Just finished up Michael Marshall's trilogy, and I'm having a difficult time separating Blood of Angels out of the pack for this review. For the uninitiated, go back and start at the beginning, with the Straw Men and The Upright Man novels, and work your way through, or you may be in for some confusion. The series is planted firmly in X-Files territory, and, as with the X-Files, there's lots going on, enough that keeping track is essential: In Marshall's world, surreal, horrific conspiracies and cover-ups abound. In fact, he goes as far as to reference the X-Files early in Blood of Angels, during a drug deal about to go strangely wrong.
Here, our Mulder and Scully are ex-CIA intelligence agent Ward Hopkins and FBI agent Nina Baynam, who, after the bloody events in the previous books, are now hiding out in a small cabin, secluded on the edge of the Washington State forest. Their semi-idyllic life is cut short with the sudden - but not entirely unexpected - arrival of Nina's FBI boss, who's come with news. The story jumps into gear as they learn of a new, possibly female serial killer, and the kicker - the escape of Ward's murderous twin brother, a serial killer called The Upright Man, who is - was? - part of a powerful, world-wide cabal of killers who believe the rest of us are infected with a communal sort of virus that makes us behave more-or-less like sheep. They view themselves as the wolves in this demented scenario, and therefore, well, we're ripe for the picking.
Unlike the X-files, however, which presented its version of space-aliens, governmental cover-ups and general weirdness as a growing mystery waiting to be uncovered, Marshall has structured his premise in a much more straightforward manner: There's a big group of serial killers out there, firmly entrenched in all walks of life, and they're planning something BIG.
Quite an apocalypic scenario, eh? Unfortunately, Marshall wimps out on us. Nothing against his writing per se: the books in and of themselves are entertaining enough, taken as a breezy way to pass the time at the beach; the characters are well-drawn and there's action and intrigue aplenty, and we're treated to Marshalls' sly, cynical humor and cultural observations which helps break up the otherwise oppressive atmosphere. The problem is that (unless, perhaps, there is to be another book, say...) for all the big, ominous setup, nothing much happens. And in the end, we don't uncover much more about the Straw Men than we already knew from the first book. I'd hoped Marshall would explore this group he's created (a group that is not so unlike the terrorist organizations operating in the real world) and to see how deep the evil really goes, but no. Instead, we're basically told again and again that they're devious and untouchable mass-murderers. Great. Whooo. Creepy.
I was left feeling feeling vaguely unsatisfied, like I'd choked down a stale pastry and cup of lukewarm coffee for breakfast, instead of having the artery-clogging plate of butter-smeared waffles and eggs and hot, greasy bacon and hash browns that I really wanted. For all of that, because the premise is so intriguing and holds so much untapped potential, I hope Marshall is inspired to give us another, final chapter in the Straw Men legacy.
