena, the local woman that Cal has been seeing. But as life settles into a civilized hum, one that would be comfortable had climate change not created a drought that has local farmers at the near end of their wits and their bank accounts, the unexpected happens once again: Johnny Reddy, Trey’s no-account father, has returned. Cal is prepared to step back, if need be, in case Trey wishes to bond with her actual dad rather than himself. Meanwhile, Johnny vows to visit Cal with some local moonshine, and “make a night of it.”

“Trey says nothing. If he does that, she’ll get Cal’s rifle and blow his fucking foot off, and see can he make his way down the mountain to Cal’s after that.”

Johnny never succeeds in bonding with Cal, who doesn’t like the look of him. “Johnny gives him the urge to pat him down and ask him where he’s headed. There are guys like that, who flunk the sniff test just going to the store; it’s a good cop’s job to work out whether they’re actually doing something hinky, or whether it’s just that they will be sooner or later, probably sooner.”

The village is a tiny one, and outsiders are few. Everyone in the vicinity knows that Johnny’s back; everyone wonders what he’s up to. They haven’t long to wait; he’s brought a man with him, one whose family once lived here, or so he says; and the man is interested in seeing if there’s gold on some of the local properties. “He has a rich man’s smile, easy and understated, the smile of a man who isn’t required to put in effort.”  Now the question is whether this “plastic Paddy” is a shyster trying to rip off the locals, or if he is someone that Johnny is seeking to fleece. Meanwhile, Trey has a different agenda, a private one.

The thing that makes this story so much better than your standard mystery is the characterization. If you are in search of a thriller that is all page-turning action, this isn’t your book. However, if you love a layered story with complex, convincing characters, this is for you. I said in my previous review of the first in the series that Trey is what makes an otherwise solid story a golden one, and that’s even truer here. One could even argue that it’s really her series, with Cal existing as scaffolding. Time will tell.

In particular, though, anyone that works with, or has worked with at risk youth cannot, must not miss this story. French has taken hold of my heartstrings hard, and I don’t want her to let go. Highly recommended.

Finlay Donovan Rolls the Dice, by Elle Cosimano*****

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“I’m telling you, Finlay, this book is good. This whole SERIES is good. The plots may be a little far-fetched, but these characters are so real! It’s like they just jump off the page!“

Finlay Donovan Rolls the Dice is the fourth in the raucously entertaining series by Elle Cosimano. My thanks go to the Minotaur and St. Martin’s Press Influencer Program and NetGalley for the review copy. It will be available to the public Tuesday, March 5, 2024.

At the end of the previous book, Javi, Finn’s nanny Vero’s boyfriend, was abducted by mobsters that wanted to collect a gambling debt incurred by Vero. In this one, the two women plan to travel to Atlantic City to rescue him, with the cover story of needing time to unwind. However, things snowball, and before you know it, almost all the people they hold dear—and a few people that they don’t—are headed there, too. What follows is a riotous adventure with a lot of moving pieces. I love it.

More than any other, this installment has been controversial among reviewers. In the series debut, Finlay is an innocent, entirely law abiding single mother strapped with bills, work, and child care issues. She’s in the midst of a contentious divorce and her soon-to-be ex is an attorney, which makes Finlay’s efforts an uphill battle. She’s easy to relate to, and when, through no fault of her own, she finds herself with a corpse in her car, it seems entirely believable.

With the second and third books in the series, Finn, accompanied by the more street smart Vero, find themselves in deeper trouble. Just as they mop up one mess, another arises, until there’s a sort of house-that-Jack-built tower of problems that see both women in increasingly tenuous circumstances. They break the law once as a life or death matter, but then cannot safely come clean, so they do their best to put it behind them, but someone or something comes along to threaten the modest safety and security they’ve begun to enjoy. Bodies and crimes pile up, and now, with the fourth installment, the author can’t reasonably convince the reader that whatever happens next is purely an oopsie. Instead, she has to draw on other possibilities. Personally, I like it.

Finn and Vero are chasing down the underworld figures that they believe have abducted Javi, and there’s considerable risk involved. A couple of times I literally draw in my breath at the risks they take. Add to this the need to fabricate excuses to tell the myriad members of the retinue that have descended on Atlantic City with them, and it’s an ambitious undertaking.

In this circumstance, I no longer require realism. The whole thing takes on the flavor of a comic caper, what with the clown car full of women, including Finn’s mother; Finn’s ex-husband, who is in charge of the children; and various others (I am being deliberately vague here) that descend on them once they arrive. To put it another way, if Stephanie Plum and John Dortmunder—or if you prefer, Bernie Rhodenbarr—had a baby, she might be Finlay Donovan.  

If you need a good laugh, this book is for you; however, with this series, you really should begin with the first in the series, Finlay Donovan is Killing It. With just four in the series (and the audio is outstanding, too,) this will be a quick and hilarious adventure. What are you waiting for? Jump on in.

