During the past week I polished off two more Stuart Woods books, the 5th and 6th in the Stone Barrington series.

In “Worst Fears Realized,” some people close to Stone are getting killed. Evidence points to the attacks being engineered by a guy who is currently in prison. So Stone and his partner, Dino, try to unravel who is actually carrying out the attacks. And then there’s palace intrigue in the police department, as Stone is being unaccountably accused of carrying out one of the murders. What’s up with that? Along the way, Stone strikes up a hot romance with Dolce, the daughter of a mobster.

There’s a bit more violence in this book than in most. We also see Stone showing–even flaunting–wealth more than in other books (or maybe I just hadn’t noticed). The guy has money, for sure.

“LA Dead” begins with Stone and Dolce getting married in Italy. It’s a two-part ceremony–a civil ceremony, followed by a religious ceremony. Stone understands that both are needed to make the wedding official. In between the two, he learns that his old flame, Arrington, is in trouble and is asking for his help. So he rushes off to California.

Arrington’s husband, movie star Vance Calder, has been murdered in his home, and Arrington seems to be the prime suspect. But she has amnesia–can’t remember what happened. Stone hires a bigshot lawyer and begins planning her defense. Meanwhile, he calls Dolce back in Italy, and her attitude really stinks. He realizes he has made a mistake in deciding to marry her.

A lot of women come into the picture, all of whom have had sex with Vance and want to have sex with Stone. Then Dolce shows up. Remember, she’s a mobster’s daughter; her previous husband was killed execution-style after Stone entered her picture. She’s very possessive, in a Kathy Bates “I’m your biggest fan” kind of way.

So Stone’s dealing with his current wife (who might be a murderess) and his old flame (who most probably is a murderess). Not to mention all these other women.

This was quite an interesting book, especially because of the personal dramas.

Donald Westlake wrote nearly 30 books under the name Richard Stark between 1963 and his death in 2009. Stark was Westlake’s dark persona. Most of those books starred a hardcore professional thief named Parker. Westlake wrote 16 Parker books 1963-1974, then took a lengthy break before writing “Comeback” in 1997, and following it with another 7 Parker books.

A number of those books have been made into movies, but none use the name Parker.

The first book, “The Hunter,” has been made into a movie twice. The first version, 1967’s “Point Blank,” starred Lee Marvin as Parker, though in the movie he was named Walker; he was joined by Angie Dickinson.

The second version, from 1999, is the excellent “Payback,” starring Mel Gibson as Porter, which is the Parker character. I love that movie. It’s tight, moves right along, has crisp dialogue, sets a definite noir mood, and follows a great plot. Mel Gibson’s Porter nails the Parker character. He’s joined by James Coburn, Lucy Liu, Maria Bello, Kris Kristofferson, and William Devane, among others.

“Payback” is based on the first Richard Stark novel, “The Hunter.” The book’s plot is far simpler than the movie’s. Parker is double-crossed and left for dead after a heist, and spends the rest of the book tracking down his former partner, Mal, and getting even. Mal has bought his way back into the good graces of “The Outfit,” a mob organization, which Parker must contend with.

Parker is ruthless, unconcerned with human life, uncaring about much of anything except himself. This comes through glaringly in one scene which didn’t appear in the movie. To stake-out a building, Parker invades a small store across the street and ties and gags the owner while he’s borrowing her location. But she’s asthmatic, and accidentally dies on him. He thinks nothing of it. Didn’t intend to kill her, but it happened. Oh well. This minor scene stuck with me more than any other scene in the book.

A number of scenes in “Payback” are right out of the book. However, the movie takes the plot much further and brings in additional characters, making it a richer story. This is one case where the movie is better than the book. But the book does what it needs to do. Interestingly, although the name Parker is changed to Porter, all of the characters in the movie use the same name as in the book–Mal Resnick, Stegman, Carter, Fairfax, Bronson.

I liked “The Hunter,” so thought I’d try the second book in the series, “The Man with the Getaway Face.” Having upset The Outfit, Parker buys a face-change. He then gets involved in an armored car heist. When the plastic surgeon is killed, he becomes involved in finding the killer, though only to keep his new identity secret from The Outfit.

The Parker of “The Man with the Getaway Face” seemed toned down a bit, not quite as ruthless, though there is little room for sympathy. He’s just a flat-out hard case. And I’m becoming a fan.

“The Strain” is a 600-page collaboration between Chuck Hogan and film director Guillermo del Toro, published in 2009. It’s the first in a trilogy. Since del Toro is a big movie director (“Pan’s Labyrinth,” “Hellboy”), I wonder if they envision a movie trilogy? If so, they need to make it more interesting.

