Currently, I am reading John Guzlowski’s new novel, Little Altar Boy. Full disclosure, John was my thesis director back in grad school another lifetime ago.
I’ve seen the book described as a cop procedural. It’s more than that too. There’s mystery, literary thoughts about war, prejudice, parenthood, and crime.
The story follows the protagonist, Hank, and his partner Marvin as they try to solve a complicated murder during 1960s Chicago. That aspect of the story keeps you guessing as to who might have done it… so it succeeds where it really needs to succeed as a crime/mystery novel.
If you’re already interested in purchasing, you can find it: here
A second investigation happens as well. Hank’s daughter, nineteen years old, goes missing. At first it’s just a matter of “Is she pushing the limits of her own freedom, letting her parents know she can come and go as she pleases?” But Hank knows in his heart, given the pot she’s been smoking and the questionable crowd she’s been running with, that things probably aren’t that innocent. And, as more and more days pass without her return, he and Marvin begin to follow leads that might lead to her.
They question foot soldier drug dealers, friends of Margaret’s (the daughter), and eventually find themselves getting into a pretty seedy story/situation. Hank’s followed the leads of plenty of seedy stories, but never one involving his own offspring. We see him worrying, magically thinking that the past can return, drinking more and more, and losing sleep. These are important scenes to reveal how he’s feeling. It’s hitting this tough old buzzard pretty hard.
But a scene I read last night was so beautifully rendered that I had to blog about it. In terms of craft, I’m not even sure what it would be called. Hank and Marvin are questioning Ernesto, a member of a gang, but also a sometimes reliable informant. He might have a lead that could turn up Margaret. And so, they go to Ernesto’s to question him and find out more about the drug dealer boy that Margaret has been running with. Near the end of their interview, Ernesto hypothesizes that they could have been taken by gang members from the South Side. Here’s the scene:
Here’s what I really love about this scene. Guzlowski knows that we have already seen Hank worry and fret and paralyze himself with concern. Here he is hearing the worst possible news: His daughter might be in the hands of a nefarious gang. As a cop, he knows exactly what that means.
But, instead of having us live directly with how Hank ingests this news, he shows it to us so subtly through Ernesto. They’ve been sitting, talking, and all three of them drinking from Ernesto’s Jack Daniels. Ernesto’s flat makes it clear that he’s not swimming in money. He’s not particularly close to Hank. He’s an informant, but he’s another cop’s informant. Hank is meeting him for the first time.
But, what must Ernesto see in Hank’s demeanor/his face to be so struck with empathy that he offers the bottle of Jack to Marvin to take to Hank?
This handling of things is so subtle, so nuanced. And I think it made me imagine Hank’s pain more than if I would have had it described to me through Hank’s POV.
I see Hank through Ernesto’s eyes. Hank’s overcome, skin paling, face fallen. He just has to leave... has to walk away from the overwhelming news that his daughter and this Willy character are “fucked” if they’ve fallen prey to this gang.
None of this is described, but the way it’s handled works so well. Ernesto, not someone you’re lead to believe would be capable of great sympathy or charity (a guy who runs with his own gang and has seen things and done things) still is moved enough by Hank’s pain that he hands over what might be the only liquor he has in his place.
This truly make me feel Hank’s pain. It makes me wonder too if my own writing could use some subtle, masterfully handled scenes like this one. Guzlowski truly puts his secondary character to use in this scene.
It's another level in "Show Don't Tell".
ReplyDeleteI think that's a great way to describe it!
ReplyDelete