I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door I must have it painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facin' up, when your whole world is black
(lyrics from The Rolling Stones)
It’s a black, bleak world that Martin Solares paints in his debut novel, a city riddled with corruption where drug lords, power hungry politicians, venal union leaders and bought officers of the law dine together in fancy restaurants while little girls are kidnapped, raped and murdered with impunity.
A young reporter who investigates the decades old unsolved serial murder case is killed. The disillusioned old trooper on the police force who tries to get the threads untangled is first hobbled by his bosses and then put in hospital in a hit and run accident. While recuperating, he browses throught he notes of the young officer who first investigated the case, all those years ago.
And the picture that is gradually revealed turns into darker and darker shades of black.
Son of a fucking bitch, Romero thought. Everybody’s come to an agreement: the government agrees, the president agrees, they made their agreement over the girls’ dead bodies. As happens everywhere, the city grew up around its tombs.
The detectives are modelled clearly on the noir canon. Ramon Cabrera, also known as El Maceton (“The Big Flowerpot”) is elderly, cranky, cynical, heavy fisted, heavy drinker, in a disfunctional marriage. ( Their last fight was over the remote control. His wife complained they never talk anymore, that he was always quiet, that he only wanted to make love and then watch TV. ). He is also persistent, methodic, considerate, honest : as a result he’s shunned and ridiculed by most of his colleagues as a sort of dinosaur, out of touch with reality.
Vicente Rangel Gonzales is a misfit, accidentally brought into the police force by his legendary uncle, Don Miguel Rivera, who recognized the sharp intelligence and the iron core of integrity in the apparently aimless young man of the seventies. I see him in my mind as a Latino version of Serpico, “an idealist in a sea of corruption” as Solares puts it.
With strong leading characters, colourful setting, sharp dialogue and gruesome murders, the novel has the key ingredients of a good police procedural. Solares is not content with writing a noir homage though. He goes for the highbrow literary angle with an incredible skill for a debut author. His mastery of timeshifts, his ability to insert politics, religion, economics, popular culture into the narrative, his skill at creating memorable secondary characters and to evoke their inner turmoil in terse paragraphs – all speak of a major talent and of a novel that transcends the genre limitations to address the most important issues of the individual and of society.
The town of Paracuan described in the book is fictional, but its portrayal was so convincing that I actually did a search for the state of Tamaulipas to try to identify the author’s source of inspiration. I have only to think of the news coming out of Mexico in recent years (kidnappings, corruption, political grandstanding, innocents caught up in the middle of a merciless war) to realize that the ‘mean streets’ of Raymond Chandler have migrated South of the Border, where the people are in dire need of detectives like Cabrera or Rangel.
At times, he felt like reality actually consisted of several layers of lies, one piled on top of another.
---
Easter Eggs:
- B Traven, the reclusive author of The Tresure of Sierra Madre makes a cameo appearance, with references also to John Ford and the making of the movie.
- Alfonso Cuiroz Quaron, a famous criminologist, has a whole section of the novel narrated from his POV.
- there’s a leit-motiv of a poster of Cola Drinks that keeps popping out in the text, not unlike the eyes in F Scott Fitzgerald’s Gatsby. A metaphor for the menacing presence of the Big Brother to the North?
Recommended!
Thanks to the Pulp Fiction group for pointing this gem out to me!