Blacklist (V.I. Warshawski Novels (G.P. Putnam's Sons)) (Hardcover)

The mystery is a fine one, and makes good use of the over 400 pages to develop the story slowly . . . allowing it to age in your mind like fine wine does. I especially liked the way that V.I. encountered many emotional and physical problems during the story that delayed and complicated her investigations, much like happens in real life.

The book has two main weaknesses. First, it is too often preachy rather than illustrative or instructive. Second, Ms. Paretsky is too cynical for my taste about how much the powerful can get away with. She leaves us with the sense that we are powerless to protect those we love and ourselves from what the powerful want for their own personal agendas. Otherwise, I would have happily assigned this book five stars.

I would like to commend Ms. Paretsky for working some of the worst characteristics of the Patriot Act into her story, illustrating problems that too few people are aware of.

The story itself has two entertwined plot lines that coincidentally connect up on an empty estate. Late one night, V.I. is poking around to discover the source of some mysterious lights inside the supposedly locked and secure empty mansion. V.I. spots a teenager on the grounds and grabs a clue from her that leads to identifying who the teen is. Then, while traipsing around in the dark, V.I. falls into an ornamental pond . . . and discovers a dead man. The police aren't very interested in what happned to the dead man, and V.I.'s persistence is essential to reveal what really happened. Is he connected to the mysterious lights?

As I finished the story, I found myself thinking about Iago and all of the trouble he causes for Othello through his misrepresentations. We should be careful about how much we trust those in power. They may have hidden agendas that we are unaware of.

Blacklist, like the previous year's winner (Minette Walters' Fox Evil), is not a bad novel. Not by any means. Indeed, both are GOOD novels. But, while they are good, to make a claim that they're, individually, the best of their year is a rather obviously ludicrous. Neither have the style, prose, character, innovation, themes, originality, luminescence, freshness - whatever it is that contributes to a great crime novel - to set them out from the pack. I enjoyed both enough to mean that they're worthwhile reads, but nothing more. But, as well as having nothing to make them absolutely brilliant, they are also too flawed to be considered anything close to Best of the Year.

Blacklist suffers from a number of problems, some bigger than others. Mainly, it's just too long. At 556 pages, it could easily be a hundred less and a far better book (I found the same problem with Paretsky's last, Total Recall). The fact that its too long means: you loose interest somewhat in both he plot strands, and because they're relatively complex, this doesn't do you any favours. In the end, I largely gave up trying to understand the ins and outs of who did what when and why, and just accepted whatever Paretsky happened to be telling me at the time. This ain't a good groove to get into. There are really too many characters, too many families and intertwined histories - with their concomitant relationships and other complexities to make sense of - to give the book the effortless flow that Gold Dagger winners should normally have. It would be okay if Paretsky's writing or voice was involving or engaging enough, but it isn't. Now, don't get me wrong: there's nothing wrong with the writing OR the voice (both perfectly adequate; the writing is actually rather good; her witticisms are sly and clever and funny), but neither's special enough to absolutely grip you to the extent that any complexities just iron themselves out with the clarity of the writing (as would happen with a writer like Sarah Waters, whose wonderfully clear writing means that the complexities of books as labyrinthine and complex as Fingersmith are almost unnoticeable).

Warshawski is admirable, a fiery and attractive protagonist. But nothing spectacularly special. Serviceable, entertaining, engaging and human, yes, but she lacks the fascination of characters like Rebus or Javier Falcon, who can win awards by themselves alone.

Mostly, my complaint is that it's just a good book, rather than a great one (look for Mo Hayder's Tokyo, if you're looking for the great novel that should have probably won instead). It's very enjoyable until it starts to get too long, very easy to read until it gets too complex. It's been criticised for being too political, but I don't think that's really valid. It's not too political at all: in that respect, it's actually an excellent book (I've doubt that its political thematics were what won it the Gold Dagger; had it been published four or five years ago, it wouldn't have come within sniffing distance even of the shortlist, I doubt). It's a brilliant scream of rage, a cry for sanity. At times, it bristles with anger, anger at the way American society has been turned inside out, the way power has been seized on the back of a great tragedy by the stirring up of irrational hysteria. In that respect, yes, this book is excellent. As a crime novel, though, it's just good.