The Concrete River by John Shannon is the first of a series set in modern-day Los Angeles CA. Jack Liffey is a former aerospace engineer, now a 'child finder' (not a licensed PI). He's divorced, not allowed to see his daughter because he is months behind in child support, and has a problem with alcohol. Consuela Beltran, the mother of a child he found, is missing. Eleanor Ong, a representative of neighborhood/community group, asks Jack to find Consuela. Jack is immediately attracted to Eleanor, although he is already in a casual affair with his office landlord. Jack investigates a redevelopment scheme Consuela was involved in protesting as part of her community group. He taps into his contacts who can access confidential information. He receives a packet of documents which reveal the true nature of the redevelopment scheme, and hint at powerful crime boss masterminds.His home and office are trashed, and he is attacked and threatened by thugs driving a distinctive vehicle. He is angered by his fear and resolves to continue. He strikes back at the thugs to restore his pride, but that only ups the ante of violence.He eventually discovers exactly what happened to Consuela. He and Eleanor narrowly escape their own deaths. He carries out a bold violent counterattack. The book ends with only partial resolution of the main conflicts, clearly indicating more adventures to follow. I might continue reading the series due to the setting, but it will not be a high priority. The nitty-gritty of racism, poverty, violence and hopelessness is depressing.
Advertising blurbs mention Raymond Chandler and his Philip Marlow. I don't think so. It is Ross Macdonald's work that Mr. Shannon's "The Concrete River" reminds me the most, in a good way. Bleak yet acute sociological observations are not what Chandler is known for. Shannon shares with Macdonald a vision of society in decay. They both are disturbed by this vision.The main character, Jack Liffey is well drawn as is Eleanor Ong, an ex-nun and a community activist. However, some of their dialogues sound contrived, over-philosophized, and just irritating (like the pop-psychology in the same author's "City of Strangers"). On the other hand, the descriptions of a barrio in L.A. are wonderful, and there are some lyrical moments like the vision of plastic cups in the L.A. River. The whole book elegantly meanders around this concrete river. There is even some humor, like the scene featuring a guy with a hacksaw cutting his misbehaving station wagon in two on the freeway. And there is no bloat in the book; it is wonderfully short, at less than 230 pages.The sad-and-sweet ending fits well this good book that could have been better. Mr. Shannon is no Ross Macdonald, but at least he is trying.Three and a half stars.
