I wanted to like Philip Caputo's Some Rise by Sin a lot more than I did. It contains many of the elements that make for an exciting story, and it takes place in Sonora, a part of Mexico adjacent to Arizona, where I live for much of the year.
Caputo himself spends his winters in Patagonia, Arizona, south and east of Tucson. He knows the region and he has written extensively on border issues between Mexico and the United States. This novel profits from the research he did in writing his previous fictional work, Crossers.
Timothy Riordan, an American Franciscan, is the missionary priest of the parish in San Patricio de las Colinas. Some Rise by Sin is the story of his struggle over the sanctity of the confessional and the role he plays protecting his congregants in the war between Mexican authorities and proponents of the drug trade. Dr. Lisette Moreno, also an American, runs the town's free clinic. Her story parallels Riordan's as she brings health services to the town and surrounding countryside, while handling a troubled amorous relationship with Pamela Childress, a manic-depressive painter, who joins her in San Patricio after losing a teaching position at University of Arizona.
Caputo is an excellent reporter. He imparts a lot of information about law enforcement in Mexico, distinguishing the federal police from the military, and their rankings and overlapping area of responsibility in drug enforcement, as well as about two organizations involved in the drug trade: the Brotherhood (La Fraternidad), a quasi-religious cult that pledges allegiance to an icon, La Santa Muerte, and the Cartel, whose titular head is in hiding. He is knowledgeable about Catholicism and its rites as practiced in the United States and in Mexico, where the native cultures reinterpret the ceremonies surrounding Christmas and Easter.
Two events set the story in motion. First, a demonstration staged by a local militia, the autodefensa, is interrupted when army officers shoot into the crowd and kill two young bystanders. Second, when Riordan goes to the military installation to see if he can get Captain Valencia to make amends to the townspeople, the captain, together with a federal agent, Gregorio Bonham, seek Riordan's help in discovering which locals are complicit in the Brotherhood's smuggling operation.
None of the major characters is without a thorny past, least of all Riordan who regrets having compromising his vows in the States and while in Rome. Now, he is being asked to break the sanctity of the confessional.
Caputo can tell a good tale and manages the action in a couple key scenes brilliantly: an aborted attempt at capturing ringleaders at a birthday celebration, and Moreno's operation to remove a bullet under duress. Also, he does a good job mixing English and Spanish vernacular, though he doesn't come close to the finesse of description and dialogue in Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian and The Crossing.
Caputo is more reporter than novelist. His writing here is uneven. He is not a stylist. And he simply takes on too much. If this is primarily the story of a man's fall from grace, I should have felt more sympathy for Riordan's dilemma.
Part of me simply shouted: Yanqui Go Home!