hc.newton
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Blue Horse About?
For Porter Beck and the Lincoln Sheriff’s Department, change—and a pandemic—are in the air. But we’ll talk about that later. The main thing that they all have to focus on is a controversial wild horse roundup.
It’s a Federal mandate that it occurs, and there are plenty of good wildlife management and other environmental arguments in favor of it. There are also plenty of traditional, environmental, or animal rights arguments against it. Naturally, the event faces protests both large and small—even in the middle of a pandemic. So Beck and his team are providing some security.
Because of that security, Beck and Tuffy are around to witness a helicopter involved in the roundup crash. Thanks to them, it’s not written off as human error or some other accident—they know it was murder (a difficult one to perpetrate, mind you).
The easy answer seems to be that it’s someone associated with the protests, but Beck’s not satisfied with that. And despite what the FBI wants to focus on, he starts assembling evidence to buttress his hunch. Then another, grisly murder happens. And all signs point to something worse on the horizon. The Feds want a quick resolution, Beck wants the truth.
Brinley and Rafa
So, while all this is going on, Beck can’t rely on his sister to pitch in. As a follow-up to the volunteering she did in Shades of Mercy with the “at risk” youth of the area, she’s off with a handful of these teens on a wilderness retreat. Rafa, in particular, is one she can identify with and really wants to help. He, on the other hand, wants no one’s help. He’s learned that he can only rely on himself and what his own strength, temper, and brutality can provide for him.
One night, after Brinley had already started to think he’d run off, he does just that. Annoyed at herself for letting her guard down enough to let that happen, and assured of her superior ability to track compared to the other adults in the group, she takes off on her own to track him down. As it’s Brinley that we’re talking about, she’d normally be right—but with COVID symptoms kicking in, are her stamina and clarity of mind up to the task? And what will she do if/when she finds him?
Sometimes, it can be a critique for a reader to note that a subplot like this one is frequently more interesting and engaging than the primary story. Early on, I was mildly irritated every time we cut from this back to the murder investigation. I really enjoy Brinley and Rafa is both a good character by himself, as a foil for Brinley? He’s perfect. Together, it’s a great combination.
I eventually came around on the murder investigation—it was more of a slow-burn for me, but by the end, I was equally invested in both storylines.
COVID-19
I thought it was gutsy for Borgos to tackle COVID and the reaction to both the virus and the social reactions to it. Especially in places like Beck’s part of Nevada, you’re not going to get a lot of people reacting to either of them the same way as you would in L.A. or NYC. (I think this is going to be the case for readers drawn to the series, too)
Borgos dealt with it as well as you could hope—Beck didn’t seem to take a firm stand on things like masking or hand-shaking himself—he basically matched the environment he was in (somewhat begrudglingly at times). And his deputies clearly saw it as overblown—particularly one deputy who showed clear signs of it. The clinic is full, and the disease shows up in several ways—some that hit too close to home for Beck, too.
At the same time—the impact of the virus itself was clearly shown. Whether it was a temporary, minor obstacle or a life-altering disease (or points in between) for the characters—COVID made its presence felt. Beck doesn’t have an overabundance of deputies for his large county on the best day. You force them to deal with murder cases like this—plus the security they need to provide for the roundup—with deputies out sick? That’s going to have a major impact on their ability to do any of their jobs effectively.
More than a gutsy move by Borgos for the social observation, it’s a smart move for narrative tension.
All the Personal Stuff
I was relieved to see Charlie Blue Horse back again—not only was she a good addition to the cast in Shades of Mercy, but I really didn’t like the idea of Beck having a new romantic interest/dalliance in every book. I’d have been perfectly content to have a few books without one, too—but a returning romantic interest is a good way to go, too.
I did think that Beck was a bit too clueless in the beginning—you can tell how he got to his age still single—but that’s a tangent.
There’s a lot more going on for Beck outside the case—his father’s health continues to deteriorate, there are big changes looming for the Sheriff’s office as we learn early on. Basically, these murders come along at a juncture for our Sheriff and serve as a welcome distraction as much as they could interfere and possibly derail his plans.
