Karen Cleveland. You Can Run. Ebook download from TPL. USA: Ballantine Books, 2021.
Cleveland’s forte is the inner workings of domestic espionage agencies, the CIA in this case. Jill Bailey is a reports officer; part of her job is approving (or not) new sources of useful intelligence. “Falcon” looks good and has already been given a go by two officials below her in the chain. A sudden anonymous message tells her she must approve or else her toddler son Owen will die. Disbelief and terror flood her when she discovers Owen has indeed been kidnapped. Falcon is approved without her normal due diligence as Jill desperately pleads for the boy’s safety. He is returned—on condition that she never breathe a word to anyone about this; “they” will be watching everything she does. They’ve demonstrated enough of their uncanny insider knowledge that she believes them. She resigns from the job she loves and convinces her surprised but trusting husband they should move. Without the job, she’s of no further use to the unknown predator whether they are planting double agents or something else. Family safety comes above everything.
After four years and another child, when Jill has finally lost her fear of secret surveillance, journalist Alex Charles hunts her down. The narrative then shifts back and forth between them. An unknown source has been giving Alex CIA tips via a secure internet platform, urging her to investigate Falcon and publish the story. Alex needs more from Jill but Jill has her own sources—until “they” threaten her children again. Someone is manipulating a dangerous international game. Trust builds between the two women, especially when Alex’s anonymous source agrees to meet with them. It’s a harrowing race to locate and expose the deeply hidden mastermind without getting the children killed. Fairly straightforward detecting with an unusual twist.
Jill
▪ He’s a Syrian defense official attached to a covert biological warfare program, working deep in one of our black holes. And biological warfare’s the new hot topic, like terrorism after 9/11. (15)
▪ There’s a new report in your queue. About Falcon. You’re going to approve it. (18)
▪ Most likely scenario? He’s a dangle. A planted double agent. (35)
▪ “You think we’re running this source?” I say it quietly. (183)
▪ This man is here, in Washington. (211)
▪ “What do you mean they’re gone?” I can hear the panic in my voice. “How are they gone?” (256)
Alex
▪ Uncovering wrongdoing in the military and intelligence services—that’s my thing. (90)
▪ She didn’t know A.J. was dead. That much was clear. (150)
▪ It’s a warning. That much is clear. They’re threatening me because I’m digging around. (233)
▪ While I was being attacked, warned to stay quiet, my source was urging me to do the exact opposite. (245)
▪ I’ll owe him. I know that. But right now we need this information. (311)
▪ She told me before Natalia arrived that she was excited to do this, recruit a source, a critical one at that. (354)
Annie Ward. The Lying Club. Toronto: HarperCollins Publishers, 2022.
We know right from the start that someone is going to die. But what is the milieu? High school girls competing for university sports placements. Crushing on handsome soccer coach? Girls from wealthy Colorado families whose mothers appreciate Coach Nick Maguire’s diligence with their daughters’ training. Mia and Sloane are good friends and both vie for UCLA acceptance; their mothers Asha and Brooke could not be more different: Asha is afraid her husband Phil is secretly seeing Brooke; Brooke is flamboyant and promiscuous—her husband Gabe left because of it. Quiet Natalie, an assistant to Headmaster Dilly, observes all the behaviour and listens to gossip about kids and parents. To her great pleasure, Nick’s flirtation with her turns into a full-fledged love affair. Okayyyy ... typical school, typical ho-hum human drama, so I have to ask myself Where the heck is this going?!
All these people (and more) interacting ... Asha finds herself pregnant (at my age! she says), Mia decides against UCLA, the moms try to keep daughters away from “bad boy” Reade Leland and drugs. Natalie sometimes loses track of time and memory, but she wants the world to know that Nick is her boyfriend. Nothing like a “Lying Club” appears until someone dies (no spoilers), and the conspiracy begins. The police have their work cut out for them. Overall too much wringing of hands and lack of suspense for me, in a predictable story, but some very good twists at the end.
