Jon Land's fans are in for another wild ride
Jon Land's insubordinate,
trigger-happy Texas Ranger Caitlin Strong is back again in another
action-packed thriller in "Strong as Steel."
This is the sort of thing you might
get if Dr. Frankenstein sewed John Wayne's head onto Wonder Woman's
body, gave the fearsome creature an unlimited supply of bullets and
dropped it into "The Da Vinci Code." In the first 40 pages, the
following events unfold in rapid succession:
A freighter with a crew of dead men
smashes into a dock at the Turkish Port of Ordu. A bride and groom are
gunned down at a drug cartel wedding in Mexico. A team of assassins
wipes out the crew of a railroad train in Texas and swipes three crates
from a freight car. Caitlin's lover, reformed criminal Cort Wesley
Masters, single-handedly rescues a Homeland Security operative on the
brink of execution in Venezuela. And Caitlin, with only her sidearm,
outguns a team of professional mercenaries armed with automatic weapons
All of this, it turns out later,
has something to do with the bubonic plague, a secret religious order
that employs violence to protect the one true faith and a stone ossuary
that may or may not contain the bones of Jesus Christ.
By the novel's conclusion, Land
manages to pull these disparate elements together.
For the uninitiated, Caitlin is a
fifth-generation Texas Ranger. As always in this series, the plot has
links to an old case investigated by one of her ancestors, and the
cartoonish portrayals of violence resemble what might happen if Quentin
Tarantino and Marvel's creator of Venom got wasted on cocaine and put
their heads together.
In addition to Caitlin and Masters,
returning characters include Masters' son Dylan, Caitlin's often
exasperated commander D.W. Tepper, a mysterious Homeland Security agent
known only as Jones, and a former South American death squad thug who
has become Caitlin's guardian angel.
Land's fans are in for another wild
An undiagnosed illness haunts D.J. Palmer novel
A teenage girl seems to have an
illness that doctors cannot diagnose in D.J. Palmer’s psychological
thriller, “Saving Meghan”.
Fourteen-year-old Meghan continues
to show symptoms of some mysterious disease that has her consistently
dizzy, dehydrated, and losing weight. Her mother, Becky, demonstrates
signs of devotion to her daughter, but others wonder if she’s smothering
Her father, Carl, has taken an
opposite approach in caring for his little girl by being hands off to
the point where some question if he even cares about Meghan’s health.
Meghan begins to question her sanity and her mortality while she watches
her family start to implode.
Is Meghan sick, or is something
else going on? One doctor with potential ethics violations believes
Meghan is suffering from a rare disease involving her mitochondria.
Another doctor feels it’s all in her mind, and the constant health
issues stem from an overbearing mother.
Legal and law enforcement debate
whether this is a classic Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, a form of abuse
where the person supposed to care for the individual makes up or causes
the condition. Becky says no, but Carl starts to believe otherwise and
begins to work to remove his wife from his daughter’s care. Becky has to
prove her innocence to keep her family together and her daughter alive
even though the evidence against her is overwhelming.
Palmer knows how to ratchet up the
suspense and paranoia in “Saving Meghan” while keeping the reader
continually guessing to what is happening to Meghan. He also has the
talent to create an emotional investment in the characters while also
keeping the repulsion factor of what’s being discussed low. The finale
might not be a happy ending in the traditional sense, but it’s
unpredictable and unforgettable. (AP)
‘Island of Sea Women’
pits friendship versus tragedy
Ten years ago, Lisa
See was sitting in a doctor’s office leafing through magazines when she
came across a brief article about a place she’d never known existed —
the Island of Jeju — where the breadwinners were once a hearty band of
women who eked out modest livings free-diving into the Pacific Ocean for
seafood while husbands stayed home and raised children.
It was a discovery
that has led to one of the most compelling — and heartstring-tugging —
tales to spring from the mind of the best-selling author of “The Tea
Girl From Hummingbird Lane” and nearly a dozen other novels.
Like many of the
Chinese American author’s earlier books, it is set in Asia with ties to
the United States, although the location this time is Korea, not China.
And like See’s
“Shanghai Girls” and “Dreams of Joy,” the story takes readers on a
journey spanning generations — in this case 1938 to 2008 — as moments of
cherished friendship, unspeakable tragedy and, in the end, a plot twist
worthy of Raymond Chandler unfold.
Early on, readers
are introduced to Mi-ja and Young-sook, precocious, 7-year-old best
friends despite island elders’ misgivings that Mi-ja’s father was a
collaborator with the hated Japanese, who controlled the island from
1910 until the end of World War II.
