The Glass Key: Will It Snap?

 

THE GLASS KEY (1942)

Directed by Stuart Heisler

Paramount, 85 minutes, NR (pre-ratings)

★★★

 

 

In most film noir movies, it’s best not to trust anyone unless you are very sure of their character–very sure. The Glass Key is considered a noir classic and it’s one that plays off the theme of moral ambiguity. “Classic” might be too strong, but it is based upon a Dashiell Hammett story, and Hammett knew a few things about the elusive distinctions between right and wrong.

 

On the surface it seems straight forward. Reform candidate Ralph Henry (Moroni Olsen) is running for governor of a state that could use a good corruption cleansing. He entrusts his campaign to political fixer Paul Madvig (Brian Donlevy), a man who operates in the ethical gray zone, but nonetheless earns Ralph’s trust and is engaged to his daughter Janet (Veronica Lake). Soon, Madvig is so deeply ingratiated into Henry’s good graces that he brags to his associate Ned Beaumont (Alan Ladd) that he practically has the key to the Ralph’s house. Beaumont warns Paul to make sure it’s not a glass key– a term meaning one that it might snap and a metaphor for an act that can’t be undone. 

 

What can be done and undone is a theme of the film. Henry’s son Taylor (Richard Denny) is the classic family black sheep who everyone but daddy knows is worthless. Another noir standard is that it’s never a good idea to be on the outs with a gangster and Taylor has racked up some significant debt to  local thug Nick Varna (Joseph Calleia), who is just fine with the state’s crooked politics and worries that Madvig might get Ralph Henry elected. Janet’s not exactly a peach either. She wears Paul’s engagement ring, but he’s challenged in the couth department and Janet prefers Ned, though he’s too loyal to Paul to tread on his turf.

 

When Taylor becomes his best self–a corpse–the question arises as to who offed him. Varna has an alibi and all signs point to Paul, who vigorously denies it. The allegations though, are enough to steer Ed away and Varna tries to recruit him. Janet is another enticement and we can’t help but wonder whose side she’s on. The Glass Key becomes one of those tales in which any of a number of people might wish Taylor dead–including family members and friends–and not even District Attorney Farr (Donald McBride) trusts that evidence and suspects match. Like Farr, you might not expect the ultimate resolution.

 

The performances of Ladd and Lake stand out in the film. Ladd never quite cracked the A-List in his day, but managed to get steady work in Hollywood in roles such as he played in The Glass Key: a brooding, but steady guy whose inner qualities rather than conventional good looks made him attractive. He was only 5’5” –not exactly Cary Grant territory– but was often paired with Lake, who was just 4’11.” Lake is probably best remembered for her luxurious peek-a-boo blonde mane, but she also exuded qualities associated with a femme fatale: snark, slinkiness, cleavage, and an ever-present air of danger. In The Glass Key, Ladd and Lake smolder rather than sizzle, because that’s what their respective parts demanded. Donleavy is also quite good. He’s oily, but he keeps us guessing whether he’s just an effective political operative or as crooked as an elbow filled with fish hooks.

 

The Glass Key is a solid noir film, though not it’s a bit like Ladd in that it’s not quite top-tier. As a film, it can be confusing if you’re not paying close attention. Jonathan Latimer’s script is problematic, though it might not have been his fault. Hammett’s novel was a heralded work, but one that was rougher and had fuzzier lines between right and wrong. The Hollywood Code of the day had strict standards about how crime was presented. Beaumont gets a small makeover for the film, but it’s just enough to soften him. Ditto Janet, who is more duplicitous in the novel. But assuming that Hammett isn’t at the top of your reading list, the film version of The Glass Key will do you. I doubt it will destroy your faith in politics; more likely, it will confirm what you’ve long suspected.