One-liners
▪ “But you have to understand, Mrs. Elliman and her daughter had issues with everybody.” (57)
▪ Yvonne had no idea Natalie was lying naked in bed while Nick was using the bathroom. (87)
▪ To Natalie, he looked like the sort of boy who would go on to pledge to a good fraternity, major in economics with a minor in sexual assault, and eventually become a businessman like his dad. (104-5)
▪ “He said that if I kept my promise, the whole thing would be our secret, and he wouldn’t tell anyone what I’d done.” (279)
▪ “Sloane didn’t do anything wrong,” Brooke said. (337)
▪ “It’s not like it’s the first time I ever blacked out and did something I regretted.” (337)
Multi-liners
▪ The headmaster emerged from his office. “Mrs. Elliman!” he said warmly, as if her visit was a wildly appreciated treat. (51)
▪ “I didn’t want to live there. In an apartment you bought me, to try to keep me close, to keep tabs on me? God. I felt like a kept man.” (76)
▪ “Why aren’t you in Phoenix? Have you ever even been in Phoenix this past year?” (246)
▪ “I owe you an apology, and I need to think about what it is that I’ve done. I’ve been irresponsible with your feelings.” (214)
▪ “Everyone here hates you to death, so it should be easy for you to go start a fight with literally anybody else. Not me. Not tonight.” (251)
▪ “This is going to end badly. I’d like my phone back, please.” (287)
Interruption
“Well. It was nice of you to...” he paused “ ...check in with us. Tonight. We appreciate it.”
“You kids behave yourselves, all right?”
“Don’t worry, sir, we will.” Reade hung up and said to Sloane, “What is wrong with that guy?”
“He’s just looking out for me. My mom asked him to. That’s all.”
Greg came over and sat down, his pupils huge. “What an intrusive dick. I could ask my dad to get him fired.”
“Fuck getting someone to fire him,” Reade said, tossing the phone onto the couch. “It would be easier to just get rid of him ourselves. And more fun too.” (93)
Reassurance?
Curling one long tendril of her hair around her pointer finger, Brooke said, “I feel like maybe I’ve upset you in some way.”
Deadpan, Natalie replied, “What gave you that impression?”
“You seem angry. With me.”
“I’m not feeling well today,” Natalie replied. “That’s all.”
“Okay,” Brooke said, making a sad face. “I’m sorry about that. But listen—”
“What?”
“I really don’t know you personally. And I would never jump to conclusions about what you might be thinking, but please understand that I am not after your boyfriend. If that’s what he is.” (222)
Asha’s premonition
It all seemed surreal. What was going on? It was as if some collective madness had suddenly taken over the town and erased rational behavior. She’d never really thought Phil would stray, she’d never thought Mia would become so withdrawn and furtive, she’d never thought she’d be scared to do her own job or to have another child. Many thoughts and memories and inklings started coming together. Asha had an unsettling feeling that something important was trying to make itself known. It was there. She just needed to stop and think and let it come to her. (273)
Leila Mottley. Nightcrawling. Large Print. USA: Random House, 2022.
When you’re down and out, you want to be able to count on family. Seventeen-year-old Kiara Johnson’s beloved older brother Marcus fails her at the worst time: they can’t pay their rent, she can’t get a job, mama’s in jail, and their only other relative, Uncle Ty, is estranged. Marcus is immersed in his potential as a rap artist, oblivious to their expected eviction, while Kiara haunts restaurants and retail for work. Her best friend Alé comforts her as much as she can; Kiara in turn comforts Trevor, son of a strung-out and often AWOL neighbour. A desperate solution presents: “nightcrawling” means just what you likely think it means. Kiara becomes a “baby ho” in the words of her new friend Camila, a spectacular transgender woman. Marcus, and Tony, who is in love with Kiara, both fail to provide the security she asks them for while on the streets.
