Italy

It's hard not to sympathise with Montalbano about the heat. Especially as I sit here trying to write this note on a 38°C day. With a worse one to come. It's something that was really particularly marked in this book - the way the heat became a part of the story, just as the sense of place, and character is so very strong. You could see Montalbano and his colleagues slogging out an investigation in the dreadful heat. You could sympathise with him when the holiday house from hell reared its ugly head, and you definitely could understand how he might be tempted by the twin-sister of the murder victim, no matter how wrong it seems.

At the heart of the book is another tightly constructed plot with aspects of the political and the Mafia built in, but not in a manner overwhelming. This isn't a story about the Mafia's control, rather it's a story about the possible outcomes, the idea that some people might be protected as a result of their connections. And it's a story, as always, about Montalbano's dogged pursuit of the truth. To the detriment of a lot around him. Except his meals of course. Some things are sacrosanct.

At this time of the year for some reason, goodness knows what, I crave dark, violent, humorous escapism. I crave pulp, noir, hardboiled, I'll even happily take nasty. THE COLOMBIAN MULE delivered exactly what I was looking for.

It doesn't hurt that this isn't a police procedural, a stereotypical lone wolf private detective or any of the expected scenarios as well. Instead we do have a PI, who works with a group of old friends, to solve problems. In this case, the problem is why one man seems to have been set up to take the fall as the recipient of drugs smuggled in by a Columbian man who has a big reason to be worried about himself. What doesn't make sense is why he's seemingly identified the wrong man as his contact. Our hero, ex-con, former blues singer, fixer, secret bar owner and his intrepid team set out to work out what the real story is.

The book is sparse, tight and beautifully balanced, with not an excess word in sight. Peopled with some very original characters, who slide and dodge their way through life, with every action, every act, tempered by the understanding of what doing time in jail will do to a man.
 

There's a Renault Twingo referred to as having "committed suicide" when Gallo, the station's driver, he of the "Indianapolis Complex", slams into it in a spectacular example of mad driving that had me crying with laughter on page 4 of VOICE OF THE VIOLIN. Which is not a bad writing feat at all, in 4 pages you know that Montalbano's in a mood after a fabulous meal was interrupted by his nemesis Catarella. That his car's in the shop and he has to get to a funeral. That Gallo's a madman, and there's now a green Renault Twingo parked on the side of the road that's now got a smashed rear end. And you're laughing.

There's nothing particularly funny about the subsequent discoveries when Montalbano returns more than a bit intrigued as to why nobody has rung the station breathing fire over the damage to their car. And it's not all plain sailing in this case as Montalbano battles mutual dislike between him and his new boss, has the investigation taken off him with dreadful consequences, and stares down a bit of discontent in his team all whilst he battles to come to grips with a major upset in his personal life.

As is expected in this series, tight, descriptive, brilliant storytelling with a wonderfully engaging central character who has raised grumpiness to a glorious art form.
 

Please don't ask me what the correct order of this series is, as I've got absolutely no idea. I've never found the need to worry about it as each book works on its own, and each book is one of those little pieces of joy that just make you feel good.

Part of it has got to be Inspector Montalbano who is just so gloriously grumpy and idiosyncratic that he leaps alive from each and every page. Part of it is the setting which is woven into the action so seamlessly that you're just there, in that location, beside that ocean, in those restaurants, with those people. But definitely it's that food, which, frankly, I'm starting to think there should be a law against. You simply cannot read one of these books without constant mental references to the decided lack of wonderful meals lurking in your own refrigerator. (Note to self, first sniff of a Lotto win and we're hiring one of those housekeepers that cook like he has!).

Of course, none of the pluses thus far touch on the nature of the plots in these books, which are also extremely good. Almost masterclasses on tight, taut, clever plots in succinct but fully formed stories, decorated brilliantly by all the other aspects.

I dip into this series these days when I want a bit of comfort reading. And when I'm not on a diet.
 

I must admit that thrillers with a religious scenario are not the sorts of books that I seek out, so DEAD BISHOPS DON'T LIE by André K. Baby would not be a book that I'd normally give a second glance. When offered by the author for review purposes, I did stop and think about it, and there was something about the blurb of the book that appealed. Probably the "caustic investigator" idea - being a declared fan of the less than perfect central protagonist.