Deputy Frank Columbo
Bo may have been a two-time washout from the K-9 academy, but he’s a good, loyal companion for Beck—and he shows signs of being a good seeing-eye dog in the future. Who doesn’t want a good dog along for a story like this?
But honestly, he just seemed to be a nice little flavoring—something to add to the Western/Sheriff setting. Like Spener’s Pearls, Joe Pickett’s dogs, Max Boucher’s Russ, Ballard’s Lola, and didn’t Quinn Colson have one? They’re there, they’re fun to see, but they’re not a major player in the story.
But by the end The Blue Horse, he’s that and more. He’s not quite as remarkable as Longmire’s Dog, or Sharp’s Winnie, (definitely not in Chet Little’s league). But he’s on the way—this will come as no shock to anyone who’s read me, I loved Bo’s moments of glory (even if they weren’t appreciated at the time). I don’t need this series to become the Beck and Bo show, but I hope he gets more chances to shine.
Then again, would the Beck and Bo show be a bad thing?
So, what did I think about The Blue Horse?
We’re only on book three of this series, but we’ve got a strong recurring cast already (with promises of more). There’s the FBI Agent that Beck didn’t really get along with last time (and he continues to not really get along with now), there’s our friendly hacker doing the things Beck and Charlie can’t—but legally (probably), all the great characters in the Lincoln County Sheriff’s office, and even X Files. Yes, he’s back again—and I loved the way he get’s involved with this one. There’s more to this guy than paranoia and delusion. The characters—suspects, witnesses, standers-by, and more—are up to the same standards, and you’ll end up hoping that those who live and aren’t serving time come back sometime soon.
Three books in, one thing that Borgos has clearly shown us all is that he can people his novels with compelling characters. What about the story? I don’t know that anything will (or can) live up to The Bitter Past, but this is as good as you can ask for next to that. The storyline involving the murders is really well-paced and plotted—the herrings are the perfect shade of red—and Beck’s atypical approach to policing really helps here. Aside from my own impatience early on, there’s nothing to complain about here.
Mild-spoliery thoughts—feel free to skip this paragraph. I do wonder a little about Chapter Two—it takes away some of the mystery, you’ll know that the murders likely tie into it at some point, and you might not bite on some of the bait Borgos wants to tempt you with because of it (at least not as hard as you might otherwise). But it also makes a twist or two seem like they don’t come out of nowhere. I can argue both sides of it convincingly to myself. The more I think of it, I think Borgos made the smart move. But I instinctively disagree and think he should’ve skipped it. I’d love to hear what others think.
Maybe other readers feel this way when they read about the Mexicantown in August Snow’s Detroit, or about Ballard/Bosch’s LA, the racial tensions in the LAPD that Trevor Finnegan navigates, the gang-culture in Eve Ronin’s LACSD, or the changes in the Edinburgh police that Rebus has witnessed (and felt)—but the society/politics that Borgos shows hit close to home. The former are interesting to read about, but Borgos hits close to home (C.J. Box does, too). Lincoln County, NV could easily be 20-30 minutes south of my house, rather than the 8+ hours it really is. Borgos reflects the attitudes of the area so well—it feels easy at a distance to take issue with the gangs Ronin faces, but there’s a way for locals to understand both sides of something like the roundup that I just can’t with the others. I know and trust people on every side of that issue, and sympathize with them. For every hint that Borgos gives you about his (or Beck’s) opinion—he provides one that might disprove it. I fully expect readers from Scotland or New York to roll their eyes at one group or another that Borgos shows us. But I can’t—they’re my neighbors, are married to my coworkers, and share a pew with me on Sundays. I love how well Borgos does that. A good Crime Novel talks about society without getting on a soapbox, and Borgos excels at it.
Setting that aside, let’s focus on the experience of reading The Blue HorseYour heart will be in your throat in at least two occasions, you will be horrified at man’s inhumanity at least once (it’s comparable to the opening of The Bitter Past), you’ll feel sadness, relief, and even joy throughout. I wasn’t looking for another Western-set mystery series to become addicted to, but Bruce Borgos has made me a die-hard anyway. Jump on the bandwagon!! We’ll make room.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at www.librarything.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
What’s The Blue Horse About?
