Connelly

Since I'm on a mystery kick, I thought it was time to give Michael Connelly another try.  His work is bestselling and critically acclaimed, he's the leading light in the genre of Modern American Noir, but he hasn't moved me.  I'd tried him twice before: the Edgar-Winning The Poet was gripping and suspenseful for most of its length, but as it wore on, the plot turns seemed increasing labored and unbelievable (I've had the same reaction to the books I've read by the other best-known Modern American Noir writers, Dennis Lehane and Robert Crais).  I also tried his first book, The Black Echo; got halfway through, and put it aside.  After a week or so passed and I hadn't gotten around to picking it up again, I realized I had forgotten too much of the plot and, rather than start all over again, I brought it back to the library.  Think about that - I got halfway through a murder mystery, put it down, and never got back to it.  This would never happen with Agatha Christie!  Clearly, Connelly wasn't doing his job.

The Connelly I chose, somewhat randomly, was Angels Flight, a 1998 novel featuring LAPD Detective Hieronymous "Harry" Bosch (naming his detective after Hieronymous Bosch gives you an idea about how he sees LA). The victim is a controversial black lawyer whose career is based on suing the LAPD; Bosch must not only solve the murder, but manage the case's racial tensions and navigate the department's political hierarchy who want to clamp down on embarassing information while making the investigation look open and honest.  A lot on his plate, and sometimes, it seems like the murder mystery takes a back seat to the politics.  The book was well-written, the Los Angeles background is vividly evoked, and Connelly knows police culture.  But it was almost totally humorless, and Connelly seems to just pile on the darkness, rather than let it grow from the plot,  For instance, Bosch's marriage during the book is cracking apart, but it doesn't have anything to do with the plot or the themes - Connelly just seems unwilling to let even a little light into the story. 

(Small, extremely distasteful spoiler in next paragraph)

The turning point for me came around page 300, when Bosch's team uncovers a child pornography web site and child rape becomes a plot point.  When I reached this part, one of my kids came into the room where I was reading and started clowning around.  Suddenly, I realized I could no longer pretend I was enjoying this book, or that I was turning the pages out of anything but a sense of duty.  It was time to bail.  I skimmed the last few chapters to see how the plot turned out, closed the book and set it aside to return to the library.  And I think it will be a while before I give Michael Connelly another try.