Set in the European environments of Switzerland, Italy and Russia, with a touch of the exotic in the Caribbean, the gruesome murders of two archbishops seem to be related by the hidden meaning in the way that the killings were done, as well as the messages left by the murderers. Investigator Thierry Dulac, dry, acerbic, controlled and measured, is put in charge of the international investigation, and in turn he looks to an expert in mythology and symbolism for help in decoding the killer's cryptic messages.

Of course in this sort of thriller, you expect a big conspiracy, and in religious thrillers I doubt there's any more obvious source of that threat than the Vatican, the Code of Silence, and lurking Cardinal's influence. Toss in a bit of Russian past and present menace, a British Marchioness with some out there sexual habits and something that she seems to be hiding, and you're well into the realms of the money, the influence and the power.

Rule number 1 with these sorts of thrillers is that there must be a good sense of pace and action. It's a bonus if you can get some good, believable, realistic characters built into that. It's a bigger bonus if there's a good sense of place and the occasional bit of exotic as well. In the main, Baby's settings and characters are really good, the reader really gets a feel for each of the locations in this book, and a chance to connect with all of the major characters. The baddies were nicely lurking and threatening, without stepping that narrow line into cartoonish. There are a few problems with some the pacing at points in the book, and a couple of extraneous scenes that perhaps could have been dumped to get the action and pace of the book moving forward quickly, but really, once the scene is set, the story is very engaging.

If, like me, you're a bit wary of this sort of thriller, it would be worth swallowing the reticence and giving DEAD BISHOPS DON'T LIE a go.

My pencilled list of things to expect from Italian Crime Fiction isn't particularly long or even all that surprising. A certain, shall we say obsession, with food; an eccentric, slightly grumpy, protagonist who spends a lot of time in his own head and seems to be quite happy there; and the occasional unexpected interpersonal relationship. That's a tick in boxes for RIVER OF SHADOWS then. Set on the banks of the River Po in Parma during a long cold, wet winter where the best everyone can hope for is that the river freezes to limit the reaches of the flooding, a barge captain goes missing on a night when everyone is distracted by the rising water levels.

That night the bargeman's brother falls from a window in a local hospital, a death that looks like suicide, but is quickly shown to be murder. Set in the current day, the roots of the fate of both brothers weaves its way into the society of boatmen and river dwellers and back to their time as fascist militia members in WWII.

Whilst there's a slightly subdued feeling to the story telling in this book, there's something beautifully atmospheric, introspective, and complex building.  Commissario Soneri contributes a lot to all of those aspects, a wonderfully individualistic character with a particular personal style, he's a thinker and an observer, rather than an action man. Unless you're talking about his rather unusual relationship with a girlfriend who is commitment phobic and fond of eclectic sexual encounters. A girlfriend who could be some men's idea of the perfect woman - all sex and no complications - it's Soneri that seems to long for more. I really liked this Commissario, and not just because he's my favourite sort of detective - a bit grumpy, a bit eccentric, a loner by circumstance rather than preference. I liked that he questioned everything and everybody, including himself. I liked his cynicism, his sense of irony.

There was something very believable about the way that the past directly impacted on everyone. There's something very evocative about the way that the communist / fascist differences in particular continued to affect present day lives and perceptions. That idea of the past and the future winding in and out is repeated in the way that the life of the people ebbed and flowed along with the river that dominated how and where they lived.

RIVER OF SHADOWS really is exactly my sort of book - characters, a society and a landscape each with their own positive and negative aspects. Considered, introspective and thoughtful analysis of all of those elements, and a direct line between the past and the present.

Now if you're sitting comfortably, a bit of housekeeping. RIVER OF SHADOWS is the fourth book in the overall Soneri series, and the first one available in translation. A second has been translated - THE DARK VALLEY - which I understand is the 6th book in the series. As teeth grindingly annoying as that is, if you love slower, atmospheric translated crime fiction, then this is seriously good option.

Perhaps I should just start this off by saying Mafia storylines are possibly my least favourite scenarios. Maybe (and probably unfairly) it seems like an easy target, the other possibility is that there's rarely anything new or illustrative about their activities. Either way, I'm acutely aware that this is a personal prejudice which is undoubtedly irrational and unreasonable.

