The Criminal Mind of Anthony Bourdain

BourdainBelieve or not, Anthony Bourdain has a truly criminal mind.

Oh, sure, you might have gotten hints of his felonious character in the pages of his wildly entertaining memoir, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly, or on the small screen as the former chef travels the world eating strange things and getting into trouble on No Reservations and Parts Unknown.

But what even hardcore fans and casual foodies probably don’t know is that Bourdain not only has a serious jones for crime fiction but he’s one of the genre’s most gifted practitioners. They say to write what you know, and Bourdain does it to perfection by writing about the strange intersection of crime and cooking in three deft novels, two outlandish graphic novels, and one hard-to-categorize urban historical.

The One-Two Punch

Long before Kitchen Confidential was even a glimmer in the chef’s eye, Bourdain was already a well-established crime novelist. His debut novel, Bone in the Throat, was published in 1995. The book is about an up-and-coming chef, Tommy Pagano, and his misadventures working around the mob in Little Italy. While it’s clearly the work of a novice writer, it’s here that Bourdain starts to captures the sounds and smell and blistering heat of a working kitchen while also developing his own twisted sense of humor. This gets real obvious when Tommy has to explain how a hit man entered his kitchen but isn’t seen leaving.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything,” Tommy tells his boss. “I mean, what am I gonna say, ‘Sorry chef, I had a couple of friends over last night and they sort of chopped a guy up with your knife and I think it’s maybe damaged a little bit’?”

Gone BambooThe author starts to stretch with his 1997 follow-up Gone Bamboo, which follows a CIA-trained assassin and his wife down to the Caribbean for semi-retirement until a mob boss in the witness protection program screws everything up. It’s a wackier setup more suited to readers who enjoy the late Elmore Leonard but Bourdain’s mouth-watering descriptions of island grills and five-star restaurants are sure to leave them hungry for more.

The Pièce de Résistance: Bobby Gold and Typhoid Mary

Bourdain has admitted plenty of times that fame and his work on television puts a dent in his writing. That may be why two of his best works came directly on the heels of Kitchen Confidential’s publication in 2000. In 2001, the chef published two new short works that demonstrate his writing at its peak.

Typhoid MaryThe first is a strange experiment that attempts to humanize a woman who has long since been demonized by history. In Typhoid Mary: An Urban Historical, Bourdain pays homage to Mary Mallon, the Irish cook who became an asymptomatic carrier of typhoid fever, leading her to infect at least 50 people during her term as a cook. In a gentle remembrance, Bourdain describes traveling to Mallon’s grave in the Bronx to lay his first chef’s knife at her resting place.

Something a fellow cook would appreciate, I hoped – a once fine hunk of quality French steel – a magical fetish, a beloved piece of my personal history. And a sign of respect, I hoped, an indicator that somebody, somewhere, even long after her troubles and her dying, took her seriously, understood, if only a little bit, the difficulty of her life as a cook. It’s the king of gift I would like to receive, one that I would understand.

I looked around the graveyard, making sure that no one else was watching, leaned over and with my hands, pulled back the grass at the base of her stone. I slipped my knife down there, covered it up the way it had looked before and left it for her. It was the least I could do.

A gift. Cook to cook.

Bourdain followed up this delicate wonder with his finest work, a slender, vicious portrait of a New York bonebreaker, Bobby Gold. It’s an incredible book not because its prose is florid but because Bourdain has stripped the novel down just its elemental parts, like a chef breaking down a side of beef. It opens on Bobby in the seventies, already in trouble.

Bobby Gold at twenty-one, in a red-and-white Dead Boys T-shirt, blue jeans, high-top Nikes and handcuffs, bending over the hood of the State Police cruiser, arms behind his back, wished he was anywhere but here.

Continue reading

A Little Good, A Little Bad…Bit of Both

Just popping in here to archive three very different new interviews that are up on Kirkus Reviews in recent days.

