IQ by Joe Ide: A review

I recently read a review of Joe Ide's (pronounced ee-day) just published new entry in this series and was intrigued by it. I wanted to read it, but the reviewer cautioned me that I really needed to start with the first book and read them in the order published. Rats!

Well, the good news is that I don't have to go back to 1984 and read thirty books in order to get to the one I actually wanted to read. No, the first book, IQ, was published just two years ago and the latest one is the third in the series. It seemed doable. And that's how I came to be introduced to Isaiah Quintabe - IQ.

Isaiah is an African-American man from one of Los Angeles' toughest neighborhoods. He lost both of his parents when he was quite young and he was raised by an older brother, Marcus, whom he idolized.

Marcus was a jack-of-all-trades and a young man of great integrity and a high moral standard and he set about teaching all of that to his younger brother. Isaiah was a prodigy, possessed of a remarkable intelligence and reasoning ability, and Marcus devoted himself to making sure that his brother had a chance to get the best education and a chance to succeed in life.

The future was full of promise for both brothers. Then, when Isaiah was sixteen, they were out walking and Marcus started to cross a street when he was mowed down by a hit and run driver. He died on the pavement in front of Isaiah's shocked eyes.

So, at sixteen, Isaiah had to figure out how to make it on his own. It took some time but he arrived at a strategy which involved quitting school, taking multiple low-paying jobs, and taking in a roommate to help pay the rent.

That roommate is Dobson, who makes his living dealing drugs, but at least he keeps the drugs far separate from his living space and he turns out to be a neat housekeeper and a pretty good cook! Things are looking up.

When money gets tight for Isaiah, he and Dobson turn to a career in burglary which eventually goes all wrong and entails long term consequences and obligations for both their lives.

The part of the novel I've just described takes place in 2005. The action of the novel switches back and forth between 2005 and 2013. By the later date, Isaiah has recognized his calling in life which is to be a sort of latter-day Sherlock Holmes, helping people by solving their mysteries for them. In payment, he receives whatever his client can afford, often payment in kind with services or goods.

But finally he needs a good paying job because he needs some money to meet one of those obligations I mentioned. Dobson introduces him to a rapper who is being threatened and believes his estranged wife is behind it. He wants an investigator to prove it and he's willing to pay big bucks for the work.

Isaiah agrees to take the job which leads him into conflict with some real lowlifes, not to mention a giant and vicious pit bull and a lunatic professional hit man. The case gets more and more complicated the further he gets into it and he wonders if he'll ever be able to solve it. More urgently, will he come out of it alive?

Joe Ide has created an appealing character in Isaiah and has given him an interesting and complicated backstory. Moreover, he's a character who seems to have room for growth and, even more importantly, an ability to grow. I think he may be able spin a lengthy and successful series from those ingredients.

As for the plot of this one, well, it kept my interest, although I felt it drag a bit at times. But not a bad first effort. I think it's worth three-and-a-half stars but, generous soul that I am, I'll give it four.

My rating: 4 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

Search This Blog