You do NOT want to play Trivial Pursuit with these two!

Spartan Gold

by Clive Cussler & Grant Blackwood

"Fortune favors the bold." That's the oft-quoted motto of Sam and Remi Fargo, the husband and wife protagonists of Clive Cussler's latest co-authored offering. Spartan Gold is the first book in a new series penned by Grant Blackwood. The Fargos are "treasure hunters and adventurers." Sam's background is mechanical engineering and Remi's is in anthropology and history, but both appear to be polymaths. In their line of work, they have ample opportunity to put their numerous skills to good use.

As the novel opens, they're hip deep in the muck of a Maryland swamp. They're looking for buried treasure, but what they find is something altogether unexpected. It's a Nazi-era German mini-sub very, very far from where one would expect to find such a thing. An attempt to get the scoop on local rumors of such an anomaly is aborted by their source's kidnapping right before their eyes. After the Fargos free their friend from the professional operative interrogating him about a shard of wine bottle he found in the Pocomoke, the plot really takes off.

It comes as no surprise when the Fargos' crack research team (at their home base in La Jolla) links the wine bottles to "Napoleon's Lost Cellar," and then links these 12 wine bottles, secreted around the world, to a major hidden treasure. This is because we'd seen the great man make his (unseen) discovery of ancient treasure in the novel's prologue. It is this unknown treasure that Sam and Remi are seeking, but they've got competition in the form of a ruthless Ukrainian crime boss and his henchmen. Unlike the Fargos, Hadeon Bondaruk knows exactly what they're seeking and he will stop at nothing to possess it. So begins a cat and mouse chase across the globe. It's an epic scavenger hunt with a high stakes outcome. Along the way, there's breath-taking scenery and a few history lessons leading up to the inevitable showdown between the good guys and the bad guys.

It's a okay start, as these things go. The characters are more archetypes than flesh and blood people. But, hey, it's a series; there's time for character development later. There are some fun supporting characters, most notably Yvette Fornier-Desmarais. I expect we'll see more of her. Sadly, I can't say the same of their sidekick researcher, Selma. She's a cardboard cutout masquerading as a character. For now, Sam and Remi display that typical Cusslerian insouciance in the face of danger, and snap off witty banter whenever possible. It's easy to joke about their arcane knowledge. (The rugs of Yoruk nomads? Really?) And an early reference to Henri Archambault elicits the response, "the Henri Archambault?" Why, yes, Napoleon Bonaparte's chief enologist. He's practically a household name.

Still, despite their ridiculous knowledge base, the Fargos are refreshingly fallible. This is probably my favorite thing about the novel. They're chasing cryptic clues. They have to work really hard to solve them. Sometimes they even have to sleep on it. The puzzle solving is depicted unusually realistically. (I mean, in those National Treasure films, riddles are solved in a matter of seconds.) Sam and Remi make other mistakes, too. They get lost occasionally. They screw up. What can I say? Imperfect protagonists are infinitely more interesting in my book.

The story is light, very light, and fast-paced for the most part--thought my interest did flag a bit in the middle. But then our heroes took the action into the proverbial lion's den, and that picked things up straight through the ending. By and large the writing is fine, though there are some quirky redundancies to the text.

Fans of Cussler's signature mix of history and adventure will likely give this one a thumbs up. It's nothing to write home about, but Grant Blackwood is off to a respectable start.

All the real action takes place in the bar...

So, I continue to drag my feet when it comes to blogging about T-fest. It will be a periodic series. I shall try to be done by next July.

As I mentioned in the last installment--and anyone who's ever been to Thrillerfest (or any writer's conference, I'll venture) knows this--all the action takes place in the bar. It is the place to see and be seen, and in my case, the place to see all your buddies. I checked in with Jimbo upon exiting the theater, and he confirmed things were in full swing, so I zipped over from Times Square to Grand Central. Jimbo was easy to spot, ensconced on a central couch with novelist Grant Blackwood and reviewer Hank Wagner. Discussion was mellow. I joined them. At some point, Grant posed a veterinary question to Jim, as that was his career for lo those many years. So we all talked about Grant's elderly dog. It was very sweet. (I told you these gatherings were wild.)

