Paretsky is one of a handful of writers I'd have to rank as the best living authors of detective fiction. I don't know that it's still meaningful to refer to her work as 'hard boiled' any more, but both Paretsky and her detective, VI Warshawski have evolved.
I always hate it when someone says a novel is so good it 'transcends the genre' because I think good mystery fiction is a genre that doesn't need to be 'transcending.' But this novel is about a lot of things--one's family past, a city's painful racial history, person loss, poverty and social injustice--and the detective tale is a framework that allows Paretsky to explore these issues. If 'Hardball' 'transcends' the genre, it's because the novel is so thoroughly IN the genre of detective fiction that it shows how genre fiction can create as serious a novel as 'literary' fiction can. Plus, this is still a damned fine read.
The impetus of the story is that VI (Vic to her friends) has been hired by to old ladies, one of whom is dying, to find out what happened to Lamont Gadsden, a 19 year old who diappeared a few days after a race riot in South Chiicago. It's a case Vic doesn't want to take for a number of reasons--it's a forty year old disappearance, the victim's own mother thinks her son is a gang banger who was up to no good, and the likelihood of being paid anything like what her time is worth is minimal.
About the same time, a young cousin named Petra shows up. She's the daughter of Vic's father's youngest brother, a man who was born after her father had grown up and was living on his own. Petra grew up in Kansas City, and has moved to Chicago to help the child of one of her father's sons as he runs for the US Senate.
As Vic delvers further into the case, she is warned off by nearly everyone--police, politicians, even many from Lamont's old neighborhood who say it is best to let the past be the past. ALong the way, as she gets to know Petra better, she relives some of her own past by showing her young relative family memorabilia and by taking her around to places where the family used to live.
Vic begins to realize both that some of the family history she has been given is inconsistent, as is the information about Lamont. Then, Petra disappears, and she must face the blame of her family for living a 'careless' life that endangers others.
Ultimately, the story comes out on multiple levels--she must confront the legacy of race left in Chicago those past thirty years, including police corruption that Vic is not sure her much beloved father was involved in or not. It turns out that, during the race riot, a young African American woman named Harmony was killed and one of Lamont's friends Steven was convicted of the murder; Vic's father was the arresting officer.
Steven was tortured into confessing; the mounting evidence suggests that it was not he who was the murderer and that the missing Lamont must have known who the killer was. Ultimately, old photos are found that shows clearly that it is the sentatorial candidate's father who killed Harmony (with a baseball that had nails driven into it, thus the novel's title), that Vic's uncle (petra's father) was present, and that a number of policemen conspired to protect 'their own' and pinned the murder on Vic.
It is also revealed that Vic's father tried to stop the totrurous interrogation techniques, filed a protest in the department, and ultimately ruined his career trying to bring about justice for Steve, the young man accused of killing Harmony. But it is also true that, outside the bounds of the justice system, he kept quiet to protect his own brother. Vic has a hard time reconciling these acts, wanting to believe her father was flawless and honorable, yet seeing both honor in his actions and dishonor in his silence.
Ultimately, it's a thoughtful novel. It confronts the past painfully but in a balanced way; although it does not condone white violence, it does attempt to recreate the time to show why poor immigrant whites, who'd faced their own discrimination to get a hold on a decent life, felt threatened by african-americans who were denied their rights. The novel shows that some people who are clearly "bad" men, such as a ganbmember responsible for many deaths, are capable of the occassional noble dead, as when the gang member save Dr. Martin Luther King's life.
Lamont has been dead a long time, but his family members can at least die knowing what happened to him, and with the knowledge that his death was brought about by his attempts to use the photographs to exonerate his friend Steve. Belated, but while he is still alive, Steve is exonerated. Those who committed or covered up crimes are called to account for it, and the City of Chicago must, very publically, investigate the wrongdoings of some of its officers.
This is a heck of a good book. It's a time of growth for Vic; it deals with serious issues in a balanced way, asking how people of good intent on both sides can get to the point that they are capable of viciousness, and it suggest, tentatively and without sap, that it is possible to achieve some understanding and move forward. Not all wounds heal, but those with them can recover to the point where they can go forward and not be defined by their wounds. So it is with people, so it is with Chicago and cities like them.
I like Paretsky so much because, unlike many other hardboiled detectives, her hero isn't static--she grows, changes, and develops. If you don't know VI Warshawski, she is well worth knowing. Each of the novels she appears in stands alone, so that it's not necessary to start at the beginning of the series to enjoy the current novel. Hardball is as good a place as any to start exploring Vic's world; I heartily recommend you start doing so.