Publication Data: First edition as shown September, 2010 in hardcover; 2011 Berkley mass-market paperback, etc.
About this book:
It may come as a surprise to my readers that I am a big ol’ John Sandford fan. Generally, my reading list is composed of puzzle mysteries written before 1960. But I’ll always make an exception for a good writer, and Sandford is a good writer. I’ve collected him ever since I discovered him, very close to the beginning of his fiction career, and I’ve recommended him ever since to my friends who like modern thrillers.
And this is his best book EVER.
His career started in 1989 with Rules of Prey, the first of what are currently 23 novels featuring Lucas Davenport and containing the word “Prey” in the title. (Another novel of his in the “Kidd” series also came out in 1989 under his real name, John Camp, but this series was less well received and the books were later reissued as by “Sandford”.) At first the Prey series were fairly standard serial-killer novels, well written and constructed, and with only a faint spark of the excellent writing to come. But people liked the Lucas Davenport character, the series took off, and a novel followed just about on a yearly basis ever after. Davenport solved crimes, slept with beautiful women, and rose in the ranks of the Minnesotan police services. His personal life became more complicated and he finally settled down with a surgeon named Weather, adopted a kid, had a kid, etc. A fairly standard course of development for your typical muscular protagonist. All 23 are worth your attention.
In 2007, though, Sandford started another series featuring rural cop Virgil Flowers or, as he is known to many in Minnesota, “that fuckin’ Flowers”. Flowers is a cop known for his collection of T-shirts featuring musicians, his three (or four?) marriages, his many women friends, and his other career as a free-lance writer of hunting and fishing articles. But he’s also a dogged investigator with a great deal of intelligence about the way people think and what makes them act the way they do, which makes his investigations interesting and believable.
This book begins with the murder of a hard-working farmer by a teenager who works at a grain facility. Although the teenager has tried to make it look like an accident, he’s soon detected and arrested. Then it’s announced that he’s committed suicide in the cells. When the medical examiner says it wasn’t suicide, but murder, Flowers is assigned to the case, and settles in to work with the local sheriff, an attractive single woman about his age.
As the book progresses, we learn that the crimes have to do with the activities of a rural religious sect known as the “World of Spirit”. And this religious sect is concealing a secret that is so volatile and illegal that, by the end of Flowers’ investigation, a dozen people are dead, others have walked away from their lives and vanished, many farmhouses have been burned to the ground, and the local jail is so overloaded that they have to access all the cells from neighbouring towns. And the local sheriff is about to become so famous that there will soon be a reality TV show about her everyday life.
I won’t go into the details — this book certainly deserves to be read and enjoyed without knowing too much about it, because the reader is surely going to enjoy it. But the great thing is that this book builds and builds and BUILDS to a climax that is so huge and exciting, and lasts so long, that you will not be able to put the book down past the halfway point. It’s that good.
One problem with thrillers is that they have to be tightly plotted and build to a big climax; what I frequently find is that a slender book builds to a huge climax, or a book full of ill omen and portent builds to a sputtering inadequate climax. Sometimes the plot escalates because of a plot point that isn’t organically related to the book, and that makes the book bathetic or merely hard to believe. It is really, really difficult to create a plot structure that keeps the reader interested all the way, that builds properly from little to big events, little to big action, where the main character learns things about the plot in a way that seems reasonable to the reader all the way through, and which serve as the platform for organic plot developments.
It’s also difficult to create realistic characters to act out all these plot twists. What is most difficult, to my mind, is to create realistic villains and/or antagonists. They’re either too crazy (a fault to which Sandford occasionally succumbed early on) or too randomly motivated, or not motivated at all, or motivated by things that don’t ring true to the reader. Sometimes they’re way too evil, and sometimes they’re not evil enough. Sometimes they are far too stupid, and do stupid things to give the protagonist a slam-dunk solution that makes him look clever. Sometimes they are far too smart and it becomes obvious that no human could ever catch this person. It’s a delicate balancing act to get the characters juuuuuust right.
And that’s why I think this is Sandford’s best book. He balances everything perfectly. Yes, it is a terrifically exciting and high-action finish; the thing is, though, that it’s all put together in a believable way. These people would do the things that Sandford has them doing, and for the reasons that he gives us. That is so rare that in itself it’s worthy of comment. But when you have also a plot that is nail-chewingly exciting, and thrilling, and twisty, and unexpected, and occasionally even funny — you have a wonderful book.
And the quality of the writing itself is very high. Sandford has the knack for muscular prose — prose that reflects the way a man looks at the world and descriptions of things that are phrased as a man would describe them. I expect some people will be turned off by this immediately because they’ve had a bad experience with macho doofuses on the level of Tom Clancy or the execrable Robert Parker. Parker’s hero Spenser does everything except chew crowbars and spit staples. But Sandford has the extremely rare knack of writing good muscular prose that is of interest to anyone. Personally, I tend to dislike macho men in real life mostly because I come into conflict with them so often, for various reasons. But I actually think I would be capable of getting along with Lucas Davenport, and I would be proud to buy Virgil Flowers a beer, mostly because I perceive that while they are indubitably macho, they are absolutely not assholes. That is rare characterization indeed.
If I were recommending that someone start reading Sandford, I’d suggest Dark of the Moon, the first Virgil Flowers novel. Yes, all the Lucas Davenport novels are in paperback, and yes, they are all worth reading. But Virgil Flowers will hook you hard, and then you’ll go on and enjoy them all, whereas the early Davenport books are iffy.
Notes For the Collector:
Abebooks.com offers a first edition of this novel, signed, for $25-$50. (There is a really interesting edition signed by both Sandford and the gentleman who is cited in the dedication for $100, and that would absolutely be worth having.) You can get a fine but unsigned first edition from Abe for $25, and since the first edition sold for US$27.95, I think this is a bargain. The prices for other editions, including first paper, are what I think of as “normal”.
It is always my contention that a well-written book will hold its value, if not continue to gain, and I firmly believe that Sandford novels will continue to appreciate. I really never stop myself from buying Sandford firsts when I see them at used bookstores for a reasonable price, even if I have two or three copies of the same book already. This book in particular is just so damn good that I wish I had a dozen laid down.