Sunstroke

Review by Booklist Review

Uncovering a secret life isn't a very original plot, but then again, neither is boy meets girl; it all depends on what the writer does with it. And in his extraordinarily self-assured debut novel, playwright Kellerman (son of Faye and Jonathan) shows that he could probably take us on a compelling journey to the water cooler. L.A. novelty-company secretary Gloria Mendez, in love with her boss, is heartbroken when he dies while on vacation in Mexico. No family comes forward, so she heads south to claim the body. In sun-bleached Aguas Vivas, a dead town whose only industry is its graveyard, she finds ashes and a suspicious-acting cop. As Kellerman teasingly plays pieces of the puzzle, Gloria soon learns that nearly everything about the man she longed for has been a mirage--and she learns a few things about herself, too. This tightly focused thriller features expertly drawn characters, vivid scenes, and simmering tension. If it never comes to a rolling boil, that's all right. There's plenty of heat here to justify the buzz. --Keir Graff Copyright 2005 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Kellerman is the son of well-known novelists Faye and Jonathan Kellerman, and if his debut is any indication, talent breeds true. Gloria Mendez-a 36-year-old secretary at a Los Angeles novelty item import business-is in love with her boss, Carl Perreira, though he has never reciprocated her romantic interest. Carl has gone on his annual vacation, and after leaving a garbled phone message on Gloria's answering machine, he disappears into Mexico's backcountry. Facing apathy from the police in Mexico and the U.S.-even after Carl is reported dead in a fiery car crash-Gloria heads south to retrieve his body. She soon finds herself enmeshed in a dangerous adventure hinging on the mystery of Carl's death (if he is indeed really dead), his real identity and the truthfulness of the young man who introduces himself as Carlos Perreira, Carl's son abandoned many years earlier. Gloria is dogged, resourceful and intelligent, but despite some sex and gunplay late in the game, the adventure is a bit too cool and cerebral to be a thriller and too literary to be a genre mystery. Many readers will enjoy the intrepid Gloria and her puzzle, but most will hope for a little more heat from this promising writer's next outing. (Jan.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

An early morning earthquake in Los Angeles is ordinary enough, but after the trembling stops, 36-year-old Gloria Mendez finds her life anything but on steady ground. After heading into work to assess the damage, she discovers a garbled, frantic message from her boss, Carl Perreira. Gloria has worked for Carl for ten years-and has loved him for just as long. But now, on Carl's annual vacation to Mexico, the one part of his life the two didn't share, he has disappeared into the back country. Carl's strange message consumes Gloria; answers are hard and dangerous to find, and as soon as Gloria starts digging into Carl's past, she realizes how little she truly knows him. The plot moves along quickly enough, and Gloria is a strong, intense character. Although some of the dialog seems artificial and forced, it fits in with the overall mood and atmosphere that debut novelist Kellerman (son of authors Faye and Jonathan Kellerman) is trying to create. Sunstroke will certainly find readers, but Kellerman's family might help matters somewhat. Recommended for most public libraries.-Andrea Y. Griffith, Loma Linda Univ. Libs., CA (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

