As for Me, I'd Prefer an "Absence of Malice"
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Author: Robert K. Tanenbaum
Title: Malice Genre: mystery Does anyone remember the "me generation"? You know, that pack of people completely convinced that the universe spun on its axis solely for them and that the sun rose only so they'd have good light to pick up the morning newspaper off the porch? It's small wonder that Robert Tanenbaum penned the first novels featuring his iconic Karp-Ciampi clan during the heyday of that unlamented lost generation: anyone whose life story depends as much on happenstance, coincidence, and blind luck as the Karp-Ciampi bunch would have to believe that he was the center of the universe. The problem, of course, is that - even granting sufficient room for the requisite "willing suspension of disbelief" - the plot of the latest in Tanenbaum's series, Malice, is fantastic. Sadly, I don't mean "fantastic" in the complimentary sense, I mean "highly unrealistic," or "outlandish." Yeah: it's that bad. Even though Tanenbaum's work has always depended on coincidences as a plot device to the point of abuse, Malice strikes a new low. Intended, one presumes, to be a backhand slap at neo-Nazis and other lowlife wannabe racial elites, the book detours through a conspiracy theory that makes the Trilateral Commission, Bohemian Grove, and anything Robert Ludlum ever published look like child's play. And, naturally, a monumental coincidence that involves the Karp-Ciampi axis of coincidence on two, no three different fronts scattered across most of a continent and several centuries. Here, see what I mean: Briefly, Tannenbaum's latest plot goes something like this... Recuperating in the family loft from a brace of bullet wounds sustained while saving the Pope from a madman allied with not only Russian spies, but also Islamic Fundamentalist terrorists; Butch Karp finds himself getting a little antsy. Luckily, an old friend in an eensy-beansy town in Idaho (of all places!) calls and asks him to help with a wrongful termination case (duh - he's the District Attorney of Manhattan - isn't that out of his jurisdiction?). Butch not only agrees, he even sends his lovely one-eyed-forty-something-but-still-sexy-as-hell wife Marlene Ciampi (half pit-bull lawyer, half killer feminist bodyguard) and Clay Fulton, the Manhattan DA's top investigator, to the Rockies to do some legwork. The two, naturally, stumble (in rapid succession) upon a conspiracy, a murder, and a good old-fashioned town boss straight out of some yellowing dime western. That's not to mention the armed Aryan Nations-type compound just outside of town... Not to be outdone by happenings in a flyover state out west, NYC ups the ante by ginning up a conspiracy that dates back to the revolutionary war - one of those laughable Ludlumesque things in which the seat at the conference table is passed from father to first-born son, and which has (naturally) injected its nasty little ultracon tentacles into every branch of government, industry, finance, and (for all we know) the judges' table on "American Idol." Tanenbaum being Tanenbaum, of course, readers will learn that there is a deeply-buried genetic connection between the little brownshirt camp in Idaho and that ancient order of "whackos from some ex-British protectorate" in NYC; and - of course - the entire messy clan of Karps and Ciampis, not to mention their friendly local Pueblo Indian cops, ex-Vietcong soldiers, polyglot daughters, and rangy cowboy sons-outlaw will come together to make certain that right prevails. Unfortunately by that time, most readers will be thoroughly sick of the whole affair. Tanenbaum's work has always suffered from an excess of coincidences and "just happens tos" - oddly enough, he even makes reference to a "coincidence" (it was a doozy, for whatever that's worth) in one of his back-story lectures near the opening of the book. The hoary old star-chamber cum ancient order conspiracy, unfortunately, is aged enough to need botox injections - and, under the not-so-gentle ministrations of Tanenbaum's stilted writing, probably needs a stimulant to stay awake as well. This, my friends, is one dull and formulaic book. The reader who likes his or her stories logical (or at least mostly so) and entertaining will want to give Malice a wide berth. Heck, even Tanenbaum fans will probably turn up their noses at it all content copyright © 2001-present by scmrak
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