 

Rob Weir   

Experience the Magic of Glasstastic

 

 

GLASSTASTIC

Brattleboro Museum and Art Center

Through June 15, 2021

 

For the past ten years, the Brattleboro Museum and Art Center has housed one of the most innovative education-meets-art projects imaginable. Kids from across the country in grades K-6 draw imaginary creatures and write about them. In turn, a committee chooses a few dozen or so, and glass artists render them in 3-D. This year's exhibit spotlights 27 of these wonderfully whimsical and inventive critters. It's a toss of the coin which is more magical, the work of the professional artists or the imaginations of the kids. The works range from the silly to the scary and the touching to what might be called burgeoning political awareness.

 

Here's a small sample:

 

Rachel Cousino’s “Biwwy” is a doughnut crossed with candy corn. Biwwy has a small brain but a big heart, the latter of which is used to help people like the homeless. 

 

 

 

“Snoogle” by Sarah Balint-Wohl enjoys the company of others and likes to live in a field of flowers for he can hide from predators.

 

 

 

One of my favorites stories is the “Flower Cat “by Aliana Miller. Allow me to quote her: “One day there was a little girl whose mother was sick. She went outside to get some flowers for her mom. But then out popped a flower cat! The girl picked flowers for her mom, and the cat asked why. ‘Because,’ the girl said ‘I want my mom to feel better.’ The cat said, ‘you can give the flowers to her but I have healing powers. So I can use my healing powers to heal your mom so she's not sick anymore.’ The flower cat and the girl became best friends forever.”

 

 

Gertrude, a monster designed by Timmy, has spikes and gripping feet so he can climb. Raspberries are Gertrude’s favorite food is raspberries and he can run 63 mph. We don't know why Gertrude is a he, but who cares?

 

 

 

One of my favorites is “The Flying Lunchbox” from Marleigh Vose. Anyone who has ever left lunch on the counter needs one of these. All you have to do is say, “On lunch!” and it uses its wing, invisible feet, and six eyes to find you. Plus, it will make food for you.

 

 

 

One of the more elaborate creatures, “Swirly,” was designed by Ava. It lives in Swirly Town on Planet Swirly and likes to sit in the grass and watch the sunset, eat fruit and be happy. 

 

 

 

August Davis drew what looks to be a narwal named “August Junior.” that for some reason likes to play basketball.

 

 

 

John Max Malcovsky drew a creature called “Tigon,” which could have come from a medieval bestiary. It has wings like a dragon but the rest of him looks like a tiger. He hunts, but he also likes to explore caves. 

 

 

 

 

Olivia Sawyer drew a creature called “Drake.” According to Olivia, “Drake is creative, happy, funny, and loves to sleep all day. When not sleeping he likes to bake cookies, draw, and give hugs.” Olivia tells us, he “always likes to eat a lot of cookie dough, doesn't everybody?” And because he likes to look good, he wears a top hat.

 

 

 

Kudos to the glass artist whose craft is everywhere on display. Not all artists deign to enter the realms and minds of children, so glass hats off to: Mariel Bass, Josh Bernbaum, Marta Bernbaum, Jocelyn Brown, Robert Burch, Dominique Caissie, David Colton, Dan Coyle, Robert Dane, Allie Dercoli, Robert Du Grenier, Sandy Dukeshire, Alissa Faber, Nic Flavin, Westley Fleming, Zak Grace, Chris Hubbard, Claire Kelly, Jordana Korsen, Lynn Latimer, Sally Prasch, Bryan Randa, Chris Sherwin, Randi Solin Jen Violette, and Andrew Weill.

 

As an added bonus, another BMAC gallery has a selection of photos from past exhibits.

 

 

Mike Bond's Semi-fictional Look at the Fifties and Sixties

 

 

America, Volume I  (2021)

By Mike Bond

Big City Press, 383 pages.

★★★

 

 

 

Is innocence a good thing? I suppose it depends on how you measure what we choose to ignore. America, Volume I is as advertised, a fictional waltz through the decades after World War II through the late 1960s. Mike Bond’s twist is to focus his tale on two boys and two girls as they come of age in a nation quite different from that of their childhood. (It is the first of a planned multi-volume saga.)

