ttIn his article “In the Mind of Others” (shared on Facebook by a friend; and now —surprise, surprise!— on sale online for six bucks or so; sorry I ain’t buyin’) Keith Oatley addresses the fact that psychologists, who for a long time scorned fiction, have recently revised their judgement and declared it beneficial to one’s social skills. The reason for the initial derision was that fiction was “made up.” Not real. In other words, an act of imagination. That Sigmund Freud dug out the expression “Oedipus Complex” right out of mythology (an ancient form of fiction) was totally ignored in that judgement, apparently. Some eastern philosophies affirm that it is all a dream, that nothing is real. What I know is that, be it dream or reality, without imagination, nothing could happen. I wouldn’t be hitting keys of my laptop under a cozy roof with good heating, for example. Imagination is the act that allows other happenings, fiction being one of its most gripping manifestations.tAs well as the cheapest, and possibly most engaging traveling mode. It will take you places you will recognize, even if you have never been there. You will meet characters who resemble Cousin Ernie or Aunt Lucille. Or, if you are a fantasy reader, you will want to be that hero. And if you dig within, you will find that part of you is that hero, at least potentially. In a novel, you will discover poetry within descriptions, emotions. The characters’ reflections on the human condition will make you ponder upon important questions, engage in a dialogue with such characters as if they existed. If the author is talented, characters will become your friends or personal enemies. (Faulkner talked to his personages as if they were made of flesh and bones, and as a fiction writer, I can totally comprehend that.) Scarlet O’Hara? Emma Bovary? Didn’t you cry with them, for them? Get mad at them? Most importantly, identify with them? tFiction has the capacity to embrace it all: a vision of reality, of dream, of philosophy. And, yes, psychology. tAnd what would be a mystery without psychology? tCrais’ L.A. Requiem noir whodunit is full of it. An author who obviously loves his craft, he avoids cliches and oversimplifications no matter how secondary the characters. Good crime fiction never draws clean, parallel roads where you can find your way in a jiffy. Its geography is filled with detours. Crais follows that map, with a twisted plot and tormented souls. His lovable characters can be annoying, and the despicable ones have their moments. tAnd then there are the peculiar ones. tHow he manages to make a feminist-pacifist like me root for taciturn, macho, and, if not trigger-happy, trigger-fluent detective Joe Pike is quite remarkable. Psychologists might argue that it may be because I identify with Pike. Which may be true: I have my bouts of withdrawal and unreasonable pride now and then. I seldom use guns, though; and when I do, it’s only in my mind. But I can tell them: See the power of a novel? tThe plot: Karen Garcia, a former lover of Joe Pike’s, has been brutally murdered, and her father hires two private detectives, narrator Elvis Cole and his partner, former cop Joe Pike, to find the murderer. But the L.A.P.D. get in their way. Are the city cops in to solve this murder? Or do they have an agenda of their own? One thing is sure, they don’t like Pike, as they are convinced he is responsible for the death of one of their colleagues. tSamantha Dolan, the only cop collaborating with the two private detectives is brilliant, beautiful, but also a profoundly troubled soul with a penchant for tequila. tThe background of these circumvolute happenings is Los Angeles, with its valleys and beaches and infinite highways. It might also be Crais’ most beautiful character. I have driven through the six lane L.A. freeways, sped North and South of Hollywood; I have contemplated the illuminated expanses of land at night; and felt sorry for the palm trees eaten up by drought and pollution; for the homeless agglutinated on the Santa Monica Beach just miles away from affluence. And with the exception of semi-bohemian Venice Beach, I have felt no affinity for the town. Yet, Crais’s atmospheric description rose some vague nostalgia within. Here, he paints a place I knew but have not seen. He manages to print poetry on the asphalt of its freeways. They become instruments of meditation. It’s not that they lead nowhere, but that they lead you don’t know where. They’re full of existential melancholy, as are the San Fernando Valley and the Santa Monica Mountains and the Sunset Boulevard dying into the beach. Flashy Rodeo Drive doesn’t manage to kill that sense of impermanence. But in all these lights and spaciousness Crais, through the eyes of Elvis Cole, finds beauty. He is in love with his city. He declares it plainly. As a reader, you get it. A place you love is part of you. Crais’s writing is so powerful that I almost feel that L.A. is part of me as well. tAnd amidst all this, he never forgets humor. Humor, as a sense of measure to prevent grandiloquence. tNow, about the ending. So many writers today write a good plot and then abandon the reader with an unremarkable, even rushed conclusion. The finish here is doctored, and certainly not formulaic. Ambiguity is one of the guests, along with new roads, new possibilities. But the all-is-well-that-ends-well is avoided, thank God! Nothing indigestible, i.e. so filled with sweetness and easy tears you feel like going on bread and water for a month. No, our narrator faces tough decisions while aware life will make some of them for him and he will have to go with the flow. It’s very much in harmony with the often desertic mountains and valleys of the decor. So when I finished L.A. Requiem, I kissed the book. For being real. Or at least as close to real as psychologists and the rest of us think real is.
