Half the fun of visiting a new place is reading a book set in that area. So when I was in Long Island, New York, recently, I picked up a recommended book by Nelson DeMille.
Page Two gives the reader a definitive flavour of the novel.
I should mention that I was convalescing, not from the mumps, but from three bullet wounds, two 9 mm and one .44 caliber Magnum, not that the size of the holes matters. As with real estate, what matters with bullet holes is location, location, location. Obviously these holes were in the right locations, because I was convalescing, not decomposing.
It would take a grumpy reader not to chuckle at the wry, smart-aleck humour, and the first two pages make it very clear that the protagonist is cynical and world-weary, and that are likely to be murderous shenanigans in the offing. Indeed, the protagonist is John Corey, a homicide detective from that location beloved by thriller writers, New York City.
The eponymous Plum Island exists — a tiny island off the tip of Long Island — and contains, as in the novel, a US government laboratory.
For the purposes of the novel, the author has amped the laboratory up to a ‘Level 5 biocontainment lab’ where scientists work on everything from anthrax to ebola.
Two scientists who work on Plum Island are found dead. There is no question about the cause: each corpse has a bullet hole. John Corey, given his expertise and experience, is invited by the local constabulary to act as a consultant: an invitation that he takes — as befits his personality — to the limit: interrogating, investigating, and browbeating the residents of Long Island all the way to the dramatic boat-chase finale during a hurricane.
First, the pluses. The plot is not bad. The immediate assumption is that the murder of the scientists relates to their work on Plum Island, and given the potential for bioterrorism, the investigators and residents, not to mention the federal government, are deeply concerned. Could the scientists have been involved in a nefarious plot to smuggle and sell anthrax or ebola to a foreign government? Or were these poorly-paid scientists doing a spot of drug-running to enhance their income? Long Island is the perfect location for this: convenient to the drug markets of New York City, miles and miles of coastline, plenty of fast boats.
The solution is quite entertaining and energetically adventurous.
The novel gives a pleasant sense of the low-key, small-town feel of Long Island.
The hamlet after Peconic is Southold […] where the vineyards end and the land narrows between the Sound and the bay, and everything looks a little more windswept and wild. There wasn’t much traffic at this hour except for a few farm vehicles. There are virtually no fast-food chains out here, which is part of the charm of the place, but also a pain in the ass.
The writing retains its sardonic humour throughout, and it is fairly effortless.
Cutchogue is ye olde quaint, neat and prosperous. [..] There were a number of old clapbords and shingled buildings across the green which thankfully lacked pillories, dunking stools, or other public displays of early American S&M.
The characters, unfortunately, are what keep the book solidly in low-grade beach-read territory. John Corey is relentessly single-note: he sneers at the upscale residents who drink wine or eat anything other than burgers, he is irreverent and resents authority, he exudes attitude but gets annoyed when anyone snarks back at him, he dislikes pretty much everyone. Except women. There are three nubile women characters — the murdered Judy Gordon, florist and historian Emma Whitestone, and detective Beth Penrose — and every single one is attracted to John Corey. In this novel, attractive modern women are simply hungering for an old-fashioned, sexist, red-blooded chauvinist: the sort of man who opens doors for a woman, but only so that he can study her rear and legs as she walks before him.
This gets wearisome quite quickly.
Corey’s conversation with women consists largely of bad come-ons:
[She] Did you find anything in the computer printouts?
[Corey] Come over and I’ll show you my hard drive.
As characters, the women exist only as a foil to Corey. Capable Beth Penrose, for example, who is a detective in her own right, promptly falls into the role of sidekick, relying on Corey to figure out the solution, showing her fragility at moments of crisis so that brave Corey can come to the rescue despite his injuries, and remaining faithfully devoted to Corey throughout. You get the idea.
De Mille has written a host of followup Corey books, but for me, this was one and done.
Recent Comments