The Marks of Cain by Tom Knox

In a departure from yesterday's review comes a title I just finished this morning before lunch--one that I probably wouldn't recommend to anyone except my sister, who loves to read adrenaline-pumping-style books regardless of their relative merit. That may be a little overgeneralized, but as I once said, I'm allowed to make generalizations when I'm standing on a chair. Or blogging from my personal literary soapbox. Which is, in my imagination, somewhat chair-like.

Anyhow, I will admit to generally enjoying the perusal of Dan Brown-esque novels (which are currently rather ubiquitous), and while I loved The Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons, I didn't love The Lost Symbol (too cookie-cutter and similar to his last novels, plus I guessed the "big" revelation that is so essential to Brown's plots). Steve Berry, however, a lesser known but more prolific writer in the same style, also attempts to tackle similarly interesting issues but without the somewhat self-conscious desire to stir up talk about sensitive issues.

Tom Knox (which is a pen name for a British journalist) seems to write his books in order to provoke controversy. His earlier novel, The Genesis Secret, took a religious concept, mixed in some modern science, added a suitably manly protagonist, and dolloped a fair bit of sex and profanity to finish the job. The same thing goes on in The Marks of Cain, which drags in everything from medieval witch burnings to eugenics to the Holocaust to genetic diseases, with a result about as mixed as the ingredients. The plot goes something like this: David Martinez, orphaned at fifteen, is called to his dying Spanish grandfather's hospital bed to receive a well worn map and a vague confession about the past that prompts him to follow the route laid out on the old atlas--with the help of a cool couple million dollars his grandpop had lying around. Meanwhile, Simon Quinn, mediocre journalist extraordinaire, is investigating brutally cruel murders in and around Britain ... the only link being the victims' origins in the Basque country of southern France and northern Spain. As Martinez follows the trail, he meets a beautiful blond Jewish woman, runs afoul of a cannibalistic ETA terrorist, and generally gets to travel unglamorously to Germany and Namibia.

While somewhat thought-provoking and set in exotic locales, this lacks all of the sparkle of other Dan Brown wannabes, substituting violence and sex for plot holes. It was fascinating to see how the background of eugenics had a direct influence on the Holocaust--if I can trust the background scholarship. (The jury is out on that one.) Overall, I wouldn't recommend it except for a case of extreme airport boredom.