Funny GirlA little good: I first met Nick Hornby about fifteen years ago—I think he was touring behind How to Be Good, but I can’t be sure. No, come to think of it, it had to be earlier because I had a signed copy of his anthology Speaking With the Angel. That was an interesting copy. At one point, it had been signed by Nick as well as Dave Eggers, Roddy Doyle, and Helen Fielding and I’m sure I could have gotten a line on Irvine Welsh and Zadie Smith eventually. But then I went to England and it just became another one of my Lost Things.

That meeting happened not long before I became a writer myself, so it was cool to interview Nick about his terrific new novel, Funny Girl, for Kirkus Reviews. It’s a novel about a young beauty queen from Blackpool who comes to London to become a star, and does. I can testify that London always seemed that way—if you had good teeth and could knock two sentences together, it felt like you could have your own television show. I was surprised to learn that Sophie, the sparky comedienne who centers the novel, was inspired in part by Nick’s interactions with the lovely Rosamund Pike, who appears in An Education starring Carey Mulligan, with screenplay by Nick Hornby. But we also got around to talking about how An Education and Funny Girl, which are both historical set pieces set in the 1960s, naturally fell into one another, even as Hornby was writing about two very different kinds of girls.

“I suppose, both with An Education and Funny Girl, their lives are circumscribed to a certain extent by the times and expectations and barriers to where they want to be,” Hornby explained. “Young men don’t tend to have those barriers. Much of what stops them from becoming who they want to be is internal. I became interested in the perimeter fence, if you like. It’s kind of intrinsically dramatic. You definitely can’t have one without the other. I was reading a lot about the period when I was writing the movie, so that developed a real interest in the times for me. I had never written anything historical before I wrote An Education, and I really enjoyed it. In a way, it was slightly frustrating to have to stop in 1964, because I knew that the world was about to change. I wanted to find a way to write about that change from an angle. I guess the interesting thing about that kind of entertainment industry was that they weren’t as affected by the Beatles and everything else that came after.”

Coop_9780804140560_jkt_all_r1.inddA little bad: When Elmore Leonard passed away in 2013, I was bummed out for a while. Someone that influential—especially someone you met and spoke with a few times—at first you think, “Man, there aren’t going to be any more of those books now.” But then someone comes along and smacks you between the eyes with a killer tale and eventually you realize that Elmore Leonard was the Big Star of crime writers. (This observation is brought to you by the old joke that almost no one ever bought a Big Star record but every single person who did went out and started a band).

The kick-ass book that landed on my desk a while back that reminded me a lot of Elmore’s books was The Marauders by Tom Cooper. It’s a nasty little story about scumbags out in the bayou fighting over drugs and lost pirate treasure and it was really great. It reads like John D. McDonald and Elmore Leonard went out and had horrible little babies. It even got a blurb from Stephen King, who almost never comes out for this sort of thing anymore, but I think I prefer the words of fellow crime novelist Richard Lange (Sweet Nothing, 2015, etc.) who said, “It’s funny, sad, and wise, sometimes in the same sentence.”

Not that these things always go smooth. I got to track down Cooper at his lair down in NOLA, and you can read that interview in Kirkus as well. But we also got to talking about the absurdities of marketing and I got to the bottom of how a brutish crime story about one-armed treasure seekers, psychotic killers and off-the-rails drug dealers ultimately connected to…Harry Potter.

“It had a couple of crappy titles for a while,” Cooper told me. “It was called The Muck and the Mire for some time. It was only a few months later that I got a different perspective. It sounds like some kind of Fiona Apple album instead of this novel. It was also called Barataria for a while, and my editors very wisely pointed out that the title implied a familiarity with southern Louisiana that people just don’t have. They wouldn’t know what it means. It was actually a few of my ex-students who are now friends that suggested the Marauders, because of the Harry Potter connection. At first, I thought, I don’t want to make that kind of connection. Then I got to thinking about it, and I said, yeah, I would love to get connected to that thing. If I could sell some books, I would put a wizard on the cover if I could.”

