Reviews

• Research must have been monumental. Well done. Really enjoyed reading it So very interesting. Loved all the different stories melded together.

• I've served in the Global War on Terror--most notably in Operation Nobel Eagle, but also in the general course of active duty. Yet I haven't bothered to read realistic fiction set in these times. A little too close to home, perhaps. But I decided to take a leap and jump into Lorraine Adams' *Harbor*. Aziz Arkoun, a young African man, escapes his homeland to Boston. Who or what he flees is not yet clear, but when local North Africans fear him simply for mentioning his Algerian nationality, I should know something more than a mystery is up. This is my first Vine review of a previously published book, so I'm less restricted in my assessment (many of our assignments are galleys and proofs, so we're supposed to assess them as potential and not final product) Like most Vine products, this is still a debut novel. And a good one. At times, it seems to be a modern response to that classic Albert Camus story, "The Stranger", in which characters who do not chose sides are marked for death anyways. In places, *Harbor* also reminds me of *The Passenger*, a long-lost Jack Nicholson film recently re-screened in America. In both stories, the central protagonist assumes the identity of an underground agent... only to assume their enemies and monstrous duties as well. For Aziz, drafted into the military, monstrosity is the Algerian Civil War--in which the government is sometimes indistinguishable from the criminals. Forced to live with atrocity, lest his cover be blown (and his throat slit), Aziz becomes revered as a kind of holy man or luck charm by murderous leaders on all sides. These segments are among the most crucial in the book, because they shape Aziz as an opportunistic survivor, able to lie on the fly to save his neck. Unfortunately, his survivalism also sweeps Aziz along, spilling bodies and dreams in his wake. This puts his character at odds with traditional western protagonists. American readers are used to heroes, who take charge of their destiny, make it part of America, and finally charge forward to Make the World a Better Place. Aziz is the real world. He has learned to keep his mouth shut, his face lost in the crowd, and his feet ready to flee. So if he seems limp at times, cowardly or deceitful at others, we ought to find that familiar. He only does what you would do in his place. That's the ultimate point of the book: people forced to choose between the living lost and the found dead. Because the nail that sticks up is hammered, and straight nails go in more easily than crooked. A secondary theme seems to be the murkiness of law and order. A number of reviewers claim that Adams portrays government forces as incompetent, but I don't agree. Her law enforcers are beset by the same bad luck, ironic coincidence, and intentional treachery as Aziz. Ultimately, all of the characters are pawns in the grey in life, as every character in the book sees each other for what they want, while what they are becomes confused. Aziz is lost in the haze when black and white bleed together. In contrast to this point, this book plots in ever-widening circles. Short misadventures at the beginning mirror long conflicts in the middle, which duplicate on a climactic scale in the end. As plot and point of view spiral outward from the focus of the opening pages, it reveals more and more demons of past, present, and future. The overall effect is of characters jumping from the frying pan, to the grill, then the fire, and finally deep into the coals. The themes reflect this idea of people running in circles, especially towards the last act as irony begets irony. And that's also where the book breaks down. The author spends way too much time on social minutiae and activities, and not nearly enough time sketching out the characters or strengthening the plot. Reading sexual conquest after rave after get-rich scheme may illustrate points about humanity, and they may juxtapose with the war crimes of the Algerian sections, but they also bore me. Too many characters run about the book, and too few of them have any character or significance. The turning point involves a dramatic revelation, but the antagonist is thinly sketched. And aside from two intense scenes, he is banished from the rest of the story. All the more a shame, because Adams hints that this character is a time bomb with a badge, waiting to score his first kill under the guise of duty. FBI agents are introduced late in the story, too late to develop much concern for them. And these guys frequently abandon pretense of being characters, instead operating as mouthpieces for the author. I should know, because I faced similar problems in my own first novel. Finally, the book demands attention and education on the part of the reader. As others have pointed out, Boston harbor is a terminus for Algerian oil, an idea that the author treats as an elephant in the room. For the only indication is the repeated imagery of large tankers gliding into the night-cloaked harbor, as little Algerian stowaways leap off into the black waves. The book also make repeated references to the real-life Millennium bombing plot--another elephant stopped single-handedly by a security guard. This skin-of-the-teeth escape from tragedy haunts *Harbor*: from cops, to criminals, and civilians alike. Adams is correct to expect her audience to make these connections ourselves, because that makes us part of the creative process. However, this does limit the book to a particular audience. Still, Adams keeps her story and themes on track to the end. For patient and careful readers, she offers a lot of ideas in a small package. The central protagonist is sympathetic and strong enough, despite the rather depressing message he carries around himself like an asbestos cloak.