The pair grow up to
become “haenyeo” — Jeju’s real-life elite women divers who hone their
skills over years to match an innate ability to hold their breaths
longer than just about anybody as they deep dive repeatedly into frigid
water to grab fish.
Out of the water,
the pair grow up to happily compete for everything from husbands to
That is until
Jeju’s historic 4.3 Uprising, a real-life event (taking its name from
the 1948 starting date of April 3) that is arguably one of modern
history’s least-known massacres. It resulted in the deaths of some
30,000 people in 1948-49 as South Korea violently put down a rebellion
over what government would control the island’s future.
Mi Ja and Young-sook
become innocents caught up in the slaughter. Their friendship, strained
by war, death and competing family ties, breaks apart as they struggle
on against the island’s real-life historical backdrop.
By 2008, Young-sook
is an old woman but still a diver. Indeed, she’s become part of a
dwindling group of haenyeo in their 70s and 80s now revered as national
treasures on an island that has become both a tourist attraction and a
World Heritage Site.
As such she is a
bit of a celebrity, much to her annoyance and her general dislike of
That’s until a day
a tourist family from the United States — one that somehow seems
strangely familiar — arrives to reveal things she never knew about
herself, her family or her best friend. (AP)
‘Spearhead’ is a
well-researched WWII tale
With his two previous books,
journalist Adam Makos established himself as a meticulous researcher
who’s equally adept at spinning a good, old-fashioned yarn.
In “Spearhead,” he doesn’t venture
far from what he does best. Again, he returns to World War II, but he
follows men on the ground rather than in the skies. And, again, he finds
a hidden hero worthy of highlighting. This time, it’s Clarence Smoyer, a
gunner from a working-class family in industrial Pennsylvania.
We follow Smoyer and the U.S.
Army’s 3rd Armored Division’s Easy Company across the battlefields of
Germany in 1944. In his third book, though, rather than speeding through
the narrative’s twists and turns with nary a bump in the road, Makos
regales readers with every detail of every firefight. For a World War II
aficionado, it will read like a dream, but to the average reader, it
gets to be a bit tedious.
That said, Makos’ writing remains
strong and dramatic with passages like “The bark of German tank guns
knifed the woods” and “As if the Germans had been listening, they
suddenly cut their power. The hot engine hissed, then went silent.”
And some of the strongest
storytelling comes near the end when Smoyer, now well into his 80s,
meets his German counterpart. The seminal battle of Smoyer’s service
took place on the streets of Cologne where he faced off with an enemy
tank, and two civilians trying to flee were killed. Smoyer had been
haunted by their deaths all his life. Turns out, Gustav, the only
surviving German tanker from that day, had been haunted, too. Their
meeting in 2013 at a Cologne hotel bar is cinematic. (AP)
Barry Lopez looks for hope
beyond the ‘Horizon’
Part travel journal, part history, part
science lecture, part autobiography, and completely unique, “Horizon” feels
like the crowning achievement of Barry Lopez’s illustrious career.
Fans of his award-winning “Arctic
Dreams” (1986) and subsequent books about little understood landscapes,
cultures and wildlife will find much to love here. Readers who have never
read Lopez might be better served reading one of his single-topic tomes
At 512 pages, this book is dense. It’s
divided into six main parts based on the geography of Lopez’s lifelong
travels — western Oregon, the High Arctic, the Galapagos, Kenya, Australia
and Antarctica. There are maps that help readers visualize where our
peripatetic narrator is at any given time, but not much else in the way of
context. Lopez admits in the prologue that he consciously chose to simply
tell stories, not explain any “juxtapositions in time,” but it would have
provided readers with helpful perspective to know more about his life
circumstances during any given trip.
The resulting feel of the book is
fragmented — perhaps intentionally mirroring the way memory works? — with
passages about the power of music to “pry something ineluctable out of a
particular landscape” (listening to Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony on Skraeling
Island, 660 nautical miles from the North Pole) just 20 pages removed from a
technical explanation of how the Antarctic Moon and Neutrino Detector Array
at the South Pole works.
Each of the chapters is jammed with
stories and personal reflections. Lopez, perhaps more than any other nature
writer alive, is introspective to his core. Every experience, every sight,
every person he meets, has made an impression on him and unlike most of us
he kept notes. This book is his attempt to look back on it all and say
something about the world we share.
Whether you personally lean toward the
cynical or hopeful, one thing is certain — we need adventurous, curious
souls like Lopez to keep traveling and bringing back stories from beyond our
particular horizon — in order to find our way forward as a species,