The House of Love and Death

Andrew Klavan’s The House of Love and Death is the third book in the Cameron Winter series which follows its protagonist, a covert government agent turned college English professor, as he works to solve murders that catch his attention. I’ve mentioned this series in fiction reviews before. While I’ve enjoyed it so far this is really the moment where I felt the series made sense as something other than just a tale about a reformed assassin trying to make good on his previous misdeeds.

So far Cameron Winter stories have had interesting things to say about what it means to be a man and what the modern world taking shape around us might mean for those trying to live good lives. However there were a lot of pieces that didn’t quite add up yet. Many good things in storytelling come in threes so when a third book in the series was announced I was optimistic that we’d get a more complete picture of where his tale was leading. The opening scene convinced me that was the case.

The House of Love and Death opens on firefighters rushing into a burning house where they find four dead bodies, all shot to death with a rifle. The only survivor of the massacre is a boy hiding in the woods out back. The rest of his family and his nanny are dead, claimed by the specter of death that looms over the house, and he has little of use to say as, when asked how many people were in the house, all he can tell the firefighters, “Everyone.”

Cameron catches wind of this strange event and his so-called strange habit of mind kicks in. He inserts himself into the case and contends with disgruntled security guards, hostile police, the wealthy and the working class. Outside of the case his life isn’t easy either. The Dean of Students has received complaints about him and is now looking into his past, which draws the wrong kind of attention. His own guilt at his life as an assassin hasn’t entirely passed. At a glance the story looks like it will be very complicated. However from the moment it was clear that the murdered family employed a nanny I knew the payoffs I was waiting for were coming.

Let me explain.

In When Christmas Comes we learned a lot about Cameron’s terrible childhood and how his primary source of moral teaching and emotional warmth was his own nanny. Unfortunately that relationship ended in disappointment. It couldn’t be a coincidence that, three installments in, we see another young boy who’s life is literally saved by a nanny in a case he is investigating. Klavan is a very deliberate author and he wouldn’t include that kind of detail without reason.

I wasn’t expecting quite the outcome he had in mind, however. In his first outing Cameron is dealing with foundational issues, a simple crime with a reasonably straight forward solution. In the second installment, A Strange Habit of Mind, things get more complicated. Social media and its trends intrude on the narrative and the battle for justice unfolds alongside the question of how much we can shape our world through intelligence and willpower. The scope of the story was expanding. In The House of Love and Death the largest possible forces have taken a hand. Love and death themselves are playing out their roles in the medium of human wants and desires and we have to be prepared to accept that these are more than abstractions if we hope to solve the mystery the house presents us.

Cameron is familiar with Death, having been a messenger of it for years. Love, on the other hand, has always kept its distance from him and its absence has left his understanding of the world skewed. It will take the work of a handful of warm, diligent and yes, loving women to help him work that part of it out. The question of what is true and what is a fancy we’re caught up in is also a theme in this work. The mystery itself feels almost like these abstract questions have donned human flesh and manifested their work in any number of ways across the small Midwestern town where the murders happened.

By the end of The House of Love and Death it truly feels like Cameron has come to grips with Love. He just has to manifest it in his life. It’s really a landmark in the series and it feels deeply impactful. In many of the previous stories Klavan has written it really felt like he was struggling to find a way to handle these themes in a way that felt organic. Many of these efforts, such as his Another Kingdom trilogy, were done in good faith but were lacking something. Now, once again working in his favorite genre, it seems like he’s really hit his stride.

In short, The House of Love and Death is a gripping thriller, a murder mystery not afraid to look at the darkest parts of human nature and a sweeping battle between good and evil as its hero seeks to find his place as a man in the modern world. It’s a remarkable achievement by Andrew Klavan. If you are not afraid of a story that deals with the dark side of human nature I cannot recommend the Cameron Winter series enough.

The Truth and Beauty – Manic Philosophy

A while ago I read Andrew Klavan’s memoir, The Great Good Thing. It was a fascinating recounting of the life of a man who struggled with his family, his place in the world and his fundamental beliefs, a man who did not fully find his place in the world until the eve of his fiftieth birthday. As a result I was very interested to read Klavan’s insights into the intersection between faith and art, which he has committed to paper in his latest book, The Truth and Beauty. In the introduction to this book, Klavan states that his wife (who reads his books first) found the book interesting but wasn’t sure if it was good. He reports that his answer was, “Of course it’s a good book. I just have to cut out all the bad parts.” 

