The Last Policeman

The world is ending. Everyone will be dead soon. Everyone knows that. Everyone reacts to it differently.

Hank Palace, recently promoted to his dream job of homicide detective, decides to carry on investigating murders. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that it never occurs to him to stop.

His focus, his need to follow the rules, his quiet persistence in his task, affects the people around him, making them uncomfortable, or bemused, or sometimes even hopeful.

This is not a Summer Blockbuster Movie "end of the world" novel. There are no aliens, or zombies. Our hero is not trying to save the world in the next 48 Hours. He's not even trying to save himself. He just wants to do his job as well as he can.

Actually, Palace doesn't have much of show more a life to save. He's a loner and a misfit. Not the charismatic kind that you find in buddy-cop movies, but the slightly embarrassing to notice kind of loner that people avoid either because that kind of isolation might be contagious, or because of an Uncanny Valley Effect that says that, although Hank looks normal, there's something a little off about him that's hard to take.

On the surface, nothing much happens in this book. There is a murder and a mystery, actually more than one mystery, and love and betrayal and lots and lots of deaths but the book feels almost horrifyingly tranquil.

Ben Winters' writing is first-rate: economical, precise and quietly clever. Peter Berkrot's narration in the audiobook amplifies this by being undramatic without being flat or dull.

When I first finished the book a couple of months ago, I gave it a three star rating on goodreads.com but I couldn't bring myself to write a review. I felt as if I'd finished the book but it hadn't finished with me.

I found my mind returning to it over the following weeks and slowly articulated to myself why the book wouldn't leave me alone. It's because, without the intervention of an asteroid, everyone's world is ending. We will all be dead relatively soon (I'm fifty-seven, neither of my parents made it past sixty-nine, death's wingéd chariot is starting to tailgate me). We all know it. We all react to it differently. All that Winters' changed in his novel is that everyone is going to die at more or less the same time.

The strongest message I got from his book is that most of us get through the day because we believe there will be an infinite number of tomorrows, or at least too many to have to worry yet, and if we do get that "any day now" warning, we know that the world, and the people we care about, will go on. Which makes what happens to us today, bearable. Which takes away the need to think about why I spent today on a train for four hours to spend tomorrow in meeting with people I don't know so I can make the same journey back tomorrow night.

I'm an Atheist by conviction. I believe that done is done. I know I'm going to die. I don't believe there will be an accounting. No reward. No punishment. No anything. I thought I understood what that meant but I think I was still holding out on myself until I read Winters' book.

The people around Palace are making choices. Some of them are pursuing bucket-lists like the activities still matter to them, like goals have any meaning any more. Some are losing themselves in drink or drugs or sex or all three. Some of them are just lost, shocked, adrift, almost dead already. A few, a very few, carry on doing the things they love: making the perfect cup of coffee, or doing what it takes to solve a murder. I realize that I and the people around me, all of us, are acting out these reactions to our impending ending everyday, we just make ourselves forget about it.

Ben Winters' has taken all this "normal" getting-through-the-day behaviour and put it in a setting that makes it problematic, thereby making our seen-but-too-familiar to be noticed reactions visible.

This is what was unsettling me about the book: it was giving me a lens to see that, in many ways, the end of the world really is nigh and I'm plodding on like I don't have a choice.

Anyway, I've upgraded my goodreads rating to four stars, bought "Countdown City", book two of the trilogy and I've written this review to exorcise my discomfort.

If you're in the mood for some uncanny reality, give "The Last Policeman" a try. show less

A pre-apocalyptic murder mystery? There's an unusual premise for you. There's a huge asteroid destined to bang into the earth in a few months, and so many despairing people have been hanging themselves in Concord, N.H. that some call it "hanger town". Newly minted Detective Hank Palace of the Concord police department (because so many have left to do their bucket list, or whatever), finds the latest hanging death of a boring insurance functionary suspicious. It has none of the earmarks of the usual suicides, and the deed has been done with an expensive belt that doesn't fit the man's dull wardrobe.

Who cares, we're all going to die anyway? Palace cares. A skeptical colleague says, “We’ll call it an attempted murder. It’s a suicide, show more but you’re attempting to make it a murder.” Palace has always wanted to be a detective, and he's going to do his job the right way. We pull for Palace as he follows hunches and tracks down clues, as some around him are listless and have to be kicked into gear, while others grudgingly respect his resolve in the face of impending disaster.

