bookpagedev

Dennis Birch’s life has taken an unsettling turn. As a Spanish-speaking baseball scout somewhere in Latin America, working for an unnamed major-league team, his future seems bleak. So when he is offered an opportunity that could be dangerous but extremely beneficial to his career, he is quick to take it. All he has to do is to fly to Cuba and help a phenomenal young pitcher named Ramon Diego Sagasta defect. While Birch’s mission seems simple enough, the environment of Castro’s Cuba has a way of undoing the best ideas. Rather than the boisterous atmosphere of modern-day Havana, Birch finds himself in a small, dingy room in a small, dirty town full of suspicious people. The simple plan goes awry when Birch, in a false attempt at macho bravado, insults his young charge and receives in reply a piece of fruit hurled at fastball speed. When he awakens, he realizes that he and the young pitching phenom have literally missed the boat. Birch attempts to set things right, but as his understanding of his companion increases, he finds his priorities shifting. Things are starting to get really dangerous.

First-time novelist Brian Shawver has an easy way with language, and his descriptions can conjure up both revulsion, in the person of Charlie Dance an obese, obscene excuse of a man who gives Birch his marching orders and poignancy, as the narrator watches Sagasta’s last meal with his family. The plotting is crisp and quick, and the surprise ending will confound most readers’ expectations.

The Cuban Prospect is, ultimately, a compelling look at the human condition. It is about the ways we treat each other, both cruelly and humanely; the depths we go to and the sacrifices we are willing to make to get what we want; and how we all manage to achieve our own personal redemption. James Neal Webb can’t wait for spring training to start.

In 1961, Halley Martin returns to Homeland, Florida, from prison, after doing 20 years of hard time. His arrival nearly coincides with a fire that destroys the home of Preacher Ned Jeffries, who is severely burned in the blaze.

These two events in Richard Yancey’s impressive debut novel aren’t actually linked, but the men are. Halley (named for the comet) and Preacher Ned share not just an old acquaintance they each harbor an unquenchable passion for Ned’s stunningly beautiful wife, Mavis.

Some 20 years before, Halley rashly committed a murder, apparently on Mavis’ behalf, following an accusation of rape; he was a silent admirer of the young woman, who was the sheltered daughter of a wealthy businessman. Years later, Ned pressed an advantage afforded by financial necessity and managed to convince the mature and desperate Mavis to marry him.

A Burning in Homeland is really a fateful love triangle of a peculiarly Southern variety. Yancey, also an actor and playwright, exhibits a good feel for drama and atmosphere; his imagery is simply splendid. The language is lush, as befits the setting, and the characters often fall victim to their own overwrought emotions as Preacher Ned does during his climactic sermon (or tirade) on the occasion of his homecoming. And, as all the townsfolk expect, there’s an inevitable march toward what Halley calls a “reckoning” between himself and the preacher.

But, also true to form, and to Richard Yancey’s credit, the final confrontation demonstrates that there can be no making up for lost time or missed chances, no redeeming act of vengeance in answer to a perceived betrayal. There may only be tragic mistakes.

Mavis remarks to Halley that life is a compromise between necessity and desire. It’s a simple and obvious truth, but, in his first novel, Yancey refreshes it with insight and vigor. Harold Parker writes from Gallatin, Tennessee.

What if, say, God were a Manhattan father named Blaine who cures his son of cancer, discusses theology with a Catholic priest and proves his divinity by winning $100,000 playing blackjack at the Bellagio in Vegas? Well, He isn’t, but in this deliciously intriguing first novel by Mike Bryan, Blaine does exist sort of.

Bryan, writing as himself (or so it seems), claims The Afterword is indeed the lengthy afterword to The Deity Next Door, a fabricated piece of fiction that spent 102 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. Detailing the aforementioned Blaine’s process of discovering and dealing with his unique circumstances, the novel-within-a-novel explores the parallels between the new deity and Jesus, as well as the author’s explanation of how the story was written. Though a bit dizzying at first, The Afterword quickly establishes itself once Bryan focuses on telling the actual story of Blaine. What follows is a wide-ranging inquiry into such weighty topics as religion, faith and the human condition. Bryan handles these adroitly, peppering his exploration with Biblical quotes and references from a diverse collection of other sources (fictional friends and acquaintances, supposedly true tales from the field of psychology); what emerges is a thoughtful, sensitive investigation into matters spiritual. Yet the novel refuses to let itself be labeled merely an interesting work of theological fiction, for Bryan adds a layer of authorial intrusion that pulls the reader further into this piece of clever post-modern prose.

One way to read The Afterword is as the extended conversation that would result if the author were asked, “So, how does a book come about?” Bryan dodges the more difficult task of actually writing The Deity Next Door, since he essentially provides an outline of that story (albeit one saturated with fascinating theoretical plot twists and strands of character development that didn’t pan out) without the burden of adding a skin of dialogue, description, and other accoutrements of the modern novel. But we learn enough of Blaine the Possible Messiah to recognize him as an ordinary, likable man who just happens, maybe, to possess omnipotence. He asks questions about his predicament just like anyone else would, and the trappings of divinity do not sit easily on him. Bryan certainly deserves praise for creating such a character, even if He exists solely within the confines of Mike Bryan’s considerable imagination. Michael Paulson is a teacher in Baltimore.