BOOK NOTE: Nightshade - Michael Connelly

 

A new Connelly novel, and that too one introducing a new detective into the Los Angeles crime universe, was all I needed to want to devour this book. As a big fan of Michael Connelly’s other creations, including Harry Bosch, Mickey Haller, and Rene Ballard, my expectations were high. The familiar Los Angeles crime setting, a trope I have written about before, is a personal favorite across books, television shows, films, and even computer games.

Nightshade has all the classic Connelly bestseller ingredients. A dead girl, a dogged loner cop as the protagonist, corrupt politicians, macabre gang members, nosy reporters, and dirty, ineffectual cops who serve as rivals to the hero. The story does not disappoint, and it is unquestionably a page turner. That said, it did not leave a lasting mark in the way many of the Harry Bosch novels have. It worked well as an engaging detective story to slot in between more serious nonfiction reading, and for that I was satisfied and have little to complain about.

Detective Stilwell, however, feels somewhat dull for my tastes. His backstory is revealed gradually through fragments and interactions, but it does not feel especially distinct. In many ways, he recalls a Ballard shaped by loneliness and held together by surfing, or the original Bosch with his deeply tortured past that drives his reactions and decisions. Stilwell, too, has a history of internal police politics that leads to his reassignment to a secluded Los Angeles island, where he functions as the primary lawman. He is almost too competent a detective for such a contained setting, which makes the situation feel unbalanced, like bringing an oversized weapon to a small fight.

Catalina Island itself feels too small a stage when compared to the larger Los Angeles canvas on which Bosch, Ballard, and Haller typically operate. To be clear, small and enclosed settings can be excellent backdrops for murder mysteries. The Knives Out films, and even The White Lotus, show how limited spaces can heighten tension and create compelling drama. They succeed by building dread through dense interpersonal politics and layered relationships. Catalina Island, despite its shady wealthy residents and exclusive private clubs, does not quite achieve that effect here. The atmosphere never fully develops the sense of intrigue or unease that such a setting promises.

I was left wondering whether Michael Connelly’s universe might benefit from a genuinely happy detective. One who does not rely on a tortured past for motivation. One whose personal struggles recede into the background, allowing the mystery itself to carry more of the weight. Or perhaps that would make the book feel less like a Connelly novel at all.