• Aziz Arkoun ... illegal immigrant, former Algierian terrorist, coffee entrepreneur, friend, brother, and son ... Harbor offers rich, complex characters in its protagonist and his companions. As the editorial cover blurb and other reviewers suggest, the primary question Adams raises is, "Who is a terrorist?" Is Aziz a terrorist because he killed in order to survive when he lived in Algieria, one of the most politically unstable places on Earth? After all, given opportunity, he might have grown old taking leadership of his father's hotel, smiling happily to tourists who come to him to enjoy nothing more than a good meal and a sunny beach. He might have married the woman he wanted to love, and raised contented children with her, if he hadn't seen her killed first. Even in America, what does it mean when a group of Muslim men draw circles on a subway map? Are they plotting an attack, or seeking coffee-sale locations protected from Boston's winter weather? And, what about Aziz's companions, particularly those featured in the story's current Boston setting? Stowaways who swim ashore in Boston's frigid harbor may escape the mayhem of Algeria and similar places, but they won't be allowed to earn legal incomes in the US without documentation. So how do we judge them if they sell a few plastic Batman action figures or Versace suits, origin unknown? Adams perhaps did a good job of showing how ordinary, or almost ordinary, people can find themselves engaged in immoral behavior. She made it possible to suspend judgment long enough to get to know her characters. However, I ultimately didn't sympathize with them as completely as I might have. This failure was perhaps pushed along by how very tired I got of reading one penis comment after another. Halfway through the book, I found myself flipping to the front cover to confirm the author has a female name, and wondering if it's a pseudonym or if a female author really felt the need to write such crude prose. Maybe such comments are an accurate description of the words and thoughts of Algierian immigrants. If so, I might find sympathy for their plight from a distance, but no particular joy in their company. I plain got tired of all the penis comments! So, three stars from me; I do like including Algierians in the current fashion of writing about Muslim people in the United States and elsewhere, as their culture's quite different from those of the Middle East and stretching into India. I do like exploring the ways in which we as a society decide whom to arrest on charges of terrorism, whom to fear, whom to welcome, whom to pity. Unfortunately, Adams' graphic unloving sex, far-too-graphic violence, and all those penis remarks actually got in the way of what could have been a very compelling story.

• I loved this novel. Having lived in North Africa for several years, I didn't believe the novelist could pull this off, but she does-- the cultural and linguistic details are stunningly accurate. The novel is suspenseful and well-paced; I couldn't put it down. Adams does a great job showing how easy it is to misunderstand other cultures, and how, in the case of issues like terrorism, things are often not what they seem.

• Harbor is one of those books that you either love or hate. The New York Times Book Review said, "Captivating...Intricately plotted and beautifully written...A remarkable act of artistic empathy." I would agree that Harbor is wonderfully written and kudos must go to Lorraine Adams. It is her skills alone that provided a reason to keep reading, for as long as I could. I even violated my own principle and went to read the last chapter, but found nothing there that changed my opinion. For, you see, I have to admit that I could not, as I usually would for a professional review, bypass my personal feelings--my responses to the book. While empathic, I could not find the sympathy sought in having young men leave a country in which they feared their life, only to come to America and lie, cheat, steal and murder. In my opinion, the problem with this kind of story is that it promulgates negative feelings rather than the potential positive ones that, perhaps, were expected. Additionally, in this book and at least one other I have read, there are implications about American women, which, if stated sufficient times, only promulgates these perceptions. Heather, for instance, is characterized as being seen by the men as someone who is a whore, and even is beaten by one of the men living in the apartment. Whether there is indeed a romantic relationship between Heather and one of the men, the author's overall description and treatment of Heather is the more telling characterization. In fact, the concept of all North American women being readily available for sex and money is clearly stated: There were the women, who, even if they were the lowest-paid of the lowest, made more than anyone in Algeria. They could be bedded and lived off, and during the day, when at work, there were other women and other things." (p. 154) Or ...with his head still bowed, he looked upward and met her eyes, just the moment that was needed. He saw the shift in her instantly. She was susceptible to him... (p. 150) "You have a woman?"... "...yes." "Free Boston ...[women] makes you forget Allah real quick." "Free. That is the thing. Free." (p. 133) Indeed Adams has correctly empathized...but do we really want to create this image as globally American! I for one do not find it beneficial. It resulted in totally pulling me out of her storyline! I recognize that this is more an essay than a review. Actually, I really didn't like the book, even without the issue that caused me to "hate" it. The book is hard to follow, it moves from site to site, but there is little to pull readers in after you realize that the men are just criminals from another country rather than from America. And even the main character, Aziz lies about his identity and gets a fellow countryman murdered. Sorry, I wouldn't recommend this book except as a resource for any historical events which may be of interest to readers. It "is" well-written.

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