I have been a fan of Michael Connelly for years. I have particularly liked his Detective, Hieronymus Bosch. I love the way he drives me around Los Angeles, a city I don’t know, and makes it a city I want to know, one that I think I know as I read, smiling at the familiar suburb names, road names, canyon names as they were more than words on a page.
I saw Michael Connelly ages ago at a Sydney Writers’ Festival and he disappointed me. I’m not entirely sure what I wanted, but what I got was a grumpy old man who did not seem to be pleased to there, did not seem pleased to be talking about this thing that he does that the entire audience loved – this character of Los Angeles. He sounded petulant and entitled and right, no matter what.
So, I didn’t read anything new that he published for several years. Until last week. I read what is the third installment the in Lincoln Lawyer series. I have read the first one, now I have read The Reversal.
In this novel, I was reading the grumpy old man I saw at the Sydney Writers’ Festival all those years ago. Harry Bosch had morphed from reflective to entitled. His internalising of things became the petulance of someone with something (unidentified) to prove. His detective skills transformed into keeping things secret lest anybody suggest a different route or way of thinking.
The story is told from the dual perspectives of Mickey Haller (the Lincoln lawyer), in first person, and Harry Bosch, in third person. All this served to highlight is that both of these characters are the same. Just different ages and perhaps their vanities are slightly different. But both are chauvinistic, even more so from pretending that they are not. Both need to prove themselves and in doing this they are simply a pair of prats.
Crime fiction has been a great love of mine. I think my heart is breaking.