Robert Raker

Entropy is a deep read. This is a story about human depravity. This is also a story about the fallacies of human nature. Some victims were targeted. Others became victims through unforeseen actions - or inaction.

What would lead a person into the dark underworld of pedophilia and human trafficking? I cannot imagine perverseness being the norm. The sickness felt by parents of victims is more difficult to imagine. I don’t want to put myself in the shoes of the abused children. Even though this story is a work of fiction, the truth of it remains.

I was fascinated by the imagery. Water was prominent throughout the book. Water hides. Water saves. Water washes. Water renews. The rain storm connected the victims as innocently as the bus ride. Many of the locations were painted as destitute. Once flourishing, silos were now empty, the quarry was abandoned, and farms were unkempt.

The passengers on the bus were just as dejected. Nobody is the same. Everyone is different. They each suffer the same fate. Once thriving and happy, they have come to the virtual dead end. There is no changing their fate. There is no turning back the clock. The cause makes no difference.

From the first word to the last, this story is about “The…” “… neglected.”… (mais)

The opening lines of each viewpoint in ENTROPY by Philadelphia based author Robert Raker are the clearest indicator this reader has come across in a long time of whether or not a book is going to work for you.

From the scuba diver called in to retrieve the bodies: "The bloated, distended corpses of the people whose shortened lives I had retrieved from the water were clearly visible in the immature patterns of condensation that evaporated gradually on the mirror."

The musician, the disfigured cellist from the blurb: "I just sat there. Looking closely at the gun, I cocked the trigger back and forth repeatedly, like a curious child studying the physics of a toy, wanting to grasp the technical aspects of it, what made certain parts of it function and react the way that it did when it was used."

The undercover Federal agent: "I glanced up at the cracked face of the clock above her dresser. She would be leaving for the lawyer's office soon. After that I would need to catch the next bus to the terminus. What happened after I boarded would leave me with minimal contact with anybody, even her."

And finally, the model, the mother of one of the victim's from the blurb: "How did we get here? We were once such a happy family but now I am left alone with only my memories as a comfort to the love we once shared and the child we had borne. When did you start to drift? I think about this daily trying to pinpoint the moment that our relationship fell apart."

This book has an interesting structure, the exploration of the impact of a series of murders on different individuals. Each person's involvement being more or less emotional and/or physical. The scuba diver who retrieves the bodies with hands on experience and shock; the mother who experiences lost; the agent on the search; and the musician. It's not a structure that's undertaken frequently.

Whether or not the structure, and the viewpoints is going to work for individual readers, however, is going to be down to the style of writing. Which is descriptive, made up of long sentences and frequently meandering. It leans heavily towards internal observation and could be that the author is aiming for something languid. Involving.

"Mull and I had much in common with one another, despite our distant upbringings, although he would never admit it. That, among other things, was probably why he didn't want me here. It was like I was his foil, an altered mirror image, the villain unobstructed, who thwarted his attempts at prestige and destiny, and constrained his movement."

"...What was left of the hair on her scalp resembled algae or kelp floating on the surface of the Dead Sea. It was a majestic and historical body of water, the Dead Sea, which was rumored to cover the ancient cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. Because of the overwhelming salinity, life could not exist in its waters. I had visited Jordan once during my failed attempt at an Olympic career. We were in Europe for time trials near the end of my attempts to represent the United States. However, despite being so close to the Dead Sea, I never got a chance to experience the myths and legends of that body of water. I wasn't entirely sure why I thought about it now. The girl's body was now almost free of the silo."

"Having trained as a musician, I held sound in the highest importance: pitch, tone, the logarithmic construction of amplitude, frequency, intensity, and other the other [sic] characteristics that were essential for desirable auditory quality. The biology of sound was complicated. It moved in waves, propagated outwards from a fixed point. I felt I could see sound move, drip from the strings of violins and cellos in a concerto like water, or trickling from the golden mouth of a trumpet like honey."

"The flames flared up, fed by the latent chemicals in the composition of the photographs, and rolled across the distorting images of suspects and buildings. I accidentally burned a photograph of us at her sister's wedding. I leaned closer and tried to save the vibrant colours of the gorgeous dress she had worn but it was too late."

"Despite being apart now for four months, I still recognize you in everything I see. You taught me how to study angles and lines, and I notice how they change in differing light and shadows. It doesn't matter where I go. Sitting in our unfinished dining room, I find myself folding and assembling my napkin to understand its texture and possibilities. I can, at times, hear your voice telling me not to focus on the object directly, but on spaces between the dark and the unseen."

Whilst the idea of immersive, internal and introspective writing greatly appeals, alas nothing in ENTROPY worked for this reader. Whilst the language is obviously trying for descriptive it frequently became confusing and distracting. Unfortunately it made for heavy going and frequent disconnection from the point of story, and from the narrator. Certainly it didn't create an atmosphere in which this reader could feel any engagement with any of the characters.

The reason for providing so much quotation within this review is to give other readers an indication of the style. After all, differences in taste of we readers is one of the most baffling parts of talking about books.

http://www.austcrimefiction.org/review/review-entropy-robert-raker… (mais)