This is not a children’s story. Marketed as a companion piece to HDM, this short piece is rife with sophisticated themes and adult language, along with an elegant sarcasm that operates well from an adult perspective. No prior experience with the author’s famed series is necessary to enjoy this stand-alone tale of an accidental aeronaut and an outlaw talking bear. Readers familiar with the relationship between Lee Scoresby and Iorek Byrnison will be engaged by this explanation of their first adventure together, and those without such a background will be intrigued enough to read future developments surrounding the pair.
When Scoresby finds himself a stranger in a city on the verge of a hostile political and business takeover, he stumbles headfirst into conflict, with the armored bear at his side. Scoresby has a habit of chasing trouble, if one considers the snappy remarks of his rabbit daemon, Hester, who consistently harasses him in good humor. His concern with honor, which he denies – “I don’t think too much about honor” – seems the primary motivation for these conflicts. He finds himself drawn to others with this interest, including Miss Victoria Lund, a librarian and fellow boarder. When Lund surprises him by asking his advice about a difficult personal situation, he quickly deduces the heart of the matter.
“This is about honor, ain’t it.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Hard thing to get right.”
His consideration of the upset young lady is unexpectedly rewarded at the end of the story, as is his commitment to leave the townsfolk in a better position than he found them. He expects no return on this investment, but the appreciation of certain citizens leads to assistance in his safe escape.
The author clearly holds a distaste for big business and uses the story to promote this message, but his platform does not take center stage from the fast paced adventure and valuable friendship born within these pages. Neither do the charming engravings by John Lawrence, which echo his work in Lyra’s Oxford. What does detract is the unfortunate miscellanea from Scoresby’s volume on aerial navigation; a bill of lading as described in the story; instructions to ‘Peril of the Pole,’ a board game included in a pocket inside the back cover that is “too exciting for children under 5 years of age;" a leaf from a shipping world yearbook with a description of the town, Novy Odense; a newspaper article regarding the final events in the story; two letters from Lyra regarding her dissertation; and the certificate for her dissertation, which is a study of trade pattern development with an emphasis on independent cargo balloon carriage. These, like the intrusive materials in Lyra’s Oxford, are annoying. Readers of HDM will make the obvious connection between Lyra’s work and Scoresby’s activities, but like Lyra and the Birds, the story stands better on its own.
The audio adaptation proves a two hour and 17 minute mess of the author’s narration, which is often too fast, and various actors who unintentionally make a mockery of this sharp story. “Overdramatic” does not quite cover the lengths to which the accents and emotions are carried. Unlike Lyra’s Oxford, which employs several actors but remains primarily in the talented hands of Jo Wyatt, this version falls short of the written word.

As a short story companion to the author’s His Dark Materials trilogy, this attractive volume offers a diverting look at Lyra two years after the events in The Amber Spyglass. The majority of the book is devoted to the telling of Lyra and the Birds, which outlines a dangerous situation in which Lyra must decide who she can trust. Her decisions are always vital, not only to her own safety but to that of others. Readers of the trilogy will recognize the responsibility Lyra carries on her adolescent shoulders as a standard of her young life, forced upon her and held with good intent but not always with the best judgment, as one might expect from a teenager. When a witch threatens a scholar in whom Lyra has developed an interest, she rushes to help, but her impetuousness blinds her to alternative possibilities and consequences.

This red cloth bound package is graced with detailed engravings by John Lawrence but marred by extraneous material that is annoying rather than enhancing. A preface with instruction on connections between these materials falls into this category as well. The “things” to which it refers, including a map of Oxford, glued to a page about a third of the way through the story; a picture postcard from Oxford, with a note written by Mary (presumably Dr. Malone of HDM) to a former companion at the convent; a page on the history of Oxford; and a brochure for a cruise on the Imperial Orient Shipping Line in London, with the arrival in Smyrna on Monday, May 11 circled and marked “Café Antalya, Suleiman Square, 11 a.m.” clutter and interrupt the story.

This is one for HDM readers of all ages, but would not appeal to those unfamiliar with the preceding titles. Lyra’s past plays a critical role in her choices and reactions in Lyra and the Birds. There are many references made to incidents, characters, and relationships necessary to Lyra’s experience in this short story that would alienate readers who do not have this frame of reference.

The audio book, which runs short and sweet at 45 minutes, is primarily narrated by Jo Wyatt. Wyatt, who plays the excited teenage girl very convincingly in adaptations of Libba Bray’s A Great and Terrible Beauty and Meg Cabot’s Avalon High, follows her portrayal of Lyra in HDM with an appropriate range of expression, from eagerness to self-doubt, for the spontaneous and open girl readers have followed since 1995. The CD comes with a slightly smaller copy of the map that is included with the book, but it is tucked neatly out of the way and as such, not an issue.

Detective Sonchai Jitpleecheep reflects the mysticism and apparent contradiction of Thailand that those of us of ‘Western’ origin just cannot understand. Yet he stands somewhat apart from Thai society as a half-caste who spent a significant time abroad while growing up. Firmly rooted in his Thai background and with his understanding of the Western world, Sonchai, son of a prostitute, devout Buddhist, and detective in one of the most corrupt police forces in the world, may be the only honest cop in the whole of Thailand – or at least what passes for an honest cop in that part of the world – and he’s the perfect guide through the dark, hot streets of Bangkok.