The Long and Faraway GoneFinally, here’s a bit of both. Every now and then you hit a novel where once you talk to the writer you quickly find out that he has no idea at all how really gripping his book is—my guess is that once you get that close to a piece of work, you inhabit its world so fully that you can’t see it with fresh eyes anymore. That was the case with The Long and Faraway Gone by Lou Berney. I don’t usually take “work books” with me on vacation but I happened to grab this one by accident when I took it with me to San Francisco, and it really grabbed me. Now, I knew Lou had written two solid and funny crime novels, Whiplash River and Gutshot Straight, about a retired wheelman named “Shake” Bouchon, but this new one hit me in a very different place. When I wasn’t navigating Chinatown and the Embarcadero, Berney had me wrapped up in Oklahoma City in the mid 1980s—part of it is because I’m the right age to remember what it was like growing up in rural America before the Internet and smart phones, but I can tell you that Berney captures the mood perfectly.

The book concerns a private eye named Wyatt who is forced by circumstances to return to Oklahoma City where he grew up. When he was just a kid working in a movie theater as a teenager, Wyatt was the only survivor of an armed robbery that killed six of his co-workers in cold blood. Wyatt’s counterpart in this murky story is Julianna, whose beautiful sister Genevieve disappeared from the state fair in 1986, the same summer as the theater shooting. It’s eerie stuff, drawing influences seamlessly from all sorts of noir traditions and literary styles. This thing even came out in trade paperback first, so I highly recommend picking it up when you get chance. As it happens, I did manage to interview Lou a few weeks later and we talked about some of the things that influenced The Long and Faraway Gone.

“One of my favorite novelists is Tana French, the Irish writer,” Berney told me. “I love In The Woods, which I didn’t read until I started this novel, but it has the same kind of central issue where something happens to the main character long ago and there are no easy answers. What I took from her book is that as long as you answer the main mysteries, you can leave other things unsaid, which feels real. I like the idea that Wyatt is never going to know why he was left alive. You can’t leave him on the hook. It’s too easy. You have to make sure you cover all the other bases or I feel you’re cheating as a writer.”

I also did what I find myself doing with most crime writers lately, which is to delve into the perceived differences between crime writers and so-called “literary fiction” writers. You know where I stand—I think people like Tana French and Ian Rankin and Dennis Lehane are doing some of the finest writing of the 21st century and will happily put any of their work up against something like Cloud Atlas or Haruki Murakami any day of the week. But I can’t seem to stop myself from asking these guys where they see themselves in the big picture, and Berney had thoughtful things to say.

“I am playing around in the pool but I have deep and abiding respect for the work that is being done and has been done,” he said. “I think there’s a lot of great writers like Ross Thomas who didn’t get their due, so it’s nice to see people in the genre getting their due now. I think there’s just so much opportunity to stretch in crime. It’s not limiting. You can be Dennis Lehane or you can be Donald Westlake or you can be Laura Lippman or Sara Paretsky. It’s such a big tent and there’s so much opportunity to write exactly what you want to write. I’ve been able to write these two fast, fun crime novels in the vein of Elmore Leonard but I’m also able to write this new book, and my publisher is thrilled about all of it. It’s not a narrow genre so I never feel like I’m trapped in a cage. That’s incredibly liberating, to be able to do anything you want in a crime book.”

That seems as good a place to stop as any: do anything that you want to. Seems like fair advice for clean living, right?

Liner Notes: How Did It Get to be November? Edition

Definition: Liner notes (also sleeve notes or album notes) are the writings found on the sleeves of LP record albums and in booklets which come inserted into the Compact Disc jewel case or the equivalent packaging for vinyl records and cassettes. Such notes often contained a mix of factual and anecdotal material, and occasionally a discography for the artist or the issuing record label. Liner notes were also an occasion for thoughtful signed essays on the artist by another party, often a sympathetic music journalist, a custom that has largely died out.

Where the hell have I been, anyway? Apparently my assignments, projects and consulting gigs have kept me busy for a good part of the year. Here are a few highlights from the wilderness months.

A Better WorldI don’t pitch writers very often, but I did for this feature with Marcus Sakey, the author of Brilliant and A Better World. They’re these great little hard science fiction novels that postulate what would happen if one percent of the population were born with gifts ranging from a natural predictive response to vastly different perceptions of the passage of time. They get a lot of X-men comparisons but they’re much more grounded and noir-ish than any comic book.

