The Secret Place by Tana Frech (A Dublin Murder Squad mystery)

It's no secret that I love Tana French, both for her masterful plotting and eerie ability to adop different narrative voices and personas in her Dublin Murder Squad series.

Still, I must be honest and admit that although I did enjoy The Secret Place, it's not my favorite entry into the series, and I'm not entirely sure why.

The plot is intriguing enough. It's the resurrection of an unsolved cold case.  A popular boy was murdered on the grounds of a posh boarding school for girls (he's a student at the obligatory adjacent boys' boarding school). The case is brought to Detective Stephen Moran by Frank Mackey's daughter, Holly. Now a teenager and a student at the boarding school, she proffers Moran an anonymous postcard claiming to know who killed the boy. 

Painfully eager to get out of cold cases and into the Murder Squad, Moran brings the case to Detective Antoinette Conway, an island of ball-busting, angry feminist competence in a unit that's ostracized her. Neither detective can afford to fail, both for their professional sakes and because doing so will mean victory for the personal demons each respectively barely keeps at bay. 

All the ingredients of a great contemporary mystery are present: an intense, slow-build of procedural tension over the period of basically 24-hours (except the flashbacks, of course), enough unexpected or simply unresolved character developments to keep even veteran armchair sleuths like myself guessing and engaged, and a truly well-done job giving a lot of characters, of different ages, very distinct personalities and voices (this is harder to do than most people realize; in my opinion, it's an ability that elevates writer from merely "good" to "great"). For fans of the series, you get to see how Frank Mackey's daughter has grown up after the events of Faithful Place, which is neat. As always, however, you don't need to read the other books in the series to appreciate this one. 

And yet...

When I read Det. Conway was the protagonist of French's next entry into the series, I was glad because she is a wonderful character who I absolutely want to see more of (and so much the type of strong, takes-no-shit-from-anyone woman I wish my recovering people-pleaser self could be). But I also liked Det. Moran and felt Conway, by sheer force of personality, overshadowed him and the other characters, even though the novel is narrated from Conway's point of view. The strongest parts of the novel were in flashbacks of the Holley and her tight-knit circle of friends. 

Which is, of course, one of the main strengths of the novel, the way French captured the intensity and intimacy of friendships at that age. Initially, I was worried it would rehash the vibe in The Likeness, which explores the family you find in friends in college. But though equally formative and intense, that type of friendship is, of course, an entirely different thing. I should've known better than to doubt Tana French; these friends, too, have their own feel and rhythm. 

Overall, it's another successful installment in one of my favorite series. But it's not the best of the bunch, at least for me.  

Broken Harbor by Tana French (A Dublin Murder Squad mystery)

Having already rhapsodized about Tana French's incredible ability to narrate in distinct voices and the literary quality of her novels, one wouldn't think there would be much left to say in terms of the fourth installment in the Dublin Murder Squad series.

And yet.

This installment continues French's leitmotif of forcing the detective, in this case Mick "Scorcher" Kennedy, to solve a brutal murder in a locale that is also the setting for a dark period of their past. And, once again, she pulls this off well, creating a totally plausible past and present for both the setting and the protagonist.

Kennedy, the unapologetic straight arrow that most people on the squad dislike for being that guy, the one who won't even bend the rules a little, is called to solve the deaths of a father and his two kids. The mother and her husband were brutally stabbed while their kids upstairs were suffocated in their bed. The mother survives, just barely.

The entire home, a shoddily built McMansion in the middle of an abandoned, half-built subdivision, has bizarre holes broken into the walls with baby monitor cameras pointed at them.

French's setting of perfect homes surrounded by the gutted, skeletal remains of a developer's dream-turned-nightmare gives the entire story an eerie, zombie-like feeling that permeates the entire novel.

Admittedly, I found the initial premise of this mystery particularly compelling, but that's not what made this the kind of read I stayed up far too late for with no regrets.

What struck me most about this installment was French's research into real police procedures. The meticulous details she includes gives the reader insight into how actual investigations work but ultimately serve as an unobtrusive way to flesh out Kennedy's character. There's paperwork, bureaucracy, coordination between forensic techs and loaner detectives, etc. Handled poorly, that could make for tedious reading. In French's hands, it's insight that adds another dimension to solving the case.

Interestingly enough, I didn't like Kennedy when I first saw him through Frank's eyes in Faithful Place, but here I found myself relating to him on multiple levels (I'm pretty sure there've been people who disliked me for being a rather straight arrow, too, but like Kennedy, my family history and past don't allow me to be any other way).

Kennedy's sister in this novel is severely mentally ill and I've read some reviews that criticize French's handling of this character because her mental illness is her solely defining trait. I disagree with this critique, largely because I've had people with untreated mental illness in my own life.  French's portrayal of what it is to live that experience may not be pretty or kind, but reality rarely is.  I found it to be a pretty spot-on portrayal. The fact is, when a person is that mentally ill and completely untreated -- and Kennedy's sister is -- quite frankly that does become the person's defining trait. Especially when their mental illness is what makes associating with that person or having them in your life so difficult. When it's a family member especially the mental illness can become a thing unto itself, absolutely subsuming the person and their relationships. As far as I'm concerned, French wrote this with a brutal honesty so raw I had to put down the book and take a break several times.

Perhaps at this point, I'm simply biased. I love Tana French's writing. As a writer, I appreciate the unseen research and technique that goes into crafting her stories and I find the settings, characters and plots compelling. Every time I sit down to review one of her books, I try to find something to critique. I simply don't, and that's just fine with me. Besides, I'm sure the two people in the world who actually read this blog don't mind, either.

