hc.newton

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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But she was also a little off. You could see it in her eyes. She was crazy. Had an edge to her, hard and sharp. There was an alpha dog, a predator, hiding behind that sweet, pretty smile.

What’s The Debt Collector About?

What do a couple of neighborhood drug dealers, some gang members, a bookie, a finance-bro who refuses to pay said bookie, a slightly bent cop, a low-level mobster, and miscellaneous henchman have in common?

Abigail Barnes. A debt collector who just wants a job.

Now Abby isn’t the kind of debt collector who calls you at inconvenient times of day and harasses you about outstanding medical debt, or whatever. She collects for people who can’t go through services like that. People like the aforementioned bookie. Or other drug dealers. Loan sharks. And other people who could collectively be called “criminals.”

She doesn’t look like your typical tough guy, however. The man who introduces her (in one way or another) to the above, Hector, describes her thusly the first time he sees her (while sober, but that’s another story):

He opened the door and saw a very attractive young blond woman standing there. She was a white girl, with very white skin; piercing, electric blue eyes, and a sort of round face framed by shoulder-length hair that added to her youthful appearance. She was average height for a girl with a well-rounded, curvy body that looked more solid than it did plump. She had on a white blouse that matched her very white teeth and blue jeans with black cowboy boots. She was carrying a six-pack of beer in one hand. In the other was his Maverick 88 pump action shotgun, angled upward and pointed directly at him at just about crotch height.

But as Hector will learn shortly after this—and just about everyone else she comes into contact with does, too—appearances are deceiving when it comes to Abby.

She’s got some training. She’s smart, too—she knows her limitations, and what people expect from someone who looks like her—and she combines those three attributes in ways that pretty much mean that she always comes out on top. At least regularly enough that she can earn money and stay off the radar of the authorities. But sometimes, things do get hot enough that she has to relocate and start over.

This is what she’s trying to do when she encounters Hector for the first time (and he’s nowhere near sober)—in one of those scenes that you can’t help but see play out like a movie as you read. It’s a great opening to the book, and then once Hector starts introducing Abby, we’re off to the races.

I Don’t Think I Want a Steady Diet of This, but…

Near the halfway point, there’s a pretty good fight scene between Abby and some people who have come to collect her—some of the henchmen I mentioned earlier. And, well, it doesn’t go well for them. This is a common theme in this book. And frankly, given the kind of novel this is—it’s not altogether unexpected.

But Russo does something cool here—he rewinds things a bit after the fight, and then we get to see the fight from the other point of view. It still doesn’t go well for the henchmen—but the change of perspective helps you see everything that happened in a fuller way, and better appreciate Abby.

I wrote in my notes, “that’s pretty cool, but I wouldn’t want to see that all the time.” If every time Peter Ash, Charlie Fox, or Ben Koenig got into a fight with someone we saw it from two angles, it’d get tiring (and would slow down their novels). But as a sometimes-treat? I’d love to see this kind of thing more often.

Particularly if the author did it as well as Russo did.

So, what did I think about The Debt Collector?

I had a blast with this novel—it’s one of those that in a world where I didn’t have work the next day, a family that I should pay attention to, or a blog to maintain, I’d have tackled in a single reading. I distinctly remember sitting down to dip my toe in the water one night, and maybe read 10 percent or so of the book. I got to 28% without noticing—and had to force myself to put the book down.

It just moved so smoothly—the first scene gets you hooked, and by the end of the first chapter, you’re invested in Hector and Abby (more the latter than the former, but he has his charm). And it keeps getting better and better from there.

I used the word “smoothly” above—and that’s the only word that comes to mind as I try to describe this experience. It feels effortless the way that the novel keeps you turning page after page after page—a sure sign that it took plenty of effort. There’s a little humor, Abby’s got a fresh-feeling perspective that you want to see more of. And the action? Really, really well delivered by Russo. You may think you have a general idea of how things are going to go early on (and you are likely right), but the way he reveals the plot and takes you through the fight scenes and the movement of the plot will have you not caring about your own theories when you can just keep turning the pages.

I thought the second half of the last chapter, in particular, was a tasty little cherry on top of the sundae. We really didn’t need it—but I tell you, I’m glad we got it. (The Epilogue is another thing we didn’t need—and the novel would’ve been completely fine without it—but it made me smile).

This was just a pleasure—and makes me really hope we don’t have to wait another five years for Russo’s next novel.