Cypress Grove

Turner is an uncommon hero: former Memphis cop, former psychotherapist, ex-convict, having spent eleven years behind bars for shooting his partner. And James Sallis is an uncommon writer: moody, quirky, and lyrical, the perfect ingredients for this tale of murder and mystery in back water Tennessee. Turner is living out what's left of his life out in the remote cypress bayous when local Sheriff Lonnie Bates comes calling with a bottle of Wild Turkey and a problem. The body of a young man has been found, strung up behind a local barn, ritualistically murdered, spread eagled with a wooden stake through his heart - a bit more to handle than Bates' usual fare of drunken homeboys and treed cats. Turner agrees to use his big city detective street smarts to help out, and is soon hip deep in country eccentrics and, surprisingly, cult movies with Byzantine subplots. Those looking for a deep police procedural will be disappointed: the murder is only convenient background for Sallis to strut his literary acumen while rendering a gritty and poignant portrait of love, life, and relationships in the rural south. Hard hitting when not drifting lazily down a humid country path, Sallis understands pace and the powerful beauty of carefully chosen words. "Cypress Grove" is another fine example of one of American fiction's best writers at the top of his game. Try a detour down a dirt road off the more heavily traveled pedestrain mainstream brand of pop mysteries and take this short but dangerous walk with James Sallis.

James Salis doesn't just write a mystery novel. His book works brilliantly in several ways. It is a convincing and unpatronizing record of growing up in the backwaters of Louisiana to the escape to Memphis. Salis' ear for dialogue and eye for observation led a lyrical air in depicting how deeply external politics can affect internal thinking.

James Sallis tells stories. Wonderful stories. Rich in character, complex in plot and ultimately satisfying. In "Cypress Groves," we first meet Turner, a man who quickly reveals in his own thoughts his past: unwilling, but competent soldier; a Memphis cop who helped until a fateful day; then a convict; next a therapist and finally a man sitting on the porch of his cabin in the rural nowhere. Lonnie Bates pulls up one day in his jeep bearing a bottle of Wild Turkey. Sallis's mastery of storytelling and dialog is wonderfully demonstrated as Bates moves slowly to the real business at hand: enlisting Turner's in solving a local homicide. The characters are meticulously drawn. Flashbacks illuminate Turner's life, a device many authors mangle, but not Sallis. We meet Don Lee, deputy to Sheriff Bates. Val Bjorn, a lawyer for the state. The Mayor. The local, curmudgeonly doctor who doubles as coroner. Sallis beings this rustic locale to life with the small wrongs villagers bring to the sheriff's attention. This is not pulse-pounding adventure: you feel the slow pace of a small town where not much happens other than people being born, living out their lives and than dying. In this case, the victim, not a local, unknown meets a particularly gruesome untimely end. Bit by bit, Turner uncovers the facts. At heart a mystery, Sallis turns it into a brilliant tapestry of lives lived and unlived. The plot never misses a beat. No need for leaps of faith with Sallis: every tiny bit falls into place in due time, including a surprising ending that had its beginnings decades earlier and thousands of miles away. Save this one for a quiet night or two of reading, preferably with the lights turned down low and maybe some good music in the background. Sallis's storytelling is something to be savored slowly, like a fine wine. Jerry

Departing from his well-received series featuring New Orleans African-American PI Lew Griffin ("Ghost of a Flea," "The Long-Legged Fly"), Sallis introduces Turner (no first name), a Vietnam-vet, cop, ex-con and psychotherapist, who has chucked them all for an isolated cabin outside a backwater Tennessee town.He might be content to molder there, but the sheriff comes calling with a bottle of bourbon and a cry for help on a bizarre murder case - a homeless man with a stake driven through his chest and the mayor's mail in his pocket. Sure, Turner was a city homicide cop, but why would any self-respecting lawman seek out a man we already know spent 11 years in prison?It's a question that will have to wait. Sallis develops his story in parallel; the present investigation proceeds between alternating chapters exploring Turner's past. It's a history of abrupt starts and stops, of daring and competence, of tragedy and darkness, intelligence and pain. But in the present Turner moves cautiously into engagement with the people he meets, particularly the easy-going sheriff and another newcomer, a banjo-playing female attorney with the state cops.Sallis' atmospheric, poetic prose delineates the complexities of human relationships, often between the lines. Though his characters build from loss, this story is less dark than previous novels, but his sense of place is as deeply orienting as ever. There's suspense on both sides of the story, but Turner, without apparent effort or desire, takes command of center stage. A fine novel.

James Sallis unfolds Cypress Grove like reverse origami, showing the reader only one tantalizing piece at a time. In this beautifully-written book, two mysteries are gradually described: the present-time, ostensible mystery (a ritualistic murder of a homeless man in a small town) and the mystery of the detective himself, Turner, and how he came to be where and who he is. The former we simply watch in fascination, as we might a complex clockwork. The latter we are drawn inexorably into. We spiral down with Turner through the unavoidable tragedies of his life, only to emerge somewhat unexpectedly into the hopeful light of the ending. This is possibly Sallis' most openly optimistic book, but it loses none of his trademark style, seamlessly blending the hard-boiled with the sublime.