That said, I had to make a rare correction in the story at the last minute. The books, as it’s been widely reported, have been picked up to be made into film adaptations by Legendary Pictures, who apparently intended for the books to be the next big vehicle for movie star Will Smith. At the very last minute, it was reported that Smith had dropped out and Jared Leto had been cast in the role, although I hear that the Dallas Buyers Club star / Thirty Seconds to Mars singer has since dropped out as well. I didn’t have the room to write it up in the interview but I thought Marcus had some thoughtful things to say about books and movies.

“One of the comments you see in Amazon reviews all the time that just chaps my ass is people saying, ‘he obviously wrote it to be a movie,'” Sakey told me. “That’s ridiculous and furthermore, it’s impossible. You can’t write a book to be a movie and if you did, you would write a terrible book that no one would want to make into a movie. I think my writing is fairly cinematic, probably because I watch a lot of movies, and always have. There is no part of my brain writing a novel thinking, ‘Wow, this will be a phenomenal set piece for the movie.’ I like movies and I’m influenced by that love.”

Anyway, these are really fun to read and I highly recommend Sakey’s work.

The summer was a time for a lot of spy books, both fiction and nonfiction. For the second time, I interviewed Ben McIntyre about his latest book, A Spy Among Friends, which many people in the trade consider to be the definitive account of the bizarre friendship between British agent Nicholas Elliot and spymaster Kim Philby, the story that inspired the classic novel Tinker, Tailor, Soldier Spy by John LeCarre.  Soon after, I spoke with Peter Duffy about his very cinematic portrayal of the William G. Sebold story in Double Agent, which recounts the masterful takedown of a WWII Nazi spy ring in New York City. A few months later, I got to experience something completely different when I spoke with British satirist Jonathan Coe about his new novel, Expo 58, which is set in Brussels (always ripe for comedy) during the first major World’s Fair following the end of World War II.

AThe Birth of Korean Coollso this summer, I was glad to connect with fellow journalist Euny Hong, whom I liked from the moment I interviewed her the first time about her debut novel Kept almost a decade ago. Euny had written a semi-confrontational post about her Korean heritage in The Atlantic a while back called “Growing Up Gangnam-Style,” which naturally went viral and led to a book deal. Her resulting book, The Birth of Korean Cool, was really funny and insightful. If you have any curiosity at all about why characters in Korean action flicks like Old Boy and The Raid are so pent up, why South Korea investors would back a $42 million film like Snowpiercer, or why (as Euny blissfully explains) “Korea has been fate’s bitch for 5,000 years,” I highly recommend you grab this one and connect the dots.

The Secret PlaceThe rest of the year has been a bit of a blur. On the crime front, I caught up with the great Tana French to talk about her latest novel The Secret Place, how super-creepy teenage girls can be, and about the act of writing. Tana always reminds me a bit of Ian Rankin, in that she can spin out these incredibly complex analyses of the nature of crime fiction, and yet be completely unaware of her own process. I’ve been collecting writer’s thoughts on the differences between genre fiction and “literary fiction” for a while for my own fun. This is what Tana French had to say.

“For me, the big distinction between literary fiction at one end of the spectrum and genre fiction at the other end is that in genre fiction, the characters’ main objective is exterior,” she explains. “If you’re writing pure crime, the character’s main objective is to catch the killer. If you’re writing pure chick lit, the character’s main objective is to find a husband. In pure literary fiction, the character’s objective is much more internalized; to resolve his issues with his father or to find closure for some psychological confusion. The action tends to be driven by an internal objective rather than an external one. I think that probably distinguishes what I’m writing or what Gillian Flynn is writing from Agatha Christie. She has that purely externalized objective whereas catching the killer isn’t the most important plot arc within my books. The most important part is the character negotiating some kind of journey within himself or herself. That’s what leads to the more thematically complex kind of book in any genre.” She’s really quite something.

