Cal Hooper is a former Chicago detective. Grown weary of his job, he’s upended his life and moved into a run-down fixer-upper in the small town of Ardnakelty, in an unnamed part of the Irish countryside. He’s found his place in the community, and that includes his girlfriend Lena and unruly, stoic teenager Trey, whom he teaches carpentry in an attempt to get life back on track. It works right up until the point where Trey’s long-lost father Johnny makes his return from London, bringing trouble with him as he goes. Cal wants to protect Trey, but Trey doesn’t want protecting.
Tana French is not like other crime fiction writers. Even her procedurals about the homicide division of the Dublin police never looked like those that her contemporaries write, and with The Hunter (sequel to 2020’s The Searcher) she moves even further away from that genre. Ardnakelty operates under its own set of laws – the local constabulary is a frequent butt of their jokes – and frequently, loyalties and shared history determine the boundaries of what is and is not acceptable or even feasible. The dialogues in this book are masterful, layered and taut. What is said doesn’t matter; it’s what is implied between, above and behind the lines that conveys the true meaning.
French also manages to both embrace Irish cliché as well as do away with it. Yes, there are sheep farmers. The accents, even on the page, are thick. There is a grimy pub where Irish ballads are sung (the locals are fond of getting the occasional tourist to succumb to some sort of nonexistent lore that is made up on the spot). But the people of Ardnakelty are no fools, even if they are unable to resist the temptation of falling for convenient gossip or the promises that Trey’s father Johnny dangles in front of them.
The Searcher, when it came out, was compared to a Western, and French takes the comparison to the next level here when Johnny saunters back in town with a wealthy backer and the promise that gold is to be found on the land. To Ardnakelty’s sheep farmers, struggling through a long drought, this is new territory and they are unable to stop themselves from being lured in, even if only temporarily. Cal watches it wearily; Johnny’s reappearance disturbed the fragile peace of the town and Cal can do little but watch as Trey keeps forcing herself in the middle of it all. It’s not even that Cal and Lena are the only sensible people in the town, they are both outsiders; Cal by birth, Lena by choice. Cal can recognise that Johnny is up to no good, but he doesn’t understand exactly what the plan is. Moreover, Cal’s moral compass – already somewhat adrift after the first novel – is now aimlessly spinning around in his desire to both have justice done and keep Trey safe.
Whether or not you’ll enjoy this book probably depends on what you’re expecting. French meticulously ratchets up the tension, but that means it takes a while before all the pieces on the chess board are in the right position. If you’re looking for a quick, easy read with lots of spectacle, look elsewhere. It pays off to be patient, though: the plot is taut, not a single phrase in this book is wasted. French’s writing is an island unto itself.