This is the first in a trilogy, and Winters does a creditable job of portraying individuals idiosyncratically facing unavoidable extinction. At one point Palace says to a diner waitress he admires, “I feel like I wasn’t made for these times.”

“I don’t know, kid,” the waitress responds. “I think maybe you’re the only person who was.”

Four stars. show less

Perfect little noir which is accentuated by the fact that it is set against the backdrop of an impending apocalyptic asteroid. Hank Palace investigates an apparent suicide as a murder. Palace's investigation leads him to a witness, Naomi, with whom he develops a doomed romance. The primary case is suspenseful without becoming sensational, confident enough to do more with less and avoid a dramatic body count. The backdrop of the impeding asteroid and rumor of government conspiracies further dims the lights noir. The most ingenuous aspect of this novel is that it contains the essential element of noir, a connection so naked that it cannot survive, and blends with a background that includes hints of Twin Peaks, Blade Runner, and Hunger show more Games. One of the most original books, particularly mysteries, that I have read in quite some time. I will be anxious to find out what happens in the next installment. show less

The Last Policeman is a very enjoyable detective novel. Despite the unique setting, its traditional elements gave me the most pleasure.

Hank Palace is a detective that still gives a crap while everyone around him is losing their heads. The thing is, giving a crap is the crazy when an asteroid is going to end life on Earth in six months time. It doesn't help when the latest call out in a spate of suicides arouses Hank's suspicions. What's the point of pursuing a murder when everyone will be dead shortly?

Despite the gimmick, The Last Policeman is structured and works like a conventional procedural novel, really a conventional noir novel. Indeed, for all his quirks, Hank is a very familiar archetype - the driven cop who won't let a case show more go. But this is one of those times where the familiar is not a worn-down and flabby outfit, but rather a comfortable, well-made pair of shoes. The generally low standard of contemporary noir certainly helps.

Winters moves his plot and characterisation along adroitly - dealing with the primary mystery whilst also alluding to a broader conspiracy of some sort, and he does it in a satisfying and even fashion.

Yes, the resolution is a trifle predictable, but he manages to invest the culmination of the case with a broader meaning that resonates with the theme of the book and its world - and I've peronally never found that guessing the solution to a mystery is concomitant with being disappointed in it.

Overall, The Last Policeman is a competent, well-built and well-thought-out crime novel with an interesting setting, an engaging protagonist, and an irresistible lure for a sequel. Don't we all want to know how the world ends? show less

The Last Policeman (trilogy), by Ben H. Winters (4 stars)

consisting of

(1) The Last Policeman (2012), by Ben H. Winters (3½ stars)

Six-word reviews (regular and bonus):

(a) Apocalyptic scenarios always deliver paranoid thrill.
(b) Ok, I'll read the next one.

(2) Countdown City (2013), by Ben H. Winters (3½ stars)

Six-word review: How they cope with impending destruction.

(3) World of Trouble (2014), by Ben H. Winters (3½ stars)

Six-word review: As time runs out, what matters?

Extended review:

This trilogy drew me in quickly with its premise and its main character. The earth is on a collision course with an asteroid, and no way of averting or surviving the catastrophic impact seems possible. A young police detective named Henry Palace is show more determined to pursue his calling, solving cases and stopping criminals, despite the fact that it is arguably pointless: everyone is going to die soon anyway.

The series thematically poses the questions: How do we spend our time? and does it matter?

Henry Palace's answer to the latter is yes, it matters. And his conviction that it matters is the key to his passion to spend his time, by his lights, well; or, at any rate, in such a way that his inner imperatives are satisfied.

Like some number of other trilogies, this is really one three-part novel (divided, I always think somewhat cynically, for marketing reasons rather than from any inherent structural necessity), with, typically enough, a little slack in the middle segment. It does have a clear arc, from beginning to end, with Palace's central question playing out against a backdrop of all the probable and plausible reactions to the world's imminent ending.

Publication of the three installments in three successive years does have the virtue of giving author Winters time to learn how to spell "imminent," which (as someone ought to have told him before 2012) means something altogether different when it has an a in it.

