Disappointed. I'm a big Gruber fan and have read most of the novels under his name. We literary writers and readers often talk about to whom you can turn when you want a good escape read that is... well, GOOD. And I always say, Gruber, Gruber, Gruber. So I couldn't wait for this one, especially as I've been to Michoacan, and my son spent several months there during his gap year, though in the highlands, freaking me out with phone calls home like "Oh, hey mom, I hitchhiked down to such and such, and we got a ride from this dude who drove 5 hours out of his way to take us there, and some people would have been worried about kidnapping I guess, but everyone loves it that we're not afraid."
I don't usually like to review a book hot off the presses because I'm not interested in participating in the general response to a book or in driving sales or in summarizing plots and such. What I like to do is come here to talk about a book with other people who have read it.
So... As far as a review goes, what I'd say is yes, read this book, but not first. If you're new to Gruber, go read the Jimmy Paz books, starting with Tropic of Night (it's a bit of a slow start, but that's okay, savor it). Read The Good Son, which is maybe a not a perfect novel but more than worth your time. I'm afraid if you start with this you might stay away from the others.
The thing Gruber is so great at is, well--the woo-woo. He takes what in some literary (or, let's face it, not very literary) circles might be called the paranormal and normalizes it so plausibly that you think, as spooky as some of this is, I can see how this might be part of life, maybe even my life. Voodoo? Shape-shifting shaman, and I mean real ones? Possession? You might think it's all been done before, but not like this, not anthropologically and psychologically. So that there's a theory of sorcery that starts to make sense. Maybe. Not a theory for Gandalf's sorcery or Dresden's, but one that might account for what happens in a tribe that's been left to itself for all these years, and kept to its ancient traditions. What Castaneda discovered, if he hadn't made it up. So then along came the last novel, The Good Son, in which a Jungian psychologist is kidnapped by Pakistani terrorists and her son, a shape-changer of a different sort, raised both as an American and as a tribal Pakistani, goes after her. That book was so layered, so dense with spirituality and identity and parent/child relationship and the history of Afghanistan and Pakistan and the nature of tribalism.... I didn't even care if it worked as a novel. Every page was a wonder.
I'm sorry to say that The Return does not meet the same standard. Marder, the main character, is not as interesting as any of the other characters Gruber's created before (Jane Doe of the first novel, Tropic of Night, is far and away the best; I have ever been sorry that she was not the star of the next two). He's meant to be a saint. I think the novel probably started out as a meditation on saints/madmen/demons, but for some reason he chickened out, and this element is narrowed down to a page or two--a very interesting conversation in which the the local priest in Playa Diamente seems to be diagnosing Marder as a saint. It's unfortunate that this section is so thin, and even more unfortunate that our dude really does turn out to be a good guy (unlike the woman in The Good Son, who is far more ambiguous). This is the chewy stuff Gruber's fans come looking for; I felt like I was getting the filling for one single-stuff Oreo.
Also, really. You're a 60+ guy. You're this cerebral book editor and not in the best shape. But you're also a Vietnam Vet and you're a great shot with a gun. You just found out you're about to die. Oh, and guess what. You invested a few hundred thousand in Apple at just the right time, so you have millions. What should you do now?
Well?
Bingo! Fix Mexico!
This is Rambo for the bookish set. You can:
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a) buy that Hacienda on an island you always wanted. b) stock it with guns, and also, apparently, heroin. c) talk really tough and cool to some really bad and scary guys. d) save a couple of gorgeous damsels e) become a patron to the local peasants, even though of course you don't WANT to be such a feudal lord--you'll only do this if they MAKE you, and the whole idea of an American saving the day is totally patronizing in the first place, oh... never mind f) add in whatever else you can think of; it's probably in here.
For example, the friend you can leave under guard with the bad guys, because he can easily take on 20 armed drug traffickers.
Bullshit.
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But. I still read it because there were still lots of great Gruberisms. The wonderful descriptions, the combination of reverence and irreverence--the ability to appreciate culture without surrendering critical thinking--which swings in all directions. Gruber sees strengths in our culture, and flaws. Strengths in Mexican culture, and flaws. He isn't afraid to record what he observes. (This was one of the great elements of The Good Son--the son who was a member of both cultures and could freely comment on both, though Marder does not have as much of a pass in Mexico, IMO).
Sometimes Gruber gets odd, easily Googled things wrong. In the Good Son, the mother had worked in Pueblo, CO, a small town, where she counseled drunken Indians. It would be a stretch to drive, drunkenly or not, to and from any reservation to get therapy in Pueblo, pop 100K (~same as Boulder). Not to go on, but Pueblo in this case actually comes from the Spanish word for town, and not from the Indian settlements which were named from the Spanish word, too. Gruber probably means Cortez, Colorado, if he means Colorado at all, and not, say, Gallup, NM. And that's if we want to let the comment about drunken Indians slide. It's a minor error, but considering he's giving us a lot of information about Pakistan and Afghanistan that I want to believe him about, it made me a little skizzy. Regarding The Return, the local priest is supposed to be one of the "Tarascos," the indigenous los indios of Michoacan, but as I understand it, Tarascan is a term applied by outsiders and not one the Perepucha-speaking people use to characterize themselves. Iréchecua Tzintzuntzáni successfully resisted conquest by the Aztec and so it was not quite correct for the priest to say that his people (the implication being all of Mexico, ie the Azteca) fought a certain way and practiced their religion a certain way. The religious practices of the Tzintzuntzan state are not that well understood. Their pyramids were different from everyone else's. I'm sure they were violent, too. They seem to have had slaves, and to have worked more metal. But we don't know that much, really. Gruber's usually great at dealing with this type of complexity; not sure why he decided to dumb it down it here.
