If You Read Only One Book This Summer . . .

Most avid readers, if they are lucky, encounter two or three books a year that they simply cannot put down. You know the kind of book I'm talking about. It is usually discovered through sheer serendipity -- a friend's casual suggestion, a snippet in the NY Times, a title that sticks in your mind -- and after reading the first few pages, you throw over life's distractions (grocery shopping, oil changes, sleeping) and dive into the book like there's no tomorrow. You're mesmerized, and the only debate is whether to ration your literary feast or devour the book all at once with the sloppy gusto of a mule eating an apple.

I've just finished a week-long affair with "Child 44" by Tom Rob Smith, and I'm prepared to crown it as my summer reading standout for 2008. "Child 44" is a murder mystery set in the cold environs of Stalin's Soviet Union. The novel is a winner on three fronts: it has the page-turning quality of a compelling police procedural novel; its descriptive prose immerses the reader in a sensory sea of Soviet life, complete with grey weather, grey expectations, and grey housing blocks; and the interpersonal relationships in the novel are explored with literary depth and insight.

Leo Demidov is the golden boy of the USSR's State Security Force ("MGB"). He has a beautiful wife, a luxurious Moscow apartment, and a future that is as secure as can be hoped for in a society in which the slightest misstep -- the slightest rumor of nonconformity -- can destroy a comrade's life overnight. Demidov is under pressure to solve a delicate problem: a murdered child has turned up in his neighborhood, but murders are not supposed to occur in Stalin's USSR, a paradise where all citizens are supposed to live free from the fear of crime. Demidov must diffuse the situation, and quickly. The MGB is rife with backbiters, and Demidov's enemies are more than happy to see how he will wiggle his way out of this one.

The murders begin to mount up, and the bizarre, twisted way in which the young victims were killed points to the work of a madman. The confounding nature of the crimes, speculation as to the nature of the killer, and several well-placed clues and surprises enhance the page-turning quality of the novel, but that is only part of this book's charm.

The author's exploration of Demidov's evolving relationship with his wife, Raisa, as he gradually loses his "golden boy" status and questions everything he has based his career upon, is masterful. (Tidbits for thought: How much can any woman love a man who has the power to extinguish her future at will? How far can spouses be expected to go in order to save their own lives, each at the expense of the other? Why do they, or don't they?).

In addition, the book is a psychological and sensory primer on what it must have been like to live in the USSR under Stalin's rule. Smith writes in such a way as to make the reader experience the paranoia of being "found out" by one's neighbors and reported as an enemy of the state. He explains the Kafkaesque nature of the criminal justice system (all accusations of crime are fatal -- the accusation itself is decisive, since the Soviet system is perfect, and in a perfect system, there are no false accusations, etc.). Similarly, Smith's writing conveys the smell of a two-room apartment occupied by twelve people and twelve pairs of perpetually moist, slush-infused shoes with a verity that will send you to the window for a breath of air.

Smith's prose is also a powerful component of his book's success. I dare you to read the first sixteen pages of the book without reading more. If you read only one book for pleasure this summer, read this one.

More Deaths in Cold Climates:

If you enjoy this book's combination of page-turning suspense, psychological exploration, sense of place, and overall literary merit, I suggest three other novels: "Smilla's Sense of Snow," by Peter Hoeg; "The Yiddish Policeman's Union," by Michael Chabon, and "Gorky Park," by Martin Cruz Smith. I invite other readers to add to this list.