The character of Palace, as first-person narrator, is motivated by two compelling forces: first, the loss of his parents when he was twelve, one to senseless violence and the other to suicide, and second, a solemn promise to protect his adored younger sister and never to abandon her. "[A] promise is a promise," he says in book 2; "...and civilization is just a bunch of promises, that's all it is. A mortgage, a wedding vow, a promise to obey the law, a pledge to enforce it. And now the world is falling apart, the whole rickety world, and every broken promise is a small rock tossed at the wooden side of its tumbling form." (page 209)

He recalls a quote from his father, an English professor: "One thing we can learn from Shakespeare, Hen, is that every action has a motive." In searching out and exposing the motives of others, he unsparingly shows us his own, both the unequivocal and the conflicted, and how they translate into deeds.

Palace is by his profession a man of action; but by his nature he is also a man of reflection, and his self-awareness contributes depth to his narrative of a global society in crisis. His evaluations tend toward understatement: "The end of the world changes everything, from a law enforcement perspective." At the same time, his character seems not to develop according to fictional convention. I don't see him growing and changing under the pressure of the challenges he faces. Rather, in the way of a more abstract character such as we see in a fable or allegory, he remains constant and becomes ever more resolutely what he is, even through self-doubt and questioning, as if his true role were not to play a part but to serve as a mirror.

In this capacity he confronts us with moral questions of our own; for in fact, as we all know despite our natural tendency to regard it as unthinkable, each of us is on a collision course with death; and even if we aren't facing it at a precisely forecast moment, and by a known means, and in simultaneous company with the rest of humanity, it still behooves us to ponder the question: what shall we do with the time that is given to us?

Not that the author or his narrator ever poses it outright; but it is implicit in the variety and kind of human responses to it that the three novels depict. The coping schemes that Palace observes range from public madness, mayhem, and destruction to a feverish obsession with reading everything in the library to a quiet, dignified surrender such as Nevil Shute describes in On the Beach (which Winters cites by name in book 1).

And denial. Speaking only slightly facetiously, I suggest that the series could be read as a crash course in the fine art of denial, which proves to have the potential for more dimensions than any impending catastrophe.

But the trilogy is not a catalog or a sociological thought experiment. It's a story, a series of stories, an intersection of stories, fraught with murder, revenge, justice, terror, cowardice, love, loss, loyalty, acceptance, and an ennobling capacity to rise above our meanest instincts. Palace is a detective, and he detects a good deal more than the solutions to the crimes he commits himself to solving. His final choice to embrace the common bond of humanity becomes his defining moment.

Four afterthoughts:

• Considering the number of novels that I have ditched on or before page 1 for being written in the present tense, I regard it as a testament to the author's skill in storytelling that I put up with this irritating stylistic practice all the way through three parts in quick succession. I could see an argument that present tense is better suited to a narrative anticipating the end of the world in our time than, say, a historical novel of the Middle Ages.

• It's worth special mention that all three books, in the trade paperback format in which I read them, came out to exactly 316 pages. I surmise that that was not happenstance but some kind of minor feat of self-editing.

• Even though I rated each of the three at 3½ stars, I gave the series four because it stays strong through all three segments and delivers more than the sum of its parts.

• Bonus points for one of the neatest encapsulations of character that I can remember in a contemporary novel: namely, the sister, who, when told, "The situation is what the situation is," retorts, "I disagree." show less

A routine detective story enlivened by an interesting concept, Ben Winters' The Last Policeman is entertaining despite failing to harness its great potential. Hank Palace, its detective protagonist, is investigating a suicide by hanging that he believes is a murder. The world is due to end, you see, in six months – an asteroid has been spotted on a collision course with Earth – and suicides are becoming understandably common.

I'm not a great lover of crime writing, but even so I found Winters' own contribution to this saturated genre rather underwhelming. The suicide/murder is rather banal and lacks mystery, the procedural is uninspiring and hard to follow, and the writing itself lacks twists or pace. The characters are decent show more enough, but nothing special. Winters' also fails to utilise his small-town-America setting, despite this being the perfect scenario for a mystery story with some strange goings-on.

Nevertheless, while Winters is not the greatest suspense writer, he alighted upon an interesting idea. This is enough to sustain the book through its lesser moments, and it remains an easy and agreeable read throughout. The approaching asteroid is unfortunately under-utilised in a practical sense: as society unravels, no one has much gas, and cellphone service has become unreliable, but such things do not prove a hindrance on the protagonist's investigation. "The very idea of motive must be reexamined in the context of the looming tragedy," our detective muses (pg. 116), but this cosmic game-changer rarely imposes itself.