 

A simplistic–and wildly inaccurate­–take is that the United States went from victory culture and world leadership in the ‘50s to a nation divided in the ‘60s by radicals, hippies, and protesters. In said view, the 1950s were a values-centered golden age, and the 1960s one in which permissiveness, disrespect, and chaos ruined the country. An alternative view is it the ‘60s tackled real problems previously swept under the rug: racism, sexism, poverty, cultural sterility, and eco-degradation – not to mention an inane Cold War.

 

The first part of Bond’s novel, though set in New Jersey, riffs off of Huckleberry Finn. y. Troy, whose father died in the war against Japan, hates the Catholic orphanage where he is housed. The priests are sadistic, the place is like a prison, and he's a frequent runaway. In one of his leave-taking sojourns, he meets Mick, a Tom Sawyer-like risk-taker. He and Troy hit it off, but Troy is caught and returned to the orphanage. In another attempt, he and Mick meet again and decide to run away to Florida. They have many harrowing adventures and it would have been worse had they not met two African-American tramps, Joe and Molly, who shared their food and showed them how to hop trains. Eventually though, they abandon their quixotic quest and Mick's father brings them back to New Jersey. He and his wife decide that Troy can live with them, and he becomes the brother Mick never had, though he has a sister named Tara. As part of the extended O'Brien clan, Troy is as focused and goal-driven as Mick is carefree and careless. The O'Briens live on a farm and are both down-to-earth and earthy. Dad is self-reliant and distrusts authority, Mom is kind, and various relatives pop in and out to flesh out a 1950s panorama. Despite their suspicions, the O'Briens believe in the American Dream and are deeply patriotic.

 

Filmmaker Michael Apted (from Aristotle) once said, “Give me a child until he is seven and I will you the man.” He didn't say girl and woman, but he should have. Troy, Mick, Tara, and Mick’s girl crush Daisy fall into Apted’s category. Readers may find the first part of Bond’s novel the least realistic. The O'Briens and Troy talk as if they are indeed from Twain’s Missouri; their speech is certainly not like any New Jersey dialect I’ve ever heard. I don't agree with Bond’s linguistic strategy, but he is setting us up for loss of innocence. At one point, Dad remarks, “religion causes wars." Call it folk wisdom or a political screed, but religion takes it on the chin in the book. And so does the cherished myth that hard work pays off. I don't wish to disclose too much, but I will say if there's a reason you don't hear much about small farmers in New Jersey anymore.

 

To return to the idea that personalities are formed early, Mick, who hates school, nonetheless does well without studying much. He remains addicted to danger, just like the kid who jumped from railroad trestles, got close to venomous copperheads, and drove fast cars. Troy, who romanticizes his dead father, wishes to enlist in the military. Tara, a rebel at early age, will go to UCal Berkeley, and if you know history, you will recognize it is a place where conformity was on the outs. Daisy will also wend her way through trials and transformations.

 

Bond salts the novel with the events of the day. The assassination of President Kennedy was, for many, a turning point. Mick observes, “Like a walking cadaver, America carried on in a stunned, hollow and bereaved world …. Sorrow remained but fury grew." We read of other traumas: civil rights unrest, the murder of icons, Mississippi Freedom Summer, drugs, etc. If the first part of the book is about innocence, the last part is the death thereof.

 

The novel is equal parts fascinating and uneven. It's a bit like Mick in that it's philosophical yet opinionated. Bond has given himself an ambitious task and there is a decided tonal change from the folksy quasi-Twain opening chapters and the historical whirlwind of the last part of the novel. It's an open question as to whether this shift is too mechanistic. I suspect, though, the crux lies in Bond’s choice quote from Nietzsche: “To the extent an ideal has been falsely worshiped, reality has been robbed of his value, its meaning and its truth."

 

Rob Weir

The Midnight Library too much of a Hopscotch Novel

 

THE MIDNIGHT LIBRARY (2020)

By Matt Haig

Penguin/HarperCollins, 304 pages.