The Ghost Orchid, by Jonathan Kellerman****-*****

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4.5 stars rounded upward. My thanks go to Random House Ballantine and NetGalley for the review copy. This book will be available to the public February 6, 2024.

The Ghost Orchid marks the thirty-ninth entry in the Alex Delaware series, one of the longest series in publication. It’s easy to see why it’s lasted so long. The protagonist and side characters are engaging, and the dialogue never loses its sparkle.  In this one, Alex has been recovering from a savage beating that he took at the hands of the murderer in our last mystery. Milo, his BFF, is a homicide cop who often hires him to assist the LAPD with cases where a psychologist is needed, but now Milo is so mired in guilt that he can hardly look at his friend. Finally, with a nudge from Delaware’s longtime (and slightly boring) girlfriend, Milo includes him in another case, and we find snappy dialogue that never fails to entertain.

This time it’s a double homicide in Bel Air. The man and woman are found by the pool, naked and dead. The investigation reveals that he is the son of a mega rich European shoe magnate; she is the wife of another rich man, a young, socially awkward member of the ruling elite who isn’t pleased to learn what his wife has been doing when he’s away on business. But then we learn that she was using an assumed name, and so the whole thing is even more mysterious. Who is this dead woman, and who killed her?

At the same time, Alex is engaged to interview a child in his early teens whose adoptive parents have decided to bail. They are divorcing; neither of them wants the kid.

The main storyline is a lot of fun. Everyone enjoys seeing the super-rich suffer. With wealth of this magnitude, there’s no chance any of Kellerman’s readers will identify with the male murder victim or the husband of the female victim, either. The way it’s resolved is believable, and it’s done without any of the prurient or kinky sex that Kellerman inexplicably included for a handful of books in this series a few years back. The half star is withheld from my rating because the other storyline, the one about the teenager, sort of fizzles without going anywhere, and it’s hard to see why he included it in the first place. Kellerman’s career, and this series, were originally launched around crimes where kids were involved, often as witnesses, and those initial books are fascinating. I’d love to see the author return to his roots, write some more episodes that incorporate his credentials and experience in child psychology.

You can read it as a stand alone novel if you choose, but you’ll want to read the others afterward.

Nevertheless, if you are looking for a fast, fun whodunit, this book is a hard one to beat. I highly recommend it to those that love the genre.

Dogboy Vs. Catfish, by Luke Garcias*****

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“Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap,

Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap.

Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap;

Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap.”

AC/DC

This may have been the biggest sleeper of 2023. Dogboy vs. Catfish is a true thriller by Luke Gracias, one that grabbed me by the front of my shirt at the beginning and didn’t let me go till it was done with me. My thanks go to NetGalley for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

A couple of Goodreads friends raved about this book, and right away, I was curious. The title: not your usual formulation. Then there’s the setting; I haven’t read many books set in Australia, and fewer Australian mysteries and thrillers than fingers on my hand. And finally, the book’s premise: a well-to-do, famous, glamorous woman turns up at a lawyer’s office, and she’s excited, because she’s been married to this man she doesn’t care much about for nearly 18 months, and in Australia, that is the magic time length that will entitle her to take him to the cleaners, particularly with regard to her daughter’s support. He has a lot of money, but it’s about to be hers. She expects this attorney will be thrilled, because what a payday it will be! Sadly for her, the attorney has principles and scruples, and she backs away from the case.

But then the man—Dogboy, of course—turns up missing. He’s told his best friend that he is certain his wife is going to leave him and take almost everything, and he’s not sure what he can do about it; now he is nowhere to be found. Is he alive? Nobody seems to know.

In investigating the man and his estranged wife, the internet darling named Catfish Kelly, it soon becomes clear she is mixed up in money laundering and drugs. The search takes the cops to Thailand, where their informant is literally shot to death before their very eyes. And all of these things happen early, so I am giving nothing away. The book goes quickly at the start, then ramps up to an even more heart pounding pace.

It’s difficult, with a thriller that moves so rapidly, to find a way to establish characters. Nobody here is a truly dynamic character, but we don’t need a lot of character development. What is most admirable is the lightning quick way Gracias bonds us to Dogboy, whom we mostly don’t even see. We know three things about him. First, we know that he married a terrible woman who’s about to bleed his assets out from under him. Second, we learn early on that he is concerned that his investors’ funds will likewise be siphoned away, and to prevent this happening, he returns all of their investment moneys to them before he disappears, so that he will be Catfish’s only victim. And third, we know that he is unusually appealing to dogs, to the point where dogs that do not know him and have never met him, nonetheless seek him out, and also try to protect him when danger is present.

With just these three facts, given to us briefly, we cannot not love Dogboy. I’ve never seen this done so fast and so smoothly.