My brothers are so cruel. All of them have, at one time or another, given me a novel late in a series (Doug gave me a Robert Vardeman fantasy novel that was #3 in the series and, naturally, I had to buy the first two and fill out the rest of The Cenotaph Road series. James introduced me to Martha Grimes' Richard Jury series with Jerusalem Inn (somewhere around #5 or #6). And now, my brother David gives me #8 in a series.) Well, you'd better believe I'm going to read the first seven and probably any others that he writes.To me, Crais' writing is crisper than Wambaugh's and right up there with Connolly's (my favorite). It isn't as disturbing as Ellroy's (which are well-written enough to keep me coming back like a morbid curiosity seeker to a train wreck--I hate myself for enjoying Ellroy, but I do) or quite as nuanced as Dunning's novels. To paraphrase a cliche, he had me at "the a.c. jacked to meat locker."The only reason I didn't give this book a 5-star rating was because I felt Crais was somewhat ham-handed with his red herring. I can't say more than that without spoiling the mystery, but he was very careful with his red herring--so careful that it wasn't a surprise when the hook was bared. But did I feel like he knew Southern California from San Gabriel to Mulholland to Santa Monica and all the way to Palm Springs and 29 Palms? I spent my college years and a few more in Southern California and this book had me going crazy with the Santa Ana winds and longing for Dodger Stadium (Ironic, since my first loyalties were to the Giants and the Angels--of course, the Angels played in Dodger Stadium/Chavez Ravine when I first started rooting for them).The book handled the LAPD right. I knew some LAPD and LA Sheriff's Department guys. This book reads like stories they would tell--especially the stories about crummy cops who were promoted because they knew where to plant their lips and the secondary story line about the female detective who accumulated about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield's stand-up routine. And one of the main characters, Joe Pike, reminds me so much of an FBI agent I once met. I was only a peripheral witness in a fraud case, but when Crais describes those cold blue eyes and that humorless expression, I see that FBI agent in my mind's eye--time traveling right back, coincidentally enough, to Los Angeles. And when the main protagonist and narrator, Elvis Cole, takes a drive across familiar roads to clear his head and proclaims that he loves L.A., it reminded me of some special drives I had taken in some of those same areas just to get away from some bad situations and clear my head.The mystery itself was handled very well. One finds oneself truly debating whether this perpetrator is merely a serial killer or has a design. I was several chapters into the book before I made up my mind on that one, even though I was pretty sure early on. I like it when an author makes me doubt my original assumptions.
Do You like book L.A. Requiem (2002)?
The murder of Frank Garcia's daughter Karen. While moving Lucy into her new flat, Elvis is sucked into a missing persons search for the daughter of Latin mafia kingpin Frank Garcia. As Joe was previously involved with Karen, they peel the onion with gusto until they are redirected to Karen's murder scene and must report back to Frank, who is distraught and charges Joe with finding the murderer. Employing political connections, Frank inserts Pike and Cole into the investigation to the great const
—Will
a little over halfway on my first Robert Crais. Terrific in every way... can't put it down and don't want it to end. Ok, i finished it. I loved it. It is great and the fellow Goodreads member who recommended Crais to me is my new best friend. Thanks!Some writers are seemingly looking at the fast track to a big bank account. Some writers recognize that writing is a skill, a craft, an artistic endeavor. In this genre, Robert Crais is the craftsman, the artist, the skilled creator who can make my heart beat fast, my palms sweat, drive me crazy with anxiety and then guesswork. Ultimately he keeps me on his book(s) all day and night. Like I say, I am so grateful for the public library!So this is a dense novel, with extremely tight writing.... economic... but full of character development. I think that it is the plotting which keeps this going. What ever it is, I am hooked. If you like crime/Thrillers, you will have to read this.
—Tim Warner
This was a fun book and quite enjoyable. A fun book is one you read between either a more serious read or when your reading a series. This was that book for me. The characters are well developed and you become quite engaged with them. The story line is suspenseful, believable, and exciting at times. The support characters contribute we'll to the overall story and are not overdone, distracting you away from the main characters. The story as whole is well thought out and works out quite well.The two main characters are detective in Los Angeles. They both come from military backgrounds, and the machoism at times drips from the pages. At the same time, you are introduced to a very warm side of each of these two characters. A side that is loving, caring, and very protective. The women in their lives are understanding and supporting, but also full of doubt. The doubt festered from their devotion to each other and their work, leaving the women to feel second, which they are.A few times I was able to predict or foresee the coming events, but mostly I was delightfully surprised and honestly entertained. Overall, this was a entertaining read. One of those that you enjoy for the moment and the time and move onto another book. it is not one of those books I would purchase to display in my library. Will I consider another one of Mr. Crais' books in the future? I certainly will.
—Kyle
