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The ghosts are thick in Rick Riordan's new thriller, "Cold Springs," but not because a lot of people die in a first few blood-splashed pages. Quite the contrary. These ghosts -- like Riordan's cast of characters -- once had three-dimensional form and feelings, and they haunt the heart more than the noir-ish corners of rain-slicked cliché.
"Cold Springs" is Riordan's first stand-alone thriller, a departure from his Edgar- and Shamus-winning series featuring wise-cracking San Antonio private-eye Tres Navarre. While the Texas middle-school teacher has now returned to the character who first put him on the radar, "Cold Springs" shows he has the chops for more stylish prose in the headlong rush of a multi-level, rapidly twisting plot.
Riordan's voice is smooth, accented with a South Texas drawl and punctuated by evocative imagery -- hills that look like "scar tissue, swollen and raw and pink" or a voice that "stung like sleet." Such metaphor from the mouth of the irreverent Tres Navarre would elicit a Chandler-esque groan -- and often does -- but transplanted to a deeper story with more complex relationships and landscapes, it's not out of place.
It's a matter of degree. "Cold Springs" doesn't portend a new trend toward literary thrillers, but it flirts with slightly more "character arc" -- the way a protagonist changes over the course of a story -- than most of today's purely plot-driven stuff. It ain't even so high up the tree that it will put off page-turning mystery fans who measure good "literature" by high body counts and bizarre ways to die. For them, Riordan supplies a steady stream of corpses and unusual wounds.
But Riordan is a rising star in crime fiction and, with luck, will help the genre usher back strong plots with complex characters.
The characters in "Cold Springs" aren't like that.
If the Navarre stories are fast-paced and entertaining, "Cold Springs" is edgy and uncomfortable. All of the characters are tense and troubled. All their lives are dark and desperate. And with one or two exceptions, none of them were ultimately particularly easy to be around. Even Chadwick, our hero, is battling too many demons ever to feel comfortable with. In fact, I never felt comfortable in this story at all, never able to relax, and never certain about what might be around the next corner.
I loved it.
"Cold Springs" has all the intricate plotting we've come to expect from Rick Riordan. Suspicion points at one character, and then another. Nobody seems trustworthy, not even our hero. But when you finally reach the resolution, most everything falls into place. As you read this, keep in mind the subtitle on the front cover: "A Novel of Secrets." Secrets are always being revealed -- right up to the very end.
Riordan's plot is complex and winding, but his characterizations deserve praise too. As I read this, I was reminded of Tolstoy's famous opening line, "All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." Here, every miserable, troubled person is miserable and troubled in his or her own way, and each of them, including the several teenagers, is true to life (or at least convincing to someone like me who has mercifully avoided that kind of misery in my own life). And unlike the Navarre books, this story is told in third-person, and from multiple viewpoints. Riordan thus not only had to create characters whose actions are believable, but whose thoughts and emotions are believable too. That's much harder to do, and my hat's off to him because I think he pulled it off.
Rick Riordan has done a great job. He's one of the few authors, and certainly the only novelist, for whose next work I'm always impatient. Though "Cold Springs" paid off the wait, it also whet my appetite for whatever's coming next. But first, I need to sit back and let the tension ease out a little bit. This was a nerve-wracking ride, and I think I need a rest.
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This book opened so many doors to new ideas for me. It dispelled the notion that women could only be beautiful, helpless prizes for men (like Cinderella) or evil, ugly, vicious adversaries (like her stepmother). That is, after all, the stated objective of the book. But it also taught me that the stories our culture tells are not the stories every culture tells. It opened my eyes to a world full of rich and varied literary traditions.
Beautifully writen, marvelously illustrated, this book belongs in the collection of every young girl -- and boy. Buy it for any child you care about -- you never know what sort of ideas it might give her, or him.
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"A long time ago he had recognized as a secret vice the habit of embracing formulas [e.g., 'Arise, take up...'], building arguments, using the Son of Man as another object, situating Jesus in history instead of, even today, living one's life sufficiently within His so as to grasp the meaning of those phrases and trying over and over to understand them. He apologized for being tactless, because it seemed to him that no one had the right to use these words if his own life had not first transformed them into bread and wine, into flesh and blood, and if he couldn't say them in his own personal voice." [61]
As the novel develops the narrator (named Sulivan) becomes more and more obsessed with Strozzi and his powerful influence over people, especially prostitutes. Like a true modern, he professes skepticism about Strozzi's celibacy but can find no evidence to impugn it; rather, the women speak of his friendship and his demand that they exercise their spiritual freedom. "All that he was good for was to rekindle light in eyes that had become dead. Meanwhile he was paying the price." He is regularly roughed up by the pimps whose business he threatens and reported to the chancery by virtuous Christians whose wayward pleasures he subverts.
The first giveaway of Eternity, My Beloved is the epigraph which informs the reader that the title is borrowed from Nietzche: "I have never found the woman by whom I would want to have a child except this woman that I love--for I love you, eternity, my beloved." Official Catholic teaching rarely quotes that particular German philosopher for a defense of celibacy! But the phrase very aptly captures the spirit of the novel's protagonist, Father Jerome Strozzi, aka Tonzi (based on an actual worker-priest named Auguste Rossi) who immerses himself in the demi- monde of Paris' prostitutes, pimps and petty criminals. Once again the narrator plays a major part, this time complaining that Strozzi has hijacked his plan to write a novel about a prostitute named Elizabeth. But Strozzi's combination of anti- bourgeois sentiment, gospel conviction and humility proves irresistible. Freedom, that elusive gift Juan Ramon spent most of his life seeking without realizing it and only finally grasped in an act of self-incarceration, is Tonzi's hallmark. It allows him to plunge into incriminating circumstances daily, to see God's providence in an act of betrayal, a missed train or an eviction, to touch the hearts of street-wise prostitutes simply because his agenda is entirely unhidden.
"A long time ago he had recognized as a secret vice the habit of embracing formulas [e.g., 'Arise, take up...'], building arguments, using the Son of Man as another object, situating Jesus in history instead of, even today, living one's life sufficiently within His so as to grasp the meaning of those phrases and trying over and over to understand them. He apologized for being tactless, because it seemed to him that no one had the right to use these words if his own life had not first transformed them into bread and wine, into flesh and blood, and if he couldn't say them in his own personal voice." [61]
As the novel develops the narrator (named Sulivan) becomes more and more obsessed with Strozzi and his powerful influence over people, especially prostitutes. Like a true modern, he professes skepticism about Strozzi's celibacy but can find no evidence to impugn it; rather, the women speak of his friendship and his demand that they exercise their spiritual freedom. "All that he was good for was to rekindle light in eyes that had become dead. Meanwhile he was paying the price." He is regularly roughed up by the pimps whose business he threatens and reported to the chancery by virtuous Christians whose wayward pleasures he subverts.
By the end Sulivan has abandoned all pretense of plot and is simply describing Strozzi or quoting him. The pages read like the spiritual journal which is so far only his third book to appear in English. As an introduction to it, here is a final Sulivanism from Eternity based on Strozzi's life that makes explcit the Paschal character of that priest's mission: "Love wants eternity; it is closer to death than to life: nothing can prevent it from sooner or later being crucified."
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Comparing his comments to the actions of present day politicians, I don't think there are many differences. Everyone does a little grafting and civil servants are still "civil servants." Understood?
As with any politician, Plunkitt "seen (his) opportunities and (he) took 'em." This is a must for anyone interested in any realm of politics.