Noir

You know how the rule goes, you're not supposed to barrack for the "bad guy", but seriously there's no way I wasn't totally and absolutely on Osgood Sneddon's side from the start. I mean Osgood? No wonder he uses the jokingly dubbed alias of Furt Bent from Aldaheit. Which is just silly, even if you can pronounce Aldaheit and goodness knows I changed my mind a 1000 times about how to.

When I wasn't being thoroughly and completely entertained by FURT BENT FROM ALDAHEIT that is. It's a book that combines good pace and action with a dry and quite dark sense of humour, highlighting a central character, who despite being a delinquent thief and troublemaker, is somebody that you just kind of have to end up liking. A Lot.

Having a little peak around post reading the book I believe some of the action could have been inspired by some true life events in New Zealand, which is rather intriguing, as a lot of the action is quite out there. Sneddon is not your run of the mill kid as he manages to survive in the very dangerous world of crime and prison using a combination of wit, brains and sheer gall. A determined, resourceful and relentless survivor, he's a kid that packs a hell of lot into a very short life. There are other characters built into the story, the obvious one being DI Hubbard, and whilst that supporting cast are believable people, they are inevitably a supporting cast. This book is all about Osgood Sneddon and it does a very good job of that. FURT BENT FROM ALDAHEIT was an unexpected, and very engaging pleasure to read.

(Read as an ebook from Amazon)
 

I will admit that I read a lot of books that veer towards the dark, noirish end of the spectrum, and because of that, there can be a feeling of same old same old. So when something like OUTERBOROUGH BLUES comes along, there's a distinct feeling of a dark, chilling, cold wind blowing up your spine. In a good way.

Dark and quite subdued, OUTERBOROUGH BLUES has one of those plots, and central characters, who sneak up and play with your head. Starting out the sense of loss, darkness, and dysfunction seems to be heading in a rather predictable direction, but at about the time that young Caesar ups and gets out of his family home, the action, and Caesar, take a sharp turn and head off into new territory. The story starts out quite simply, low key almost, and though it quickly goes to flashbacks and current day action, the connections between the past and the present are understandable, and informative. As his hunt for the missing brother expands, and his day to day life in his local neighbourhood continues, it all gets increasingly involving, fascinating, and refreshingly different. Caesar's has been a tricky life, as is almost required from this sort of book, but there is a substantial variation in how he copes with the hand that life dealt. He has a sense of right and wrong, a morality that comes from his past, informed by what he's lost but also by the people who he has met along the way - and the kindness that is shown, as well as the brutality and cruelness. It's this aspect that made OUTERBOROUGH BLUES grab this reader by the throat and turned it into a one sitting read.

OUTERBOROUGH BLUES is a book that feeds the readers imagination. Whether it's the wonderful sense of place and culture in which the book takes place. Sparse, clever and sensitive descriptions that give the reader a feeling for the neighbourhood, the houses, the bars, the people. Often brush stroke light, they work incredibly well. Whether it's some great characters, not just Caesar, but the supporting cast, all of whom are believable. Fragile, flawed, victims, perpetrators all, there are glimpses of real human characteristics everywhere. Fleshed out by more of those well gauged brush stroke descriptions, expanded with good dialogue which reads authentically. Regardless of how OUTERBOROUGH BLUES fires up the imagination, it does it very very well, and I am very grateful that the author offered me a copy for review. I'll be on the lookout for purchase options for the next one.

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.
 

Sometimes you just have to start off a book review with a bunch of warnings - so let's get the public service announcements out of the road now. Don't read DARK CITY BLUE if:

a) you're going to need sleep in the immediate future;
b) you're about to cough up the annual Christmas Policeman's Fund donation;
c) your tolerance for violence is more on the Midsummer end of the scale; or
d) you've got an allergy to adrenaline.

Ignore the warnings if you're looking for something that is action-packed, violent, sparse, and tense with a serious Australian sensibility. You're most definitely in the right territory.