From the son of the bestsellers Kellerman (Faye and Jonathan), a superb debut thriller about love, lust, vengeance, murder and a good girl coping. Okay, so Gloria Mendez at 36 is past her first girlhood. But good she is. Probably too good for her own good, as is evident from her behavior when her boss, Carl Perreira, owner-operator of Caperco Mask and Novelty, Inc., suddenly goes missing. The world isn't full of people, for instance, who would unhesitatingly get into a car and drive the ten hours from L.A. to Aguas Vivas, Mexico, out of a sense of obligation, out of the conviction that good girls bear witness. But bear witness to what? Excellent question, and not one to which Gloria can give a conventional answer. Still, "Take care of things while I'm gone," Carl's note had said, and, Gloria being Gloria, she sets about trying to do exactly that. In Aguas Vivas, however, a sun-blasted town that time forgot, she runs into obstacles. She knows that something bad has happened to Carl there. How bad? And where is he? How many unsuspected identities does he have, this man with whom she's worked side by side for a decade? And, gulp, is he still alive? Questions and more questions, all unsettling, as is the motley array that turns out to be her only source for answers. There's the gravestone cutter competing for market share with his dead half brother, the drunken Mexican cop intent on dragging her into his bed, a seven-year-old who computes like Einstein and the gorgeous hunk claiming to be Carl's long-lost son, who dazzles her, rattles her and scares the very daylights out of her. Funny, exciting and stylishly written--a delicious tour de force not to be missed. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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one Take care of things when I'm gone. The earthquake began at three twenty-four A.M. and ended seventy-three seconds later. By four in the morning, Gloria Mendez had determined that her apartment had suffered no serious casualties. There wasn't much to damage. In this she differed from many of her single friends, who had, without warning, begun accruing evidence of their solitude: framed photos of Mickey Mouse-eared nieces and nephews; a few too many leather miniskirts; mementos from three different ski trips with two different men. Siamese cats named The Fonz, or Jon Bon Jovi, or after imaginary daughters. Alexis. Samantha. Claire. Items you could accumulate safely, content in the knowledge that there wasn't some crazed toddler out to scratch them, shatter them, choke on them, soak them in regurgitated formula and half-digested carrots. By contrast, Gloria's apartment looked empty. She didn't even have a mirror in her bedroom. To check her reflection, she had to go into the bathroom, stretching over the counter if she wanted to see how her Levi's fit. She never bothered, because they always fit fine. Spartan didn't quite describe the place. She preferred to think of it as untethered. By not weighing herself down with sentimentality, she was free to make changes to her life; free to accommodate another person, or two, or three. She believed that life forked for unwed women over thirty-five; you could either be hopeful or resigned. Resigned was halfway to dead, though, so Gloria chose to be hopeful. Besides, these days women were having kids later than ever. Barb Oberle's cousin had had twins at forty-six. It was like something out of the Old Testament. Untethered, buoyed by possibility. When Gloria gathered with friends for coffee, she sometimes imagined herself as lighter than those around her, hovering an inch or two above the crowd. Owning almost nothing carried the added benefit of making it easier to keep the place clean; she liked things complete, tucked in. About the walls, Barb Oberle said For crissake, put something up. It looks like a Kubrick film in here. Barb had a better sense of humor than the others. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was married, but Gloria was unsure which was cause and which was effect. The rattle of an aftershock sent Gloria scurrying to the doorway. She waited for it to pass, then went on surveying her kitchen. For once she felt thankful for the poor quality of her cabinetry. The door that stuck saved all her glassware from a lemming-like fate. She swept up a vase and sponged the viscera of high-diving jars. Beneath the sink, bleach had spilled; in cleaning it, she took care to keep it away from the Windex. Mixing the two created poisonous fumes, and if she was going to die this morning, she at least wanted to straighten up first. The radio was calling it a humdinger. CalTech hadn't released the verdict, but "armchair seismologists" (whatever that meant) had pegged its Richter in the high sixes. Expect closure of roads and government offices. Expect power outages. Expect disruptions in cable service, phone service, Internet connections. Cell service providers are having trouble due to damage to transponders; be patient, keep trying, and maybe the grid will unclog. Do not leave your house-except if there's a gas leak. In that case, don't stay inside your house. County law stipulates that all buildings five years or younger must have an automatic gas shutoff valve; if you don't know the age of your home, it's recommended that you check. Just in case, use flashlights, not candles. Be aware that aftershocks can be as deadly or worse than the original quake, given the weakened state of- She switched it off. She tried to call around to see if people were okay, but the landline was out. Contrary to the radio's bleak assertions, however, her cellphone was working; Reggie had left a voicemail. He wanted to make sure she was all right. He was busy, he said, and he'd try her later in the day, when he could afford a minute to talk. She tried him back: all circuits were busy. Going back to bed was out of the question. Once woken, she couldn't convince her body that it had been given a second chance. She was about to run a bath when Carl's note popped into her head. Take care of things when I'm gone. The figurines. She had a banana, put on some clothes, and set out for the office. --from Sunstroke by Jesse Kellerman, Copyright © 2006 by Jesse Kellerman, published by G. P. Putnam & Sons, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., all rights reserved, reprinted with permission from the publisher. Excerpted from Sunstroke by Jesse Kellerman All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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