John Culuris's Reviews > The Black Ice

Most forms of entertainment come with the expectation that the follow-up to well-received debut will invariably fail to reach the same level of quality. Lack of time is almost always the reason. Take television for example. The first episode of a series is often the pilot; when it gets picked up there is rush to get production up and running and traditionally it is the second episode that most displays the signs of “just get it out.” With movies, an unexpected hit receives a release date for the sequel while the creators are just beginning to organize the logistics. Musicians and comedians are not immune. While honing their craft in the clubs, they develop a great reservoir of materiel to draw upon for their first CD or TV special. Once it is released, though, for the most part they have to create their sophomore effort from scratch, often under the pressure of expectations and, of course, a deadline. (Although, honestly, I’m not sure how the advent of YouTube has affected the dynamic regarding musicians.)

With literature the disparity is not as great. The second novel receives skills and attention that can only be acquired by completing that first manuscript, but this is often offset by a well-thought-out story and the fifteen thousand polishes the first effort is given. And again time enters the picture. Unless the writer is a celebrity, who presumably brings with him a built-in following--and since instant bestseller status is too rare to be counted on--publishers want to build an author’s audience with successive offerings. That second book comes with a deadline. Often it is the third book--with the deadline experience now added to the writer’s toolset--that gives us an accurate reflection of who the author is to be. With Black Ice, Michael Connelly’s second outing, I got what I expected.

When a week-old suicide is discovered at a rundown cheap motel, an Assistant Chief of the LAPD takes over the case even before Harry Bosch, the detective on call, can be notified. This immediately tells the entire precinct that the victim is Calexico Moore, a member of the division’s undercover drug unit who had been missing for about the same amount of time. Because Moore was suspected of being dirty, the higher-ups are happy to call it suicide and close the books. Harry is not as sure, but with little access to the case there is not a lot he can do. Back to his assigned work, soon another case intersects with Moore’s orbit. And then a file--back in 1993 this meant a folder containing actually papers--is relayed to Bosch from the deceased, a man with whom Harry had only once before had an interaction of any substance. Detectives do not believe in coincidence. Neither do readers of detective novels. Harry Bosch and Michael Connelly set about explaining them: most during the natural course of the investigation, all by the conclusion.

In his second outing Harry Bosch seems a little less rough around the edges. He is no longer rude to people trying to help him. He genuinely regrets lying to a man who enthusiastically assists him in his research. And while Bosch will still take advantage of any relationship that will aid his cause, he also pays back that help when he gets the opportunity. I attribute this more to the evolution of the author than that of the character. Connelly has learned how to preserve Bosch’s loner status without causing reader to wonder how this man could possibly have any real friends. The Harry Bosch in this book would still never be the first invited to a party, absolutely true, but neither would people pretend every seat is taken to prevent him joining their table.

Black Ice is not a perfect novel. After an intriguing start Connelly makes the ensuing complications too intricate and too compact in too short a period of time. And the final confrontation does not play as smoothly as one would hope (i.e. too much explanation). The rest is high-quality, vintage Connelly. That’s correct, two novels in and there is a “vintage” Connelly. I believe in the rule cited above: if the first is great, the second will drop off and the third will steady up and begin trending toward the quality of the first--and hopefully beyond. I came to this book with great anticipation precisely because it was Connelly’s second outing. Now I’m really looking forward to #3, The Concrete Blonde.

FAIR WARNING: There are graphic descriptions of a bull fight that may prove disturbing to some.