The Likeness by Tana French (A Dublin Murder Squad mystery)

The novel is told from the point of view Cassie Maddox, Rob's partner and best friend from In the Woods, after the events of that book. However, it is not necessary to read the books in order as the Dublin Murder Squad books offer a kaleidoscopic view of the various detectives.

For some who read The Likeness, the third installment of Tana French's brilliant Dublin Murder Squad series, the premise is simply insurmountable. 

Briefly, Cassie is pulled back into being an undercover detective when a young woman -- her physical doppelganger -- is killed. The woman was part of a collegiate quartet who have all bought a house together and are fixing it up while completing their master's degrees in various humanities fields. The police tell the remaining trio that, miraculously, Cassie's doppelganger has survived being brutally stabbed and Cassie is inserted into the home.

Some readers just can't get past the idea that Cassie can look so much like the victim that she fools the friends. As for myself, I love Tana French's writing so much I'm willing to go wherever she wants to take me. And the suspension of disbelief is easier to acquiesce to than one might think, thanks to French's uncanny ability to write so completely from the point of view of her protagonist. 

If anything, the doppelganger aspect adds a depth to Cassie's character that makes this installment one of the most literary mysteries I've ever read. It also serves a crucial function in building the novel's suspense. This is because the friends have created an almost unhealthy proxy family together, but one that also offers safety and comfort to Cassie. Having been orphaned at a young age and raised by caring but distant relatives, Cassie has never known, but has always yearned for, this kind of closeness. French pulls the reader so completely into the group's insular world that as boundaries and ethics blur for Cassie, so do they for the reader. When the psychological danger of this emotionally brittle state becomes untenable, it is but one cymbal crashing in an entire percussive assault of suspense.

And, French is not unrealistic about the doppelganger's "return" to the house, either. French is not an amateur writer and it shows. Cassie has several excruciating moments of panic when she doesn't know certain things about the murder victim that no amount of police background could uncover. The other characters have similar moments of confusion and doubt. All of this only serves to add an undercurrent of suspense to the novel. 

Further,  the story -- or rather, stories -- The Likeness encompasses are so much more than the doppelganger aspect. The plot turns upon well-explored themes of complex friendships, human nature, youth, the impact one's immediate environment can have on them and family. 

The mystery itself is meticulously plotted and the build towards the resolution has the deliciously slow pacing of a Hitchcock film. A minor sub-plot that acts as a story-within-a-story interlude, equally compelling and seamlessly relevant to the investigation, is like an extra layer of delicious icing on an already decadent dessert.

As in the previous French novels, the voice of the protagonist is completely distinct from Rob's voice in In the Woods and Frank's in Faithful Place. Again, many writers can write a character effectively in the first person. What French does, however, is something entirely different. It is sometimes difficult to believe Faithful Place and The Likeness were penned by the same author, so incredibly distinct is each voice. 

To call French's books a mysteries is to give them short shrift; they are so character-driven, artfully written and meticulously plotted they read and feel like novels. 

French is a writer who clearly does her research and puts as much, if not more, work into her writing as art. And it shows, every time. 

That there happens to be a mystery being solved seems less like a focal point of French's books than a concurrent theme. If there is ever room for commercial genre fiction to acknowledge the "literary mystery" openly, the Dublin Murder Squad series will be a great example of it. 

Faithful Place by Tana French (A Dublin Murder Squad mystery)

 When it comes to a mystery narrated in first person, voice can make or break the story, regardless of how enthralling the plot points.

Tana French's mystery Faithful Place, part of the Dublin Murder Squad series, is a testament to how a well-crafted narrator's voice elevates a good mystery into a memorable, engrossing read.

A vivid, distinct voice, with a realistic syntax, can transport the reader right next to the narrator wherever he or she takes us, whether it's in a raucous bar or sitting quietly in a darkened room, listening only to the protagonist's thoughts.

French does this effortlessly.

Within the first several pages, I found myself half in love with Frank Mackey, the Dublin Undercover detective who pulled himself out of  Faithful Place, a street in a neighborhood whose residents perpetually teeter precariously near poverty. Where Mackey grew up.

There, Mackey grew up with in a mercilessly dysfunctional family, surrounded by a brood of siblings all trapped in the cruel grip of an alcoholic parent and unstable -- but certainly Catholic, mind you -- mother.

Mackey escaped by attempting to leave with his girl...and when she didn't show, became a cop. Coming from Faithful Place, this is a betrayal of sorts not easily forgiven and never, ever forgotten.

French conveys this without ever overtly stating it, just one of many examples of how she uses Mackey's distinct narrative tone to communicate unspoken context.

Another example is the way the reader learns of Mackey's upbringing, told out of chronological order through well-crafted flashbacks. These scenes create sharp, lingering pictures of a complex childhood that fall into place like shards of a broken mirror.

Yet for all that, French still peppers the story with sharp wit and warm, comforting scenes of a father caring for his daughter.

The story, like the people within in it, is not simply one thing. None of the characters or ancillary story lines are simple. Mackey and his siblings' childhood may not have been idyllic, but there are moments, though few, of love and family fidelity. His neighborhood is not the sterile suburbia he attempted to live in with his ex-wife, but it has a code and social moorings of its own.

Finally, the personal nature of the mystery -- the body uncovered in the basement of an abandoned house that Makey and the other kids on the street used as an ad-hoc hideaway is the body of the girl he was going to elope with -- adds a welcome element of personal investment and frustration to the story that elevates the building tension.

As I said, I haven't read any of the other books in this series and have avoided looking them up for fear of spoilers, but I am eagerly looking forward to doing so. But the novel more than stands on its own and shouldn't be passed over, even by those who are not interested in picking up another series.