When you’ve had a new book dedicated to you and when you’ve guest-blogged about the publication of that book, it’s only right that you should also post something on your own blog. So here’s what I have to say.
I first came across Shervin Jamali on Facebook when he was marketing his recently published debut novel, The Devil’s Lieutenant. He seemed to be part of a coterie of crime noir writers, some of whom were known to me. I downloaded the novel, expecting to read another tale in the style of Dashiell Hammett, with its slick turns of phrase and hardboiled language. You know the style I mean: slick as in slicker than the sidewalks in New York City on a rain-soaked night. And hard-boiled as in more hardboiled than an egg left to hatch in the middle of the Mojave Desert.
When I did come to read the novel, however, I was surprised and then delighted to find that Shervin had eschewed that style for something much more straightforward – writing that was spare, simple and devoid of those familiar smartass quips. And yet, simple though it may have been, there was also a depth to the writing. The protagonist, Michael, is vulnerable and guilt-ridden; his feelings of anger, anguish and fear are palpable. He’s on a quest to redeem himself, a quest that is continued in the sequel, Escape From Hell, which is written in the same spare style.
By the time I read the sequel, I had come to know Shervin a lot more through our connection on Facebook. I found him to be an affable guy who was passionate about his books. And there was a sensitivity about him that was apparent in his writing. But there was something else about the writing that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Which brings me at last to Remember, Shervin’s latest novel and the actual reason for this blog post. I’ve read it. There’s that now-familiar writing style of his, of course. There are also similar themes in the story: a guilt-ridden protagonist, a fight between good and evil, a search for redemption. But the story is far more intense and moving than the first two novels. It even had this tough guy here shedding a tear by its end. If it doesn’t also move you when you read it, all I have to say is that you ain’t got no soul, brother or sister.
And that’s the thing I couldn’t put my finger on after reading the earlier books. Soul. The additional ingredient. Shervin doesn’t merely convey his sensitivity in his writing, he puts his very soul into it. There are very few writers who are able or who have the passion to do that, which makes his writing and Remember special.
By the way, Remember is billed as a love story, which it truly is – and a unique one at that But I’ll let you into a little secret: The Devil’s Lieutenant and Escape From Hell are love stories as well, just not so overtly.
By the way also, the nice things I’ve been saying about Shervin in this post have nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he has dedicated Remember to my late wife and I. Nor has it to do with the bar that features in the story being called Gisbys, allegedly named after a famous Scottish author. If I hear you mouthing anything to the contrary, buddy, you might wake up one night looking at the ER end of a .45 Magnum. Oops, sorry! I’ve lapsed into hardboiled talk again.
I first came across Shervin Jamali on Facebook when he was marketing his recently published debut novel, The Devil’s Lieutenant. He seemed to be part of a coterie of crime noir writers, some of whom were known to me. I downloaded the novel, expecting to read another tale in the style of Dashiell Hammett, with its slick turns of phrase and hardboiled language. You know the style I mean: slick as in slicker than the sidewalks in New York City on a rain-soaked night. And hard-boiled as in more hardboiled than an egg left to hatch in the middle of the Mojave Desert.
When I did come to read the novel, however, I was surprised and then delighted to find that Shervin had eschewed that style for something much more straightforward – writing that was spare, simple and devoid of those familiar smartass quips. And yet, simple though it may have been, there was also a depth to the writing. The protagonist, Michael, is vulnerable and guilt-ridden; his feelings of anger, anguish and fear are palpable. He’s on a quest to redeem himself, a quest that is continued in the sequel, Escape From Hell, which is written in the same spare style.
By the time I read the sequel, I had come to know Shervin a lot more through our connection on Facebook. I found him to be an affable guy who was passionate about his books. And there was a sensitivity about him that was apparent in his writing. But there was something else about the writing that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Which brings me at last to Remember, Shervin’s latest novel and the actual reason for this blog post. I’ve read it. There’s that now-familiar writing style of his, of course. There are also similar themes in the story: a guilt-ridden protagonist, a fight between good and evil, a search for redemption. But the story is far more intense and moving than the first two novels. It even had this tough guy here shedding a tear by its end. If it doesn’t also move you when you read it, all I have to say is that you ain’t got no soul, brother or sister.
And that’s the thing I couldn’t put my finger on after reading the earlier books. Soul. The additional ingredient. Shervin doesn’t merely convey his sensitivity in his writing, he puts his very soul into it. There are very few writers who are able or who have the passion to do that, which makes his writing and Remember special.
By the way, Remember is billed as a love story, which it truly is – and a unique one at that But I’ll let you into a little secret: The Devil’s Lieutenant and Escape From Hell are love stories as well, just not so overtly.
By the way also, the nice things I’ve been saying about Shervin in this post have nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he has dedicated Remember to my late wife and I. Nor has it to do with the bar that features in the story being called Gisbys, allegedly named after a famous Scottish author. If I hear you mouthing anything to the contrary, buddy, you might wake up one night looking at the ER end of a .45 Magnum. Oops, sorry! I’ve lapsed into hardboiled talk again.