Blind SpotSoon after, I interviewed Reed Farrel Coleman, who has been hand-picked by the estate of Robert B. Parker to continue the novels about small-town sheriff Jesse Stone (who happens to be my personal favorite of the late Parker’s creations). If you’ve read any of the Jesse Stone books, or indeed caught one of the television adaptations starring Tom Selleck, you’re aware that Jesse take a drink, or two, or six pretty much every night of the week, but never descends into a full-blown tailspin like Lawrence Block’s Matt Scudder. I’m actually surprised it didn’t make it into the interview (you and your short attention span are to blame), but Reed had some great insight into that aspect of Jesse’s character after re-reading all of the Parker books.

“You know a lot of cops and P.I.s drink,” he explained. “I though Tom Selleck as Jesse was a brilliant move because he’s all the things that Jesse is supposed to be.  But drinking represents for the readers all the struggles in their lives. Some people struggle with food, some people struggle with drinking or drugs, but every one of us struggles. There’s not a reader in the world that doesn’t have their weak spot. Unlike Scudder, who one day stops, Jesse keeps drinking. His on and off struggle with drinking doesn’t stop. In Blind Spot, he doesn’t even bother beating himself up about it anymore. I think we all have that in our lives. That was really smart. You don’t even realize what he’s pulling off.”

I need to wrap up for the moment, but you can also read my interview with prize-winning theater critic John Lahr about his new biography, Tennessee Williams: Mad Pilgrimage of the Flesh as well as my Q&A with British novelist Michael Faber about his fantastic science fiction exploration The Book of Strange New Things, and another conversation with the very funny Brock Clarke about his latest, The Happiest People in the World.

Stay warm, friends. See you on the other side.

Pigeonholed

I think about genre a lot. I don’t mean in the sense that I’m trying to come to some kind of deeper understanding of a swath of literature, but in the sense that I still don’t understand it after all this time. I think it came from one of my first interviews with the Scottish novelist Ian Rankin. I don’t think it made the original feature, but he talked about discovering crime fiction in the first place.

“I started reading crime fiction the final year of my studies instead of reading about Muriel Spark,” he said. “I was reading Chandler and Hammett and Ruth Rendell and P.D. James.  Immediately, I liked the strong sense of place that you get in crime fiction, the strong central character, the traditional storytelling with that strong sense of a beginning, a middle and an end.  I like the games that you can play in a crime novel.  I found that everything I want to say about the world I can say quite nicely in the crime genre, so why do anything else? They were also the kinds of books that my Dad read.  I thought, do I want to spend seven years at university writing books that are only read by people at university, like James Joyce’s Ulysses or do I want to write the kind of books my Dad would read?  It was a pretty simple answer.”

The next few features are a good example of the width and depth of a specific genre. Painted in broad strokes, all of these novels can comfortably be pitched into the mystery section or an airport bookstore and do quite well, but they’re all so very different that it’s easy to see how badly “genre” can be characterized sometimes.

The AccidentI suppose the most recent feature I’ve published is this interview with novelist Chris Pavone about his new novel The Accident. Pavone, of course, is the former cookbook editor who hit it big with The Ex-Pats, his chronicle of expatriate life that accidentally turned into a huge thriller. The Accident is another stand-alone novel set in the interconnected world of Pavone’s novels, with curious cameos from players from The Ex-Pats. As it often goes, I was surprised to learn that Pavone didn’t even know that he was writing a thriller when he set about writing his first novel. For having such a clear, propulsive voice, the author has very little knowledge or expertise in crime fiction.

“Because I don’t immerse myself in crime novels, I wasn’t following any particular formula, ” he explained. “The Ex-Pats is more influenced by good, caper-y movies than it is by crime novels. There’s something about the sort of set piece of a tight cast of characters who are all lying to one another about almost everything that felt to me a little more like a play or a movie than a book. Very often, books have far wider-ranging action and characters than the Ex-Pats did. I did have in mind – it was very cinematic to me. I was always trying to establish a visual for each sequence and have the action be very dialogue-driven without focusing on chases or violence, but just people lying to each other. I don’t read a lot of books about that kind of duplicity.”

