The Ruins
By Scott Smith
Knopf
“This place no good,” the Mexican taxi driver says to the six young tourists as he drops them at a jungle trailhead. “No good you go this place.” And yet they don’t listen. A German, a Greek and four Americans just out of college are vacationing in Cancun when they decide to follow a hand-drawn map into the jungle in search of an archaeological dig. Instead, they find a hill covered with red flowers and a village full of Mayans with bows and arrows. Sounds dicey, but this is a horror novel, and the twist that turns an innocent day-trip into an extended nightmare is not the Mayans (although they are part of the problem) but a far more surreal and insidious villain. We won’t spoil your fun by telling you what it is, but we will say that it’s so strange that it often becomes laughable, which is good because you’ll want something to take the edge off the dreadful surprises these kids endure. The book is a bit long, but only because Smith juxtaposes, very effectively, the horror of the advancing threat and horrors the traumatized tourists visit upon each other and upon themselves. It’s a good summer read.
The Messenger
By Daniel Silva
Putnam
Silva’s ninth novel begins with a bomb and missile attack on a papal audience in St. Peter’s Square, which leaves more than 700 dead and the Basilica in flames. The US government secretly asks Israeli intelligence experts, including Silva’s hero, Gabriel Allon, to find and kill the terrorist behind it. Allon’s plan: Using a lost painting by Vincent van Gogh as bait (it’s a great subplot), he’ll plant a spy in the entourage of the terrorist’s patron, a Saudi billionaire, and wait for the target to show himself. This setup is bold and provocative as Silva’s smart but world-weary characters discuss the politics of violence and Saudi Arabia’s ties to global terrorism and to the US. The second half of the book seems rushed, and isn’t so easy to swallow. The spy (a beautiful art curator with no experience in espionage) is trained too easily, the terrorist appears too quickly and surveillance by Allon’s agents is so sloppy that the bad guys know what they’re doing almost as soon as we do.
Cross Country
By Robert Sullivan
Bloomsbury
Having lived in Pennsylvania for many years, we know, and indeed have set foot in, the town of Bellefonte, not Bellafonte or Bellafante, as Sullivan alternately calls it here. We’d hold this little glitch against him if it weren’t for the fact that we’ve taken a few road trips ourselves, and know how loopy he must have been when he crossed the town line. He had driven Interstate 80 across Pennsylvania, and before that on the Ohio turnpike, and before that on other highways over several days all the way from Oregon, with his wife beside him clutching a TripTik, his kids sagging in the back seat and his so-tired-of-driving heart full of gratitude just because they were all still alive. This is the book to read if you’re mourning the road trip you can’t afford this summer. Sullivan (“Rats”) is funny and congenial, and he writes his travelogue in short sections that make your snack breaks and pit stops easy to plan. A veteran of many cross-country road trips (with varying combinations of children and possessions in tow), he’s a great guide to the scenery outside the car and the melodrama within. Enjoy.
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