Customer Reviews

Soon the Rest Will Fall: A Novel

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This is Plate's eighth novel, and while it brims with energy and street cred (Plate was a squatter for a while), the story itself isn't that interesting. There are countless books about the problems ex-cons face in trying to "make it" on the outside, and this one doesn't add much to genre. Things start out fairly promisingly enough, as we meet Robert Grogan in San Quentin days before his release. Jailed for several years, he's apprehensive about seeing his wife and daughter and isn't quite sure what to do about his cellmate and "prison wife" Slatts, whom he's in love with and has invited to come live with him and his family. This notion of what to do when you love your "prison wife" more than your real wife is a potentially interesting hook.

Plate does a nice job of showing how simply getting from San Quentin to his apartment in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco (a distance of about 10-15 miles) is fraught with complication for someone as inept as Robert. The reunion with his family is predictably troublesome, and it's not long before he's doing dumb stuff bound to land him back in jail (like driving around in a car full of hunting rifles and shotguns). Unfortunately, when Slatts is paroled and shows up to live with Robert, all that happens is that Robert wallows in denial, trying to lie his way to safety. That may be a totally realistic approach to his problem, but it's not a very dramatic one from a storytelling standpoint.

Exhibiting virtually no self-control, Robert and Slatts make the dumb hoods one finds in Elmore Leonard novels look like geniuses. For example, Robert sees a traffic cop and is so enervated by the sight, he can't resist knocking him down with his car. Slatts sees an old foe from prison in a bar and promptly gets in a bloody fight. Consciously or subconsciously, both would much rather be in the "safe" world of prison, where they can keep a low profile, get three squares a day, and don't have to worry about jobs or responsibilities. Again, none of this is handled in a fresh way, and the it all seems to be a vehicle for atmosphere, as Plate portrays San Francisco's seedy underbelly with a gleeful overabundance of adjectives.

It's a somewhat surreal portrait, as the action takes place during a Chirstmastime heatwave (having lived in SF for two years, a heatwave is about the last thing that comes to mind when I think about the city). As the description piles up to no discernible purpose, including a carefully documented vintage jazz and soul background soundtrack, it's hard to get too invested in any of the characters or anything that's going on. Robert's seven-year-old girl is another potentially interesting hook, but other than a few world-weary remarks, she's not given much to do and is reduced to an object of the reader's pity. So, while kind of interesting as an antidote to the standard view of San Francisco, the book doesn't have much else to recommend it.