Nine Dragons by Michael Connelly: A review

Is Michael Connelly bored with Harry Bosch? Hard to believe and yet three consecutive entries in this series have been sub-par, with this one being the weakest of the lot. Connelly is still going strong with the series; this one is number 15 and there are six more to go as I write this. Each new book still shows up on the best seller list, so maybe he got fresh inspiration and the books got better after this one, but that doesn't lessen my disappointment.

The book starts off interestingly enough and with the fast pace that we've come to expect from Connelly. The owner of a small liquor shop in South L.A. is shot to death in his shop. His name was John Li and he was known to Bosch from years before when he took refuge in the shop when he was working to control a riot in the area. He feels deeply moved by the man's death and promises his family that he will find his killer.

It soon develops that cultural differences will play a part in the investigation. The murdered man was of Chinese heritage and Bosch and his partner discover information that leads to the conclusion that Li was paying protection money to a Chinese gang called a triad which has its roots back in China. Bosch requests assistance from the Asian Gangs Unit and is joined by a detective named David Chu.

Unfortunately, this book reveals Bosch to be something of a self-righteous jerk with a problem of prejudice against Chinese dating back to his experiences during the Vietnam War. He treats his partner, who was shot and seriously injured on duty several months before, in an extremely high-handed and insensitive manner, and he allows his prejudice against Chinese to affect his working relationship with David Chu.

Bosch has always been fanatically devoted and single-minded in the pursuit of his mission, which is to catch murderers, and anyone who is any less driven than him is suspect. That is his problem with his young partner, Ignacio Ferras, who has a wife and three young kids and, for some reason, would like to occasionally spend time with them. Harry can't accept that.

Moreover, he is suspicious of the AGU detective, Chu, believing he may be somehow involved with the triads himself.

The investigation moves along but really isn't making much headway and then Harry receives some horrifying personal news. Apparently, his 13-year-old daughter, Madeline, who lives in Hong Kong with his ex-wife, Eleanor Wish, has been kidnapped. The message that he receives leads him to believe that she's being held by the triad in order to influence his investigation.

And this is where the story really goes off the rails.

Harry flies to Hong Kong (for the weekend, because surely he can clear this all up in a couple of days!) to find and rescue his daughter, and there he performs pretty much as he does back in L.A. He seems right at home and able to function well even though he's only been to Hong Kong a few times and doesn't speak Chinese. True, he has the help of his ex-wife and her good friend/lover, but still, I just found this whole twist in the plot unbelievable. There were too many coincidences, and his ability to follow the "clues" was head-shakingly unlikely. I mean, I know Harry's good, but nobody is this good!

Was there ever any doubt that it would all work out and Harry and his daughter would be on a plane back to the States by the end of the weekend? Never mind the fact that he left a trail of unexplained dead bodies behind him in Hong Kong.

I love Harry Bosch and I have very much enjoyed this series on the whole, but this one didn't do it for me. Here's hoping the next one, when I get around to it, will be better.

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

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...

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 ...

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. ...

The Nature of Things

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