For Porter Beck and the Lincoln Sheriff’s Department, change—and a pandemic—are in the air. But we’ll talk about that later. The main thing that they all have to focus on is a controversial wild horse roundup.
It’s a Federal mandate that it occurs, and there are plenty of good wildlife management and other environmental arguments in favor of it. There are also plenty of traditional, environmental, or animal rights arguments against it. Naturally, the event faces protests both large and small—even in the middle of a pandemic. So Beck and his team are providing some security.
Because of that security, Beck and Tuffy are around to witness a helicopter involved in the roundup crash. Thanks to them, it’s not written off as human error or some other accident—they know it was murder (a difficult one to perpetrate, mind you).
The easy answer seems to be that it’s someone associated with the protests, but Beck’s not satisfied with that. And despite what the FBI wants to focus on, he starts assembling evidence to buttress his hunch. Then another, grisly murder happens. And all signs point to something worse on the horizon. The Feds want a quick resolution, Beck wants the truth.
Brinley and Rafa
So, while all this is going on, Beck can’t rely on his sister to pitch in. As a follow-up to the volunteering she did in Shades of Mercy with the “at risk” youth of the area, she’s off with a handful of these teens on a wilderness retreat. Rafa, in particular, is one she can identify with and really wants to help. He, on the other hand, wants no one’s help. He’s learned that he can only rely on himself and what his own strength, temper, and brutality can provide for him.
One night, after Brinley had already started to think he’d run off, he does just that. Annoyed at herself for letting her guard down enough to let that happen, and assured of her superior ability to track compared to the other adults in the group, she takes off on her own to track him down. As it’s Brinley that we’re talking about, she’d normally be right—but with COVID symptoms kicking in, are her stamina and clarity of mind up to the task? And what will she do if/when she finds him?
Sometimes, it can be a critique for a reader to note that a subplot like this one is frequently more interesting and engaging than the primary story. Early on, I was mildly irritated every time we cut from this back to the murder investigation. I really enjoy Brinley and Rafa is both a good character by himself, as a foil for Brinley? He’s perfect. Together, it’s a great combination.
I eventually came around on the murder investigation—it was more of a slow-burn for me, but by the end, I was equally invested in both storylines.
COVID-19
I thought it was gutsy for Borgos to tackle COVID and the reaction to both the virus and the social reactions to it. Especially in places like Beck’s part of Nevada, you’re not going to get a lot of people reacting to either of them the same way as you would in L.A. or NYC. (I think this is going to be the case for readers drawn to the series, too)
Borgos dealt with it as well as you could hope—Beck didn’t seem to take a firm stand on things like masking or hand-shaking himself—he basically matched the environment he was in (somewhat begrudglingly at times). And his deputies clearly saw it as overblown—particularly one deputy who showed clear signs of it. The clinic is full, and the disease shows up in several ways—some that hit too close to home for Beck, too.
At the same time—the impact of the virus itself was clearly shown. Whether it was a temporary, minor obstacle or a life-altering disease (or points in between) for the characters—COVID made its presence felt. Beck doesn’t have an overabundance of deputies for his large county on the best day. You force them to deal with murder cases like this—plus the security they need to provide for the roundup—with deputies out sick? That’s going to have a major impact on their ability to do any of their jobs effectively.
More than a gutsy move by Borgos for the social observation, it’s a smart move for narrative tension.
All the Personal Stuff
I was relieved to see Charlie Blue Horse back again—not only was she a good addition to the cast in Shades of Mercy, but I really didn’t like the idea of Beck having a new romantic interest/dalliance in every book. I’d have been perfectly content to have a few books without one, too—but a returning romantic interest is a good way to go, too.
I did think that Beck was a bit too clueless in the beginning—you can tell how he got to his age still single—but that’s a tangent.
There’s a lot more going on for Beck outside the case—his father’s health continues to deteriorate, there are big changes looming for the Sheriff’s office as we learn early on. Basically, these murders come along at a juncture for our Sheriff and serve as a welcome distraction as much as they could interfere and possibly derail his plans.
