The Latest: Girls and other mysteries

‘City of Brick and Shadow’

Tim Wirkus

Tyrus Books; 282 pages

Jimmy Hoffa disappeared in 1975, and most of us, I think, accept that the mob did him in. Amelia Earhart lost radio contact somewhere in the Pacific, and we’ve narrowed her fate down to a plausible theory or two. Even if mysteries tantalize us, we can sometimes reason that we know enough and permit ourselves a nice, quiet sleep.

Tim Wirkus’ “City of Brick and Shadow” is a brilliant debut novel whose resolution, if that’s the word, will no doubt draw polar reactions from those who expect a typical whodunit conclusion and those who are more charmed by conundrums. The ending of this book might well be termed an anti-ending — but that depends on what kind of plot developments you think would adequately tie up a story like this, and why.

What is clear from the opening pages of “City of Brick and Shadow” is that Wirkus, an Irvine resident, emerges here as a formidable talent — the kind of writer who, like Michael Chabon and Chad Harbach, combines wicked verbal felicity with an amused eye for human behavior. Writers like these make us almost want to offer ourselves as characters in their fiction, since they would help us to understand our cravings and put our foibles in context.

With “City of Brick and Shadow,” the craving — and foible — in question is our love of mystery and our desire to master it. Most of us have probably read detective stories and are used to the revelation about who killed the butler or made off with the diamonds. The subtext of any such story is the mystery of what drives the lead character to solve the case. Many of us would like to know what happened to Earhart’s plane, but how many of us have taken the initiative to board a plane and scavenge for clues?

At the heart of “City of Brick and Shadow” are two very amateur detectives: Mike Schwartz and John Toronto, a pair of Mormon missionaries in the Latin American slum of Vila Barbosa. (I don’t believe the book ever specifies the country, but a Google search turns up a neighborhood of that name in Sao Paulo, Brazil.) When Marco Aurelio, a man recently baptized in the missionaries’ church, goes missing, Schwartz and Toronto appoint themselves as sleuths and go interviewing those who might have information.

Schwartz, whose viewpoint the book follows, is the weaker of the two: nervous, young and so shaky in Portuguese that the locals rarely understand his speech. The bolder Toronto pushes him forward, thrilling at the potential of unraveling the case under his superiors’ noses.

“Don’t you feel like we’re on the cusp of something exciting?” he asks Schwartz when his partner quavers, and with these two protagonists, Wirkus creates a double surrogate for the reader: one who represents the naivete any of us might feel roaming a slum like Vila Barbosa, and one who stands for our desire, however vicarious, to keep on stepping.

In another writer’s hands, a story like this might read as simple pulp fiction or despairing realism. Wirkus’ most remarkable achievement is to balance both of those elements while keeping the novel sly and even jaunty.

As its narrative unfolds, “City of Brick and Shadow” constantly surprises with short vignettes and sharp observations. A neighborhood legend described throughout, about a Vila Barbosa kingpin who suffers an existential crisis, is droll comic writing, and Wirkus has a knack for pushing imagery up a notch. It’s one thing to have a character vomit from unease, but to have a dog trot over and “investigate” the puddle evokes an entire world of decrepitude.

Back to the ending. It’s not what you might expect. It classifies “City of Brick and Shadow” not as a mystery novel but as a novel about mystery. Roger Ebert, complaining once about a movie thriller with a too-neat ending, compared it to a crossword puzzle: “It keeps your interest until you solve it. Then it’s just a worthless scrap with the spaces filled in.” The spaces in “City of Brick and Shadow” may be filled in or not. But as I write these words, I already want to turn to Page 1 and start rereading.

—Michael Miller

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‘Songs about Girls and Other Disasters’

Yorktown Lads

Crab Apple Records; 15-track LP

Power pop is an enduring subgenre that has been around since the 1960s. It started with the Beatles, the Who and the Kinks and evolved with Cheap Trick, the Cars and the Knack.

Its sound is catchy, upbeat and lyrically driven with an abundance of vocal harmonies and occasionally strong guitar riffs. Not since the early 1990s, however, have we seen many bands create music within the genre. Many have incorporated its musical elements into their own work, but that peppy tone has fallen by the wayside.

That’s where the Yorktown Lads come in. They’re a three-piece band composed of Huntington Beach Academy for the Performing Arts graduates Cameron Lew and Addison Love and teacher Michael Simmons that has awoken power pop from its slumber with the debut album “Songs about Girls and Other Disasters.”

As the title suggests, the 15-track LP is primarily made up of songs dedicated to a girl or woman who is unattainable or has broken the guy’s heart.

“Something to Write About” is a peppy number about looking for inspiration for a song. The flavor of this opening track is familiar. Add a fourth member to the Yorktown Lads lineup, give them matching bowl haircuts and suits, and you’ll have a pretty decent Beatles cover band. The song is obviously influenced by the Fab Four’s early Merseybeat sound with a dash of “Abbey Road” during a brief guitar solo.

Very similar to the opening song is “La La,” an upbeat and airy track about someone who was about to give up on love until he met the girl of his dreams. “‘Cause I la-la-la-la-love you / Do you la-la-love me too? / I have to know, it sounds cliché / But you’re the one runs through my head every day” are the lyrics to the catchy chorus, which is accompanied by soft oohs and aahhs and handclaps. One does not simply forget catchy hand claps in a Beatlesque song.

One of my favorite tracks on the LP, which is available on a beautiful 180-gram, translucent red vinyl, is “Around.” The instruments and vocals are punchy like a Rick Springfield song with just a bit more edgy tone.

“Cool Shoes, Bro,” is a lighthearted track about Simmons, the band’s oldest member, who used to be able to wear Vans and Converse All-Stars during his youth, but is relegated to using orthopedic lifts in his older age.

“He’s Got It Down” is more or less about bullying.

What I love about “Songs about Girls and Other Disasters” is that it’s quick and to the point. Although there are 15 tracks, most of them are about three minutes, and the album clocks in at a slim 43 minutes.

I’m impressed that two recent academy alums have decided to make a power pop album. It’s a timeless sound that will have people tapping their toes or clapping their hands, no matter where they listen to this album.

— Anthony Clark Carpio