wahistorian's Reviews (506)

A compelling read, but much darker than my usual fare. Some of Gardner’s language tics got under my skin—like people who “merely shrug” or “merely look away,” and a middle-aged detective who would say “whatever” to an FBI victim assistant. And the book made me wonder why people read novels mostly populated by such vicious, twisted criminals. I probably won’t return to Gardner again.

I loved this book, especially after reading ‘Find Her,’ because Simenon’s books are stellar examples of tight narratives that are diverting, but also *mean* something. After a dinner conversation with a psychiatrist, Maigret has gone out on a limb to set a trap for a serial killer who has already murdered five women on the streets of Paris; Dr. Tissot has revealed a basic weakness in the mind of the sociopath that Maigret may be able to use to his advantage. Published in 1955, ‘Maigret Sets a Trap’ anticipates many of the police procedural tricks with which we are familiar today, but with a humanity and sadness that detective novels don’t often call upon. In this, the detective is a bulwark against the fear and chaos that would make urban life unbearable, and his knowledge of that responsibility makes him a better cop and a better man.

Difficult to read, but essential. Mayer traces the careers of the Koch Brothers as they seize control of the levers of American democracy to advance their libertarian philosophy and, simultaneously, their own wealth and interests. The Koch Brothers have patiently built an empire of nonprofits, academic centers, and, most importantly, donors that has become a third political power center, rivaling the Democratic and Republican Parties but without any accountability. The result has been an inexhaustible source of right-wing money fueling an ideology without compromise, negotiation, or responsibility to anyone other than the plutocracy. A prodigiously researched picture that also helps explain the rise of Trump.

I’m afraid I had to give up on this one. Stevens interweaves chapters recounting her experiences on Bleaker Island in the Falklands with chapters of the novel she aspired to write there. This would be a challenging plan for *any* writer, but for a first-time novelist it might have been beyond her ability. No matter where I was, I longed to be in the other place.

This book is a bit of a stumper. The research linking this series of family murders between 1898 and (possibly) 1922 is prodigious, and it is the research that reveals the patterns of a serial killer. But this book is organized in such a complicated way, that by the time the Jameses reach their conclusion, you’ve forgotten the details of each family’s murder. The tone of the writing is often excessively jokey, even sophomoric, given the topic: turning one victim’s surname into a pun about “when the Schmidt hits the Pfan,” for example. And there isn’t single footnote or reference to follow up, an incredible frustration for a historian who wants to admire what they’ve accomplished.

There are some really useful insights here, however, into the history of criminal detection, life in small towns, early 20th-century drifters, and private detectives.

Bill James and Rachel James, consider publishing an online list of sources at least!

This was my first Ruth Rendell, and I’m not sure about her style and pacing. Carl, an aspiring writer, inherits a London townhouse and decides to rent out the top-floor flat, but his nosy tenant upends his quiet life. The story isn’t nearly as suspenseful as it could have been, as Rendell leaves plenty of breathing room for Carl to make other, better decisions. Other storylines elaborate on the theme of the ways in which the price and scarcity of urban real estate drives desperate actions. Timely in the way Agatha Christie stories were, but without the tight pacing.

George Harriman probably has a fascinating story, especially seen through Tisserand’s lens of race and class in early twentieth century New Orleans, Los Angeles, and New York City. But Tisserand narrates *every* detail of Herriman’s work life, without drawing out a strong narrative through-line. I was 1/4 of the way through the book when I gave up; Herriman hadn’t even launched Krazy Kat yet.

My first book of 2018! Katy Tur is very aware of journalism’s reputation as the first draft of history, and consistent with that her book is admirably dispassionate and evenhanded. Especially in the final days of Donald Trump’s campaign when his followers seemingly believed he could do no wrong, she was a witness to some inexplicably vicious behavior, like a middle-aged couple deliberately harassing a reporter as she tried to prepare for her live feed. Tur stuck up for her colleague, but her tone remained one of disappointed wonder; she seems never to let incivility infect her. I appreciate and admire that. We continue to live through the daily exaggerations, narcissism, self-aggrandizement, and downright lies. It gives me hope to watch Tur stay centered under pressure.