Library Limelights 193

Jane Harper. The Lost Man. Large Print. USA: Thorndike Press, 2018.

How much trouble can one family get into, living on outback cattle stations near the Australian desert? Well, it's not apparent at first with the rather inarticulate Bright family, but piece by piece the back stories emerge. Cameron, the most successful and well-liked of three brothers, is found dead of exposure at an isolated gravesite, kilometres away from his car. His mother Liz, his wife Ilse, younger brother Bub, lifelong family employee Harry, and two seasonal backpack workers all accept the death as an unexplained suicide. However: oldest brother Nathan struggles with the bizarre scenario; no one leaves their car in 40+ Celsius heat. Nathan is almost a hermit, depressed and lonely, after a bitter divorce and custody battle over son Xander, shunned by townspeople for a regretted past transgression.

Hard life in the outback breeds hard behaviour. It's Christmas time and the family gathers for the funeral. The gravesite where Cameron died was for a lost stockman, buried one hundred years ago; the image haunts the family in the form of a painting Cameron made. Nathan can't let go of odd details and suspicions about Cameron's death. Nor can he forget how he messed up his chances with Ilse when they were younger. Painfully, he uncovers some unknowns in Cameron's life. What is not said in dialogue is what engages the reader. Harper excels at moody characters in a harsh, stunning landscape.

One-liners:

▪ The rules of the outback might seem brutal, but they were written in blood. (134)

▪ Leaving someone stranded out there was not a matter of manners, it was life and death in the most literal sense. (166-7)

▪ Like a cancerous growth, Nathan was excised, and the community healed without him. (168)

Multi-liners:

▪ There were other things that people sometimes did for fun out there. Like drive up on the sand dunes to watch the sun set over the desert with a bottle of wine. That could be a lot of fun with the right person. (120)

▪ Nathan knew what he was asking. Anyone else feel like walking out into the nothing? (140)

▪ Nathan watched the car pull farther away and felt a tiny prickle. Like the start of a rash, small and manageable but the wrong side of comfortable. (145)

▪ "We all try to get through the best we can. But trust me, there's not a single person here who isn't lying to themselves about something." (423)

The new cop considers:

"So the grave meant a lot to your brother?" Ludlow said, in a voice that suggested he found it significant. 

"I wouldn't say that, exactly," Nathan said. "I think he liked the painting more than the place. He just got lucky one day with the way the light fell." 

"It's quite strange out there," Ludlow said. "A grave on its own in the middle of nowhere. I've never seen that before." 

"There are a few around here." Xander leaned forward. "From the old days, when a person died suddenly. They'd get buried on site, and later the family or someone might come along and put a headstone up. There are maps and photos and things online for the tourists." (59)

Brooding:

The sun seemed to be dropping fast in the west. In another hour, the horizon would disappear into something even more endless. He heard a distant wistful howl. It was early in the evening for dingoes, but there was nothing else it could be. Nathan took a couple of steps through the dust, away from the fence and the house with its cultivated greenery. He stared out. It was vast, like looking down from the edge of a cliff, and he felt a rare hint of vertigo. 

At night, when the sky felt even bigger, he could almost imagine it was a million years ago and he was walking on the bottom of the sea. A million years ago when a million natural events still needed to occur, one after the other, to form this land as it lay in front of him now. A place where rivers flooded without rain and seashells fossilized a thousand miles from water and men who left their cars found themselves walking to their deaths. (83)

A touch of panic:

Xander turned to Nathan, his voice more urgent. "I've been thinking. You should leave here." 

Nathan blinked. "What do you mean?" 

"Leave your property. Move away. Do something completely different." 

"Like what? What are you talking about?" 

"Come to Brisbane." 

"I can't come to Brisbane. What would I do in Brisbane?" Nathan tried to imagine himself. Concrete under his boots. Walls everywhere. Cars all over the place. 

"Do anything," Xander was saying. "There must be some other job you could do. Work in a park or something. It doesn't have to be in an office." 

"What about the property?" 

"Abandon it." 

"I can't, mate." Nathan lowered his voice, even though they were the only ones around. "I can't afford to. I owe the bank. I'd need to sell." 