The night a man gets scarily rough with her in an alley, a police car “rescues” her. The rescue commits her to servicing numerous members of the police department for months, on demand. Kiara is able to detach mind from body—it’s just “skin”; she knows only their badge numbers, not their names. When a cop’s suicide letter reveals this corruption, the district attorney can’t ignore it. Kiara would be a prime witness against the men at a grand jury. Or will she do it? Their threats restrict her movements. Despite the degradation poured on her from so many sides, she has faith in Marsha her lawyer, and Sandra, a sympathetic policewoman. Her selfish brother wakes up to reality, to no avail. Kiara’s compassion shines through in her care of Trevor. It’s an unlovely portrayal of Oakland but actually an indictment of poverty, racism, and abuse of power everywhere. On this year's Booker Prize longlist for the 20-year-old author.
One-liners
▪ She calls the lavender-infused weed her Sunday Shoes and it don’t even gotta make sense because when I suck it in, blow it out, I imagine my feet encased in something lavender calm and holy. (27)
▪ I used to think the only thing you got from turning eighteen was the right to vote, but now it’s clear you get more than just voting and I wish my birthday would come a little faster.
▪ “You could come and make sure I don’t end up down in a ditch.” (65)
▪ So many ways to walk a street and I am still just girl with skin. (133)
▪ Hotel rooms taste like chalk. (134)
▪ The men in this house would kill me before they let me ruin them. (219)
▪ “Won’t stop you if you feel like kicking both they asses,” Shauna calls to me. (240)
▪ I am telling her how these streets open us up and remove the part of us most worth keeping: the child left in us. (373)
Multi-liners
▪ “Think they’d let me play?” Trevor’s face wobbles as he sucks on the insides of his cheek in awe. (9)
▪ “I’m out looking for jobs before you wake up every morning and all you ever do is hang out with Cole and Tony and pretend like it’s getting you somewhere. You ain’t even acting like my brother no more.” (35)
▪ “You know prostitution is a misdemeanor.” He smirks, licks his lips. (133)
▪ The cops believe they are invincible. They want me only to show themselves they can have me, that there will be no consequence to putting a gun to my head, to taking me. (138)
▪ That boy is a wonder. He’s my autumn rain. My last picture of the sun before it sets. Daytime is not possible without Trevor. (229)
▪ That’s what they’re calling it: the cover-up. Not sure if that refers to me or them, whether they covering up the fact that it happened or the fact that they all known about it. Marsha says it’s unclear, all tabloid talk. (298-9)
Marcus
About six months ago, Marcus was at a bar when he heard our Uncle Ty’s voice come on, rapping the same way he always has. Marcus looked him up and found out he had an album coming out, that he was signed with Dr. Dre’s label and making bank in L.A. It unleashed something in Marcus and the next day he quit his job at Panda Express and started hanging with Cole every day, hell-bent on becoming Uncle Ty. I tried to give him his space, let him feel his rage, but it’s been too long now and whether he likes it or not, he needs to start acting like a grown man again. (34)
Kiara
I’ve been tagging since I was thirteen. Back then I wouldn’t have even called it tagging because I just had some Sharpies and a will to have my name on every block. Then, Alé bought me a can of blue spray paint for my fourteenth birthday and I spent a month going wild with it before I shook it one day and it was empty. It became a tradition; a new color for every birthday since.
Marcus was the one who took me on bike rides and told me that there really ain’t no difference between the murals and swirling tags we’d pass, that art is the way we imprint ourselves onto the world so there is no way to erase us. He says that’s what his lyrics are for. (156-7)
As a Reward
What choice did I have, though. The officers say they ain’t gonna hurt me, that they’ll pay me and, at least half the time, they do. Their guns and tasers have a bigger presence in this room than their bodies and even when I try to say no, they just laugh. They like that I’m young, that I don’t know what I’m doing, and I keep on telling myself it’s only for a while, that they’ll let me stop when I want to. Except I know they care more about their badges than me, that I am nothing more than a reward in their game. (135)
No comments:
Post a Comment