Adding to the complication was THE NAMESAKE being the third Commissario Alex Blume novel, and my not having read either of the earlier ones. This meant that Blume, an interesting, enigmatic and flawed character, was not always quite fully fleshed out in my mind. Whilst not having read the earlier books didn't seem to matter in terms of picking up the plot of this part thriller / part police procedural, somehow I couldn't help wondering if the slightly disconnected feeling I was getting could be partially because it would have been better to have read this series in order. Whilst there were some aspects of Blume's backstory built into THE NAMESAKE, somehow he always seemed slightly distant, fuzzy around the edges. Perhaps other reviewers, who have read the full series, will be able to be much clearer on this requirement.

Given that involvement of the Ndreangheta in the plot, it wasn't all that surprising to find some predictable elements being explored - corruption, loyalty, power plays, so called "honour", vengeance and vendetta. The main plot pits Blume directly against one of the main underworld figures, whilst the sub-plot, the death of a poor unfortunate man who just happens to have the same name as a well-known Magistrate, is left to Blume's colleague (and romantic partner) Caterina and the rest of the team. The pace of the investigation is rapid, although the storyline doesn't always serve that well with the action frequently getting bogged down in a lot of extraneous meanderings into complicated family setups, past and present activities and what seemed like a lot of dead-end alleyways.

The best part of the book was undoubtedly Blume, who is one of those classic strongly principled, but deeply flawed men. Struggling with commitment issues in his personal life, he's professionally decisive especially when it means he can avoid being quite so proactive personally. Although this did lead to a couple of scenes which, seemed somewhat disconnected from the main action, did provide some quite funny moments (I'm never going to park anywhere near a rubbish dump ever again in my life!),

The book also has a strong sense of place and culture. It felt quintessentially Italian in style and tone. Whilst it could very well be that people with more interest in things Mafia would find THE NAMESAKE works as a standalone, to be honest, I wish I'd read the earlier books first, but I'm definitely going to do just that.

I like true crime books that tell me something about the circumstances and motivations for why people get into the situations that they do.  I even like confessional true crime as long as it's not too self-serving or overtly engaged in historical rewriting.  But I think I've just discovered that the subject, the crimes, the individuals have to be somebody that I have some sort of knowledge of, or connection with.  Be it that they are from the same country, city or state as me, or maybe if it's something that is of universal interest.  Alas my interest in the Mafia in Italy is very very limited and that really affected by experience with DON VITO.

Written by author Francesco La Licata along with the youngest son of mafia boss Vito, Massimo Ciancimino, DON VITO is the story of a Mafia boss known as the 'Mayor of the Corleones'.  Massimo was the son closest to the former politician, the anointed boy for want of a better description, this book is about the people and the events that he was a very close observer of.  The book attempts to shed some light on the details of Don Vito's life, his interactions, his contacts and his influence.  There's some glimpses into family life with a man who, on the face of it, seemed emotionally withdrawn, stern, a bully to his family.  Massimo seems to have had a life which was very much controlled and directed by a cold and stand-offish man with a mother who was mostly off to the side, perhaps thoroughly inhibited by the man she married.

It's not just Massimo's voice however, there are chapters from other viewpoints, including explanatory overviews from La Licata.  I'm really not sure if it was these multiple voices, whether it was partly the interwoven names and names and names that kept being thrown into the narrative, or whether it was just that I was struggling for interest, but I just never quite seemed to be able to get who was who and what they were talking about straight in my head.  Terminal confusion reigned from the start of the book to the finish and at the end of it, whilst I felt I'd been told a few things about the goings on in the Ciancimino household and their associates, I was really not too sure that I knew much more about the whys of the Mafia's influence and how somebody like Ciancimino, rather than any other of the Mafia hierarchy, in particular, got to where he did.  That could very well have been the reader's fault, but I just found I couldn't get a handle on who or what and there didn't seem to be much attempt at why.

Perhaps this book is one more for observers of Mafia happenings, one more for people that really have an interest in the subject matter.  Alas for me, DON VITO never quite engaged, never really told me anything in depth, never really peaked any interest in knowing more about the Mafia at all.