Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Tucked away

Oh boy, two in one weekend! I hesitate to add this entry as I don't want this entirely unmemorable (I'm having trouble dredging up details from a listen of two months ago) book to be sitting at the top of the blog for what experience tells me may be awhile. Nevertheless, I'm seeking sanctuary from my home where the front yard is being loudly excavated this morning and there are a limited number of things one can do from a coffee shop. I briefly thought about going backwards (starting with Doc, finished last night), but my cooler (less flexible) head prevailed.

So, the 22nd in Ruth Rendell's Inspector Wexford series (the internet tells me that Reg is 50 years old this year ... that's actual years, not fictional ones), The Monster in the Box. Rendell (emphasis on the second syllable) writes a pretty good detective novel, but Wexford has never been one of the ones that I've followed eagerly, devouring the newest one shortly after its appearance. Instead, I've picked them up in a desultory (albeit in-order) way. The Monster in the Box is decidedly average Wexford.

It follows a somewhat convoluted plot involving a long-time nemesis named Eric Targo. Targo is an animal-loving serial killer who seems most interested in killing those that will bring him in contact with Wexford, taunting the inspector with Wexford's inability to connect him to the crimes. This happened on several occasions when Wexford was an inexperienced copper, extending to some stalkerish behavior, and then stopped. But now that Wexford's career is winding down, Targo has reappeared -- and seems to be engaging in some Strangers-on-a-Train-type (without the "prearrangement") murders -- and Wexford decides it's time to bring his second-in-command, Mike Burden, in on the hunt as a young Muslim woman living next door to Targo has disappeared. For 40 years, Wexford had put his concerns about Targo away in a box, but now it's time to open it back up.

Most interesting, when Wexford flashes back to his younger days, he revisits the courtship of his wife Dora (always a pleasure when you've met your characters comfortably settled into their marriage). But when you toss in the lion, pontification on political correctness, and a somewhat condescending explanation of Muslim mores; well it was really just a big yawn with a honkingly obvious metaphor. Wexford is not even given the satisfaction of running Targo in for his crimes.

But maybe it was a yawn because of the absolutely lifeless narration. The book is read by Nicolas Coster, who his evidently best known as a soap star.  Considering I've never heard of the publisher, Phoenix Audio, maybe they think he's good at this. (I reviewed the 16 holdings from this publisher at my library, and the narrators -- largely of the "celebrity" variety -- range from the excellent Peter Coyote to ... ahem, Shadoe Stevens. Oy!)

Anyway, Coster reads the novel with a husky whispering style, that lacks resonance and quickly begins to sound strained. He gets juicy quickly and his breathing is audible. Every sentence seems delivered with the exact same rhythm, mostly on the deliberate side. In dialogue, everyone (men and women) sounds a little effeminate, and he makes no effort to distinguish characters, or character voices from the narration. There's no cultural distinctions with the Muslim family and Coster can't even be bothered to pronounce this family's name, Rahman, as anything other than the ordinary rah-man (any other narrator I've listened to would give that first syllable that Arabic 'ch').

I've always felt a bit schizophrenic about Rendell; I simply don't read her stand-alone psychological suspense books, they scare the crap out of me. I do enjoy her pseudonymous writing as Barbara Vine, which take the "backwards" approach -- i.e., here's the bad thing that happened and now we'll go back in time to figure out why. The Monster in the Box seems to be neither of these, nor is it a conventional puzzle piece; it's almost like a character study. Not exactly what I look for in detective fiction.  Still, Rendell's usually reliable (and still writing at 84!), and her output is of the volume of her near-contemporary Anne Perry but with much more variety, so I'll keep up with her. Anyone can have a bad day.

[Eric Targo had a distinctive purple birthmark, called a naevus in this novel, spread across his face and neck. This is a Leucoraja naevus, or cuckoo ray, residing in the waters surrounding the United Kingdom. The photo was taken by Nikki Mahadevan as part of the Geograph Project and was retrieved from Wikimedia Commons.]

The Monster in the Box (Inspector Wexford, Book 22) by Ruth Rendell
Narrated by Nicolas Coster
Phoenix Audio,  2009. 9:36

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