★★★

 

 

 The Midnight Library is a fantasy novel, but not of the usual sort. Not many fantasy books stray into philosophy, gestalt psychology, or quantum physics. Nor do they open with an epigraph from Sylvia Plath: “Between life and death there is a library. And within that library, the shelves go on forever. Every book provides a chance to try another life you could have lived.”

 

Plath’s library is the central hook of Haig’s tale. His protagonist is 35-year-old Londoner Nora Seed, the very embodiment of ennui. Nora has a flat affect, which works to anesthetize her from life’s disappointments. She cannot commit, hence her life is a series of flights. She, her brother Joe, and several friends had a band on the verge of a record contract until she, the lead singer, got cold feet. Now she works in a used record shop and is about to be fired. She was engaged to Dan, and called it off on the eve of the wedding. Now she's an introvert living alone with her cat, Voltaire. She gives a youngster piano lessons, but can't connect with him or show up on time and stands to lose that gig as well. She was once a champion swimmer with potential to go to the Olympics, but gave it up. Detect a pattern? Nora’s life is one big “what if?” trail of flops.

 

When Voltaire is run over, Nora sees no point anymore and decides to kill herself.

Imagine her surprise to find herself in a very different kind of Purgatory–an immense library staffed by Mrs. Elm, a school librarian who once believed in her and helped her discover things that once interested her. Mrs. Elm explains to Nora that her personal Book of Regrets gives her access to try other lives that she passed up. There is probably a finite set of chances, but Nora can pull any life from the shelf and pursue it.

 

Some might recognize in this the multiverse theory at work. Nora tests numerous paths; among them: rockstar, an Olympian and motivational speaker, Cambridge professor, and glaciologist. She takes lovers, including a schlock actor upon whom she once had a fan crush and Hugo Lèfevre, a “slider” like she going between alt-lives. In other tryouts she’s married, to Dan, who owns a rural tavern; to a cute-but-flaky dog lover; to a rich doctor; and even to a handsome Latin vintner. The sticking point is the butterfly effect; that is, her changes impact others. In some scenarios Voltaire is still alive; in others, he’s dead as is her beloved brother. In each, she is unknown to most of those she knew when she was “alive.” The butterfly effect also means she has no knowledge of people, events, or backstories prior to her arrival at a particular moment in time. Nora must try to piece together things to avoid seeming to be demented.

 

Another stipulation is that if she returns to the library, she cannot take out the same book again. This is not ideal for someone who can't commit. How long can she continue sliding? Hugo has been going back-and-forth between different lives for a long time, but Mrs. Elm reminds Nora it's different for everyone. If library collapses before she makes a final decision, she will get her first wish: death.

 

The Midnight Library is a high-concepts novel. Notice my use of the plural. Haig has so many irons in them the fire that he is ultimately like Nora Seed in that he can't quite make up his mind where to take his novel. This results in narrative and conceptual hopscotch in which there are intriguing surfaces, but not much depth. It's as if he stitched together a bit of Sylvia Plath with the movie Groundhog Day, and made detours into speculative physics and philosophy's greatest hits. For instance, Voltaire's resurrections and deaths are ham-handed winks to the Schrodinger's cat conundrum. An NPR review hit the nail on the head by calling The Midnight Library a tale told in a straight line with no twists that ends pretty much where you’d predict it to go. To me, Haig’s internal moralizing feels like he’s coopting Fredrik Backman’s sweetness without his folksy wisdom or his explorations into humanity’s flawed nature.

 

The saving grace is that this is a goes-down-easy novel with occasional insights that tempt us to see it as weightier than it is. It's a quick read with the potential to spark personal reflections. Those will be the truly profound things to come out of your reading.

