Review
Gerard Brennan is blown away…
- Fifty Grand
- Henry Holt
Fifty Grand
It’s no secret that I’ve been left breathless by the Michael Forsythe trilogy, and Hidden River is one of the best mysteries I’ve read this year. Is it fair that he can blow me away again? No, it’s not.
His writing ability makes me want to cry my self-pitying soul to sleep. And I’ve lost more than a few hours reading, “Just one more chapter”, of his work. But unfair as it is that he did it four times in a row, it’s happened again in this, his fifth crime fiction novel. We’ll get it out of the way right now. FIFTY GRAND IS THE BEST THING MCKINTY HAS WRITTEN TO DATE!*
Set in Cuba, Mexico and Colorado, Fifty Grand introduces us to Detective Mercado of the Cuban police force, the PNR. McKinty has once again dipped into his well-travelled past to bring the backdrops to life. And his time as an illegal immigrant in America has given some extra depth to Mercado’s experiences in this fish-out-of-water mystery. The plot is steeped in paranoia, intrigue and cloak-and-dagger tension as Mercado stumbles (with purpose) about Denver, Colorado to solve a deeply personal case. Nobody escapes the understated, wry humour. Mother Cuba, American lifestyles, Scientology. I’ll not say McKinty has a pop at them all, because at the end of the day, Mercado is a fictional character, but some of the observations are pretty darn scathing.
With the recent release of the film Che, a book about modern Cuba is likely to garner quite a bit of interest. And that’s what this is. Even when posing (living and working) as an illegal Mexican immigrant in America, Mercado’s thoughts are never far from Havana. Time and again, America (as a country and concept) is compared to the Republic of Cuba, and in Mercado we find a reasonable judge. The reader might not agree with every conclusion presented, but each observation will leave you thinking. And that’s before you even consider the gripping mystery storyline (which I’m taking great pains not to spoil).
Spoilers or not, though, a mystery is not all you can expect from a McKinty book. Tight plot, exotic settings, taking the piss out of America. Any writer worth their salt can do this in their sleep. What most of them can’t do is write like McKinty. I’ll reread Fifty Grand, probably after I watch Che, and even though I know how it all pans out, I suspect the writing will hold my attention all over again.
Fifty Grand will suck you in with its Latin rhythm and leave you hankering for one more belt of rum. If I was a betting man and the credit crunch/recession would ever quit messing with my financial situation, I’d put a heap of money on Fifty Grand being the book that brings the type of attention to McKinty’s work that’s deserved. And giving his track record, when Serpent’s Tail re-re-release the Forsythe Trilogy, they’ll be laughing all the way to the bank. And fair play to them, says I. Fair play to them.
