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Michael Connelly

Where did Michael Connelly come from?

He was a reporter--just as Laura Lippman was a reporter. And Jane Harper.

At some point mid-career, Connelly decided to write a novel, and it won a major prize, right off the bat. Connelly values art; he bought a home just because it had played a role in another writer's work, and he also has a large print of Bosch's "Hell," a painting from the 1490s, in his office.

The painting "Hell" is an example of world-building. It has many fantastical characters--bumping into one another, pursuing idiosyncratic agendas. Connelly thinks of his own work in the way Bosch may have thought of "Hell": Connelly has invented a world, and he returns to it again and again, adding complications.

(This is also how Louise Penny views her work. Three Pines, the fictional town she has invented, serves as a kind of escape for her. Part of the fun of her books--which I find intermittently irritating--is knowing that you'll inevitably revisit the little snowy town, the bookstore, the bistro with the warm croissants.)

Connelly gave his most famous character the name "Bosch"--as a tip of the hat to the artist--and he has occasionally left Bosch behind when he has felt himself growing bored. He has invented new protagonists, and then he has found himself introducing these protagonists to Bosch. New people help the reader to see Bosch from new angles. And this has allowed Bosch to stay in the spotlight for around thirty years. (One of Connelly's early fans was Bill Clinton--while Bill was still in office--and a snapshot of Bill with a Connelly book meant a major change in Connelly's career.)

Right now, Dan Mallory is in the press for having written a formulaic thriller, "The Woman in the Window," that seems to "borrow" from around twenty or thirty other literary works. What strikes me about Connelly--now that I've moved away from Mallory--is how consistently *not formulaic* his work is.

Take "Dark Sacred Night," Connelly's most recent novel. I have no idea where this slightly over-stuffed book is going. There are a couple of main plots, but then there are some diversions thrown in, simply because they are fascinating to the author. At one point, Ballard, one of our protagonists, investigates a Louis CK-esque character who may have anally raped a groupie. But: Surprise. It turns out the comic has inserted hidden cameras in his bedroom *specifically to avoid false charges* ...The comic doesn't want these tapes used as evidence, because he doesn't want the public learning about the more-sordid aspects of his personal life. Would you encounter this character elsewhere in fiction? I know I haven't seen him in other people's work.

Connelly is clearly interested in the MeToo movement, and he has Ballard repeatedly ignored by male colleagues because she has (correctly) reported a cop-on-cop sexual assault in her own past. Ballard watches the "boys-will-be-boys" subtext at work in various scenarios, and you wonder how Connelly, an elderly straight male novelist, acquired the empathy that has fueled his career.

Routinely, scenes veer off into territory you hadn't anticipated. A rogue cap finds a way to evade Bosch as soon as Bosch has uncovered the truth; before we know it, the rogue cap is hanging himself with his own necktie. A strange bump on a living-room rug may mean that the rug really belongs in the dining room--and, also, the rug might be covering up hastily-washed blood stains from a recent murder. Cops are continuously struggling to be inventive; waiting for a warrant isn't always an option, but one doesn't want to look bad in court, so one strategically "forgets" one's flashlight in an apartment-of-interest now and then. ("Sir? Do you mind if I just step in and take a look around for my flashlight?")

It's not news to praise Connelly; beyond Bill Clinton, Marilyn Stasio and Tom Perrotta are also outspoken fans.

But sometimes people overlook writers simply because the name doesn't seem to have enough "literary credibility." So I want to fight that. Connelly's work is some of the most fun I've had on the subway, and in the library. I'm delighted that he isn't showing any signs of slowing down.

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