In THE GOOD SON, his superb seventh novel, bestseller Michael Gruber (FORGERY OF VENUS) explores America's political involvement in South Asia and the bloody religious and ethnic fanaticism associated with the region. Sonia Laghari, a Pakistani-American writer and psychologist, sets up a conference on peace in Kashmir, the most terrorist-infested place on earth, only to have her and her small group of pacifists abducted and held captive by terrorists, who may or may not be manufacturing nuclear weapons. All but doomed to a public beheading, Sonia uses her familiarity with Islamic doctrine as well as her knowledge of Jungian psychology in an attempt to enlighten her deeply conflicted captors. Though the numerous bombshells at the end may strain credulity, the brilliant character development and labyrinthine plot line, not to mention the absorbing history of modern jihadism and the US war on terrorism, make this a provocative thriller that readers won't soon forget.
About the AuthorIn his own words:
I was born and raised in New York City, and educated in its public schools. I went to Columbia, earning a BA in English literature. After college I did editorial work at various small magazines in New York, and then went back to school at City College and got the equivalent of a second BA, in biology. After that I went to the University of Miami and got a masters in marine biology. In 1968-69 I was in the U. S. Army as a medic.
In 1973, I received my Ph.D. in marine sciences, for a study of octopus behavior. Then I was a chef at several Miami restaurants. Then I was a hippie traveling around in a bus and working as a roadie for various rock groups. Then I worked for the county manager of Metropolitan Dade County, as an analyst. Then I was director of planning for the county department of human resources.
I went to Washington DC in 1977, and worked in the Carter White House, Office of Science and Technology Policy. Then I worked in the Environmental Protection Agency as a policy analyst and also as the speechwriter for the Administrator. In 1986, I was promoted to the Senior Executive Service of the U.S., the highest level of the federal civil service. That same year, Robert K. Tanenbaum contacted me and asked me to write a courtroom thriller to be published under his name. I did that, and since then I have also written the first fifteen novels in the popular Butch Karp and Marlene series.
In 1988 I left Washington, D.C. and settled in Seattle, where I worked as a speechwriter and environmental expert for the state land commissioner. I have been a full-time freelance writer since 1990, mostly on the Karp novels, but also doing non-fiction magazine pieces on biology. My first novel under my own name, TROPIC OF NIGHT, was published in 2003 (William Morrow) and a second novel, VALLEY OF BONES, as well as a children's book THE WITCH'S BOY (Harper Collins) came out in 2005. The third novel, NIGHT OF THE JAGUAR, was available in early 2006. A fourth thriller for Morrow, THE BOOK OF AIR AND SHADOWS was published in 2007. I am married, with three grown children and an extremely large dog.
SUNDAY, MAY 2, 2010 19:01 ET
A spy novel for the 21st century
Michael
Gruber's "The Good Son" turns a hostage crisis in Pakistan into an
exploration of our most primal longings
BY LAURA MILLER for SALON.COM
iStockphoto/Salon
"I
have been a kind of undercover person from birth almost," says one of
the two main characters in Michael Gruber's "The Good Son," "and I am
bound to offend those who like neat classifications." Not an improbable
statement, coming from a major player in a spy thriller — if "The Good
Son" can be accurately described as a spy thriller. It is that, and yet
it's a lot more. Like Theodore Laghari, the above-quoted "undercover
person," this novel slides in and out of conventional identities with a
facility that would be disturbing if it weren't so damn smooth. Adeptly
plotted yet philosophical, worldly yet preoccupied with moral truth,
it's a book to provoke comparisons with John le Carré and Graham Greene,
while at the same time eluding the ideological constraints that weigh
so heavy on those masters.
Theo is the son of Farid, "a grayish
presence who teaches the development of international law at Georgetown
and spends a lot of time with his large collection of British Empire
stamps," and Sonia, a woman of infinite variety and a checkered past,
currently working as a Jungian therapist. En route to a conference on
the therapeutic aspects of regional conflict resolution in Kashmir,
Sonia and her fellow luminaries are taken hostage by a band of
mujahedeen in Pakistan's North-West Frontier Province. Theo — who works
as a "shooter" for a semilegal special-forces outfit he describes as the
U.S. Army's "own little CIA" — determines that the only way to save his
mother is to engineer an incident that will trigger a U.S. attack on
Pakistan, providing the cover for him to extract her from the village
where she's being held.
