Anyone who has taken the coastal route in or out of Maine is familiar with the unusual setting of the crucial elements in Kimball's latest noir thriller - the big I-95 bridge. The Maine author's steamy, riveting page-turner takes place in Kittery, ME, and Portsmouth, NH, and the primary action takes place on, or in the shadow of, that dominating bridge.
The book opens with a brief prologue: the protagonist, Jacob Winter, plummets from the top of the bridge, experiencing an untimely burst of insight, "seeing how things came to be." Part One drops back to find Jacob in jail for assaulting his former psychiatrist, Price Ashworth, after returning home early with his young son from a Red Sox game, to find his wife and the good doctor enjoying the aftermath of a romantic dinner. Though Jacob has only a blurred memory of the assault, there's no doubt he not only delivered the concussing blow, but destroyed much of the beautiful furniture he had made for the house over his 12-year marriage.
His wife has sent some significant belongings to the jail - a sleeping bag and his laptop computer among them - but has not bailed him out. That favor has fallen mysteriously to Alix Callahan, a woman Jacob has never spoken to, though he remembers her as a committed lesbian and powerful personality from his undergraduate days at the University of New Hampshire.
A struggling non-fiction writer with an "overactive" imagination, Jacob habitually organizes his life with scheduled lists and makes precision straight-lined, square-cornered furniture to keep himself anchored. His wife's infidelity - totally unexpected - (it's actually somewhat difficult to square Jacob's idyllic memories with the calculating harpy the reader sees)leaves him shaky and bewildered and terrified of losing 9-year-old Max. Despite the restraining order barring him from his home, he touches base with Max, downplaying the upheaval in their lives and delivering the advice Jacob himself struggles to live by, "Your head, not your heart."
Then he takes out the card Alix has left him: "GREEN GIRLS, the business card read. EXOTIC GROWERS." The address is on the Portsmouth side of the Piscataqua, on the banks of the river, under the span of the bridge. A huge greenhouse is attached to the back of the house. The greenhouse nurtures a pungent, humid jungle of South American rainforest plants and small poisonous frogs. As Alix leads Jacob in, a dark, beautiful woman, radiating intense sexuality, appears from the greenhouse. Alix introduces July and explains that she helped Jacob because she admires his writing.
" `I do have to admit,' Alix went on, `even though there are never any people in his books, something about his writing is extremely sensual. The fire in Baltimore? The commotion in the next berth? I'm not sure if he treats violence sexually or sex violently.' She gave July a pointed look. `Either way, I know you'd appreciate it.' " Jacob's books, we learn, are about things, like the train berth he occupied on the way home from his mother's funeral. Or the I-95 bridge he now chooses as the center of his first novel.
The friction between Alix and July (hiding from an abusive, murderous husband) is palpable, and Jacob wants nothing to do with them. But after another visit with his son, he finds July waiting for him, agitated over a fight with Alix. Moments later his cell phone summons him to the big bridge from which Alix, after a short, cryptic exchange, jumps. Jake keeps saying he can't get involved, but it's too late. Alix's body is not recovered and July's Columbian shaman husband - the one who tried to kill her - has broken out of prison and is on his way.
The erotic tension runs high as the action heats up from all sides, entangling Jacob deeper in a web of deceit, suspicion, mysticism and murder. There's a strong James M. Cain feel to the edgy mix of steamy eroticism and dark double dealing in which Jacob's judgment is fatefully faulty and erratic and absolutely no one can be trusted - except Max.
Kimball ("Undone," "Mouth to Mouth") puts the bridge at the center of the story as an object of grace and beauty, magnificence and deadly danger, and invests it with a powerful character that is not in the least anthropomorphic. Though plot and atmosphere drive the book as much as character, Jacob draws the reader with his earnest grit and hapless inability to live by his mantra: "head not heart."