Book Review

By Derryll White

Crais, Robert (1989).  Stalking the Angel.

            “To be angry is to waste life,” she said, “one must have a great heart.” – Robert Crais

James Ellroy describes this novel as “a righteous California book,” which is high praise from a very good writer who claims Los Angeles as his own skin.  ‘Stalking the Angel’ comes from the very beginning of Robert Crais’ illustrious career, the second of his novels to be published.  He has written 19 Elvis Cole/ Joe Pike novels as well as four stand-alone works.

Robert Crais went to school with Robert B. Parker.  Not really, but he claims him as an early influence and he has picked up the best of Parker’s nuances – laughter and outrageous poise.  Elvis Cole, the author’s main character, has learned a lot from Parker’s Spenser, most particularly the incessant flow of witty wisecracks.  Robert Crais travels in excellent company.

This is a story with morals and sadness. It sweeps the reader incredibly high with dynamic action and then plunges to oceanic depths with moral reality and abject sadness. There are no winners here except the reader.  The Hagakure, a 13th-century Japanese manuscript by Yamamoto, is stolen.  It is a practical and spiritual guide for a warrior.  The theft charts the course for private detective Elvis Cole, and even more clearly for his partner, Joe Pike.

Crais offers the reader an opportunity to examine life and how one lives it, and ultimately to reflect on what truth is.

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“The way of the warrior is death.”

Excerpts from the novel:

LOS ANGELES – I put the Corvette out onto Santa Monica and cruised west through Beverly Hills and the upper run of Century City, then north up Beverly Glen past rows of palm trees and stuccoed apartment houses and Persian-owned construction projects.  L.A. in late June is bright.  With the smog pressed down by an inversion layer, the sky turns white and the sun glares brilliantly from signs and awnings and reflective building glass and deep-waxed fenders and miles and miles of modern chrome bumpers.  There were shirtless kids with skateboards on their way into Westwood and older women with big hats coming back from markets and construction workers tearing up the streets. And Hispanic women waiting for buses and everybody wore sunglasses.  It looked like a Rayban commercial

RICH GIRLS – “Don’t you think they look like clones?” she said.  They have no individuality.  They’re scared of being unique, and therefore alone, so they mask their fear by sameness and denigrate those who do not share their fear.”

HONOUR – Pike took a bit of egg off my plate and held it up for the cat.  “You were doing your best for her, something that no one in her life has ever done.”

    “Sure.”  Mr. Convinced.

    “Ever since the Nam, you’ve worked to hang on to the childhood part of yourself.  Only here’s a kid who never had a childhood and you wanted to get some for her before it was too late.”  Joe Pike moved his head and you could see the cat reflected in his glasses.  The cat finished the bit of egg.

    I said, “I want to find her, Joe.  I want to bring her back.”

    He didn’t move.

    “I want to finish it.”

– Derryll White once wrote books but now chooses to read and write about them.  When not reading he writes history for the web at www.basininstitute.org.

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