The positives, are exactly the things right up the alley out the back of our place (okay so it's a gravel track but any analogy in a tight spot...). For a start, Preston is one of those authors who leave you pondering their relationship with their central character. Tom Bishop is a good-old fashioned honest cop, with no self-preservation instincts whatsoever. And apparently no pain receptors in his body and a stubbornly one-track mind. There's nothing particularly surprising about a hardboiled, noir sort of a cop that doesn't play nice with his superiors, and has a fractious relationship with his colleagues. What is interesting here is the level of corruption that Bishop starts kicking the covers from. It's pretty extreme - from armed robbery and sexual slavery to good old fashioned standover and more than a bit of general menacing and lurking. The idea that there is a high ranking officer controlling the network of corruption is very real, how high up this officer goes intriguing and what is really most of the mystery from the get go.

It's actually quite hard to tell who is on which side, and for how long for most of the book, and that, and the sheer lunacy of the action means that everything clips along at a tremendous pace. But it's not all hard, mad and bad. Bishop's tentative building of a relationship with his teenage daughter, until recently completely estranged from him, is a nice touch, giving the hard man a bit of a gooey core. It's also that relationship that provides some real moments of hope and sadness. There's also something disconcerting about aspects of the resolution that actually say quite a bit about motivation and why good people do bad things. I actually found that, in the middle of all of the mayhem, quite a thought provoker.

Whilst there is something vaguely cinematic about the action scenes in the book, it's not overdone or jarring, and DARK CITY BLUE mercifully doesn't read like a film script bashed into a book. In fact it reads like a hell of an action-packed, hard boiled, mean streets story, with a believable protagonist, tight and realistic dialogue and a plot that has a sobering credibility to it.
 

Buried in the darkest corners, or glittering away in the brightest hotspots there are bits and pieces of everyone's Australia being scribbled down on the back of beer mats, place mats, table cloths and menu cards. There are people writing great dollops of city based, mean gritty, and bright clean suburban streets based fiction. There are people out here in the hot, dry bits - Greater Australia as we all like to think of it - that are sitting in pubs, coffee shops and on the sides of dusty gravel roads weaving tales that are filled with a sense of who, what and where we all come from.

When people like the good ones at THE CRIME FACTORY haul a bunch of these sorts of stories into a collection like HARD LABOUR it almost feels like they have heard my pleading, begging and hoping like hell for more and more of these sorts of collections. It also doesn't hurt that the collection starts off on a particularly high note with a fantastic Wyatt entry by Garry Disher (if you don't know who Wyatt is then seriously - get thee to your favourite bookstore or library immediately)!

One of the best things about this set of stories is the way that many of the authors, known for their series, or particular style of novel writing, have stepped outside those strictures and tried something different. The ones that come immediately to mind are Leigh Redhead who has moved about as far from her Simone Kirsch series as she could probably get, and still be in the same country. Same with Angela Savage whose story set in a rural town had me hyperventilating quietly about the fate of peacocks, of which I'm particularly fond (and more than a bit keen to add to the zoo hereabouts). Others who aren't so well known to me seemed to have stepped out into some challenging subjects, styles and subject matter, all sticking to the noir, darker side of the spectrum.

Regardless of which stories become your own particular favourites, it's not too much of a stretch to promise that any fans of noir, or of tight, taut Australian storytelling will find gems in what is a most welcome addition to the short story options in Australia. It's absolutely fantastic to see this collection hit the streets. It will be even better when I'm happily contemplating the next, and then the one after that and the one after that. To wave a cliché under your noses "Do yourselves a favour". Supporting this sort of collection, and these sorts of publishers also does other readers a favour - ensuring what's really good and strong in Australian crime fiction writing gets an outing. You never know, it might also make a few more publishers sit up and smell the obvious as it bleeds all over those streets of theirs.
 

It really shouldn't work. Even in something as dark and noir styled as EIGHTBALL BOOGIE, there should be limits. Sure, hero's can be wise-cracking, dry, lone wolf investigators, or "Researchers". They can obviously have fraught personal lives, and goodness knows Rigby's personal life - what with a son he adores and an on again-off again live in partner, mostly pissed off with him in the extreme  falls at the very least, into complicated territory. They can have mates that can be turned easily, enemies around every corner, cops, crooks and all. They can even be somewhat risky friends to know. They can have decidedly dodgy family members but somehow keep waiting for the Chrismas cards to arrive. But really, can they possibly be shot, bashed, thumped, beaten, shot, beat up a bit more, and shot again (I lost count), and not have the reader feel the occasional WTF moment. Apparently, when you're this reader, and it's this book, you can.

