Oy, James Sallis. What happened?I read the first book in Sallis' Turner series, Cypress Grove, and found it, by and large, to be a perfectly fine start to what I think of as "testosterone cozies": you know, those male mystery series where a paragon of male competence incisively cooks, screws, questions, and punches his way through a dramatic murder or series of murders showing that life is brutal even while it is lovely, and unfair even while it is worthwhile, and savage even while it can be savored via the charms of good cooking, refined but unflashy taste, and sweet, sweet lovemaking with a quirky, inteligent, and good-humored equal. The half-dozen Spenser books by Robert B. Parker I read are like that, the two or three Dave Robicheaux books by James Lee Burke I read are like that, and Cypress Grove and Cripple Creek are both like that and that's okay. Although I tease the genre, I do so out of love. Like the meals exquisitely described and devoured by the sensitive-yet-tough protagonists, these types of books are entirely pleasurable comfort food. They casually flatter and instruct their readers in how to live right, and they're usually well written (at least until the author's inspiration dies out and only the desire for a decent check remains).But whereas Cypress Grove does a fine job of introducing Turner--sensitive soul who returns to the backroads of the Deep South after his world-weary turns as cop, convict, and psychotherapist--with a wry, understated tone, some downright astonishingly lambent prose, and a mostly serviceable murder mystery, Cripple Creek makes a royal mess of things. The flashbacks to Turner's past are too frequent and inelegantly jammed in; the plot is a quagmire of poor motivations and skipped-over events; and worst of all, the telling observations and poetic details of the first book have become pure cornpone hokum. At one point, Sallis mentions The Andy Griffith Show and it's unfortunately one telling mention too many: Cripple Creek reads like an episode of The Andy Griffith Show if Parker's Spenser was Barney Fife and Miami drug money got involved, and it meshes together about as badly as that description suggests it would.I think it's absolutely unfair to write a review without giving the reader a larger sense of context, so here's what you should know about the conditions under which I read Cripple Creek: I had the flu, and I read a not-insubstantial amount of the book while either shitting my brains out, or being beaten down by alternating bouts of exhaustion and insomnia. I was quite probably in every way the antithesis of a generous reader. And yet, I read Stark/Westlake's The Score right before when all symptoms were markedly worse and I had none of the impatience and ill humor with The Score that gripped me through Cripple Creek. It could be that when one hasn't eaten in 72 hours and has absolutely no appetite, yet another description of a small animal shot and fried, another rueful remark about the unfairness of the world, another admiring comment made by another admirable character to an even-more-admirable protagonist doesn't have the allure it would under other conditions. Or maybe Cripple Creek is just a terrible book written by an author clearly capable of writing much better ones, and therefore it deserves the scorn of those who believe easy, pleasurable books should be easy and pleasurable for the reader, not the writer. In any event, I'll be reading the next book in the series in a month or so (because I bought all three on sale for the Kindle). I hope it proves to be more like the first book in the series than the second.
Cripple Creek is the second book in the John Turner trilogy and although best read in sequence can be read as a standalone. The three standout qualities of Sallis writing, in general, and which are all evident in this story, are his prose, his characterisation, and his atmospherics. Sallis is a poet and his storytelling has a wonderful cadence, his style is all tell and no show. The reader is dropped into Turner’s world of rural America and its inhabitants, its sense of place and social life. Sallis has a keen eye for the human condition and the ways in which life unfolds. He paints a picture of Turner as an enigmatic man who cyclically creates moments of contentment that unravel through his own follies; a man reflexive of his own propensity to reinvent and self-destruct almost without effort. It’s a compelling mix. On the other hand, the plot seems merely a vehicle for these explorations, and whilst interesting has gaping holes in it, especially with respect to police procedures: Turner is seemingly inured against the legal consequences of his actions and in Cripple Creek manages to kill a couple of people without anyone else batting an eyelid or even filling out a form. If the plot was as skilfully composed as the rest of the tale, the book would be a knockout. As it is, it’s somewhat of a flawed diamond.
What do You think about Cripple Creek (2007)?
I just really like this James Sallis fella.This is my third of his after Drive and Cypress Grove and I have thoroughly enjoyed each of them. This is a crime story that doesn’t overly concern itself with the crime, but the characters affected by it. It examines past lives and the route that Turner and crew have taken to get to where they are today. Turner certainly has experience and his rag-tag band of co-sheriffs(!), cranky coroners and larder stockists all combine to paint a fascinating portrait of how outside influences affect a small rural community.It doesn’t tear along from action scene to action scene, it takes its time but takes you with it. Sallis has a spare style that punches when needed and it fit perfectly. Looking forward to getting to Salt River.
—H
3.8 stars. As usual, Sallis' writing is wonderful, and like Cypress Grove (CG), this is more about who Turner is than the detective challenges to be met. There are several, and they largely end up tying together. Turner is a complex and fascinating character with a history of police work, therapist work, jail time, and other life adventures. The story is primarily character-driven, with Turner's first-person perspectives taking the forefront, but more involvement with the others in his life than CG, his woman Val, newcomer J.T. and those who work with him on the small town's police force. Nathan and Isaiah, Turner's neighbors of sorts in the woods away from town proper, play interesting roles, also. The writing and characters' quality leads to the but.... But in this story, there is modestly more violence than in CG, some of which seemed unnecessary to this reader, and the rather unsettling stories from Turner's past, while a part of the telling of who he is, sometimes are downright unpleasant. If those things are all right to you as a reader, enjoy this. Will I be looking for Salt River, the next in Turner's story? I'm not sure. Maybe when I'm ready for another turn at Sallis' wonderful writing, but maybe another Lew Griffin since I thought highly of Eye of the Cricket.
—Steve
Second in the Turner trilogy.Lonnie Bates is still in recovery, Don Lee is acting sheriff and Turner is officially deputy sheriff now. When Lee makes what seems to be a run of the mill traffic stop but finds a huge amount of money stashed in the car, problems arise almost immediately. During the night, the suspect is broken out of the town jail, leaving Don Lee unconscious and June, the secretary, out cold on the floor of the office. The situation deteriorates from there, as Turner visits his old stomping grounds at Memphis PD, trying to get a lead on the thugs who assaulted don Lee and June.And meets up with his grown daughter, now a detective with the Seattle Police Department, who has come back looking for her father whom she has not seen in years.If that sounds trite, take it from me, it isn’t. Nothing about Sallis and his protagonist is trite.The book develops around the plot, being more of a study in human nature as seen through one man’s experience than it is a police procedural, but absorbing either way. Even though you know it’s going to happen, Sallis’ use of flashback continues to surprise and illuminate, offering often lyrical descriptions of Turner’s world. New people come on the scene, enriching the human environment. Music still comforts and expands the spirit. And life is still trying about finding out how much music you can make with what’s left.Superb.
—Joyce Lagow