In a way, it's good that this is the case; The Last Policeman is, thankfully, not a novelty thriller in which our hero is in a superficial race against time to solve the case and save the world. Winters is smart enough to avoid this clichéd trap. Instead, the prospect of the approaching asteroid is always there to provide a useful juxtaposition; an existential undercurrent (unfortunately, again, largely unexploited by Winters) where we wonder why our protagonist is still making such effort to solve a banal crime when, in a few months, it'll all be moot anyway. It's a great theme, and not only makes our protagonist more interesting but provides a different lens through which to view the world.

"People in the main are simply muddling along," our detective observes on page 61. "Go to work, sit at your desk, hope the company is still around come Monday." Is this ennui so different from our own world, only thrown into sharper relief by impending cataclysm? Is its economic ennui so very different from our own, particularly in light of our own real-life cataclysm – the Covid pandemic – which showed just how banal great upheavals can be? The government's actions in Winters' book, suspending habeas corpus, and emergency actions by the IMF also reminded me of lockdown, though of course Winters would not have known this when writing in 2012. "A lot of CEOs have cashed in their chips," Winters writes on page 36, and this also has echoes of our own story, in which giving back to society, or even routine tax-paying, seems to be optional among a certain class. "People [are] hiding behind the asteroid, like it's an excuse for poor conduct, for miserable and desperate and selfish behaviour" (pg. 255), and by writing about such hiding, Winters brings it into the light for the reader.

This, then, is the great appeal of a book that, while perfectly serviceable and easy to read, is otherwise unremarkable. The Last Policeman might not be engrossing in its central crime mystery, nor even in its approaching asteroid apocalypse, but the concept does give us a perspective that is quite unique and singularly interesting – and Winters does not fumble it. His detective protagonist fascinates despite his and the book's banality because as readers we instinctively admire someone who goes about their business quietly and decently. The charm of this book, which elevates it far beyond its objective quality, is "the perseverance in this world, despite it all, of things done right" (pg. 86). It's someone just trying to do the right thing, thankless as it is, in a world of economic ennui, societal self-centredness and any excuse for drug-taking or not doing one's bit. Gods, are we sure this should even be marked as 'fiction'? show less

Rating: 4* of five

The Publisher Says: What’s the point in solving murders if we’re all going to die soon, anyway?

Detective Hank Palace has faced this question ever since asteroid 2011GV1 hovered into view. There’s no chance left. No hope. Just six precious months until impact.

The Last Policeman presents a fascinating portrait of a pre-apocalyptic United States. The economy spirals downward while crops rot in the fields. Churches and synagogues are packed. People all over the world are walking off the job—but not Hank Palace. He’s investigating a death by hanging in a city that sees a dozen suicides every week—except this one feels suspicious, and Palace is the only cop who cares.

The first in a trilogy, The Last Policeman show more offers a mystery set on the brink of an apocalypse. As Palace’s investigation plays out under the shadow of 2011GV1, we’re confronted by hard questions way beyond “whodunit.” What basis does civilization rest upon? What is life worth? What would any of us do, what would we really do, if our days were numbered?

My Review: I just loooooooooove it when the author, while playing fair with me, still surprises me with the solution to the crime(s). Mr. Winters has done this, and to a very satisfying T.

As apocalyptic tales go, this is one of the few that doesn't make me wrinkle my nose and schplurgle my lips in distaste. I completely buy that, facing extinction, the privileged population of the US would go all Bucket List and do all the stuff they didn't or couldn't before The End was writ large across the skies. It seems solipsistic, selfish, and inconsiderate...pure-D Murrikin behavior. But even with The End coming, gun-hoarders are seen as nutballs, just like they are now. I can believe this.

I also completely understand Henry Palace, our detective, staying on the job. He loves the job. He needs a challenge so he doesn't go nuts. He believes in a large, abstract greater good called "Justice" and he doesn't think that a little detail like the impending end of the world diminishes the need for and the right to Justice.

Gag...I'm making him sound like some kind of Eagle Scout...if it helps dispel some of that distasteful miasma, he also sleeps with a key witness. What ensues from that has to be read to be absorbed, especially in light of the killer's identity.

Off to pick up book two for some bedtime reading! show less