 

Rob Weir  

April 2021 Album of the Month: The Sound of the True North

 

 

 Various Artists

The Sound of the True North

True North Records/NoiseTrade 

 

 

 

Ever feel like you’re in the 18^th century–1752 to be precise–when the calendar changed from the Julian to the Gregorian and 11 days disappeared? In our case, though, an entire year slipped away. My 2021 album of the month was actually released in 2019, but it’s worth turning back the clock for this glorious lost-in-Covid release.

 

I’m not usually a fan of compilations, but the Mississauga, Ontario-based True North Records consistently puts out fine music and there are no dogs yelping on this fine sampler. Talk about opening big. Buffy Ste. Marie is 80-years-old, but you’d never know it from listening to “You’ve Got to Run,” which also features Inuk throat singer Tanya Tagaq. This is First Nations music at its defiant finest and I challenge you to sit or be apolitical still while listening to it. Ste. Marie’s voice has lost some of its vibrato, but that’s actually a good thing, as that form of high warbling is out of style.

 

Where to go from there? How about the well-known but woefully underappreciated Bruce Cockburn, who shows anyone who doesn’t already know that he’s no slouch when it comes to serious acoustic blues. “Blind Willie” is a classic that sounds amazing from his Cockburn’s hands. Juno Award winner Craig Cardiff offers “To Be Safe, Loved & Home,” a hopeful, uplifting, and timely song. Leeroy Stagger’s “Hey Hey! (Song for Gord)” is an earworm in the very best way. It’s about the Gordon Downie from The Tragically Hip and honors the departed rocker in a joyous, infectious fashion does so in a folk/rock song. Like a lot of Canadian rock, The Mahones have the sense to know that rock is meant to move you, not just impress. The Mahones are a bit like Great Big Sea is that they roll folk, rock, and Celtic into one big party.

 

If you know anything about Canadian music, you know that the surname Rankin is synonymous with great musicianship. Jimmie Rankin checks in with the country-laced “Loving You Never Gets Old.” That old mandolin sizzle and Rankin is so spirited that you’ll be picking grass out of your mane. For pure fun, it’s hard to beat Old Man Luedecke’s tongue-in-cheek bluegrass “Easy Money.” Listen beyond the opening and I’ll bet you’ll find yourself walking about singing its chorus: I dream about easy/I dream about easy money…. Yeah, said no banjo picker not named Steve Martin, ever. Need your soul to shake down to its roots?

 

Crystal Shawanda sounds like Aretha Franklin reincarnated on “When It Comes to Love.” You’d never guess from the way she sings about the American South, Motown, and Boston that she’s from a First Nations island of just 3,200 souls in southern Ontario.

“Rise Again.” Matt Andersen’s soulful and gospel-influenced “Quarter on the Ground” and Jeremy Benjamin’s piano-driven, sensitive “Something Broke” round out an amazing collection of songs. This stuff is good enough to resurrect the sullied reputation of mix tapes. 

 

Rob Weir  

Spring 2021 Cleanout: Katzman, Regrettes, Scroggins & Rose, Shalhoub, Sweater Set and more

 

Time once again to try to clean out the old musical backlog. Here are some capsules with links to my favorite track and another to try if you’ve got a thirst for more.

 

 

Los Angelino Theo Katzman serves potage on his latest record, which has the intriguing title of Modern Johnny Sings Songs in the Age of Vibe. Katzman gives us some rock, soul, funk, pop, and jazz, and shows his chops as a singer, guitarist, bassist, keyboard player, and percussionist.

 

            Recommend: “You Could Be President” is a backdoor slam on he who shall not be named. Katzman’s soulful, but affected falsetto befits the song. This one is cool live studio track with backing musicians. 

            Try: “The Death of Us” has a self-explanatory title. Katzman knows how mix his funk with pop hooks 

 

 

Staying in LA for a moment, The Regrettes are a feminism-meets-genre hopping quartet that borrow from punk, DYI garage band, riot grrrl vibes, pop, and sly parodies of mid-20^th century girl groups. It is built around lead vocalist Lydia Night. Their latest EP is titled How Do You Love?