"Then sell!" 

"Jesus, Xander. Who to?" 

"I don't know. Just get rid of it somehow. Please, Dad. You need to leave. It's not good out here." (325-6)

Charles Cumming. The Moroccan Girl. USA: St. Martin's Press, 2019.

Picked up as a filler between waits — sometimes they work out, sometimes not. This book could have been called The Hesitant Spy. Or The Reluctant Spy. Kit Carradine is a British writer of spy novels until he's suddenly invited to become the real thing himself. Or was the invitation real? His "mission" in Morocco to find a missing woman called Lara Bartok is cancelled just as he feels ensnared among international agents who might be terrorists. Like other men before him, Kit falls hard for the enigmatic woman when he finds her. Yet their mutual attraction is underplayed; Lara's alleged fatal attraction is not evident, nor are her feelings

Espionage is always about lying, isn't it? And the untrained Kit is not very good at spotting it, or doing it, but he tries as the plot thickens with other spies and little comprehension on his part. The headiness he first felt on serving his country turns to confusion and fear. Behind his own problems is the threat of the now-vicious Resurrection movement seeking to eliminate Lara — she left it when politics morphed into violence, hijacked by malicious interests — so they need to escape the country. A debriefing of Lara is interspersed between Kit's meetings in Morocco, but we don't know by whom, or when it's happening or where she is. Overall, something felt oddly inert to me ― lacking excitement, action? The jury (mine) is out on this one.

One-liners:

▪ Carradine had the bizarre and disorienting sensation that the man knew who he was and had been waiting for him. (57)

▪ Yet Carradine had no evidence to support Karel's theory, nor any way of finding out if Oubakir had been telling him the truth. (145)

▪ All of the anxiety and suffering of her life on the run was suddenly visible to him: a world in which she was never safe, never certain, could trust nobody. (220)

▪ Carradine knew that he was listening to a man with no moral compass, no values or kindness, only his own self-love. (328-9)

Multi-liners:

▪ So Karel wasn't just a jumped-up fantasist peddling conspiracy theories to strangers on a train. The threat against Bartok was real. (144)

▪ "The movement is dead," said Bartok. "They have stolen it." (185)

▪ "Don't worry," Bartok told him. "Might not be for us. Arabs love a roadblock." (221)

▪ "Stephen Graham is dead," Carradine replied. "But I don't imagine that's news to you. Or to Moscow." (331)

Resurrection's original intent:

A policy of nonviolence was immediately and enthusiastically endorsed by the group. At that stage nobody thought of themselves as the sort of people who would be involved in assassinations, in bombings, in terrorist behavior of any kind. Everybody knew that deaths—accidental or otherwise—of innocent civilians would quickly strip the movement of popular support and allow the very people who were being targeted for retribution to accuse Resurrection of "fascism," of murder, of association with nihilistic, left-wing paramilitary groups. This, of course, is exactly what happened. (5)

In the midst of lies:

He had seen the photograph before. It showed Ivan Simakov, the deceased leader of Resurrection, standing beside the woman who was reported to have been his girlfriend when the movement was conceived: Lara Bartok. Carradine stared at her. She had long, dark hair and slightly crooked front teeth. It was "Maria." (54)

Lara tries to joke:

"Now you've ruined it," she said, as if their escape was all just a game and she had not a care in the world. "You shouldn't have bought your food and your drinks. You shouldn't have talked to the woman with the long black wig." (214)

D.B. John. Star of the North. USA: Crown Publishing/Penguin Random House, 2018.

This thriller is unique ‒ in my experience to date ‒ in that North Korea provides the chilling background. Jenna Williams, born Jee-min, is a Korean-American recruited by the CIA, to become their asset on the ground. It's been years since Jenna's twin sister, Soo-min, disappeared from South Korea; this may be Jenna's opportunity to finally overcome her personal trauma. While we follow her CIA training, we also witness the intolerable conditions of life in that benighted country. Mrs. Moon is a cynical peasant who learns to work the system; Colonel Cho is an army officer who leads a delegation to New York to demand more U.S. aid money ‒ mission successful, as Cho's rhetoric and a simultaneous military demonstration make the Americans back away from ultimate confrontation.