A horrific snuff film has been sent to Detective Jitpleecheep and Sonchai knows the victim intimately. She worked in his mother’s brothel where he became deeply enthralled by her. Now happily married, he is tormented by the film and feels driven to bring the killer to a uniquely Thai form of justice without regard for his own safety. Sonchai teams up with his trans-gender partner and a soul-searching FBI agent as men of power are implicated in a growing chain of murders. Ghosts, mysticism, and even sorcery clash with the world of prostitution, pornography, and poverty with Sonchai realizing his own role in the middle of it all an elephant hair too late.

Like Bangkok 8 and Bangkok Tattoo before it, Bangkok Haunts drags us through the underbelly of Thai society, through brothels and poverty in a very foreign land. Living most of his adult life in East and Southeast Asia, Burdett shows his deep understanding of Thailand and presents a different point of view, showing the hypocrisy of the West and its ‘good intentions’ through the jaded eyes of Sonchai. The story is dictated from his unique point of view to a Western audience, offering a subtle criticism of the West and its impact on the East through a dark, witty humor that blatantly challenges our basic assumptions.

Though it’s the third book featuring Detective Jitpleecheep, Bangkok Haunts stands on its own as a solid hard-boiled, noir crime novel without significantly spoiling the earlier books. However, a more rounded understanding of Bangkok, its sex industry, and some of the peripheral characters is gained from reading his earlier journeys – and they are journeys as much as anything.

I enjoyed Bangkok Haunts very much, but not quite as much as Bangkok 8 and Bangkok Tattoo. It lacks the punch in the gut of the culture shock and wry humor of Bangkok 8 and brilliance of the post-September 11th world revealed in Bangkok Tattoo, yet still captures feeling of ‘getting it right’ that Burdett creates in his vision and understanding of Bangkok. I highly recommend entering the world of Detective Sonchai Jitpleecheep and the dark Bangkok night – while Bangkok Haunts isn’t as strong previous entries, it’s not a book to pass by.

John March is the black sheep of a powerful banking family. One of his brothers comes to him seeking his help. He had an affair with a woman who is now making trouble for him, stalking him and is threatening to out the affair. He wants John to find out who she is and make her stop. His brother only knows her by her screen name, Wren. As John delves deeper into Wrens life he uncovers an entire world of noir pornography that is strangely compelling and horrifying sometimes both at the same time. When a body turns up in the river that may be Wrens suddenly the entire case is flipped upside down as now John is trying to find the killer to protect his brother.

One of the things that I like the most about March is that he is a thoroughly updated version of the PI. He's more likely to use the internet, Google and public records searches then asking around town and occasionally roughing people up for information. As an ex-cop he's more likely to work on the fringes of the law then be firmly entrenched outside of it like his more traditional "lone-wolf" counter parts. In fact he spends a goodly portion of the book trying to get his brother seek the aid of an attorney and to turn himself into the police. He also eschews some of the other typical PI traits. He is not a tough guy; in fact he gets beat up quite a few times throughout the book. He is not an alcoholic, in name or practice. He actually is quite healthy and an avid runner.

Interestingly Spiegleman takes what can only described as a morally ambiguous stance on marital infidelity. Simply put, its OK for March, a widower, to have a relationship with a married woman, Claire, but it’s not Ok for his brother, who is married, to have a sexual relationship with someone other then his wife. There seems to be an alarming justification for some forms of infidelity but not others.

None of this would be an issue if the 6 relationship characters that were central to the infidelity sub-plot were presented in a manner which afforded them an opportunity to act as tools for Spiegelman to dissect the complex issue of marital infidelity, or at least present it’s many faces. But in terms of their relationships to one another they are painted with an almost garish simplicity so that they become only walking extremes and the whole idea of infidelity, which is central to the story, becomes muddled.

There is a simplicity with which they are portrayed that makes it hard to get a handle on the characters. In terms of the infidelity they are in the same boat, committing the same act with varying degrees of success. But because of the way that they are presented to us throughout the telling some are judged yet some are absolved and others are just non-existent

To illustrate the simple extremes that some of these characters are painted I couldn’t help but notice that March and Claire are presented in a far more positive light because they are fostering a relationship but the other characters in the book who are also having an affair have the perception of being sexually deviant. March's brother, who is having an affair, is presented in such a way as to make him completely unlikable, even as his world starts crashing around him. Yet the most likeable character in the story is Claire, who is sweet and interesting, So we are set up from the start to view this as a black/white issue when it is actually a far more complex issue. If you’re going to bring it up then you may as well explore it fully.

There are two main female characters that are a part of this story, Claire and Wren. They are, I think, two sides of the same coin. According to all of the publication material Wren is cast as the "interesting" character. She is the one that we are supposed to be intrigued by and want to know more about. But I couldn’t help but notice in my own reading experience that I was far more interested in Claire and wanted to know more about her.

I must say though that I thoroughly enjoyed this book and now crave to know more about the other John March books. The best recommendation that I can give is to say that upon completion of Red Cat I went out and picked up a copy of Black Maps, the first March book and look forward to reading it.

--Brian Lindenmuth