 

            Recommend:“Dress Up” highlights their mashup traits. Are they serious or just having a goof? Yes. 

            Try: “Pumpkin” is quieter, but no less insouciant. 

 

 

If we head up the Left Coast to San Fran, you will find the blue/newgrass sounds of Scroggins and Rose. Tristan Scroggins plays mandolin and Grammy-nominated Alicia Rose the fiddle, though her classical chops might make you want to call it a “violin.” As the last comment suggests, their version newgrass–showcased on Curios–is more classically influenced than the usual jazz/trad mix. Their music takes some concentration, but it’s worth it.

 

            Recommend: “I Can Find a Way to Fix It” has Tristan in a minimalist mood. Alicia gets to do the fancy stuff.  

            Try:“Calabacitas is in the same vein, though the two trade fancy licks. You’ll hear how Rose garnered that Grammy nom. 

 

 

Cross the Bay to Oakland for a meet-and-greet with Lebanese/Arab-American singer Naima Shalhoub, whose Siphr is moody and melancholy, yet defiant. Shalhoub is a powerful singer with controlled vibrato. She’s also a social activist, which no doubt helps her put her special spin on the blues.

 

            Recommend: “Two Rivers” is sung in Arabic with lyrics drawn from the Book of Isaiah and guitar work suggestive of Tuareg blues. The song’s meaning is open to interpretation, as befits someone who has also mused over borderlands of other sorts

            Try: The bump-and-thump “Roumieh Prison Blues.”  Its namesake is an infamous overcrowded lockup in Lebanon where several violent protests have occurred. 

 

 

Hiss Golden Messenger is a folk/folk rock band out of Durham, North Carolina. They will be dropping a new album soon, but their 2019 Terms of Surender is worth investigating. They are anchored by lead vocalist/guitarist MC Taylor in a lineup that’s sometimes a solo, but also expands to as many as eight others. The approach shifts accordingly and invites handles such blues, rock, swamp rock, Americana, and bluegrass.

 

            Recommend: “I Need a Teacher,” which was inspired by a Tarheel state teachers’ strike. (NC is one of the worst places to be a teacher!) The song honors educators and their students. 

            Try: The title track “Terms of Surrender,” which has a bit of country flavoring.  

 

 

There’s something delightfully retro about The Sweater Set (Maureen Andary and Sara Curtin). This DC-area duo has been touring for more than a dozen years and recorded their latest release Fly on the Wall in 2018. Gigging was delayed first by maternity duties–both had a set of twins within months of each other–and, of course, the Covid shutdown. Theirs is folk with a bit of cowgirl lurking around the edges.

 

            Recommend: “Dawn Chorus” with its splash of clarinet, big rolling strums, and mellifluous harmonies.

            Try: “Hostage” is a love song with a retro feel.

 

 

The rock band Strange Ranger used to be called Sioux Falls. I gather they been based in Montana and Portland, Oregon, though a recent article places them in Philadelphia, so take you pick. It generally builds songs around the lead vox of Isaac Eiger. Their rock is of a softer, shimmery variety, and their latest record is 2019’s Remember the Rockets.

 

            Recommend: “Ari’s Song,” which opens to Fiona Woodman’s bird-like vocalizations before Eiger comes in with his high tenor. It’s more sunshine pop than rock. 

            Try: “Pete’s Hill,” highlights the band’s atmospheric approach. Don’t bother trying to make out the lyrics; lushness is the point.

 

            

Melody Duncan sounds British, though she’s actually an Atlanta native. Maybe it’s her lollipop girl group tones. She has toured with some of the biggies–Emmylou, Steve Earle, Brandi Carlilie, The Mulligan Brothers–but Wolf Song is a solo venture that has hints of folk, indie rock, and chamber-pop. My short take is that I like her fiddling, guitar, and keys but I’m just not a fan of little girl voices.

 

            Recommend: “Wolf Song,” which isn’t about four-legged critters per se.

