After reading Anthony Neil
Smith’s soon-to-be-released new novel Slower Bear, I right away bought
his prior novel Slow Bear to get as much as I could of Micah “Slow Bear”
Cross.
A fantastically drawn character
can do that to a reader. It is, for me, possibly the biggest test of an
author’s talent. I have often called it the Sherlock Effect. Slow Bear stays
with me the same way Conan Doyle’s eccentric detective did after the first story
of his I read.
In Slower Bear, Micah
Cross takes no time at all continuing headlong toward more violence and a
unique sense of chivalry, though unapologetically self-serving at times. He is
a former reservation officer with one arm (blown off in the line of duty) and a
penchant, if not a preoccupation, if not an outright obsession for a pulpy glass
of orange juice. Smith draws the line between likable and unlikable with an
incredibly light hand, but Slow Bear’s core goodness stays intact throughout. If
not entirely likable, Micah Cross is nothing if not memorable.
And that’s a start. But Smith
was clearly not satisfied with only his mastery of character development.
As I read, the book really
started in earnest for me when Slow Bear met Abeline, one of numerous women he
has picked as possible one-night stands to have a place to sleep. It’s his
primary concern. Not the sex. But a warm place to lay his head for a night.
With the redheaded Abeline, an older lady who wears a Brooks and Dunn tour
t-shirt “that showed her shape” Slow Bear finds more to like than usual.
This was a white woman, sixty-years-old, but sixty
now didn’t look like sixty when Slow Bear was a boy. Sixty used to be old. Now,
sixty was something else. Sixty could even be pretty, in the right light. Sixty
wasn’t front porch rocking material. That night, sixty was horny.
And, for Abeline, when Slow Bear
suggests a couple more nights together, her reaction says it all.
She nuzzled in. ‘Honey, I’m up for more of this if
you are. Not like anything in this house is worth stealing. So why don’t you
tell me the real reason you’re on the road.’
Though they both are, as my granny
said, smitten with each other, they’ve not yet given up their own selfishness
or suspicion. So once the two have had their first burst of hard and mutually enjoyable
sex, it’s clear that they have a connection, one that will soon be tested in
high-stake fashion.
But we have first met Abeline in
flashback. In the present, at the beginning of the book, Slow Bear finds himself
the temporary guardian of two young girls kidnapped by one Gerardo, a Ukrainian
sex-trader, who Slow Bear quickly dispatches early on. The two girls were
hell-bound toward a sex trade industry swap, both “brown-skinned, but the older
was Latino and the younger Sioux.” As he rescues the two teenagers, the older
one lets him know there’s more to the situation and the plot, as they say, thickens.
Slow Bear then beats a dead-heat dash back to Abeline’s place, having few other
options he can think of at that exact moment.
Neil’s mastery at building characters is then turned next level when Slow Bear arrives and presents her with far more than she ever bargained for from a one-night stand, no matter how enjoyable it might have been.
Once the four of them strike out to find the people responsible, the novel, of course, follows the anticipated path of bloodshed and gunpowder that Smith has formed his reputation on, but these aspects quickly shifted to the background for me as I became truly enthralled with Slow Bear and Abeline’s growing affection for one another. It’s his deft ability to reveal that dynamic when Smith absolutely shines in this novel.
Don’t get me wrong, Slow Bear kicks
plenty of ass (as does Abeline, in fact) and ultimately shows the true honor
and dignity the reader always knew was there at his core once all is said and
done. But those quiet moments in the book when Slow Bear reflects on Abeline in
ways that puts his hardened heart on display even as it begins to change and
soften are what I found myself most marveling at as a reader.
As this connection strengthens, Smith
then expertly draws this abiding affection of Slow Bear’s out into the open. We
see a man at the beginning of a real commitment showing grace, hard will, and even
happiness in panicked, life-and-death situations, a man who ultimately takes no
time whatsoever in making sacrifices for Abeline and the girls.
I went into Slower Bear expecting to read a fine noir novel by a gifted author I respect. I got this in spades. But what I didn’t expect was to come away with a renewed belief in the power of new love to push through even the worst of circumstances, as Abeline’s caring for the girls is also a dynamic we see form right before our very eyes. Smith ultimately offers us a side dish with his crime novel: the formation of an unusual family of four. I’ll take that with my shootouts every day of the week and twice on Sunday.
