The Black Echo

Here is my review from my blog; not for promotion, but to inform that this pasted blog is not plagiarized, as Amazon apparently thought one of my pasted reviews was, on their store's site:

This 1992 debut novel of Michael Connelly, and of his classic police detective character, Harry (Hieronymus) Bosch, is nothing short of genius. Harry is a rebel in every way, but his motives are good. We know that the road to hell can be paved with good intentions, and Harry reflects at one point that he thinks his heart is hardened, but his actions are those of a man who has made mistakes, hates falsehood, and takes good turns frequently, no matter the cost to himself.

His partner in “crime”, Eleanor Wish, is somewhat of a kindred spirit, and she works with him from her FBI perch. The crime is a bank caper, but the details are far grittier and complex than the word, “caper” usually evokes in me. Vietnam, street hustlers and tunnel digging figure strongly, and the 508 page paperback edition I read was a slow burn that turned into a page turner halfway through and a raging fire at the end.

Peripheral characters include a pair not unlike Shakespeare's Rosencrantz & Guildenstern if not seemingly anti-semitic, an IAD higher-up who seems like a stooge, and some allied to Bosch, often risking their careers to aid the trusty detective. These characters alternatingly provide dark comic relief, realistic scientific aspects and fraternal help. The supporting cast lend to the plot machinations and contrast that added to my enjoyment.

I was at a family member's home a few years ago and got my pick of several paper shopping bags of books that the person was getting rid of. She said that I could take any and all items wanted, with one stipulation: If I was to dispose of any, I had to sell or donate them; I was not to throw them out. This caveat was not difficult for the son of a book-buyer/librarian, but I am finicky or hesitant, and I only took two volumes of maybe two dozen.

One volume was The Last Mile, by David Baldacci, my Star Wars-like introduction to the great Amos Decker character, the second in the series, thus the Star Wars reference. The other was a book by Michael Connelly about Harry Bosch. I started with the Connelly book, but could not get into it, feeling it was “monochromatic”, with little coloring, no variety.

I then delved into The Last Mile, by Baldacci, and was immediately pleased to identify with the pathos, struggles, successes, and later, even wry humor, of the characters. There was no romance, but there was some chemistry with the primary female character, and the story won for me, hitting on all cylinders.

A couple of years later, my Mom loaned me a book by ‘Connelly, The Black Echo, a paperback from Grand Central, an imprint of Baldacci's firm, Hachette Book Group; a behemoth publisher. She mentioned its story about the detective and his mother, but later I learned she was referencing a different Bosch story.

I kept The Black Echo in the console of my car. Much like my reading glasses, I like to keep accompanying books everywhere I may be: A book in the car, an audiobook in that vehicle's CD player, something on our coffee table, dozens in our office that I like to think of as the library, some on my phone that I'm writing, and more.

When I was parked somewhere waiting, I'd read the book, but only got a little ways in. It seemed like the other ‘Connelly book I'd tried: a little singular in style, no variety. Much later, having exhausted other best reading options and wanting to find something new, I decided to give The Black Echo another try.

This time, I really got into it, and it was highly original and intriguing. There is some lurid content, but I didn't find that the author was tempting me, rather being factual and realistic. There is a lot of bad language, but not to a degree that I felt the writer either wanted to offend or was unable to tell the story without expletives. I had entered a dark tunnel, but while scary and forbidding, I wanted to get to the other side, and see the picture.

My strong feeling is that I was well rewarded. The Bible says that we can't hop the fence into Heaven, but must go through the strait gate and not slip around it. I'm not sure what path the fictional Harry Bosch, with his anger towards evangelists and people in authority is on, but I hope it has a good end. In this book, the character is one I very much admire, plunging into the darkness of humanity, in search of justice for those hurt by the caper.