            Try: “Paper,” which has the mentioned chamber-pop flair

 

Rob Weir

 

           

 

When the Stars Go Black a Tough Detective Novel

 

 

 

 

WHEN THE STARS GO DARK

By Paula McClain

Random House, 384 pages.

★★★★

 

Paula McClain is one of literature’s finest storytellers. When Stars Go Dark draws inspiration from a dark incident from 1993: the disappearance of 12-year-old Polly Klaas from her home in Petaluma, California. McClain uses that horrific incident to build a fictional tale that reminds us that high-profile cases often have the unintended effect of drawing interest away from those that don’t get as much media attention. They can blind investigators to smaller pieces that assemble a larger puzzle, or tempt them to force-fit ones that don’t match.

 

Detective Anna Hart, McClain’s protagonist, has numerous blinders of her own. She founded the Searchlight program that specializes in seeking missing girls, but fails to see how her obsession has made a hash of her personal life, or that deep-seated baggage bleeds into her work. Anna is tough and resilient, but prone to hard crashes. She is in Mendocino, where she came of age, as she and her husband need a break from each other. McClain drops hints about why this is the case, but skillfully dribbles out the details. We do know, though, that Anna’s crusty exterior formed when her mother died of a heroin overdose and young Anna and her siblings were separated by Child Services. Anna did not take well to foster care until she landed in Mendocino, where she was taken in by Hap and Eden, back-to-the-land naturalists. Hap taught her about surviving in the woods, where Anna also found solace.

 

Anna’s plan is to play hermit in a remote cabin and reevaluate a life filled with “heavy loss.” The first problem with that plan is that people remember her in Mendocino; the second is that a subteen girl named Cameron Hague has gone missing and it sure looks as if Sheriff Will Flood is out of his depth in searching for her. Several complications: Will was an old flame, Anna’s breasts are milk-swollen, she often zealously oversteps boundaries, and Cameron’s parents, Emily and Troy, are show business people seeking to avoid publicity. In situations such as this, parents are often the first suspects, plus the marriage is rocky, Cameron was adopted, and Troy’s brother Drew–now a vintner living in a palatial home in Napa–has a dodgy past (involving an underage girl) and is a pretentious jerk in the present.

 

As Anna pries, the dead-case unsolved murder of Jenny Ledford comes to light, as does the more recent disappearance of Shannon Russo and that of Polly Klaas. Are the four cases related? Russo, an older bad girl type, seems a different scenario, but Anna wants to check out everything, whether or not it’s her call. Nothing seems to add up, including the fact that Emily Hague flunked her polygraph test.

 

This is a gripping novel that pulls on the heart strings, albeit sometimes too tightly and too obviously. Like most detective/mystery tales, this one involves meticulous clue-searching, probing into the backgrounds of both the missing and suspects, tossing out rotted red herrings, and building to a carefully protected reveal. When the Stars Go Dark is also complicated by Anna’s own woes, things about Cameron about which her adopted parents were unaware, and a town filled with offbeat characters. Several of the last, including a psychic, ageing hippies, an artist, an English teacher, and a barmaid factor into the story. So too do dysfunctional families of several sorts.

 

In addition to the obvious metaphor of light being prematurely extinguished, the title also owes something to a poetry collection of the same name published by Jim McGarrah in 2009. Rilke, however, is our chief poetic suspect. In McClain’s novel, Anna, Cameron, and perhaps McClain herself are Rilke fans, especially of his poem “I Am Much Too Alone in This World Yet Not Alone.” As the title suggests, it’s also infused with double meanings. Cameron is also moved by Jane Eyre. Another clue?

 

I am usually a fan of mysteries in which the lead investigator is flawed rather than some know-it-all bafflegab who sees what no one else can. Anna Hart definitely falls into the first category and forces us to contemplate obsession as a double-edged sword. I also prefer those that ring true over the anodyne. I would not say that mystery is McLain’s métier, but When the Stars Go Dark is a welcome (albeit unsettling) digression.  

 

Rob Weir