I know nothing whatsoever about Australian law or its justice system, and perhaps that helps, too. At one point, the investigators are burning through what appears to be a lot of the state’s resources without obvious or immediate results, and just as one of my eyebrows lifts and I begin to think that this could never…I realize that I don’t know whether it could happen or not. Probably not in the U.S. Most likely not in England. Australia? What the hell do I know about Australia? So instead, I just take the author’s word for it.

There is not a single misstep in this story, no slow part, no inconsistency. The ending is enormously satisfying. For all that love the genre, this book is highly recommended.

The River We Remember, by William Kent Krueger*****

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William Kent Krueger has been writing since the late 1990s, but he only came onto my radar in 2019, when he published This Tender Land. To read Krueger once is to want to read him again and again, as often as is possible, and that’s what I’ve been doing. The River We Remember is his most recent mystery, an achingly atmospheric novel set during the 1950s in rural Minnesota. My thanks go to Net Galley and Atria Books for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

The protagonist in this stand alone whodunit is the local sheriff, Brody Dern. Brody is a thoroughly believable character; there’s nothing of the TV sheriff about him. When the wealthy, universally hated Jimmy Quinn is found floating dead in the river, Dern does not lose sleep while vowing to find and reveal the entire truth. His first response is his own deep resentment that Quinn had to go and die in what had been, until now, Brody’s favorite spot to relax. How dare stupid, rotten Jimmy Quinn ruin this special place with his bloated corpse? And his second instinct is to minimize the damage to everyone else concerned. For example, the Quinns are Catholic, and if Jimmy committed suicide, they can’t bury him with the family. If not suicide, then perhaps a family member could stand it no more and shot him dead. Again, if so, no great loss, and let’s make sure the family is taken care of. And so, Brody’s first instinct is to wipe down Quinn’s truck so that, if other authorities should become involved in the case, none of these poor people will have to suffer for it.

Then, he goes to the evidence cabinet and removes some of the confiscated drugs so that he can get a decent night’s sleep.

Part of what fascinates me here is the culture of small town Minnesota during this time period. People don’t lock their doors most of the time. When a prisoner that Brody knows is almost certainly innocent requests a sharp knife in order to carve something, Brody gives it to him, right there in the cell. There are a number of interesting secondary threads, and all contribute to the steamy, smoldering ambience in which this story is set.

But oh lordy, the racism. And in this, I know there is no exaggeration. The culture among the Caucasian population of this tiny town, with regard to Native peoples and those of Japanese descent is not so very different from what I experienced as a child, growing up in the 1960s and even the 1970s in suburbs on the American West Coast. It’s bad. It’s really bad.

A feature of Krueger’s work—a signature aspect, in fact—is the inclusion of American Indian cultures and sociopolitical issues in Northern Minnesota. In other stories I’ve read, it’s been the Chippewa; this time, it’s a Dakota Sioux man named Noah Bluestone, and his Japanese wife, Kyoko. The author develops his characters well, with no stereotypes or hackneyed pop culture. This alone makes his work worth reading, but there’s so much more.

Over the course of just a few short years, Krueger has joined other luminaries on my list of authors whose work I read without question. I highly recommend this book to all that love the genre.

The Mystery Guest, by Nita Prose****-*****

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“The maid is always to blame.”

4.5 stars, rounded upward.

Author Nita Prose introduced Molly the Maid to us in 2022. Now Molly is back. She’s the head maid now, and considerably more confident than when we first met her. Her boyfriend Juan Manuel has moved in with her, but he is conveniently out of town for most of this novel, and it’s just as well, because there’s another murder about to occur at The Regency Grand Hotel, and once more, Molly will be instrumental in identifying the killer.

My thanks go to Net Galley and Random House Ballantine for the review copy. This book will be available to the public November 28, 2023, so you can plan your gift lists accordingly.

The hotel is in high gear, planning for the big gathering that will introduce the large, new, lovely tearoom. Business has been down at TRG since the murder last year, and this special occasion should bring new life into the hotel. In fact, Molly has given up her vacation with Juan so that she can see to the set-up; everything must be cleaned, shined, and buffed to perfection. You see, famous author J.D. Grimthorpe has an important announcement to make, and he’s chosen the tearoom as the venue from which to do so.

The stage is set, and the fans arrive. Molly’s protégé, Lily, has arranged the tea cart perfectly. Grimthorpe takes the podium, and is presented with his tea. After doctoring it to his own tastes, he takes a sip and ascends the stage once more, but before he can get to the surprise announcement, he keels over dead, right on top of Lily!

Lily is terrified. She’s always been a quiet one, but now she is virtually mute. When the police come in to question her, Lily is nearly undone.

“Molly, I’m afraid.” Her eyes are round pools of trepidation.

“I know,” I say. “But why?”

“Because a famous man is dead. Because they always blame the maid. You of all people should know that.”

