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'Mustang Blue'
by Mike Corrigan
Staff Writer
Michael Eldridge and Bethany Beaune
have been together for 12 years; he plays the piano and writes
songs; she is a nurse. Together, as Michael Bethany, the two have
written a vivid novel called Mustang Blue, in which --
surprise! -- songwriter-pianist and a nurse find themselves in big
trouble with a rather entertaining mystery to solve.
The couple have been living in Bridgton
for two years. Standing out above the unusual self-published work,
the novel is well-paced, well plotted, with dashes of spice;
Mustang Blue is an adult mainstream novel awash in the
mystery of connection (of several types). The central villain, as
it happens, is a man without normal connections, and it is Jeremy
Collins' cold removed from normal human emotion that sets into
motion a macabre series of events, culminating 30 years after the
first violent incident with a fiery and most appropriate reunion
of man and machine.
While coincidence often plays a greater
role in good fiction than it does in somewhat more mundane
ordinary life, my credulity was stretched a bit by Mustang
Blue. But suspending disbelief was no real strain, in the
spell of such a well-paced book, undertaken by such good writers.
(Several typographical errors, apparently a product of the
self-publishing effort, were mildly distracting; they would have
been more distracting were not the writing so well-crafted. The
next Bethany book – and there should be one! – could use at
least one more thorough proofreading than this one received.)
The book spans 30 years, with key
events set in Colorado, Ohio and Texas. The main characters' lives
intertwine, with a retired cop sharing center stage with the
songwriter and nurse. Friendships are well-drawn, and the major
characters all have distinctive personalities and voices.
Additionally, all the small character sketches are well-drawn.
Scene-setters, describing rooms and outdoor scenes, are also
various, apt and “accurate”, in the sense that the reader gets
a solid feel for each new place, with a hint of the owner's
persona within the sensory details of each description.
Sample this first glimpse of “good
cop” Vince Barnett:
“A car door slammed and an immense man
blustered through the open doorway. He was at least six-foot-six
and three hundred pounds, with not an ounce of fat. He wore a gray
University of Colorado sweatshirt and sweat pants along with Nike
shoes with a red swoosh on the sides--- His face looked like it
was sculpted from chunks of clay by an artist who gave up before
he had finished. All topped by a shaven head that glistened in the
bright light...”
A novel breathes life into characters,
and the differences observed in these book people are real and
convincing. A wide array of humanity is set before us, but so many
of those limed are, at heart, good people that the book delights,
on several levels. Since the villain is a frozen-hearted as a
Popsicle, the average good people of the world are made to look
even more wonderful. Jeremy Collins, the villain, is frieghtening,
almost emotionless, and yet he's believable, too. His actions and
fate in this novel can be read as object lessons on the hazards
and pain of self-absorbtion.
Anyway, if you ever have the chance to
buy a vintage, silver-blue Mustang, something inside you may
hesitate. And if a pretty girl in a yellow sun dress is hanging
around, well I recommend that you pass up the opportunity, no
matter how persuasive the salesman is!
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