In this endeavor, he succeeded. There isn’t a bad section to this book. Unfortunately, it feels like the book itself would be stronger if he had polished up some of those bad parts to the standard of the rest and left them in, because I feel like it could really use some connective tissue in there. 

This book is divided into three general sections. First, the introduction and statement of purpose. Second, an examination of the life and times of England’s great poets. Third, a meditation on the Gospels, with occasional reference to said poets to illustrate a point. 

The core idea of this book is something I think is on point. By which I mean I agree with it 100%. Klavan is trying to grapple with the dichotomy of authenticity and performance. Human beings are not entirely authentic creatures nor are we entirely performative. We are both people pleasers and self-indulgent narcissists, we are both mold breakers and creatures of habit, we are creatures of thought and creatures of impulse. Our societies are structured to maximize natural roles and yet the iconoclast is a natural and vital role. 

There’s several solid lines of reasoning to argue Jesus Christ harmonizes these two seemingly conflicting states into a single superposition. Klavan explores a couple of them in his book and I don’t have any problem with his reasoning. 

Klavan also argues that the life and times of the English Romantic poets forced them to try and resolve this conflict as well. They had to sort out their own radical beliefs, the demands of human nature and the bedrock nature of reality. Klavan walks us through the time period and important events in the lives of the poets to make his case. I’m not an expert on these poets or the era. I can only take what Klavan presents at face value and, if it is all true, he does make an argument that the poets did find their ideas in conflict with their pursuit of art. It’s certainly compelling stuff to read. 

Finally, Klavan expounds on the beauty of the Gospels, the way they show us many people, but Christ in particular, balancing the roles of performer and authentic person. We see that only Christ balances these two things perfectly, and this is what made people react to him so strongly. 

What I find missing from all of this is a direct correlation between the Romantics and the Gospels. I understand that Wordsworth et al failed to balance the conflicts between authenticity and performance. The problem is that’s not a unique failing on their part, it is the human condition in general. Klavan speculates that their excellent art has stood the test of time because it points towards universal truths and does so beautifully, even if those artists didn’t live up to those truths and were not, themselves, beautiful. Fair enough, many such artists exist. 

I just don’t see how the two sets of observations connect. Perhaps it is best to just read The Truth and Beauty as another memoir, a recounting of the facts, ideas and poetry that passed through Klavan’s mind as he was struggling his way to deeper understanding of the Gospels. It certainly works well that way. Perhaps others will have the flash of genius moment Klavan did as they read this. I didn’t have such a moment, nor was the direction Klavan’s thoughts moved during that revelation clear to me. That was what I hoped to get from the book, but didn’t. Perhaps the fact that I’ve been enamored with a similar idea for over a decade – I did a presentation on the Parables of Jesus, Chinese wisdom literature and the unity of character and applied morals in college – has clouded my ability to take in new thoughts on the matter. That can happen to creative minds. Once we have an approach to a topic in mind taking on a new one can be difficult. 

All in all, I enjoyed reading The Truth and Beauty a great deal. It was interesting, humorous, informative and grappled with big ideas. But I didn’t get the insight into how two very deep subjects connect that I had hoped and if that’s what you’re really hoping for I’m not sure you will, either. If you’re okay with that, or if you’re just looking for a high level overview of the English Romantics, you may enjoy this book. And, of course, you may be able to pick up on parts of this book that I could not. But I’m not entirely sure I can recommend this book to people trying to pick up a deeper understanding of truth and beauty vis a vie the Gospels, because I didn’t find it here. It’s hard for me to parse the worth of the book in that respect, however, because I have also been caught up in the questions Klavan wrestles with for most of my life. Your mileage may vary. I would recommend reading the sample or checking your library before buying. 

I’ve been kind of hard on Klavan’s writing here. But I do think this is a good book and I hope to see more nonfiction from Klavan in the future.