Review: Fourth Reich Rising (Jack Shepherd Mystery Thrillers) by Tom Schwartz

Rating: 1.3 out of 5

I have struggled with writing this review for a few weeks now. I know what I want to say, but the hard part is figuring out how to say it in the most gentle way possible.

Fourth Reich Rising by Tom Schwartz is a very strange book. It starts out interestingly enough – with a prologue introducing us to Eric Goering, son of Hermann Goering, and offering a very haunting statement on the purpose of the Third Reich and plans put in place by those who’d constructed it to reform the idea if ever the Nazis lost control of the power they’d built. It was this prologue that pulled me in and made me want to review the book.

However, after this prologue, everything goes downhill. What we have here isn’t a novel, but an outline for a whole series of novels.

The story goes something like this: The children of all the former Nazi leaders and their remaining families come together, led by Erich, to facilitate the recreation of the Reich. The history is explained – in mind-numbing detail – of how they go about this, from college all the way up until present day. Then there is a cruise ship, upon which are mystery writer Jack Shepherd and his friends. The ingenious plan by the new Reich is to smuggle a nuclear warhead from the Ukraine, stow it away aboard the cruise vessel, detonate the bomb in New York Harbor, and all the while create enough “chatter” to blame the whole shebang on Iran and the Saudis, then organize all the white supremacists in the US and bring the government down.

Now this is all well and good, and as outrageous as it sounds, I’ve read pretty entertaining books that have presented much less believable scenarios. But the writing is so robotic and tedious, it is, like I said, an outline more than a novel. Even the “fun” scenes involving Shepherd and company come across as completely emotionless. Here’s an example passage from the text, so you can see what I mean:

Tonight they all ordered lobster. These were one-and-a-half pound Maine lobsters with drawn butter and crab stuffing. Jack said, “People, we can’t have lobster without wine,” and he signaled the wine steward. “Three bottles of Schwartenkatz Rhine, please.” As usual, the service was great and the wine went down easily. When it came time for dessert, no one was interested until Judi spotted baked Alaska on one of the tables next to them.

“I can't take any more of this. I’ll have to buy a new wardrobe,” exclaimed Bob, but he ate his entire dessert anyway.

And this is seriously one of the more exciting segments. The entire book reads this way, only often time even more stilted.

Another major gripe – the supposed main character is, of course, Jack Shepherd, mystery writer. Hell, his name’s on the subtitle. Two problems with this. #1, he’s flat as unleavened bread. (But then again, all the characters are, so why should he be any different.) #2, he appears in literally one-third of the book, at most. That’s right, most of the story deals with the reformation of the Reich, the plans of the Reich, how the Reich kill people, how they spread fear in rather simplistic ways, and so on. It becomes more than tedious. At certain points I started wishing I was reading my son’s accounting textbook instead.

With all the being said, the reason I’ve waited so long to write a review is that I appreciate Tom Schwartz’s point of view. Especially toward the end, when all these outlandish and excruciatingly boring plot points come together, the author is able to write more freely, to illustrate his rather beautiful perspective of the world to us in a touching, albeit slightly naïve-sounding way. I appreciated that, and thought that maybe the book could be saved if he could only hold on to that tone and stretch it out a little longer. But no, soon we’re back with the Reich as they try to escape the authorities after Shepherd helps thwart their plans (in possibly the most ridiculously overstated part of the book.)

There is also the strange tendency the author has to start just about half his chapters in present tense, introduce a huge block of dialogue, and then – bam! – the rest of the chapter is in past tense. It’s seriously one of the most odd and baffling conventions I’ve ever seen, in any type of literature.

I could go on, but I’m going to stop here. I don’t want to keep piling it on, which I feel like I’m about to do. All I have to say about Fourth Reich Rising is this: Tom Schwartz is a man with a lot of good to give the world, a lot of ideas about community and nationalism and religion and loving your brother. He’s defended our country in the military and is an upstanding, thoughtful individual.

He just can’t write. At least not yet.

Agree with me? Disagree? Buy the ebook if you wish, and let me know:

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Average Rating - 4.6 Stars

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by Sean Sweeney

The human body consists of two-thirds water.

As concertgoers on a steamy day in Boston find out, water can kill as much as it gives life.

A terrorist attack at City Hall Plaza has the authorities perplexed. The government, in response, sends in a capable but young agent – an agent born from the ashes of terrorism itself – to handle it.

But as her partner dies and the terrorist strikes again, Jaclyn Johnson – code named Snapshot – finds herself in a situation she has trained a decade to face: She’s up against a man with enough money to finance a war against his competition. With a deadline in place to stop him – and with a car holding enough hidden tricks to evade capture – Snapshot infiltrates his hidden installation and finds out her target’s true end game, a secret that could have the world fighting over water.

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THE SHOP

Average Rating - 3.8 Stars

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by J. Carson Black

When former Navy SEAL Cyril Landry and his team of assassins enter a chalet in Aspen, Colorado, he recognizes the pop star Brienne Cross asleep on the couch. As he is about to kill her, she wakes and looks into his eyes.

There is that one moment between them. And then she is dead. Someone with a higher pay scale than Landry has been ordering celebrities killed. Now he wants to know why.

At first glance, the shooting death of a police chief in a rundown Florida motel room appears to be an assignation gone wrong. But as detective Jolie Burke plumbs deeper into the crime’s murky undercurrents, she unveils a conspiracy shocking in its scope.

