Hard Rain

This is the eleventh book in Janwillem van de Wetering's famous series about the Amsterdam police force and is something of a masterpiece in a series that is noted for exceptional writing. A death that might be an assassination and a group of junkie art thieves who suddenly die from using uncut heroin start a story that pits the commissaris against a boyhood antagonist who has become a crime king. For the first time we see both sides of this fatherly old man - the wry, wise-cracking senior officer who can turn into an avenging angel with little or no warning. Aiding the commissaris are two able and eccentric officers, Sargeant de Gier and Adjutant Grijpstra. These two have played jazz, meditated, and painted their way the many volumes. They manage to be both detectives and plotters, lulling the reader with their easy banter while the tear holes in alibis and commit outrages in the spirit of justice. Villains my find themselves the victims of police heists when de Gier and Gripstra enter the scene. This time the target of the investigation is Willem Fernandus, and urbane and powerful sociopath whose position in society is almost unassailable. The commissaris and his troops find themselves the victims of corruption in the very police force they serve and wind up carrying on a freelance hunt for the tricks that will bring Fernandus down. But Fernandus and the police in his pocket have made so many enemies that the detectives soon find they have almost too many volunteers - a police secretary plays prostitute, a host of witnesses move into the commissaris' house, and civil servants jump ship. The comedy masks grim truths, and van de Wetering reminds us just often enough that the Fernandus is the pleasant face that masks the horrors of organized crime. For all that the commissaris' quest is a personal one, his target really is genuinely evil - a man who has abandoned everything except his own satisfaction. But the world he has created for himself is the means of his undoing as the three knights (and a host of supporters) collaborate to unravel his power. Into all of this is mixed just enough literary and philosophical material to remind us that thinking and police work are not necessarily mutually exclusive. And that action and good writing can happen at the same time. Hard Rain does depend on the character work that preceded it, so the reader will get the most out of it by starting earlier in the series. But you won't want to miss this when it is time to read it.

Way back when I had never heard of Janwillem van de Wetering, I picked up one of his novels off of a pile of used books just 'cause I liked the cover so much. Plus, I was out of ideas about what to read, having just suffered through a long exam period at school, which had left my brain feeling like a well-squeezed sponge. Anyway, I read "Hard Rain" in one night, finding that it was totally impossible to leave Grijpstra and de Gier and the commisaris in mid-chase. I won't give away the plot of this or any of the other great books that feature this oddball trio, but I will say that they are just about my favorite paperback detectives ever. I mean, yes, I still enjoy reading about Adam Dalgleish and Reg Wexford and Inspector Morse, but nobody's quite as likeable van de Wetering's characters, nor as much pure fun. Grijpstra is an out-of-shape realist with a fondness for drumming and a distinct lack of fondness for a nagging wife, de Gier is a judo-expert trumpet player who seeks answers to life's questions in Zen and women, and the commisaris is a keen-eyed old father-figure to both who keeps a pet turtle in his little garden. The three of them pursue murderers and other evil-doers through mostly non-traditional methods, reminding me sometimes of Hammett's Continental Op, who liked to throw monkey wrenches rather than follow clues, since that way he could often short-cut his way to a solution. In other words, the Grijpstra and de Gier books aren't really about solving puzzles, and really, the plots are often not nearly as important as the interplay of characters and the fleeting glimpses into the quirky texture of life in non-picturesque Amsterdam. So, what I'm saying is, read at least one of the Grijpstra and de Gier books, just for the heck of it. But be aware that there's a pretty good chance you'll get addicted. Oh, and I still think the covers are great, at least the ones in the Soho Crime series; I have to put that plug in, though it's irrelevant to the stories, just because I'm a big fan of good book design.