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Ian Rankin, In a House of Lies

Rankins neuester Rebus-Band trudelte pünktlich, aber auch zum richtigen Zeitpunkt ein, gerade als mir nach einem soliden und unaufgeregten Krimi war. Hier wird John Rebus mit einem Abschnitt seiner Vergangenheit konfrontiert, die noch nicht ganz so lange zurückliegt (vermutlich zwischen zwei Bänden in 2006 angesiedelt), wo er nicht so gut wegkommt, als durch einen Zufallsfund ein alter Fall neu aufgerollt wird. Wie er es schafft, den Fall so zum Abschluß zu bringen, dass allen Beteiligten Recht geschieht, ist wieder faszinierend und fesselnd zu lesen. Ich spiele schon seit einiger Zeit mit dem Gedanken die Rebus-Serie von Anfang an wiederzulesen - wenn es nur nicht so viele wären ...
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"I seem to have picked up a wee dose of COPD."
"What's that when it's at home?"
"Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease - known as emphysema in the old days."
"Trust you to get something that has the word COP in it."
"Aye, I feel like I drew a winning ticket there."
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It wasn't a bad area, he decided; it had just elements. That was the way they phrased it these days in Police Scotland.
Elements. Meaning a combination of feckless parentin, lack of opportunity, boredom and disenfranchisement. Rebus knew all the buzz words and he didn't necessarily disagree. But knowledge was one thing and politicians' words came cheap.
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He was thinking aout families and the lies they told each other. From the outside, it was hard to know what was happening behind their walls and curtained windows. Even once you'd crossed the threshold, there'd be secrets unshared. In an age of the internet and mobile phones, kids and their parents lived ever more separate lives, sharing confidences but also hiding bits of their true selves behind masks. It had been hard enough in the past to read people, but these days you had to push your way through so much that was fake and misleading. Modern policing fell into that trap, heading straight for technology - computers and CCTV - to replace old skills and the occasional inspired guess or piece of intuition.

(Ian Rankin, In a House of Lies, 2018)

aber doch noch ein echtes Prachtexemplar für meine Sammlung :-)

Achja, der Altweibersommer ist wohl da.

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Jodi Picoult, A Spark of Light

Picoults neuestes Buch behandelt wieder ein überaus kontroverses und problematisches Thema - Schwangerschaftsabbruch - und mich wundert eigentlich nur, warum sie es noch nicht viel früher angegangen hat. Außerdem präsentiert sie es auch noch im Rahmen einer Geiselnahme, und als ich nach dem ersten Kapitel feststellen musste, dass die Geschichte rückwärts erzählt wird, und das auch noch nach einem richtig gemeinen Cliffhanger, der erst im Epilog aufgelöst wird, raufte ich mir schon die Haare. Im Nachhinein erkannte ich aber, dass die hergebrachte Erzählweise hier nicht so gut funktioniert hätte, viele Sachen, die in den letzten Kapiteln zutage kommen, hätten zuviel vorweggenommen. Das Buch muss ich auf jeden Fall noch einmal in Ruhe lesen, beim ersten Mal sind mir durch die nervtötende Spannung einfach zuviele schöne Stellen durch die Lappen gegangen.
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There was, of course, the history, too. Women had been property. Their chastity had always belonged to a man, until abortion and contraception put control of women's sexuality in the women's hands. If women could have sex without the fear of unwanted pregnancy, then suddenly the man's role had shrunk to a level somewhere between unnecessary and vestigial. So instead, men vilified women who had abortions. They created the stigma: good women want to be mothers, bad women don't.
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What she would miss were these details. She wondered if, when you left this world, you got to take a certain number of them deep in your pockets, clenched in your fists, or tucked high on the roof of your mouth, with you forever.
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He looked into the eyes of each of the women. Warriors, every one of them. Every day, he was reminded of their grit, their courage in the face of obstacles, the quiet grace with which they shouldered their troubles. They were stronger than any men he'd ever known. For sure, they were stronger than the male politicians who were so terrified of them that they designed laws specifically to keep women down. Louie shook his head. As if that could ever be done. If he had learned anything during his years as an abortion doctor, it was this: there was nothing on God's green earth that would stop a woman who didn't want to be pregnant.
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Today he was reading the research of a team from Northwestern University, who had recorded a zinc flash at the precise instant a sperm fertilized an egg. A rush of calcium at that moment caused zinc to be released from the egg. As the zinc burst out, at attached itself to small, fluorescent molecules: the spark that was picked up by camera microscopes. Although this had been seen before in mice, it was the first time in humans. More important, certain eggs glowed a little brigther than others at the moment of conception - the same ones that went on to become healthy embryos.
(...)
As a resident, he'd sat with his share of terminal patients, and what you heard was true: people who were dying talked of a tunnel, with a warm glow at the end.
It stood to reason that both life and death began with a spark of light.
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She had come to the clinic because she didn't want to be a little girl anymore. But it wasn't having sex that made you a woman. It was having to make decisions, sometimes terrible ones. Children were told what to do. Adults made up their own minds, even when the options tore them apart.
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(Aus dem Nachwort)
The woman who had come in to have that abortion at fifteen weeks had three other children under the age of four. She could not afford another child without compromising the care of the ones she already had. Did coming to the clinic make her a terrible mother, or a responsible one?
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Laws are black and white. The lives of women are a thousand shades of gray.
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Honestly, I do not believe we, as a society, will ever agree on this issue. The stakes are too high, and both sides operate from places of unshakable belief. But I do think that the first step is to talk to each other - and more important, to listen. We may not see eye to eye, but we can respect each other's opinions and find the truth in them. Perhaps in those honest conversations, instead of demonizing each other, we might see each other as imperfect humans, doing our best.

(Jodi Picoult, A Spark of Light, 2018)

Computers and insurance companies call me Ruddick McCann - to everyone else I'm just Ruddy. I work for a collateral recovery agency run by a guy named Milton Kramer. When people can't make their car payments, I help them get back on their feet.
I'm a repo man. Get it? "Back on their feet." That was repo humor, there.

(W. Bruce Cameron, The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man, 2014)
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Neil Gaiman & various artists, Endless Nights

Erstaunlicherweise ist es schon fast sieben Jahre her, dass ich diesen Sandman-Band las. Eigentlich hatte ich nur die Teile von Death und Desire lesen wollen, aber dann konnte ich mich einfach nicht mehr davon losreißen, so dass auch die anderen dran glauben mussten. Besonders Delirium und Despair faszinieren mich immer wieder.

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W. Bruce Cameron, Repo Madness
sowie
dito, The Midnight Dog of the Repo Man

Normalerweise sind die zweiten Bücher nie so gut wie der erste Band einer Serie, aber dieses hier ist wohl eine echte Ausnahme. Im ersten Band gab es wohl auch noch soviel, das offen blieb oder nicht erzählt wurde, vor allem die tragischen Ereignisse, die dazu führten, dass Ruddy ein Ex-Con und Repo Man wurde statt zum gefeierten Footballstar. Erfreulicherweise meldet sich Alan, der entweder Geist oder Einbildung, nach langer Pause wieder zu Wort, und das dramatische Ende - bei dem Jake, der träge Bassett, sogar einen Einsatz als Retter in der Not hat, ist sogar noch spannender als beim ersten Band. Ich hoffe, dass Cameron es tatsächlich schafft einen dritten Band nachzuschieben. Schön wär's jedenfalls.
Auch die Kurzgeschichte, wie Ruddy und Jake zueinander gefunden hatten, war ein echter Fund.