In her relentless pursuit of justice, Burke follows a byzantine path that will take her from the lottery-driven fantasies of a yard maintenance worker to a Panama City Beach missing-persons case and finally to the island compound of her estranged uncle--the Attorney General of the United States.

The death of a celebrity in Aspen has set the table for an orgy of death, destruction, and infamy. As the stakes rise, Jolie finds herself teamed with a killer. Only Jolie and her unlikely partner, Cyril Landry, can dismantle the shadowy entity known as The Shop--before it strikes again.

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Review: Dismember by Daniel Pyle

Rating: 5 out of 5

Last year, the offer was put out to me to review books for Shock Totem Magazine. Of course I gladly accepted, and immediately went out looking for material.

I didn’t have to look far. I’d reviewed Down the Drain, the fantastic novelette by Daniel Pyle, here in the Journal, and, knowing that he had a full-length novel out, I took a chance and requested a copy of Dismember from the author.

I am so glad I did.

Dismember is a special book, an oddity in the most wondrous of ways. It’s odd because it bucks the trend of “horror” without losing its niche in the genre, for horror isn’t always about slime-drenched creatures (or bathtub monsters) leaping out and torturing the innocent. No, when horror is done properly it deals with the more important issues, those that keep us commonfolk firmly entrenched in our lives, everything from family to death to the loss of personal freedom. When this happens, as it does in Dismember, the terrors on the page grab hold of you and cause your heart to skip, not because something might jump out of the darkness, but because it lets you know just how thin the thread separating life and death really is.

Dismember is a brisk, almost meditative story of purity corrupted. The tale takes us on the twenty-three year journey of Dave Abbott, the only survivor of a terrible car accident that occurred while traveling with his family in the Colorado Mountains when he was seven years old.

Davy has lived a life of seclusion and fear since that day, trapped in a rickety old house by a twisted mountain man who is only called Mr. Boots. Very few details of Davy’s captivity are explained in the book, but you get the impression that Mr. Boots performed certain illicit acts on little Davy that society would most certainly not condone. I appreciated the lack of exposition in this regard, because I haven’t the desire (or stomach) to read the particulars of child abuse, be that abuse of a sexual nature (which the text suggests) or not. In fact, these circumstances are handled with style, using cursory hints dispersed through the story in flashbacks, which stick with you simply because of what we are not shown, for what our minds create to fill in the blanks is almost always more disturbing than overdone exposition.

The story picks up with Davy on his thirtieth birthday. It seems all those years in captivity haven’t done wonders for poor Davy’s sanity, because he’s hatched a plan to reassemble his dead family through any means necessary. Once this re-gathering begins, Pyle tells his story through five points of view: an eleven-year-old boy named Zach, Mike and Libby Pullman, a divorced couple trying to retain a sense of the familiar after the dissolution of their marriage, Trevor, the Pullman’s son, and Davy, himself.

Of all the different emotional threads in this novel, I found the interplay between the Pullmans to be the most fascinating. At last we’re given a divorced couple who show each other respect instead of filling the air between them with venom and petty discord. Sure, you can tell right off the bat why their marriage failed, but to them raising Trevor, their son, the correct way is paramount. Neither would ever even think of using their child’s adoration as a manipulative tool against the other, which is refreshing…and unusual in a usually cliché-riddled genre.

Despite this aspect of the plot, the driving theme of the entire book is the death and disfigurement of innocence. In a brilliant sliver of storytelling, the author contrasts Davy’s childhood terrors with the stresses he inflicts on Zach and Trevor after he abducts them. This phase of the novel reinforces Davy as a sympathetic scoundrel. On many occasions I found myself openly rooting for him to realize that what he was doing was wrong, because I realized that his state of mind wasn’t his fault. This is a guy who grew up segregated from society, under the watchful eye of a cruel guardian. His only education was through pain, and his only joyful memories are those that he experienced before he was seven years old, leaving a stunted and incomplete person. Even with the amount and degree of brutality he enacts on people, he demonstrates a massive capacity for love and thoughtfulness that actually makes his cruelty seem all the more brutal, for this is a man with psychological arrested development, and it isn’t his fault.

The differing points of view in this book were beautifully executed. The shift between the children and adults were convincing and real-to-life – the kids were kids, and the adults were sufficiently imperfect. The blood and gore is there, and it is vicious, but it doesn’t overwhelm, instead pulling you even further into the story and making your gut clench as you experience these frights alongside the characters. And the ending is a thing of beauty, as well. I was stunned by what happens, not necessarily because it’s laughable or frightening, but because it’s haunting in its unexpectedness (and simplicity). I won’t go into details, but let’s just say Daniel Pyle is a very brave man to end this book the way he did, for I’m sure there are some out there who won’t appreciate it.

This reviewer, however, thought it was brilliant.

To finish things off, I’ll say that Dismember is an unbelievably good book. It reads quickly, as I constantly wanted to flip the page just to see what happens next. It’s a story about life that centers on the mundane and how much we might overlook those simple pleasures given the freedom we’ve been blessed with. It’s a tale of the fractured soul and how much we rely on, and mimic, the family that sprouted us. But most of all it’s simply one hell of a ride, one that I am so glad I took. And for that, this reviewer must give Daniel Pyle some well-deserved congratulations on receiving only the fourth perfect score I’ve ever handed out.

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 10

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 50/50 (5/5)

(Reviewer’s note: A version of this review appears in Shock Totem #3)

Purchase Dismember in the following formats:

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