The Nuestra Familia gang was born and raised in the jails and prisons of Fresno, California to protect Northern California Mexican Americans from their Southern California counterparts the Mexican Mafia. Limited social and educational opportunities created fertile soil in the farm towns of central and northern California for the gang to spread beyond prison walls. Tightly organized, Nuestra Familia grew to control much of the crime in California.

BLOOD IN THE FIELDS chronicles the rise, fall and rise of Nuestra Familia. Many stories of gang lives ending suddenly in the street or slowly in prison already exist but this book starts by showing how those lives began. It speaks to how poverty and discrimination close doors that might lead away from crime allowing gangs to fill the gaps where hope should be. A society that stifles hope does so at its own peril. Through unique and extended access to gang members and their lives the author runs several biographical stories through the narrative of this book. We watch youngsters harden to survive and ultimately better serve the Nuestra Familia only to have them eventually question their devotion to an organization they finally sadly realize does not really care about them at all. Crushing are the moments where violent men cry for the loss of their families—gone is any chance to hold their wives and raise their kids.

Much of the criminal activity is woven into the narrative from the perspective of law enforcement. This has its moments and acts as a presentation of a path not taken by those who became gang members, but the extensive politics involved in trying to unravel the Nuestra Familia distracts from the compelling part of the book. About this time it became more difficult to keep track of which gang member was doing what and the pulse of the book began to weaken. Either a more parallel structure of gangs and law enforcement or sticking to just the stories of gang members would have better served the book. Still unique and fascinating and worthwhile.

As precious a book to me as there is. Each story gently folds back layer by layer revealing a hidden truth or fear or hope or love at it's heart. Though written in the early 1800's, the sense and perspective is not strictly masculine. Hawthorne inhabits and coveys both genders with equal delicacy and strength. Can be read as simple entertainment or left on the tongue to discern deeper flavors than readily apparent. Such a master of the short story form that to write anything longer seems a waste of time...until you read the Scarlet Letter or House of the Seven Gables...both wonderful and conveying the same majesty of narration and smooth drifting prose. Pity if we forget the masters.

The final installment of The Hunger Games trilogy is kind of frustrating. At least in part it is meant to be. For much of the book Katniss, the arrow wielding heroine, is kept out of the action. Makes sense given the civil war going on that the powers that be would not be that eager to have a 16/17 year old in combat. And her use as a symbol for the rebels is powerful as it allows the author to riff on the media representation and misrepresentation of events and how that can cloud minds. However, when Katniss has been the center of the action for the first two books, much of this book dragged for me waiting for her to get her chance. Blessedly, even during this down time, the triangle of Katniss, Peeta and Gale never smothers the story. This was my biggest fear when beginning to read the trilogy. Events are managed well that tumble them in and out of each other's lives in ways that complicate and ease the tension of their bonds. When the action picks up in the second half it is vivid and shocking. I'll give the book credit that there was a desire to lull me into a bit of complacency so that the finale would seem more brutal when the violence finally does when it rears itself upon the reader. While books one and two deftly incorporate the sci-fi elements into the story in a way that the reader still feels the real world behind them, the third book smothers the reader in the fantastic so as to become a whir and a blur. There is senseless waste in any war, and little time to mourn, but some of it just felt like nonsense. I actually began to wonder if she were beginning to imagine it--partly because some of her life and death situations seemed to be base on whim. Her excuse a little too often is that events have driven her beyond caring. While not completely successful, it does fairly well conclude the trilogy--though it did not leave me wanting more.

I began reading this somewhat reluctantly. The reviews were mostly sparkling but I am usually dubious of “coming of age” stories that wistfully harken back to a bygone era. The children are usually too cute by half--precocious preteens wise beyond their years spouting a wisdom that defies rationale. ORDINARY GRACE was a pleasant surprise. I was not impressed with the writing itself (seems like one more close edit was called for) but sometimes beauty can spring from inelegant tools. I expected to fight my way through this book but somewhere in the first few chapters the story disarmed me as the narrative gracefully drifted into reminiscence. I was no longer reading a novel but instead a warm recollection of a small Minnesota town shimmering in a between wars era America. Our child narrator brings all the corners of this town to life. It’s an achievement that the author avoids dreary geographical exposition and yet I feel I could draw a map of the town from memory. Small town dramas at play provide the initial backdrop showing all those who orbit around the life of our main character. When drama turns to tragedy, all those orbiting characters become fixed points of light shining down their terrible truths. Three local tragedies build upon each other—each in turn striking closer to home until the shimmer surrounding this small town turns to dust. ORDINARY GRACE shows each character having a unique arc to their grief. There is no right and wrong to grieving—there is just how each character manages to live with it.

I am also reluctant to approach books with a religious overtone—concerned that will become the thrust of the story. That concern also fell away a few chapters in. There is a river that runs adjacent to the town—acting as a natural stand in for religion. It is always there, always flowing, in turns embraced and cursed by the locals as it is a nexus of the most significant events in the novel. Water is life and rivers connect us but there always seems to be a struggle to access it. Everyone seems to take a different path to the river, sometimes surprised when it pops up before them or below them. No one enters the water who is not changed. In this way religion plays its most important part in the novel: a genuine force without the misrepresentations of man. Then there is a more straight-forward presentation of religion through the family’s father a Methodist Minister. He serves three towns but one God. He has doubts but does not waver. In his darkest hour, when he is losing more than he is gaining by maintaining his devotion—he does not waver. Like a stone in the river, those swept away eventually gather to him. Ultimately touching where I feared it becoming maudlin, tender where I feared it becoming saccharine this book was a marvel.

SAVAGE NIGHT is Jim Thompson on simmer. Some dishes are best cooked on low. However, for much of the first half of this book I kept wanting to check if the heat was on at all. All the usual elements are there: depraved souls grasping at the scraps of the good life while mired in desperation. The usual wondering of who is up to what and just what are they capable of is muted by characters drawn without much gusto and a story that seems to meander. The main character spends this part of the book waiting for instructions for a job he doesn’t want—but nothing else seems to be happening either. But then the last third of the book kicks in. As if everyone smells blood in the air there is agitation and the characters come alive and start to move. Suddenly Thompson has the book by the throat and squeezes out a brilliant ending. I was startled that after pushing through much of the book hoping it would end soon to find that I had one of my favorite Thompson endings before my eyes. Maybe one of my favorite endings period. It is reminiscent of another Thompson favorite THE GETAWAY but is better in a way that is almost mystical--certainly surreal. The ending deserves a better beginning—but stay with it.