In The Good Son, Gruber made a point of distinguishing between real warriors in warrior cultures and soldiers in the American forces. Here, in The Return, he keeps calling Marder's sidekick Skelly, a buddy from the Vietnam War, a warrior, an egregious lapse in his previous discipline. Skelly might define himself this way, but he doesn't get to, because we do not have a warrior society.
But there are so many good things, even in a watered-down Gruber book like this one. The Vietnam flashbacks are mostly very interesting and vivid--I'm making a point of saying this because there are so many Vietnam books that say the same thing, and you're left with: mud, bugs, steam, trees, chaos, shooting, explosions, limbs, blood, pot. With only one or two exceptions, the descriptions here are different, though, and you should read the book if only for those. How the Ho Chi Minh Trail was really a road, for instance. What those hills look like today, if you were to go back... The transitions to the flashbacks, however, were rather awkward and old-fashioned, like those 70s TVs shows where they would make the screen go all wavy to let you know the character was entering a dream or remembering something. You don't have to do that anymore. I give an example below where he's meditating on smells. In the book, Gruber would then maybe have the character think how a particular smell reminded him of... and then okay, here comes the flashback. Or he will (can you believe it) experience what we're told is a sort of waking dream. You can just have this meditation on the smell of an eviscerated body and go straight to the memory without any of this clunky entry and then, OMG, the exit, where he shakes himself out of it. Just do the line breaks.
Which then--I have to say something about this, because it's a peeve--there are these other line breaks for NO REASON that I can see. So we have these overwritten transitions in some places, and then breaks in the middle of a POV while someone is, say, driving down the road, and then we break, and pick them up a few miles down the road. Why not just do a new paragraph there? I think it's just that we're all using Scrivener now and while writing sometimes we run out of momentum and create a new scene, and when we compile the file it leaves in these line breaks. But a scene break isn't always justified and writers/editors should go back and clean those up.
It's always great to find a thriller that has some concern for character, and if this book doesn't meet Gruber's usual standard, the people in the book are still well drawn. And it's not just that Gruber masters the language well. He even rises to beautiful at times. For example, after Marder's learned that he may die, he calls his daughter, not to give her the news, but to say goodbye without directly saying so:
"He... pushed the button to end the call. For an instant he felt he'd switched himself off, as if he'd already died."
On the way he weaves commentary into the narrative:
"She now decided it was time to use a program her father did not know about, which was not exactly a legal program either, but like most technically adept people of her generation, she had a fairly shriveled idea of what privacy and legality meant."
"She thought he (a date) might be more amenable to a sort of nonkosher favor later on, after a few drinks and some of those orgasms. ALthough she understood that most people got the favors promised before sex, she thought this dishonorable and corrupt."
"They said you couldn't remember smells as you could sounds and sights; the wiring wasn't there, apparently. He'd edited a book about that too, one of many on the mysteries of the brain. But he could recall the fact of experiencing a smell, and supposed everyone who'd had that experience remembered it, although it didn't often show up in accounts of war: what a human body smelled like when it was eviscerated by high explosives."
The problem is, of course, that Mexico apparently needs some white guy from America, however well meaning, to come down and save it. Of course, God does work in mysterious ways. OTOH, Marder heard a voice when he was in LAOS. And while it's true that he was raised Catholic, how are we to know it wasn't Buddha talking to him? Or one of the pre-Buddhism tribal Laotian spirits? There's so much more to be plumbed here and it really bothers me that Gruber so uncharacteristically did not take the opportunity.
One way out of the Great White Hope trap would been simply to have made the hero Latino. First-generation with roots in Michoacan, the state whose biggest export to El Norte is people. Or make him a priest doing liberation theology. Maybe he studied in America. All kinds of potential there.
No comments on the overall plot, because others have done that. It's a silly thriller. Normally it would have been redeemed by all the other cool things Gruber does, but it wasn't.
Dude. Hurry up with the next one. But you know. Okay to go slow if you'll go deep.
*****
I try to add some comments about the ebook version, nothing to do with the author's efforts. I always hope that somehow this will get back to the publisher, as there needs to be more attention paid to the quality of these products. I read on a Kobo, and overall I'd give this 3 of 5 stars. Some typos, some odd font decisions. All of the flashbacks were in a smaller font. Why? They're clearly delineated with line breaks set off by three stars. Most of these sections were too short to bother resizing, but I found them a bit uncomfortable to read. Note to anyone working with digital media: people over 40, and there are a lot of us, HATE small fonts. Quit using them. Just stop it altogether. There was no overall pagination, which I can never understand, just what page you're in in the chapter. Who cares? That's so weird. At least it's formatted like a book, rather than like a blog; ie, there are no line breaks between paras, which I hate.