Up
Country
is a thriller with few thrills, a cross-country jaunt that goes nowhere and
sets up a finale that lands flat as a pancake after 700 pages.
Nelson
DeMille had the craft to deliver much better. God knows he had more experience to
draw upon than he wanted.
Paul
Brenner is a retired U. S. Army investigator summoned back into service in 1997
to solve a 29-year-old crime committed during the height of the Tet Offensive
in Vietnam. A Tet veteran himself, Brenner overcomes much reluctance to journey
back to the land where he lost both his innocence and many comrades, a nation
with its own deep wounds and a marked ambivalence about Americans.
Brenner tells us the score in his first-person narration: “When you begin a journey like this, you have to expect the worst, and you won’t be disappointed.” Unfortunately, I have to agree.
Why
does the American government send a private citizen with a checkered work
history and many well-vocalized doubts on such an assignment? Why does Brenner
agree to go, and keep going at risk of a horrible death despite sensing he’s
not working for the good guys? It boils down to the brash recklessness every protagonist in a Nelson DeMille novel has in common.
Brenner
served with the First Air Cavalry Division (just as DeMille did). Now middle
aged, he must bring his detective skills to bear on the case. A North
Vietnamese soldier was the only living witness to the murder; Brenner’s job is
to go back to Vietnam and question him.
“I
see…so you have a missing witness to a thirty-year-old murder, no suspect, no
corpse, no murder weapon, no motive, no forensic evidence, and the murder took
place in a godforsaken country very far from here. And you want me to solve
this homicide.”
Up Country begins with Brenner getting his assignment at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington, D. C. "I’ve got my memorial: the Wall. It’s a very good memorial because it
doesn’t have my name on it." Image from https://www.pinterest.com/pin/44543483785427032/
Though
DeMille does try to justify this concept, it never makes sense. In the prior DeMille novel featuring Brenner, The General’s Daughter, his bullheaded
desire to see justice done whatever the outcome angered Army brass and cost him
his job in the Criminal Investigations Division. He also has emotional combat
scars to work through. As he puts it when visiting a Ho Chi Minh City bar decked
out with props from Apocalypse Now: “I saw the movie. Actually, I lived
the movie.”
A
decades-old murder with Vietnam as the setting seems promising. But instead of
developing a mystery story, he puts the murder investigation on ice for the
first 350 pages while Brenner is taken around the former South Vietnam in the
company of his latest squeeze, beautiful Susan Weber, who not only translates
for Paul but sleeps with him, too.
The
two chat at bars and in seedy hotel rooms, with Susan explaining Vietnam’s turn
toward capitalism in the post-war period. She’s full of information about
customs and culture, not so much about herself:
“Do
you know anything about my assignment that I don’t know?”
She
didn’t reply.
“Tell
me.”
“I
can’t. I can’t lie to you, so I can’t say anything.”
Yet
this lack of trust doesn’t prevent the pair from getting hot and huggy under enemy
surveillance, or trading Neil Simon wisecracks about this crazy mess they
happen to be in.
DeMille
went back to Vietnam to research this novel and his descriptions take up much
of its bulk:
“Vietnam
is a series of contradictions – the government is Communist, totalitarian,
atheist, and xenophobic. The people are capitalists, free-spirited, Buddhists,
Catholics, and friendly to foreigners. I am speaking of the south – in the
north, it is quite different. In the north, the people and the government are
one. You need to be more careful if you go to the north.”
Along
with the occasional war flashback, these travelogue-commentaries offer engaging
detours. But they slow the plot to a crawl.
Much
of the story consists of ominous foreshadowing, with Brenner recalling his time
in the jungle hearing the clicking sound of Viet Cong on the move or trading
harsh barbs with the menacing secret police commander, Colonel Mang. Brenner is
told to be as unassuming as possible and avoid angering his hosts. Naturally he
does the opposite.
There
is no doubt Paul’s mission is dangerous, since he keeps telling us how
incredible it is to be still alive in his first-person narrative. Of course, a
lot of suspense is lost being as this is a first-person narrative. Sensing
this, DeMille emphasizes Brenner’s ignorance:
It’s
very difficult to solve a case when all the evidence you have is written or
verbal, and the written evidence is bogus, and the verbal stuff is lies.
For
550 pages he doesn’t even know who he is looking for or why. The only thing he
knows for sure is he can’t trust anyone, not even Susan. Especially not Susan.
Yet
for all the tension, Paul and Susan take time to dine with resistance leaders, visit
a nude beach, and joyride up country to Hanoi in an illegal motorcycle. He also
gets off some choice digs at the secret policemen who trail his path,
particularly Mang:
“Have
you ever been to Hanoi, Mr. Brenner?”
“No,
but friends of mine flew over during the war, though they didn’t stop.” Good
one.
He
smiled and said, “In fact, some did stop and were lodged in the Hanoi Hilton.”
Not
bad. I love pissing contests.
Being
such a habitual line-stepper makes Brenner a strange choice for an espionage
assignment. But since he enables DeMille’s bottomless capacity for wisecracks,
he gets the job.
Once
upon a time, I read a Nelson DeMille novel that kept me reading until three in
the morning and never quite let me go: Plum Island. It was a novel about
the dangers of biological warfare being loosed upon the world. I know, what a
wacky, hard-to-imagine concept. It managed to be all at once exciting,
suspenseful, and very funny.
Since
then, I’ve had zero luck with DeMille. Every subsequent novel of his I’ve read was overstuffed with filler and wisecracks. Suspense novels follow a formula, of
course, but if DeMille’s approach here is too rigid, his execution is too fat. What
DeMille needed was an editor with a machete.
The
ending of Up Country is its weakest part, despite containing a
well-executed surprise or two. DeMille avoids a pat ending by not giving us
much of an ending at all. Instead, Brenner discovers the mystery, as well as
the reason why solving it may not be in everyone’s best interests.
What
does he do with the information? We don’t quite find out. Instead the story
drifts off ambiguously, with final thoughts from DeMille as articulated by
Brenner on the Vietnam War which is the real purpose of the thriller. DeMille
wants to honor his war experience, for himself and his comrades, and that’s
fine. It just doesn’t make for a good thriller.
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