Perhaps Irish-American author Tana French’s nihilism is softening with age, but the main character of The Searcher, which launched in October, is less tortured and ends up less troubled than any of the detectives in her Dublin Murder Squad series or her first stand-alone novel, The Witch Elm.
American ex-cop Cal Hooper buys a
run-down farm in a tiny Irish village in an attempt to escape the trauma of his
former job and his failed marriage. A North Carolina country boy, Cal is
damaged by what he sees on the job with the Chicago police force. He wants
nothing more than to fish, shoot a few rabbits, visit the pub occasionally, and
have little to do with other people.
That plan is shattered when a
local kid asks for his help. Trey’s brother has been missing six months, and
Trey first asks then pressures Cal to help. Cal reluctantly agrees, but he’s no
longer a cop, so his only resource is his own wits. Cal starts asking
questions, and that’s when trouble finds him.
Cal discovers that his seemingly
idyllic village is not as it appears, and his neighbors have secrets he never
would have guessed. He also discovers that he must re-examine his own moral
code and perhaps make some adjustments. He learns that he can’t be the person
he was in Chicago and still be happy.
Typically a French novel
concludes with the protagonist destroying his or her career, life, or both. In
some there is no clear resolution, which leaves the reader unsatisfied and
anxious. In fact, in French’s previous novel, The Witch Elm, the main character
ruins his life because of his own self-doubt.
However, The Searcher leaves the
reader feeling more satisfied than French’s other novels. Cal comes to realize he
can’t “fix” every wrong, but he can help Trey, and himself, find some closure
and some peace. Most of French’s protagonists destroy what they were hoping to
build. Refreshingly, Cal finds a way to salvage his dream.
As always, French’s prose is
spellbinding and lyrical:
At first the river feels like what he
needs. It’s narrow enough that the massive old trees touch across it, rocky
enough to make the water swirl and whiten; the banks are speckled orange-gold
with fallen leaves. Cal finds himself a clear stretch and a big mossy beech
tree, and takes his time picking a lure. Birds flip and sass each other between
branches, paying no attention to him and the smell of the water is so strong
and sweet he can feel it against his skin (p 89).
The beautiful imagery combined with
the dialect of the earthly, witty characters creates an appealing atmosphere
that engages the reader even when the action slows down.
When Cal expresses concern about
him and his neighbor angering the bar owner after a particularly long and
raucous visit to the pub, his neighbor reassures him: “’Barty?’ Mart says with
magnificent scorn. ‘Sure, that pub’s not even rightly his. He only got his
hands on it because Sean Og’s son fancied himself sitting in an aul’ office,
the big jessie. He can put up with us having a wee carouse every now and
again’” (p 216).
Additionally, the third person
limited point of view keeps the focus entirely on Cal, his struggle adjusting
to his new life, and his methodical investigative process.