Deputy Frank Columbo
Bo may have been a two-time washout from the K-9 academy, but he’s a good, loyal companion for Beck—and he shows signs of being a good seeing-eye dog in the future. Who doesn’t want a good dog along for a story like this?
But honestly, he just seemed to be a nice little flavoring—something to add to the Western/Sheriff setting. Like Spener’s Pearls, Joe Pickett’s dogs, Max Boucher’s Russ, Ballard’s Lola, and didn’t Quinn Colson have one? They’re there, they’re fun to see, but they’re not a major player in the story.
But by the end The Blue Horse, he’s that and more. He’s not quite as remarkable as Longmire’s Dog, or Sharp’s Winnie, (definitely not in Chet Little’s league). But he’s on the way—this will come as no shock to anyone who’s read me, I loved Bo’s moments of glory (even if they weren’t appreciated at the time). I don’t need this series to become the Beck and Bo show, but I hope he gets more chances to shine.
Then again, would the Beck and Bo show be a bad thing?
So, what did I think about The Blue Horse?
We’re only on book three of this series, but we’ve got a strong recurring cast already (with promises of more). There’s the FBI Agent that Beck didn’t really get along with last time (and he continues to not really get along with now), there’s our friendly hacker doing the things Beck and Charlie can’t—but legally (probably), all the great characters in the Lincoln County Sheriff’s office, and even X Files. Yes, he’s back again—and I loved the way he get’s involved with this one. There’s more to this guy than paranoia and delusion. The characters—suspects, witnesses, standers-by, and more—are up to the same standards, and you’ll end up hoping that those who live and aren’t serving time come back sometime soon.
Three books in, one thing that Borgos has clearly shown us all is that he can people his novels with compelling characters. What about the story? I don’t know that anything will (or can) live up to The Bitter Past, but this is as good as you can ask for next to that. The storyline involving the murders is really well-paced and plotted—the herrings are the perfect shade of red—and Beck’s atypical approach to policing really helps here. Aside from my own impatience early on, there’s nothing to complain about here.
Mild-spoliery thoughts—feel free to skip this paragraph. I do wonder a little about Chapter Two—it takes away some of the mystery, you’ll know that the murders likely tie into it at some point, and you might not bite on some of the bait Borgos wants to tempt you with because of it (at least not as hard as you might otherwise). But it also makes a twist or two seem like they don’t come out of nowhere. I can argue both sides of it convincingly to myself. The more I think of it, I think Borgos made the smart move. But I instinctively disagree and think he should’ve skipped it. I’d love to hear what others think.
Maybe other readers feel this way when they read about the Mexicantown in August Snow’s Detroit, or about Ballard/Bosch’s LA, the racial tensions in the LAPD that Trevor Finnegan navigates, the gang-culture in Eve Ronin’s LACSD, or the changes in the Edinburgh police that Rebus has witnessed (and felt)—but the society/politics that Borgos shows hit close to home. The former are interesting to read about, but Borgos hits close to home (C.J. Box does, too). Lincoln County, NV could easily be 20-30 minutes south of my house, rather than the 8+ hours it really is. Borgos reflects the attitudes of the area so well—it feels easy at a distance to take issue with the gangs Ronin faces, but there’s a way for locals to understand both sides of something like the roundup that I just can’t with the others. I know and trust people on every side of that issue, and sympathize with them. For every hint that Borgos gives you about his (or Beck’s) opinion—he provides one that might disprove it. I fully expect readers from Scotland or New York to roll their eyes at one group or another that Borgos shows us. But I can’t—they’re my neighbors, are married to my coworkers, and share a pew with me on Sundays. I love how well Borgos does that. A good Crime Novel talks about society without getting on a soapbox, and Borgos excels at it.
Setting that aside, let’s focus on the experience of reading The Blue HorseYour heart will be in your throat in at least two occasions, you will be horrified at man’s inhumanity at least once (it’s comparable to the opening of The Bitter Past), you’ll feel sadness, relief, and even joy throughout. I wasn’t looking for another Western-set mystery series to become addicted to, but Bruce Borgos has made me a die-hard anyway. Jump on the bandwagon!! We’ll make room.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley—thanks to both for this.
Originally posted at www.librarything.com.