An airliner lands at New York’s JFK airport, and stops dead on the runway. All the power is off, the window shades down, no communication. It just sits there. Turns out all but four people aboard are dead, and those 4 are pretty close. Autopsies show a tiny slit in everyone’s throat.

It comes down to vampires. This is a new take on the vampire legend, and a very different one at that.

The protagonist is Dr. Eph Goodweather, who works for the Centers for Disease Control. After it’s discovered that everybody aboard the plane is dead, it is quarantined and Goodweather and his team are called in. When the survivors start “turning,” and the dead regenerate, things get hairy.

A variety of people come together, and are no doubt characters in the remaining two books. The most interesting character is a pawnshop owner who has been stalking vampires for years, and waiting for an occurrence such as this. He’s a Treblinka survivor who encountered a vampire there. He fills everybody in about these creatures.

The story is moderately interesting, and the book ended all set up for the second volume. But I’m not sure that I’ll read it. We’ll see.

I recently polished off three books in the “Burke” series by Andrew Vachss. I was so engulfed in the environment he creates–the underworld and more sordid aspects of New York City–that I wanted to keep reading more. Burke and his friends–Max the Silent, the Mole, the Prophet, Michelle–live on the criminal edge as they seek to survive in the heart of New York City.

All of the Burke novels, from what I understand, deal in some way with child abuse. Vachss himself is an attorney and consultant who works exclusively with matters pertaining to children and youth–abuse, neglect, delinquency, custody, etc. He also founded an organization called PROTECT: The National Association to Protect Children. His wife, Alice, is a former sex crimes prosecutor who later became Chief of the Special Victims Bureau in Queens, New York. So child abuse is an area of enormous passion.

The titles of the Burke books refer to the main female character in that book. I had previously read “Hard Candy” (the fourth in the series, but the first that I read), and then “Flood,” the first book. Now I tackled, in quick succession, numbers 2, 3, and 5.

In “Strega,” (number 2) a woman who calls herself Strega seeks Burke’s help in locating a photo taken of her young nephew by a kiddie-porn ring. Along the way, you learn a lot about how sexual abuse affects its victims–a really good education on the subject.

Strega doesn’t come along until you’re well into the book. Before then, Burke deals with several other things, and we learn a lot of background (like how he ended up doing a very long stretch in prison).

Next in the series is “Blue Belle.” The title character is a dancer. Much of the first half of the book focuses on her relationship with Burke. The main plot involves a “death van” which prowls the New York streets killing young female prostitutes. Then there’s an expert martial artist who wants to face Max the Silent. Lots of other tangential things happen. The book doesn’t contain as much background information about Burke or other characters as “Strega” did, but I liked it a lot.

The fifth book in the series, “Blossom,” takes Burke to Merrillville, Ind., to help out a prison friend whose nephew is in hiding after being accused of multiple murders. When you take Burke out of New York City, you lose something. You lose his odd collection of friends, plus the atmosphere, the NYC underground. For that reason, “Blossom” didn’t really feel like a Burke book, an indication of how closely Burke is identified with New York City. Nevertheless, it was a really good mystery.

I’d say I’m pretty well hooked on the Burke series, and on Andrew Vachss’s writing in general. He’s different.

I waited a long time for Jon Krakauer’s book about Pat Tillman, “Where Men Win Glory,” to appear in paperback. My interest wasn’t so much Tillman as it was Krakauer, a tremendous writer whose “Into Thin Air” is among the best nonfiction books I’ve read. I knew that Krakauer would cover the story of Pat Tillman–a story shrouded in confusion–in a compelling, thorough way. And he did.

Pat Tillman, an NFL safety for the Arizona Cardinals, put his career on hold to enlist, for three years, in the Army Rangers. This happened a few months after 9/11, and was highly trumpeted in the press. Tillman never spoke to the press about his decision, but he did keep journals of his experiences. Many excerpts appear in this book.

The first part of “Where Men Win Glory” traces Tillman’s formative years. We see him as a youngster. We see his football heroics in high school. We follow him to Arizona State, and then on to the NFL. Throughout this, Krakauer jumps back and forth between Tillman’s life in California and Arizona, and Afghanistan, showing what was happening concurrently in that country–the Soviet occupation, the growing influence of Osama bin Laden, the Soviet withdrawal, years of civil war, the rise of the Taliban. It gives fascinating perspective.

