‘Fighting Edge,’ By Margaret Mizushima (Crooked Lane)
In Colorado, Deputy Mattie Walker makes a welfare check and discovers the body of a young mother with her hysterical toddler nearby. The woman had been trafficked as a teen. Is her abusive boyfriend the killer, or has someone from her past murdered her?
Before Mattie can investigate, she stops a speeding motorist, whose behavior makes her suspicious. Sure enough, Mattie’s K-9 dog Robo finds drugs in the spare tire. Mattie suspects a more serious crime when she sees a terrified Mexican teenage boy crouching in the car. Mattie believes the boy is being trafficked as part of a forced labor ring.
Could the two cases be linked? Well, of course, they can.
A short time later, the body of the dead mother’s boyfriend is found buried on the ranch of a dog breeder. Then Mattie’s new husband, veterinarian Cole Walker, discovers cowed teenage workers at a puppy mill. Sounds like a job for Robo, the amazing K-9 dog.
Author Margaret Mizushima has built quite a following for Mattie and Robo in her 11-book Timber Creek K-9 Mysteries series. Mattie has gone from a newly minted cop with a devastating backstory to a competent police officer. She’s also a new wife and stepmother, which brings its own set of challenges. A stepdaughter struggles to adjust to the changing family dynamics, and the relationship isn’t helped when Mattie misses a family therapy session for work.
In her other mysteries, Mizushima makes readers feel like they’re part of Mattie and Robo’s lives. “Fighting Edge” is no different. It will leave fans waiting for the next book.
‘True North,’ By Paul Theroux (Mariner Books)
At the start of “True North,” Paul Theroux writes that this will probably be the last of his on-the-road books. Of course, he reneges in the end, and thatap a good thing, because this book is, well, just a bit disappointing for a last hurrah. He has the talent to write a better book. Maybe “True North” is disappointing because Canada is so much like us. And letap face it, Canada isn’t exactly an exotic country.
Of course, this is Paul Theroux, so he could probably make a trip down Denver’s West Colfax interesting.
Theroux starts his road trip with a nasty confrontation at the border. Guards manage to fine him $500 for not declaring a pocket knife, which they call a dangerous weapon. Theroux gets even by describing the encounter and naming names in the book. We should all have that opportunity.
He spends a fourth of the book in Quebec, Canada’s largest province. Perhaps thatap because his family settled there more than 300 years ago. He is constantly running into distant cousins. They always seem to speak French to each other, which is why there is an abundance of French phrases, too many, if you ask me.
As Theroux wends his way (during several trips) across Canada to Vancouver, he encounters an inordinate number of foreign-born Canadians. One in five Canadians was born elsewhere. America assimilates newcomers, Theroux writes. In Canada they often live in ethno-bubbles. Conversations about immigration run throughout the book. So do feelings about America’s current president. (Theroux never names Donald Trump.) Theroux didn’t run into anyone who was enthusiastic about becoming part of the U.S. In fact, the idea has made usually iconic Canadians put up Maple Leaf flags and anti-America signs.
As in his other books, Theroux peppers “True North” with literary references and stories about other places he has visited and people he’s met. It gets a little show-offy. In his defense, the guy’s been everywhere on the planet over the years and interviewed everybody but Mother Theresa (or maybe he has). And if you’re driving a thousand miles through the middle of nowhere past snow-covered fields, what is there to say?
“True North” is not Theroux’s best book, but he is a superb writer, and well worth reading.
‘Plastic Shaman,’ By Annette McGivney (Torrey House)
In 2009, a group of self-help devotees at a retreat in Arizona participated in a sweat lodge ceremony. Guru James Arthur Ray, who’d been feted on the Oprah and Larry King shows, was in charge, although he was what the Native Americans called a plastic (or fake) shaman. With no training in Native rituals, he built a lodge that held twice as many people as usual in a ceremony. He covered the sweat lodge with plastic tarps to hold in the heat. Instead of throwing dippersful of water, he threw gallons of water on the heated rocks, increasing the temperature and steam. When participants escaped the tent, vomiting or passing out, he bullied them into returning.
Three died. Ray went to prison for two years. He claimed the event humbled him, but once released, he went right back to peddling his expensive seminars and retreats.
Ray, who died several years ago, was the most egregious of America’s self-help purveyors, according to Cortez writer Annette McGivney in “Plastic Shaman.” Some do indeed help their practitioners, but dozens, perhaps hundreds, more sell worthless self-help through seminars or on the internet. They promise well-being and financial gain if only you’ll pay a few thousand bucks to attend one of their events — then, under pressure, sign up for future events. No money-back guarantee.
McGivney spent a decade researching the unregulated industry and talking with the families of the three sweat lodge victims. One of them, James Shore, had recommitted himself to his marriage and was about to launch his own company. His devastated wife moved from Minnesota to Boulder, where she took menial jobs to support her children. McGivney also interviewed Native Americans who are speaking out against the appropriation of their rituals.
The author reveals her investigation is, in part, personal. Self-help providers helped her deal with childhood trauma, and she weaves her story throughout the book. “Plastic Shaman” is an indictment of an unregulated industry that has bilked Americans of their money and their well-being.
Sandra Dallas is a Denver author and book reviewer.
