"Truth" is a superior police thriller set in Melbourne, Victoria. Plot, character, setting and style reinforce one another brilliantly to make a rich, dark and satisfying whole.
Stephen Villani is Melbourne's Head of Homicide. In this book - which despite the minor reappearance of some characters from the also excellent "The Broken Shore" is standalone rather than part of a series - Villani faces two major cases. In the first, a young woman is found murdered in a VIP apartment in the city's new casino complex; in the second, three thugs are found tortured and murdered in the suburb of Oakleigh. This description does not do justice to Temple's extraordinary weave of sub-plot and sub-sub-plot. "Truth" encompasses politics, business, the media, race, intra-team and inter-team police dynamics, family issues across three generations, adultery, bush fires, technology, corruption and ghosts, both threatening and benign. A story diagram for "Truth" would look like the wiring blueprint for an Airbus A380. Yet, Temple pulls it off. The reader does not get lost but rather is absorbed in a complex and vaguely disturbing world.
Temple does not lose the reader because all the strands are held together in Steve Villani's head. He has a sharp and fluid intelligence and an internal compass that largely keeps him level despite the almost overwhelming accumulation of stresses and events. The rest of the large cast is strong too, ranging from Villani's tough gruff father, through Dove, his aboriginal assistant, and Rose Quirk the mother of a man killed by the police in an earlier case to various examples of Victoria's great and not- so-good.
"Truth's" Australian setting is refreshing, along with its idiom of barbies, sunnies, long blacks (a type of coffee), branchstackers (your guess is as good as mine) and Blind Freddy. It meets the crime book's challenge of finding something new without dragging us into the dreary depths of the Scandinavian soul or the artificial fog of Victorian London. Melbourne, here, is a complete world at once familiar and unfamiliar to the average British or American reader.
Temple writes beautifully. He favors short, tight sentences but does not write down to his readers. This is intelligent prose, with powerful images, flashes of humor and convincing dialogue. There is plenty of torque.
Temple's publishers have made comparisons to Coetze and Wolfe but this is not a novel that aspires to transcend the crime genre. It is satisfied to perfect it.