More on guns, dames and the disappeared after the jump. Continue reading

Altered States

I am returned from a well-deserved vacation in the wilds of Florida, so I suppose it’s probably time for me to do the round-up of stories from the past couple of months.

DrewSpeaking of Florida, I was happy to start the year by speaking with promising young novelist Drew Perry about his comedic novel Kids These Days. I really enjoyed his first novel, This Is Just Exactly Like You, about a man trying to keep his family together and a rather poignant portrayal of the challenges of raising an autistic child. In “A Life Gone Sideways,” at Kirkus Reviews, we talked about the bizarre garishness of the Sunshine State (which I found very much intact during my own travels), not to mention the bizarre nature of being a parent. Not having any myself, I was surprised to find that Drew was not in fact an evangelist for parenthood.

“I might even be the opposite,” he admitted.”We don’t talk so much about how hard it is to have kids. I think there is this ‘Have Kids! The Musical!’ vibe out there sometimes. I think we should be more open about what a disaster it can be. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t also admit that I can be one of those a-hole dads standing around the grill saying it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” We also found that we can definitely relate around a general feeling of nervousness, not to mention that enduring sense of humor about the world’s weirdness.

“I wouldn’t characterize it as anxiety proper, but I’m definitely made nervous by a world in which so much hard can befall us with absolutely no warning,” he explained. “But if I didn’t find the strangeness of the world funny, I’d be doomed. I think ‘coping mechanism’ is too easy a way to describe it but I delight in the strangeness of things. I have a buddy who calls up and leaves messages like, ‘Hey, I just wanted to call and let you know that I passed a guy out on Battleground Avenue beating a stop sign with a chain and I thought that would be the sort of thing you would like.’ It’s those little things that I hold onto in order to stitch the world back together.”

“It was the sort of day that didn’t give a damn.”

ImageI was absolutely thrilled to interview Martin Cruz Smith. I lost track of him a little bit in the past few years but he was hugely influential on my own writing and certainly helped to spark the interest in crime fiction and espionage novels that drove me to write a crime column for a full five years over at Bookslut and keeps me immersed in the subject to this day.

I was far less thrilled this morning to find that the author revealed today to the New York Times that he has been living with Parkinson’s Disease since 1995, but I thought he handled the revelation in an incredibly graceful way. My personal experience speaking with him was terrific, as he offered sharp insights about his beloved and much put-upon anti-hero, Arkady Renko. I really appreciated his sense of humor and his candor, and wish him only the best as he continues working on his new book.

This feature survived mostly intact, but did require a few nips and tucks here and there. Here’s a little bonus for the couple of you that have found your way here—a humorous thought from the author about the bullet fragment still lodged in Arkady Renko’s brain. It’s the “ticking time bomb” that suddenly takes on a lot more meaning in the wake of today’s news.

It certainly wouldn’t be an Arkady Renko novel without a significant amount of mayhem, usually directed at the Inspector Detective himself. In addition to the lurking ghost of that bullet in his head, within pages Smith has his favorite character beaten to a pulp.

Image

Martin Cruz Smith in the Lenin Suite at the National Hotel circa 1990.

“I’m surprised that Arkady puts up with how I treat him, honestly,” Smith laughs.. “What drives me crazy—and I can’t read these kinds of books—are those stories where the lead characters are invulnerable. They get out of bed the next day and knife wounds have turned into mosquito bites. He’s stuck, of course, with a writer whose idea is to bring in a brain surgeon to warn him not to put himself in any more danger, and I immediately throw him back in the pit.”

ImageIf you read any of the breaking news about Smith’s new novel Tatiana, you’ll quickly figure out that his title character is based on the heroic journalist Anna Politkovskaya, who was gunned down outside her Moscow apartment seven years ago now. I would greatly encourage anybody who finds this story compelling to seek out her work. If you would like to get a sense of her, you can start with “Chronicle of Repression,” my review of her last released work, A Russian Diary, from the Rocky Mountain News.

The Round-Up: On Vets, Spooks and the Beginning of the End

It’s been a busy week here at the office between consulting, training, interviews and a little rock n’ roll here and there. here are a few updates from a snowy first week in October.

