The Furies by John Connolly
The title of this novel, The Furies, refers to the goddesses of vengeance in Greek mythology. Also known as the Erinyes they punished crimes against the natural order, particularly matricide and patricide. They were depicted as three sisters—Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone—who relentlessly tormented their victims with madness and other afflictions until they repented or were purified. The Furies’ origin varies in myths, with one account stating they were born from the blood of Uranus’s castration, while another claiming they are daughters of Hades and Persephone. As suggested by the novel’s title, the plot of The Furies involves acts of vengeance and the pursuit of retribution.
The Furies contains two novellas combined in one volume: The Sisters Strange and The Furies. Both stories are part of the Charlie Parker series and share some similarities in theme, plot, structure, character, and setting. Featured in both, of course, is protagonist Charlie Parker, a former NYPD detective who becomes a private investigator after his wife and daughter are murdered. Parker finds himself in Portland Maine during the early stages of the COVID-19 pandemic. There, he becomes involved in multiple crimes that are more deeply intertwined and complicated than they initially appear. In The Sisters Strange, the murder of a coin collector links to the return of the criminal Raum Buker and his relationship with sisters Dolors and Ambar Strange. In The Furies, Parker is asked to help a woman escape from an abusive relationship. In both stories, Parker discovers that the women he is trying to protect are far more capable of handling themselves than he first assumes.
Both narratives are linked by the seedy Braycott Arms Hotel which serves as a common location for some of Portland’s criminal elements. Connolly writes:
The Braycott Arms was situated just off Park Avenue, and had once operated as a railroad hotel, back when Union Station was located on St. John Street. Union Station was torn down in 1961 to be replaced with a strip mall that nobody had ever liked, when the future looked, smelled, and sounded like an automobile. Even by the standards of grand nineteenth-century railroad architecture, the old station had been something special, designed to resemble a medieval French chateau, with a high clock tower and pink granite walls. People wept openly when the tower fell, or so my grandfather told me.
Nobody would have wept if the Braycott Arms fell, particularly if it took some of its tenants with it. Back in the day, the Braycott had catered to a lower order of traveler than the nearby Inn at St. John, which had since reinvented itself as a boutique hotel. By contrast, the Braycott’s current owner had a reputation for tolerating anti social behavior to the point of active facilitation, and had they conducted background checks before renting, virtually every unit in the place would have remained empty. [p. 116]
Residents were not permitted to take keys with them when they left the premises, not even for a short time, just in case one fell into the wrong hands and was used to gain entry to the Braycott in order to surreptitiously disinfect it. [p. 118]
The Sisters Strange is titled after two characters in the story (Dolors and Ambar) but the most memorable character for me was Raum Buker whose return to Portland (with a new tattoo) acts as the linchpin for the novella’s suspense and horror. Here Parker observes the man he describes as a lowlife and a “toxic, inverted deity” whose return to Portland signals chaos and murder.
As he reached the car, Raum rolled up the sleeves of his jacket and began scratching at the pentacle tattoo on his arm. It might have been festering: I’ve never been tattooed, so I couldn’t say for sure. But as I watched, Raum progressed from scratching to tearing, his nails gradually digging through the skin into the flesh beneath, and I could see the blood running down his wrist and palm before dripping from his fingers to the pavement. Despite the pain he must have been causing himself, his expression never varied, not once. His face was a mask of absolute desolation. [p. 98]
Everything about this novel worked for me. The beginning of each novella had strong hooks-Marie finding Edwin Ellerkamp dead with coins spilling out of his mouth and Charlie Parker dealing with Raum Buker. The tone was appealingly dark and weird and spooky; the descriptions of characters and setting were compelling. I also liked the way Connolly wove pieces of history into the narrative. The mystery was not so much a who-done-it but what’s-going-to-happen-to-the-guys-who-done it — that was fine as far as I was concerned. I found The Furies brilliant and entertaining, and I recommend it enthusiastically to you.
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