The Dramatist

Poor Jack Taylor! No Matter how hard he tries to stay clean and sober, and to stop smoking, there's always something that comes along ansd just sets him back once again. Tyis excellent series gets better with each book and Jack grows (and then diminishes) with each new issue. This one doesn't at first appear to be too much of a trouble, and should not have any adverse effect on Jack, but the reader always suspects in the back of his or her mind that something is bound to happen. Just when the main plot is solved (with another trial of bodies following him) and Jack tries to breathe a sigh of relief, fate intervenes and creates a terrible tragedy for him. There is sort of an epilogue, but we'll just have to wait for the next book to discover how Jack handles (or doesn't) this latest calamity to befall him.

There is some small injustice in describing Ken Bruen's "The Dramatist" as simply "noir". While all of Bruen's writing is bleak - in-your-face crime fiction with no regard for inane political correctness or modern niceties, "The Dramatist" reads like a chainsaw to the gut - an emotional tour de force that will leave fragments of Bruen's broken prose haunting your subconscious weeks after you've turned the last page. Yeah, this is black - Stygian black, about as dark as fiction gets. Galway ex-Guard Jack Taylor is back, who as a favor to his imprisoned former drug dealer is pulled into the investigation of the death of a college student. The apparently accidental fall down a boarding house staircase, while tragic, looks benign enough. Except for the unexplained volume of Irish playwright J.M. Synge ("A Playboy of the Western World") tucked under her body. But what seems to initially be an unexplained coincidence turns sinister when a similar fate visits another student. As expected from Burke, the mystery of the apparent murders, while compelling, fades a bit into the background under the ferocity and intensity of the irreverent and unrepentant Jack Taylor. And as always, the ridiculously well read Bruen spices this bare-knuckled tale with an eclectic collection of quotes from Synge (as expected), Robert Crais, James Lee Burke, Sean Burke, Matthew Stokoe, and several more. The Irish melancholy and fatalism reads as thick as a Galway sea fret as Taylor lumbers through the crimes and busted love affairs as well, leading to a climax that while fitting with the tone and timbre, nonetheless hit me like a two-by-four between the eyes. The prolific Bruen continues to write like nobody in the business today. I'll concede, if you enjoy beautiful action hero-type people straight from People Magazine, complete with neat and happy little endings to wrap them up, then Bruen's jagged tales of sparsely written brutality may have you billing OT with your analyst. But if you're looking for that off-the-beaten track maverick who'd prefer to rewrite the genre than follow the pack, get to know this guy.

This is the fourth novel in Bruen's dark and brooding Galway series. Jack Taylor is battered by nearly every sling and arrow the Fates can muster, but he is still standing. Bruen is both moralist and philosopher as he chronicles Taylor's journey through a life rife with violence and devoid of any apparent meaning. This is a world where, as Vonnegut might say, God has gone out for a coffee break and forgotten to come back. Taylor, a profoundly imperfect alcoholic, does his best to follow his own moral compass. He tries to do the right thing. When moved to violence he is like the left hand of an absent god. Or is he the Devil's Right Hand? It's hard to say. His personal tragedies and hardships have approached Job like proportions. As Samuel B. would say: "I can't go on. I'll go on." Don't let Bruen's fondness for quoting Thomas Merton or Pascal fool you though. These novels are still ripping good entertainment despite the philosophical underpinnings. Yup, they're "Noir" alright. And Hank Williams was a "country singer". So what? The univeral themes of literature change very little, if at all. Bruen is not a slave to the form of the "crime novel". He uses that form to express himself much as a fine guitarist might use a 12-bar blues as a basis for the most individualistic or idiosyncratic playing. These novels have the weight and heft of a well-used hurley, or 'camaan', the ancient Irish weapon-cum-sporting implement that Taylor both delivers and receives lessons with. Take a firm but relaxed grip and swoosh it through the air. Think about the scumbag down the block who sold crank to your teenage nephew. What are you gonna do next?

Jack Taylor gone sober? Teetotaling makes the ex-policeman more morose than usual, if that's possible. Perpetually trudging through life with an attitude that could shrivel steel, Jack without the booze --- well, let's just say it isn't pretty. Stewart, Jack's ex-drug dealer --- current drug dealer until a stint in Mountjoy Prison interrupted business --- asks Jack to look into the death of his sister, Sarah. Jack reluctantly agrees to check it out, but his heart isn't really in it. He's not only been sober for months, he's been involuntarily celibate. Whether due to either of those two factors or another of his numerous woes, his mind has a tendency to wander, sidetracking him with a vengeance. In addition to everything else he's dealing with, he's trying to avoid the question of what to do about his ailing mother. Despite his crushing personal problems, Jack manages to do a fair bit of investigating. And his investigation turns up some stunning irregularities surrounding Sarah's death --- irregularities that are peculiar enough to make him want to delve a little deeper. It dawns on him that he may be looking at murder here. When there's another death with identical circumstances, Jack is more than convinced. But he can't seem to get anyone else to care. Along comes Margaret, who miraculously takes an interest in poor Jack, and he allows himself to wallow in happiness for a little while. But he should know better than to let his guard down. Good stuff just doesn't happen to Jack. Then, while recuperating from an encounter with an old girlfriend's new husband, he runs afoul of the Pikemen, vigilante guards with a vow to take up where the law leaves off. They proudly don't deny responsibility for a couple of recent brutal attacks. And they aren't very nice to Jack. So just where do they fit into his investigation? Meanwhile, the "swan killer" from somewhere in his past keeps showing up at odd times, almost as though he were stalking Jack --- but why? He says it's to thank him and because he wants them to be friends. Jack, as you might imagine, is dubious. Could there be a connection to the dead girls? As always, Jack's mouth brings him a great deal of pain, some of it emotional but much of it physical. He can't seem to maintain control --- of his life or his tongue. Now, as he's starting to feel pretty darned good about things, they go bad --- spectacularly bad. "An event was coming down the pike, already shaping in its black destructive energy and preparing to rip my life in pieces, pieces that would never be restored." The "event" will leave you gasping. Truly, Jack may never recover from this one. While Ken Bruen's stories are really a powerful character study of Jack Taylor, a man headed toward self-destruction, he manages to work in a mystery around the edges. But it's not the mystery that's compelling. It's simply Jack and his outlook on life. This Jack Taylor installment will rock your world --- way more than the first three. ---

Ken Bruen's writing is exceptional. It's tight, involving, brutal, funny, and tragic all at the same time. While there is a mystery here, it is really the study of Jack that is the focus. Although I recognized the killer fairly early on, and I saw the end coming just before it happened, it made the end no less shattering. This is not an emotionally easy series to read, and certainly not for the cozy reader, but one I cannot rate highly enough.