NostalgiaFirst, Kirkus Reviews kindly published my feature interview with novelist Dennis McFarland about his contemplative new novel Nostalgia.  Kirkus called it, “A distinguished addition to fictionalized narratives focused on the Civil War and its aftermath” but I think it’s deeper than that, as I discussed with Mr. McFarland during a rich conversation about the novel’s themes and the character of Walt Whitman, who I discovered during the course of my research really did work as a volunteer in Washington veteran’s hospitals during the Civil War. More specifically, it was a way for the author to approach the modern plague of Post-Traumatic Stress Injury from a different perspective. (Side note, even though I use the term PTSD in the feature, I really do prefer the connotations of PTSI. These people aren’t fundamentally broken in some way. Something happened to them. That’s an injury, not a disorder.)

Thank YouWhile McFarland’s Nostalgia uses the patina of the American Civil War to tell the story of Summerfield Hayes, I can also recommend another recent non-fiction work that addresses the issue of post-war reintegration with the clearest eyes imaginable. I was reading the Tattered Cover’s (my local bookstore) list of upcoming events this morning, and noted that Washington Post reporter David Finkel will be coming in November to sign Thank You For Your Service. It’s a follow-up to his war reporting in The Good Soldiers, following the men of the 2-16 Infantry Batallion home from the war. It’s a terrifying, eye-opening book about American service that ought to be required reading for anyone on either side of an international conflict.

I’ve also been reading about the death of popular novelist Tom Clancy this week, with quite a few reservations. I have to The Divisionadmit that much of my exposure to the so-called Clancy-verse came through videogames like Splinter Cell and Rainbow Six, but I have let myself go with one of his airport thrillers from time to time. However, conservative pundits and literary critics alike are hailing the author like he was some kind of military genius to be lionized in the canon of American literature. The truth is that The Hunt For Red October is a very good first novel, with a tightly controlled atmosphere. The Cardinal of the Kremlin is a fine entry in the espionage genre, and my favorite of the books remains Without Remorse and Rainbow Six, all because John Clark is a far more interesting character than everyman Jack Ryan. It’s around the time of Rainbow Six (which I still suspect was largely ghostwritten) that the Jack Ryan series becomes absolutely ridiculous, as a (eerily prescient) terrorist attack wipes out most of the White House administration and much of Congress, while a mid-level CIA analyst becomes President of the United States. Unfortunately in the end, Clancy had become a brand unto himself, a product to be marketed to teenagers and middle-aged men. Don’t even get me started on the corollary series like Ghost Recon and Net Force. It’s a fairly well-known fact that co-author “David Michaels” is just a placeholder name for whatever ghostwriter has been hired for a particular product. It’s my odds-on bet that Clancy books will continue to be pumped into the marketplace, just like the late Robert B. Parker’s. In some ways, I suppose it’s the end of an era. Personally, I think the future of thrillers belongs to people like Charlie Huston, or Warren Ellis, or Max Barry, who seem to have a much better sense of how terrifying the future of espionage actually may be.

The October ListFinally, if you really want to talk about someone who’s smart, prolific and has an uncanny ability to pull the rug out from underneath his readers, you can’t miss with Jeffrey Deaver, whom I profiled in Kirkus Reviews this week. I quite like Deaver’s books, although I’m sometimes startled by his voluminous output. Much like Robert Crais, Deaver’s work is always solid, and he’s prone to doing interesting things like writing and recording an entire album of country music for one of his Kathryn Dance novels, or writing up real recipes that coincide with Jacob Swann, the serial killer who haunts the latest Lincoln Rhyme novel The Kill Room. His latest, The October List, is about as experimental as anything I’ve seen in the genre, proceeding backwards chapter by chapter, a la Memento. It’s a trick that’s a lot easier to pull off in a visual medium, but Deaver does marvelous work here. Enjoy the interview, where we had a great talk about reverse chronology, his James Bond novel Carte Blanche, and how Steven Sondheim kicked the whole mess off.

I’m out. Have a nice weekend, everybody.