Mad River – by John Sandford, $27.95 HC/$12.99 E
There are only three authors whose books I will preorder, no matter what they write.* John Sandford, Lee Child, and Zoë Sharp. All three for the same reasons: I learn a great deal about writing from them; they each have a unique talent; they never disappoint; and, despite being deep into their respective franchise formulas, every book they write is fresh.
John Sandford’s unique talent lies in constructing the villains. His bad guys are perfect descriptions of the lowlifes who turn to crime to solve their problems. No evil overlords with bazillions in cash and secret armies marching around in his books. His criminals are the kind you read about in the true crimes section of your local paper. Poorly educated, abused in some way or another, and nearly-sympathetic morons who, for one reason or another make a stupid decision to start killing people. What separates Sandford from any other writer today is the ‘reason’ they start killing people.
Plausibility is a key ingredient for any writer: Would a group of killers on the Orient Express really commit gross overkill when they could have just pushed the victim out the door? If a stranger on a train proposed to commit your murder for you provided you commit his murder for him, wouldn’t you go straight to the cops? We generally set these cynical questions aside to enjoy the story. Not necessary with John Sanford’s writing.
His gritty, realistic killers start out as simple minds executing what should be a simple plan. Then things spiral out of control. Because they’re not the brightest bulbs in the pack, you understand why they make the second and third bad decisions. Then you find yourself feeling sorry for them. Sorry for the mistakes they’re making. Sorry for their stupidity. Your rational mind is torn between jailing them and just killing them.
This time around, Mr. Sandford tops himself. Not only does he create the excellent criminals we love to hate, but he also makes a good guy who shakes our faith in the criminal justice system and makes us examine our personal concepts of right and wrong. There is a scene in this book that blew me away. I saw it coming but refused to believe that a good guy could do something so heinous. Yet he did. And he did it so well he might get away with it. Whether he should or not could keep you thinking for a long time. (Personally, I have no reservations. I know exactly what should happen to this good-bad guy, but this is a book review, not a political statement. You can thank me later.)
In the climax, Mr. Sandford creates another situation in which we must examine right versus wrong and justice versus vigilantism. In doing so, he leaves certain issues unresolved. Some people like iron resolutions. This is not one of them. This story is closer to reality than any other thriller I’ve read. And reality is never pretty. This book is more than a mystery/thriller; it’s a philosophical treatise of the best kind. You will think about it long after you close the book.
Somewhere in the vastness of the Internet, I found something written by Mr. Sandford about his background in journalism. I searched like the crazy to find it again for this review, but you know how fast that river flows … gone. Anyway. He said he was surrounded by great writers wherever he worked in the newspaper business. No doubt this aided him, but he surpasses everything I’ve read in the papers he mentioned. He does it with ease and an honest mid-western voice. He does it with confidence and beautifully written passages. Whatever background he had produced one of the strongest voices in fiction today. You can hear the Midwestern accents in his characters, you can feel the dusty farm roads, you can smell the tilled earth.
It is a brave author who can write stories filled with real people who use real four letter words and think real thoughts about sex and religion. In these godless days, many authors leave religion, and its accompanying quagmire, out entirely. Easier that way. Not Mr. Sandford. Below is a passage from his character Virgil Flowers, who is the son of a Midwestern pastor:
…he thought about God, and whether He might be some kind of universal digital computer, subject to the occasional bug or hack. Was it possible that politicians and hedge-fund operators were some kind of garbled cosmic computer code? …That prayers weren’t answered because Satan was running denial-of-service attacks?
See? A guy who can think up shit like that—well, you just sign up to preorder anything he’s putting on a shelf.
Bottom line: Mad River is a must-read for intelligent readers. You might like it too. It also makes a good holiday gift for that know-it-all friend of yours who always spouts left or right wing dogma. Shut him up for a week.
Peace, Seeley
* Unless they start writing poetry. So far, so good.
Special NOTE: MY REVIEWS ARE MY REACTIONS TO THE BOOKS I READ. I have no relationship, financial or familial, with the authors. I do not expect, but would not refuse, any reciprocal reviews or recommendations. Just sayin.
