Book Report: Razorblade Tears

15. S. A. Cosby, Razorblade Tears (2021) (8/7/22)

The blurbs for this book invoke Elmore Leonard, Walter Moseley, Lee Child, and Attica Locke, citing skillful action and plotting and "incredibly authentic and compelling main characters," and commend Cosby for being "one of the most muscular, distinctive, grab-you-by-both-ears voices in American crime fiction." Indeed, the main characters are, if not "incredibly authentic," quite sympathetic, and the story plays out in a satisfying (if violent) fashion. Cosby's writing is great. (I should probably just stay away from blurbs. They always disappoint.)

Then again, this book was on Barack Obama's 2022 summer reading list, so there's that.

The story begins in Virginia with the funeral of two young men, Isiah Randolph, an African American journalist, and his husband, Derek Jenkins, a white baker. They were murdered, one might say assassinated, and their fathers want to find out why—and then punish the perpetrators. The story is really about the fathers, Ike and Buddy Lee, both of whom are ex-cons, both of whom had difficulty accepting their sons' life choices, and who now, together, go on a quest to find understanding and forgiveness—forgiveness of themselves more than anything, perhaps. Ike left his former life of crime behind fifteen years ago and in the meantime has run a lawn maintenance company; his wife is a nurse at the local hospital. Buddy Lee is a bit of a ne'er-do-well, living alone in a ramshackle trailer. They rub each other the wrong way from the git-go, and need to overcome their prejudices as they figure out how to work together.

The plot clicks along. Things happen too quickly to be realistic, decisions are made on the fly that definitely deserve at least some deliberation, and the grand finale is beyond believability—but heck, this is genre fiction. There is a lot of violence, helped along by a mercenary motorcycle gang. I can't say as I really bought the bad guy's motives, but the story isn't about him. It's about acceptance and love, even if too late, and about moving forward.

This is Cosby's second book. I might check out his first one, Blacktop Wasteland. I enjoyed his voice. Here's a sample. Buddy Lee has just had a run-in with a potential witness and is recounting the events:

Ike cocked his head to the side. "He say he was pressing charges?" Ike asked.
     "Nah. His two comrades are scared shitless. They ain't backing up his story, and the place don't have no video cameras. So we should be alright there, but Detective Egg Roll told me if he hears about us kicking any more millennial ass, he gonna put us both in a holding cell until daylight saving time is over," Buddy Lee said.
     Ike frowned. "Why you call him Detective Egg Roll?"
     "What? It's just a joke. Ya know, because he's Chinese," Buddy Lee said.
     "I don't even think he's Chinese. I swear you white boys got a joke for everybody, but if I said your family tree ain't got no branches, you'd be ready to fight."
     "Shit, nah. I got an uncle who's my cousin," Buddy Lee said. Ike rolled his eyes. "I'm joking. Everybody too damn sensitive these days."
     "We ain't sensitive. Back in the day nobody could say shit or one of your uncles would've tried to hang 'em from a tree. Now I can tell you to kiss my entire ass," Ike said. Buddy Lee scratched at his chin as he considered Ike's abbreviated history lesson.
     "Alright, I'll give you that. But let me ask you this: You extending that courtesy to people like Isiah and Derek, too? Could they have told you to kiss their ass?" Buddy Lee said. Ike shifted in his chair and crossed his arms. He didn't answer Buddy's Lee's question.
     "Be careful you don't hurt yourself falling off that high horse there, Ike," Buddy Lee said.