When assigned last July, I did not have time to read and review a book called St. Agatha’s Breast. But when I was informed that we would be reading the sequel book, I thought I’d better catch up. I was glad that I did. St. Agatha’s Breast is a brilliant debut work that weaves a very complex story through a monastery on the brink of collapse in more ways than one. What’s most splendid about this book is the exploration of a monastery run amuck with scandal and blood spilling in every corner, all the while maintaining a degree of plausibility. Despite a complex plot, this book was a joy to read and had I reviewed it last year, I would have rated it highly.
Unfortunately, the sequel The Evil That Boys Do does not hold up to the promise of its predecessor. There are 4 fundamental flaws with this book that I’ll present one by one.
First, the storyline is resolved in almost linear fashion, as if the main characters already know the solution and are simply re-enacting it using the shortest route. Thus, no matter what Brocard and Zinka think or decide, they are never knocked off track having guessed it wrong. While this method may work well for a calculus textbook, it doesn’t make for exiting mystery reading.
Second, although there is a parallel between Brotherly Love prison in this book and San Redempto monastery in Breast, the question of plausibility never needs to be asked. One is unsurprised to discover that bad guys on the outside are linked to bad guys in prison. One expects to find corruption and scheming going on in these environments. It was the unexpected that made Breast so compelling. Here, I’m not sure if I’m reading a piece of fiction or a documentary.
Third, the book appears in one respect to be unfinished. In Breast, the character of Avertanus is flirting with insanity, on a quest to purge the evil that has overtaken his monastery by looking for signs and performing old rituals, like drinking piss. In Evil, he is an embarrassingly shallow and lifeless character. His inclusion in the book is almost pointless, as if Van Adler intended but never got around to giving him something to do (and a little spice).
Fourth, and most petty, perhaps, is the ever-present Zinka Pavlic and her “moist little melon,” Camille. Although there may actually be fewer paragraphs graphically detailing their bodies and their sex, it feels like there are more. Perhaps the problem is that Zinka no longer has a super-charged male counterpart (Dionysius). Perhaps the weaker storyline makes Zinka all the more oppressive. In any case, this is one place where “less is more” would apply.
It is a shame to review a book in the shadow of its older and greater sibling, but I think the book would be impossible to read without having first read St. Agatha’s Breast. That book I highly recommend. The Evil That Boys Do—you may pass.