Stephen Hunter certainly loves to write about guns. That’s the main takeaway from TARGETED (Emily Bestler/Atria, 364 pp., $28.99), Bob Lee Swagger’s 12th Novel. Earlier volumes painted more three-dimensional portraits of the supporting players around Swagger, the 74-year-old former Marine sniper with a bad hip and an innate ability to kill, but this book forgoes nuance except in loving descriptions of specific rifles, cartridges, and bullets. .
The plot, on the thin side, involves Swagger being subpoenaed to testify at a House Judiciary subcommittee meeting in Boise, Idaho (the location isn’t adequately explained), which quickly turns from media frenzy to hostage crisis. Swagger will save the day – he’s the hero of the series, so he must – but not before bewildering and reality-bending levels of violence are dealt with him and others. Let alone the technically understandable but still mind-boggling subplot involving an 18th-century marksman, whose exploits are detailed in self-contained ‘interludes’.
Is it entertaining? Yes, to an extent, because Hunter’s syncopated prose style has a satirical edge to the story, even if he doesn’t completely suppress his ideological leanings. (It’s unclear whether journalists or politicians get the most narrative disdain.) Swagger, that old dog, battered and bruised beyond deadly possibility, has a few more tricks up her sleeve.
In recent years, a growing number of authors of children’s and youth books have moved into the crime genre, giving them the opportunity to flex several literary muscles. The last of these is Marie Rutkoski, clearly – and successfully – stretching herself with REALLY SIMPLE (Holt, 320 pp., $26.99), a thoughtful, character-driven mystery that delves into the world of sex work and the people drawn to this industry, often at their peril.
We spend the first part with Samantha, one of the top earners of the strip club Lovely Lady, who struggles with a broken relationship, disappointment with motherhood and her inability to set boundaries. After she agrees to bring another dancer home after work, tragedy ensues. From there, as the novel unfolds, the perspective shifts between other dancers, the detectives overseeing what becomes a criminal investigation, other club employees and clients.
Rutkoski has written a provocative story reminiscent of, most recently, Ivy Pochoda’s “These Women.” It inverts standard crime styles and reminds readers that stripping is work, and that women deserve to go through that work without the constant threat of violence and death.
I’m an unabashed archive geek, who likes to spend hours immersed in primary source material for projects I’m working on (or just for fun). That’s why Eva Jurczyk’s debut mystery, THE SECTION OF RARE BOOKS AND SPECIAL COLLECTIONS (Poisoned Pen, 315 pp., paper, $16.99), caught my eye. I’m happy to report that it’s as winning as I’d hoped.
Liesl Weiss, who is nearing retirement, hadn’t expected to manage the rare books and manuscripts department at the university library where she worked for four decades, but when her old boss suffers a catastrophic stroke, she is appointed acting director. Almost immediately she discovers that a prize draw – an ancient bible – is missing; not long after, a colleague disappears under suspicious circumstances. So Liesl sets out to solve both mysteries, even though she is consistently and furiously warned by the school principal, who is terrified of losing big money donors during a fundraising campaign. (He doesn’t even want to report the missing Bible to the police.)
It’s a pleasure to see Liesl grow more confident and confident on every page. Jurczyk, herself a librarian at the University of Toronto, skillfully captures the tendency in academia to prioritize institutional reputation over exposing truths.
A common truth about crime fiction is that serial writers usually experience a sophomore slump after their debut. Yet this assumption has been refuted time and again: Two of last year’s best books were Second Attempts, by Stephen Spotswood and Richard Osman, and Robyn Gigl’s SURVIVOR DEBT (Kensington, 352 pp., $27) is so good that it can ultimately be counted among this year’s standouts.
The traumatic events of Erin McCabe’s first hair-raising adventure can be seen in the rearview mirror, but external and internal conflicts abound. With her law partner, Duane Swisher, Erin – a transgender lawyer – represents a woman who has pleaded guilty to aggravated manslaughter in the death of her father, while swearing her innocence and fearing for her life. Ann Parsons is not who she says she is, and the secrets she keeps, about herself and those she protects, have the power to rattle the most disturbing cages.
As the case becomes excitingly complex, Erin’s self-esteem is challenged and threatened, but she repeatedly takes up the opportunity in the courtroom, leading to trial scenes that I read in one breathless gulp. A groundbreaking series is about to become a definitive one.