Who knew.

It's undoubtedly something to do with the crisp, sharp, pointy, sticky, dark, hilariously funny writing throughout the book. It really got to the point where I didn't care if the hero got shot yet again, as long as he rose to his feet with a nice little aside out of his mouth. I confess at one point I was worried about the beatings - but if I'm being honest - only because of the possibility of a broken jaw and what Burke would do to keep the hero wise-cracking. At no stage did I worry for his longevity, and he really is the sort of engaging character that you'd like to think is propping up a bar into his dotage, as long as it's not my local. Sure the plot probably needed a tourist guide, a very good torch and maybe a cheat sheet, but I ... simply ... did ... not ... care. I loved the whole package and frankly, had a ball reading it. Giggled like an idiot at points.

This is Declan Burke's first book, which I cannot believe I've not read before. Especially as I'd loved The Big O.

You'd think I'd know these things by now.

Start out reading GHOST MONEY and you're quickly immersed in a tight, tough, noir story set mostly in Cambodia. But don't be surprised if at some point, you also find yourself right smack bang in the middle of a history lesson and a subtle exploration of racial politics.

Knowing a little of Nette's interest in pulp fiction, I confess that the taut, noir stylings of GHOST MONEY didn't come as any surprise whatsoever, so for this reader, what was most rewarding about the book was the unexpected complexity of the central character, Max Quinlan. As well as one hell of a plot that just does ... not ... let ... go.

In a testament to the power of the storytelling there's something very matter-of-fact about the son of a Vietnamese woman and an Australian Vietnam vet as an ex-cop, a specialist in finding people who would rather stay lost. It also seems to go without saying that Quinlan, despite his lack of extensive PI experience, and his own misgivings, would find himself in SE Asia looking for the once successful Melbourne lawyer Charles Avery. Who is now a missing, dodgy gems trader whose sister wants to know what happened to her brother. It doesn't come as any surprise at all that Quinlan would follow the clues to post Khmer Rouge Cambodia and right smack bang into the madness of a country still recovering from the extremes of that regime.

What's also frighteningly matter-of-fact and at the same time very revealing, is the nature of the world in which Quinlan moves. The tension between Cambodian and Vietnamese, the vulnerability of people in a society that's been so brutalised, the casual way in which life is regarded as dispensable, and the greed and self-interest. Quinlan survives because of his own background, because he can read people, because he can see things and people for exactly what they are. And because he's careful about who he allows to get close.

It's one thing to know the theoretical history of a place, it's another completely to see the outcomes from within, to experience the result from the point of view of a direct observer or participant. That is part of what's so clever about GHOST MONEY. In the character of Quinlan, Nette has created a very realistic dichotomy. A man with an Asian look, yet his knowledge of his Vietnamese mother is non-existent. Australian raised, by a man who was profoundly damaged. Thai speaking, but looking enough Vietnamese to be regarded as suspicious by the Cambodians, there's so much about this man that demonstrates perfectly the complexities of the Vietnamese / Cambodian / Australian experience. Pairing him with Sarin, a Cambodian who has had direct and devastating experience of the Khmer Rouge, who remains in his damaged and difficult country, desperately trying to find a way to continue to survive, he's realistic and considered. He's all too aware of the difference between the reality and western perception of Cambodia, he's not an observer, he is the experience.

Great characters are one thing, but stick them into a plot that is not just realistic, but tight and fast moving, and frankly, nerve-racking, and something else starts to happen. Again, there was something so matter-of-fact about the lows that people will sink to when it comes to greed and self-interest, the way that loyalties shift and personal gain remains paramount that was chilling, especially when you match that up with the extreme violence of whatever it takes to win attitudes.  Fingers crossed GHOST MONEY is the start of a new series.