Pat Tillman, the book shows, was an absolutely unique guy who followed his own drumbeat. He constantly challenged himself physically; twice, while hiking in Arizona, he jumped off a cliff into the upper branches of a Ponderosa pine. Though a man’s man, he showed a tenderness toward others. At ASU, he would cry over missing his family and his high school sweetheart, Marie (whom he married shortly before entering the military).

Pat’s brother Kevin, then playing semi-pro baseball, enlisted with Pat. Throughout their military service, they were together–all the way to Pat’s death. They were as close as any brothers can be, and very much alike. Being such nonconformists, it was interesting to observe how they coped with highly-regimented military life. A system based on seniority, not merit, grated on Tillman.

Pat (left) and Kevin Tillman.

As the book shows, Tillman’s military service was not a good experience. He enlisted in hopes of battling the terrorists who caused 9/11. Instead, he soon found himself in Iraq, a war he personally opposed. Even then, he and his fellow Rangers didn’t see action, but largely sat on the sidelines.

After that initial tour, the Tillmans returned to the States, where they aced Ranger School. Then they were sent to Afghanistan, a war Pat Tillman did believe in, and where he had hoped to go all along.

However, even Afghanistan was a disappointment, devoid of action. Pat had, by then, decided that in another year, after his three-year enlistment ended, he would return to football. The military frustrated him.

In April 2004, Pat Tillman died at the hands of fellow Rangers. Against all military wisdom, orders came to divide the Ranger patrol, all in an effort to salvage a broken Humvee. A few Taliban lobbed some mortar shells and fired their AKs, but from then on, it was basically one group of out-of-control Rangers firing at the other group. Krakauer describes everything in great detail. Tillman is shot three times in the head with a Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW).

Earlier in the book, during the Iraq section, Krakauer devotes a lot of time to the Jessica Lynch affair. Her supply convoy stumbles into an ambush, and she, badly injured in a vehicle crash, is taken prisoner. She did nothing heroic. In addition, in the aftermath of the ambush, another 17 American soldiers were accidentally killed by friendly fire from A-10 Warthogs, which made repeated bombing and strafing runs on American troops. It was a total mess.

The White House had created a special Office of Global Communications to manipulate public opinion about the lead-up to the Iraq War, and then to engage in “strategic deception” to shape public opinion in favor of the war once it started. A guy named James Wilkinson, a protege of Karl Rove, was put in charge.

When Jessica Lynch was captured, Wilkinson made up the story–which I clearly remember hearing–about how Lynch courageously held off attacking Iraqis with her M-16 until she was eventually shot and bayoneted. Nothing like this happened. This was followed by an extensive cover-up of the friendly fire deaths, which didn’t become publicly known for many years.

Krakauer told this story as a prelude to the outrageous cover-up following Pat Tillman’s death. The military released a story, told at Tillman’s funeral, about how he died heroically while leading fellow Rangers in charging up a hill at ambushers. General William McChrystal was totally complicit in this. Military protocol says that deceased soldiers are to be shipped back to the States with their uniforms, body armor, and helmets, all of which are considered forensic evidence. But Tillman was sent back naked; orders came down to burn his uniform in Afghanistan. The soldier who carried this out said his orders also involved burning Tillman’s final journal.

McChrystal drew up a Silver Star citation without talking to any eyewitnesses, falsifying information and never revealing to the review board the crucial information that Tillman was killed by friendly fire–a fact which everyone involved knew. Tillman died while hiding behind a hillside rock with another soldier (who survived), avoiding furious machine-gun fire from Rangers down below. But the military needed a combat hero, so they created one. The Iraq war was going badly; the first battle of Fallujah had just ended, and the Abu Graib mess had just broken. The Tillman story provided a distraction.

Numerous military protocols were broken, intentionally. A series of investigations were thwarted. The only persons penalized were low-level Rangers, not the officers complicit in the cover-up and deception (two of whom were soon promoted). The extent of the deception is breath-taking.

Krakauer describes everything in great detail, and it’s maddening. Pat Tillman enlisted to serve his country, and then his country hijacked his virtue and his legacy. And as Kevin Tillman notes, only the fact that Pat Tillman was well-known, coupled with the tenacity of the close-knit Tillman family in pursuing the truth, enabled the facts to come to light. If it had been any other soldier, the cover-up would have succeeded, and the truth would have been buried forever.

This isn’t the book I was expecting to read. But it was truly an amazing, hard-to-put-down book. And I’ll carry with me, for a long time, the uniqueness that was Pat Tillman. I encourage you to read the book if only to learn about this guy who continually challenged himself, did his own thinking, followed his convictions, was wildly devoted to his wife and family, and truly cared about other people.