Author: John Roberts

Spectres in the Smoke is Tony Broadbent’s second novel, following The Smoke. The successful cat burglar Jethro pulls a caper against Oswald Mosley’s neo-Nazis this time, with some loose ends to clean up afterwards. Hoping Broadbent stays on a roll here, and more Jethro novels are coming.

I was hoping The Sand Pebbles by Richard McKenna would be a lost classic of historical fiction. Maybe it was better as a film, but I suffered through this book, only finishing it because of pure stubbornness. Skip it.

Several of the books I’ve read this summer were enjoyable, but they won’t earn a lasting place on the shelves. The Egyptologist from Arthur Phillips will. Layered with wonderful madness, The Egyptologist illuminates the reader without ever letting the characters in on the secret. The self-deception of the lead character is willful, horrific, and terribly, morbidly funny. Not an easy start, The Egyptologist accelerates throughout.

Published in 2004, The Egyptologist earned a spot on Stephen King’s top ten list for 2006, based on when he read it.

Pathological liar of dubious identity goes bonkers while looking for a hidden tomb in the Egyptian desert after World War I. Tragic, pathetic, blackly funny…and with a strange, growing undercurrent of horror. You have never read a novel like it.

He’s right, I haven’t. I can’t even imagine anything like it. Phillips has a few earlier novels I may explore.

Note: I’m a sucker for those who create their own myths in the sands of Egypt, like Giovanni Battista Belzoni, on whom I spent too much time in college. On page 47, we read: “The ex-circus performer Belzoni’s exploits with the British consul Henry Salt.”

Like several of the books I bought this summer, I grabbed The Smoke at Compass Books in San Francisco International Airport (SFO). As much as I enjoy bookstores, I rarely step into them…better for the wallet. But I’m a sucker when travelling.

Anyway, the staff recommendation of Tony Broadbent‘s first book convinced me to weigh down my bag a bit more. Worth the weight, literally: it’s fun to peer into the life of a “moral” criminal, wrapped up in historical post-WWII London. Our cat burglar hero Jethro mixes Lovejoy and a more down-to-earth James Bond. A fun, fun find.

I have nothing to add to the volumes written about Raymond Chandler‘s masterpiece The Big Sleep, except that now I’ve read it.

Eric Ambler‘s Epitaph for a spy gently drags you in to noir on the south coast of France. A name to remember for a good read. (This was an early summer read, as I continue to slowly catch up with my “summer reading.”)

Never heard of Tim Krabbé (English bio) before, but was very happy to stumble across The Rider earlier this summer in an airport bookstore. While Krabbé is better known for his chess and his screenplays, he pedaled seriously on a bicycle earlier his his life. The Rider recounts a one-day race, as an amateur, from start to finish. Written in Dutch in 1978, the thin volume (148 pages) appeared in an English edition in 2002. I’ve only competed in one road race, but the mix of introspective dialogue and competitive evaluation feels spot on. Glad it was translated.

The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith started the tales of Precious Ramotswe, the Botswanan private detective. These stories are widely known, with a first movie coming to HBO soon. I enjoyed the introduction, and will look forward to the eight others in the series in future reading.

Kudos to those who put together Sunday Streets, closing off 5 miles of San Francisco streets for 4 hours on a Sunday morning. Labor Day Weekend often serves up pleasant weather, but this morning we didn’t even have to wait for the fog to burn off. Pure sun, and pleasant walking, biking, hula hooping, you-name-it weather. I don’t know the measurement of success, but I hope this trial run turns into a tradition. See you out there on September 14th, I hope.

From Vin, he of Sportscolumn and Favorite10 fame, I received Rollback, the best Robert J. Sawyer novel I’ve read to date. Per usual, simple premise opens rich exposition of some eternal questions. The narrator’s wife Sarah decoded an alien message (a la Carl Sagan’s Contact) long ago. Now, another message has arrived.

But Sarah is 87 years old and failing, like her husband. To keep her alive for the message interpretation, a very wealthy software mogul pays for her body to be “rolled back” for extra life, via gene rejuvenation. Sarah insists that her husband Don also receive the expensive treatment, to resigned acceptance.

The twist? The rejuvenation only works for Don. Exploration ensues of what’s it like to be young again, with all the knowledge of a life fully lived already. What pulls you in is the mixed emotions of Don’s family, from wife Sarah to children and grandchildren. The rejuvenation brings his appearance and strength back to that of a man in his 20s, and he finds himself attracted to a young woman scientist who is much like his wife Sarah when they first met 60-odd years ago. It’s complicated, but interesting without being preachy. I’d recommend this novel ahead of other Sawyer books, and before many others generally.

Sawyer always blends multiple scientific themes in his stories, without ever leaving the human personalities behind. In this one, he does it all very well. Rollback was a Hugo Award finalist in 2008. If Rollback didn’t win, then I want to read the other finalists.