Henry Hayden, hedonist and
best selling author – make that best selling and adored author, the toast of
every book signing - has a problem. Just
a sec, he has more than A problem. He
lives on an anthill of problems, bringing pleasure, but also spoiling his
picnic.
Nevertheless, his wife loves
him for all his faults. He loves her, as
he should since she’s the silent author of all his best sellers, and therefore
directly responsible for the celebrity status he so richly enjoys.
They live in a home worthy of
an architectural magazine article. He
drives an eye-catching compliment to Italian luxury. He’s swamped by fanfare in restaurants and
grocery stores.
Oh, there is one more
thing: His mistress is carrying his
child. Something must be done about
that. An endless steam of possibilities
roam Henry’s self-centered world. Not
that he entertains objections about any of them.
Sascha Arango, in his very
first novel, creates that most interesting of characters, an ambitious,
multi-faceted rogue, with an uncanny sense of self-preservation. Exposure lurks around every corner and in his
struggle to survive, Henry has to peer around all of them.
You ask yourself: What would I do? But, that’s not a fair question. For most of us, moral objections loom large,
so let’s put it to Henry: What should he
do? Confess all to a loving wife? Convince his mistress to have the abortion
she does not want? For Henry, whichever
choice he makes, self-protection and preservation of lifestyle are the beacons
that guide his way.
Yes, it’s quirky, so you may
well ask: Why did I pick up this
book? I like to be entertained. More and
more I’ve turned to European authors, especially if they are male and
German. The finely etched characters
stand out. (The Collini Case: http://stroudallover.blogspot.de/2014/09/the-colllini-case.html) But also, so many European plots avoid the
expected flow of the wide-river stories, and instead follow the personal tributaries,
and rivulets that trickle in unexpected directions and lead to unexpected
results. Another thing I like is the
cohesiveness. Everything leads toward
the character and the plot. No irrelevant
angst and dithering to fill fifteen pages with useless verbiage. In a word, leanness. Europeans write their mysteries
sparsely. No distracting fat, and the
prosaic knife cuts almost unexpectedly straight to the bone.
The Truth and Other Lies is
one such mystery. As you read, you’ll
constantly ask: What happens next? Good luck.
Think the laugh-out-loud bits make this a comedic novel? Good luck with that one, too.
You’re going to pick this
novel up and become so involved, so quickly that anybody who interrupts you is
going to be met with a barrage of verbal gunfire. Oh, yeah, it’s that kind of book.
