Skip to main content

The Black Ice by Michael Connelly: A review

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This second in Michael Connelly's popular Harry Bosch series was published twenty years ago in 1993, but it still seems fresh today. Reading it actually reminded me quite a lot of watching Breaking Bad with its aura of violence from Mexican drug cartels and the introduction of a new drug - in this case, something called "black ice."

Harry is still relegated to the Hollywood Division, apparently the armpit of the LAPD, where he continues to investigate homicides in his own inimitable independent fashion. It's a fashion which does not endear him to his superiors.

This particular case starts with him investigating the death of a low level criminal whom no one seems to care much about. He follows a lead to the narcotics division and he meets with an LAPD narcotics officer to try to get more information. Sometime later, a corpse that appears to be that same LAPD narcotics officer is found in a seedy hotel room. His face has been blown away by a shotgun blast and the police quickly mark the death down as a suicide.

It's not Harry's case, but he gets involved anyway and some things about the death don't add up for him. There are some inexplicable details at the crime scene, plus he keeps running into connections with the dead narcotics officer in other cases that he is investigating.

Also, there is the fact that Harry is sent to notify the deceased's widow of his death and he is immediately attracted to her. The attraction seems mutual.

As is his habit, he decides to follow the trail wherever it leads. In this instance, it leads him to Mexico and into a dangerous labyrinth of shifting identities and deadly corruption. How can he determine who can be trusted in this netherworld?

His contact with the Drug Enforcement Agency warns him not to trust anyone in the Mexican police forces or government, and yet his instinct tells him that one of the men that he meets with is trustworthy and he partners with him in his investigations in Mexicali. The narcotics officer who was killed had connections in Mexicali and the suspicion is that he had "broken bad" and was working with the drug dealers.

Meanwhile, another LAPD police officer is murdered, and, again, it is someone that Harry had just met with to get information before he headed to Mexico. Do we see a pattern developing here? Is someone trying to frame Harry?

The LAPD brass insist that Harry come home immediately, but, of course, he doesn't. He continues his investigation, collecting clues, following his instincts all the way to their conclusion.

Michael Connelly is really a very good writer. He plots his stories carefully. He creates characters - especially his main character - that are interesting. The characters engage the reader and make her want to know how things are going to work out - or not - for them. Moreover, he is able to build a sense of excitement that keeps one turning the pages to find out what's going to happen next.

Obviously, I am coming late to this series, but I find that is no barrier to my enjoyment of it. There are many more Harry Bosch books and I look forward to reading them all.


View all my reviews

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...
19 comments
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...
6 comments
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...
24 comments
Read more