"The Good Son" constitutes a startling
departure from Gruber's last two novels, which were excellent, high-end
literary thrillers featuring an assortment of self-thwarting, thoroughly
Eurocentric characters chasing around after long-lost masterpieces by
Shakespeare and Velázquez. "The Good Son" is so deeply engaged with
Central Asia that a newcomer to his fiction might erroneously conclude
that Gruber had spent most of his life studying the subject. What's most
impressive about "The Good Son" is the way the author gradually
recalibrates his readers' perspective to align with that of Theo and
Sonia, people who, despite their American citizenship, unconsciously see
Pakistan as the center of the world. This is despite the fact that Theo
has been fighting on the side of the Great Satan, and Sonia has had a
fatwa on her head for decades, the result of two memoirs she wrote about
traveling the Muslim world disguised as a boy.
Both mother and
son are chameleons; Theo can pass for an elite American soldier (Gruber
has got the casual, can-do diction of this kind of guy down cold) even
though he spent his childhood as the petted scion of a Lahore
magistrate, and his youth in Afghanistan fighting the Soviets as the
adopted son of a Pashtun tribal chief. Sonia, the daughter of a
dispossessed Polish Catholic aristocrat, served as the apprentice to a
traveling Sufi master during her transvestite adventures in the 'Stans.
She stumbled into her profession when a family tragedy precipitated a
mental breakdown that landed her in a Swiss sanitarium.
While
Theo lays the groundwork for his rescue scheme, Sonia adopts the
desperate stratagem of dividing her captors; as is often the case in
such rural villages, the militant force is made up of uneasy allies: the
clannish native Pashtuns ("those wonderful, horrible people," as one
Westerner describes them), Taliban outsiders of questionable authority,
and arrogant, fanatical Arabs, whom nobody really likes or trusts. She
interprets dreams for the locals, challenges the chieftains on Koranic
scholarship, and tries to keep her fellow hostages from turning on each
other like crabs in a bucket. Meanwhile, back in the bowels of the
National Security Agency in D.C., an analyst named Cynthia Lam, whose
careerism is as implacable and mechanical as an algorithm, smells
something fishy in the chatter her department has recently picked up
about the theft of some Pakistani nuclear material.
Gruber sets
up a delicate balancing act for himself, using the twisty plot and
action scenes to power the novel through conversations in which the
characters expound on Central Asia's corrupt politics or Pashtun
brigandry or the perversities of the intelligence bureaucracy. I can't
promise that this dialogue doesn't occasionally wax a bit stilted —
rather like the "As you know, Bob..." scenes in science fiction films
where some minor mouthpiece character spells out the mission for the
audience's benefit. Fortunately, what Gruber's characters have to say on
these topics is always interesting enough to carry the day, and,
really, how many of us already understand this stuff?
What
Gruber's people keep talking about isn't so much a culture clash as the
conceptual gulf between the rooted, interlocking lives of the Pashtuns
and the nomadic, transcultural experience of Theo, Sonia and Cynthia.
"Like all Americans," Theo thinks of a girlfriend back in the States,
"her whole thing is about privacy, pulling away from the parents to be
yourself, whatever that happens to be," while "that's not the way it is
in the real world, where I come from. There ... boys still want to grow
up to be like their fathers and grandfathers. To be young is nothing. To
be young is not to have a job, a wife, to be broke all the time." He
can tell his American lover about growing up in Lahore, but "will she
understand what it means?"
Details that at first seem merely
quirky — Sonia's Jungian practice, for example — prove themselves in the
course of the novel to be tributaries emptying into Gruber's theme:
that enduring, atavistic longing for the meaning and passion to be found
in the old ways of life. "Everyone loves feudalism in their hearts,"
Theo tells himself, sounding like Greene's Harry Lime, "which is why
'The Godfather' and 'The Sopranos' were huge hits. There has yet to be a
movie about legislative markup or the courageous agents of the Federal
Election Commission." Life in "Pashtunistan" may be brutal and
irrational, but for what Sonia calls "us primitives," it's mighty hard
to quit.
It's tempting, toward the end of "The Good Son," to
raise a protest against Sonia's resignation; rationality, after all, has
its upside! "The earth," she acknowledges, "is ruled by people whose
loyalties are to abstractions." Even these, however, do like to go home
to a juicy thriller. In its pages they look for intrigue and bloodshed,
hair's-breadth escapes, firefights and cruel vendettas. "The Good Son"
is the rare novel that looks right back.