Set in the early 20-teens, the climate of mortal fear in every segment of North Korean society could not be clearer. The police (Bowibu) and informers are everywhere; punishment for perceived crime is swift and brutal. Famine has struck all but the Dear Leader's elite, which includes Cho's brother Yong-Ho. Jenna lands in Pyongyang on a "peace" mission; the two high-ranking brothers find their ancestors have jinxed them. The suspense spirals unbearably, mind-bending in its description of human evil. A breathtaking story based on true accounts, and a brilliant dose of political reality!

One-liners:

▪ She shook her head as if this were simply incredible, as if someone had told her, "Your sister became a mermaid and swam away." (53)

▪ But the North Koreans were masters of subterfuge and concealment ... (119)

▪ "You want to tweak the orbit of a spectral imaging spysat to get a better look at ... a prison?" (120)

Multi-liners:

▪ To the casual observer he might be an executive from a South Korean conglomerate, Hyundai or Samsung, if it weren't for the refulgent little face on his lapel. The bizarre reminder that Korea spanned parallel universes. (145)

▪ He had never heard of Camp 22, though he did not doubt its existence. He simply knew it was better not to know. (155)

▪ Some lifelong defense inside Yong-ho was cracking and falling. Cho clasped his brother's head to his own. Soju-scented tears flowed over Yong-ho's cheeks. "I've always been loyal," he said. (192)

Famous last words:

"Our Dear Leader himself said last year at Mangyongdae that the Revolution is carried out by our thoughts and deeds, not by family background. Times are changing. Besides, the Party is damned grateful for what I've done and knows I've earned this ..." 

Yong-ho's voice trailed away, his face suddenly clouded. He was a tall man with faintly cratered skin; hard, intelligent eyes; and nails bitten to the quick. The tailoring of his Chinese suit concealed the wire-thin physique of a high metabolism. His fingers trembled, needing a cigarette. In the complex political landscape of Pyongyang, Cho knew that his brother was a significant player, though he never talked about his work. If anyone asked, he described himself as a fundraiser. 

Yong-ho's good mood seemed to have evaporated and Cho detected anxiety in his voice. "One simply does not turn down a job offer from the Leader, younger brother. I've told you not to worry. I am protected." (32-3)

Insight:

Some valve in her heart opened and she felt an iciness flood her veins to the tips of her fingers and toes, making the skin rise in goose bumps and her breathing slow. Her eyes widened in the dark. Yes, this was vengeance. She was ready to deal implacably with those who'd destroyed her family. She was ready to put all scruples aside and make those responsible account for Soo-min. 

She was changing; she could feel it. After twelve lost years she was becoming ... grounded, focused. She was being steeled by a clear, cold singularity of purpose. She shivered, pulled the bedspread over her shoulders, and turned onto her side, staring at the wall in the dark. 

Fisk had been right. She did have a powerful motivation to serve. (91)

Outmaneuvred:

"How am I going to explain this to Congress, Charles?" he called, getting up and walking around to the front of his desk when he saw them approach. He glowered at Fisk from behind beetling eyebrows and a large nose. "Crazy Kim launches an attack against South Korea, a close US ally, in a transparent ploy to screw us for aid"—his voice rose to a shout—"and it works?" He threw his arms open and began to pace around the desk, becoming, Jenna thought, more Italian the angrier he got. She liked him. "And this comes just weeks after a rocket test we also knew nothing about." He smacked the pages of a report in his hand. (187-8)

Hard work nullified:

The news swung through the market like a wrecking ball. 

"A new, more valuable currency is being issued. The new won is worth one thousand old won. All citizens have two days to exchange the old banknotes for the new ones, up to a maximum of one hundred thousand won. I repeat ..." 

The stillness was like the aftermath of an explosion. As the smoke cleared, devastation stared them in the face. 

The state was wiping out what was left of their savings. 

Mrs. Kwon sat down on her haunches like a peasant and began wailing with her hands covering her face; others continued to concentrate, listening to the announcement again, stupefied, as if they'd misheard, or its words might change. (233)