Eventually, Grant and Hank departed--wisely opting for bed, I think. Jimbo and I sat quietly chatting and spying on our friends. Boyd Morrison was talking to a bunch of people at the bar, and had yet to look over at us. Jim had seen him earlier, but I hadn't had a chance yet to congratulate him on his book deal in person. Finally, we went to say hello, and found our friends Chris Kuzneski and Elle Lothlorian at the bar as well.

Jim, Boyd, Chris, Elle, and I all know each other from the first T-fest in Phoenix. That's true of so many other people, but this is the group of friends that I really bonded with at that first, insular conference. Upon reflection, I think this year's conference was the best since that first for several reasons. First, we were all so happy about Boyd's good news. It was truly something to celebrate. But another thing was the return of Chris and Elle. They didn't attend last year, and having them there just felt like, "the gang's back together!"

BTW, if Chris's name sounds familiar, it's because he's the author of a series of bestselling thrillers featuring Jonathan Payne and David Jones. They're great, action-packed buddy thrillers with excellent banter. Chris is at an exciting point in his career, too. His latest novel, The Lost Throne, is his first to be published hardback. And guess what? It goes on sale this week! You should totally buy it.

Elle is still working towards being published. She had written what was, by all accounts, an exellent thriller around the time of the first conference, but confessed to me somewhat sheepishly that she was now working on... chick lit. "You go girl!" I say. I'll be the first in line to read it.

While I was catching up with this group of friends, the Cussler crew was laughing boisterously nearby. Namely, it was Jack Du Brul, Paul Kemprecos, Christi Kemprecos, and some couple I didn't know. I don't remember who eventually spotted me, but there was much hugging and kissing and How long have you been there?-ing.

Jack and I haven't been in touch much this past year. The man doesn't believe in email. And I'd had no contact at all with Paul and Christi. So, it really was so great to see them. It's a funny thing, we see each other once a year, but I absolutely adore Paul and Christi. Those two are the life of the party. (And little do they know, but they may see me again sooner than they think. More on that later.)

You know, now that I stop and think of it, I had seen Paul and Christi briefly at the cocktail party earlier in the evening. It's all coming back now. They were off to see Jersey Boys. And it was the two of them that had informed me that Jack was having a Boys' Night Out with friends. Well, I could believe that. Jack was a little--what's the word I'm looking for?--inebriated. Ah, I love a drunken Du Brul. He's just a hell of a lot of fun. We had a most excellent literary discussion, he and I, in which I learned that he'd read a book I'd recommended, Fragment. Now, Jack and I have been discussing books for many, many years. Or perhaps I should say arguing about books for years. The man doesn't like anything! But he did like Fragment, with reservations. He said it would stick with him for a long time. We both laughted about baby-killers. You had to be there.

Come to find out, his big Boys' Night Out was watching a ballet from the wings of the Met! His friend is marrying a ballerina or something. I was like, "You were backstage at the Met and didn't invite me!" There may have been hitting involved. I suppose bringing me would have defeated the purpose of the BNO, (but I would have appreciated the experience a hell of a lot more than he did). However, his lovely wife Debbie was arriving the next afternoon, so I guess he deserved a night out.

Me, Jack, Paul, and Christi closed the bar--not for the first time, I might add. I got back to my hotel after 2:00am. You may recall from the last installment that my day had started at 5:00am. Long day. Excellent start to a conference. Almost all the photos I took in NY were on the final night, and I look shockingly dreadful in all of them. Nonetheless, I'm sharing photos of me with Christi, Paul, and Jack from Saturday night, because it makes me happy to look at my friends and remember what a great time we had that weekend.