Quill & Quire
With
his new novel,
Coyote
begins with the arrival of Brian on
Coyote’s
effective plot twists are resolved by a convincing ending. …Brett also
convincingly evokes the
From Q&Q, Robert J. Wiersema
…pretentious junk … poetic verbiage ….
From Globe and Mail long-time mystery
reviewer, Margaret Cannon
Coyote
evokes a
mystery beyond mere mystery
Special to The Yukon News
Charlie Baker’s
treehouse
overlooks his sprawling garden, untidy pond and immovable boulder on
one of
Charlie may or may
not be
Coyote, a famously dead — or merely quietly retired?— ecoterrorist, who
half a
lifetime ago bombed dams and released zoo animals till one escapade
ended in
violent tragedy.
Charlie’s cantankerous parrot isn’t telling, and no one else on
Then Rita, the old
man’s
onetime lover, goes missing, and a slimeball called Brian tracks down
Charlie
to tell him this and pry out his story, ostensibly to research a book.
Weave in anxious
RCMP
Inspector Janwar Singh who is sweating through ugly office politics,
Elvira and
her young son Festus who has a rare disease that causes premature
aging,
chakra-tuning whole-body healer Wren and a handful of predictably
unpredictable
outer-island dwellers and we have Coyote: A Mystery…
Don’t rush to clear
a space on
your bookshelf next to P.D. James.
Coyote: A Mystery is primarily an ambitious literary novel which gives
a wry,
knowing nod to more mundane works in the skull-and-dagger
section.
“If a story has
mysteries, as
any good story should, we need to have them investigated, and for that
we need
investigators,” Chapter 2 opens, introducing the “token twins,” harried
Janwar
Singh and upwardly mobile Corporal Kirsten Crosby, who are assigned to
investigate a disappearance.
Rita is the latest
person with
ecosympathies to disappear or die horribly.
Another woman’s
hands were
held in a fire until the bone charred before her rape and murder. Her
assailant
seemingly wanted to know someone’s whereabouts.
And then a screed of
madly
violent apocalyptic prophecy falls into police hands. The story rolls
on.
Coyote is leavened
with
first-person monologues addressed to Charlie’s young friend Festus by
Brian,
whom Charlie promptly and rightly tells, “You’re an evil
son-of-a-bitch.”
This and other
literary
legerdemain make Brian — whom we’re playfully invited to believe is
author
Brian Brett’s evil spiritual twin, or maybe just a fictional Brian
pretending
to write his own improbable book — a thoroughly and unrepentantly
unreliable
narrator.
Brian the slimeball soon tells Charlie that he
thinks he’s the
legendary Coyote
and threatens to turn him in, or worse.
“You tell me
everything you
know and I write a novel, a fictional work that describes the location
of this
scene on a godforsaken island never discovered, the history so warped
that no
one will know if it’s real or imagination. “I walk away with my story
and you
grow your garden and talk to your parrot. How’s that?”
“Are you an artist?”
Charlie
asks.
“Yes, I am.”
“Is art blackmail?”
Passages like this
led me
grinning from page to page. Many others I found deeply moving as Coyote
plummets headlong toward its conclusion.
Of course every
literate
islander from Saturna to Cortes will be chin-wagging about the uncanny
resemblance to his or her own island,
and for
good reason.
…
As Charlie’s parrot
says,
“Watch that hawk, roll that rock.”
…
Unfortunately, I
read a
borrowed copy of Coyote, so now I’ll have to buy my own. I’ll pay
whatever it
costs for the last three paragraphs alone. No cheating! Don’t flip to
the end.
This book is worth the reading journey.
From