“You’re not in any trouble, Lily.”

“Bit soon to tell,” the detective replies.

With that, we’re off and running. The book is one hell of a page turner, and it’s over before I know it. There’s lots of spunky dialog that jumps off the page. I seldom regret putting away my book because I spend so much time reading each day, but for this one, I stayed up late.

My only quibble—a small one—is that a key part of the solution is a bit of a reach. But this is a fun story, and so I make a quick note and move on.

For those that enjoy a sparkling mystery interspersed with wry humor, this book is for you. The profound respect for the working class is icing on the teacake.

Highly recommended.

The Golden Gate, by Amy Chua****-*****

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“If I told a jury that Japs killed Santa Claus, I could prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. Everything changes, Sullivan, once you’ve got a different color defendant in the box. There isn’t a jury in this state that wouldn’t send a Jap to the gas chamber if they had a chance.”

4.5 stars, rounded upward.

‘The Golden Gate marks the authorial debut for Amy Chua, a badass author whose stories will be read for a long, long time. My thanks go to Net Galley, Macmillan Audio, and St. Martin’s Press for the review copies. This book is for sale now.

Our story is set during two time periods, 1930 and 1944, in Berkeley, California. Detective Al Sullivan is investigating a murder whose roots are inextricably tangled with those of another, in 1930. Our point of view shifts often, both in time period and narrator. Most of it is told in the first person, either by Sullivan or by the elderly Genevieve Bainbridge, grandmother of the victim in the 1930 murder, now ready, in full Mama Bear protective mode, to do whatever she must to protect what family she has left.

The narrative has a strong noir flavor, and I halfway expect to find Humphrey Bogart around the corner, smoking and looking pensive. However, there is something Chua brings to the story that Bogart never did: a frank look at the injustices of the period, from the immense disparity of wealth among the denizens of Northern California, to the shameless victimization of people of color, who were much fewer in number in this part of the world then, than now.

I put this information up front, because in the early portion of the novel it isn’t obvious that the racism isn’t being highlighted, rather than propagated. I nearly discontinued reading this book because the “J” word is a hot button for me, and I initially believed that it was being used as a lazy way to depict the culture of Anglo Caucasians during this time period. I’ve seen it done many times, the use of the racial slur against Japanese because the author believed it increased the story’s authenticity. In Chua’s case, it’s the opposite.

The solution provided at the end relies overmuch on the journal of Mrs. Bainbridge, and in places, the details of the murder, and the motivation for same, are a stretch. For that reason, I initially rated this fine novel four stars. In the end, though, I realized that the social justice component more than makes up for it.

I was fortunate enough to have both the audio and digital galleys. Although the readers do a creditable job, the complexity of the story, including frequent changes of place, time period, and point of view, make for a confusing listening experience. For that reason I recommend the print version over the audio, unless both are available together.

Highly recommended.

Those We Thought We Knew, by David Joy*****

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David Joy is a brilliant writer. His stories, set in the Carolina mountains that he calls home are resonant, visceral, and always about believable characters that hail from the hardscrabble working class. Those We Thought We Knew is his best. My thanks go to Net Galley and Putnam Penguin for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Sylva, North Carolina is the sort of insular, homespun community that you don’t see much of anymore. Everybody knows everybody, not only by name but by family, religion, and a host of salient details that form their backstories. There’s not a lot of traffic in or out of Sylva, nestled as it is in a hollow of the mountains. Now, however, two newcomers have arrived, but they aren’t together. Surely not. One is a lowlife vagrant, a pencil-necked, mullet-headed, greasy drunk in an ’84 Caprice named William Dean Cawthorne. When the sheriff’s deputies roust him, one of them finds a small notebook that contains some surprising names; he also has a long, white robe in the car, and with it, a conical white head covering with eyeholes in it. Mr. Cawthorne, you see, is a recruiter for the Klan.

Toya Gardner comes to town at about the same time to visit her grandmother and work on her thesis. She’s a graduate student from Atlanta; she creates meaningful African-American sculptures and other art works. But when she finds the statue of the Confederate soldier in the town square, she is inspired to make a different artistic statement than she’d originally planned, and when she does, all hell breaks loose.

This searing story sees two terrible crimes unfold in sleepy little Sylva. The dynamics that exist between the county sheriff, the Sylva police force, and the local citizenry—particularly Toya’s family—are rich and complex, and they showcase Joy’s best character development to date. In the end, we must concede that alongside the horrors represented by overt white supremacists, the more chilling may be that which simmers below the surface of men and women that, yes, We Thought We Knew.

This is brave writing. Joy will no doubt be the subject of some unfriendly attention because of it. My hope is that it draws the accolades that it deserves from those that seek true social justice, and that it will inspire useful, critical introspection and conversation on the part of its readers.

Highly recommended.