Book Review: Colorblind
Colorblind. Peter Robertson. Gibson House Press, April 11, 2016, Trade Paperback and Kindle, 224 pages.
Reviewed by Hallie Koontz.
Colorblind, the third of Peter Robertson’s Chicago-based mystery series, sends Tom Frost away from the suburbs and into New Orleans on a case that even he admits might be nothing but dead ends with little hope of a satisfying resolution. The reader begins the novel in Tom’s mindset. The first chapter, heavy with description and light on context, can read less as mysterious and intriguing, and more as slow and laborious. Once the book hits the second chapter, however, the story truly begins. The very things that interested Tom start to interest you. Not only is the case unlike any Tom has handled before, it is one unlike any the reader has probably handled as well.
Tom Frost isn’t sure why he steals a USB device from the man at the coffee shop, or why that USB contains only biographical information on a mostly unknown folk singer. He certainly has no idea why the coffee shop man decided to kill himself on the anniversary of the day the folk singer killed himself several years ago. But Tom thinks that maybe if he heads to New Orleans, where that folk singer lived for the final stretch of his life, he can find out. And so the journey begins.
Descriptions of the events in the book make it sound as if not much happens. Tom wanders around New Orleans, meets people, asks questions, and plays music. The action is low-key, and yet the reader remains interested in the information that Tom gleans, in the surroundings, and in Tom’s inner world. Robertson’s prose, which only occasionally gets too verbose and long-winded, is artful, realistic, and poignant in just the right places. The reader, along with the protagonist, has to admit to an indefinable curiosity about this folk singer, his uniquely tuned guitar, his life, and the people and places he encounters. It is difficult not to become as invested in the ethereal mystery as Tom, and it is difficult not to get distracted by the things that distract him along the way. Robertson always brings us back masterfully to the main storyline, which can perhaps best be described as a pilgrimage. It speaks to Robertson’s talent as an author that his book defies description and does not slow down despite the lack of “traditional” mystery action.
I have not had the pleasure of reading Robertson’s previous works, but reading this novel was a unique pleasure in itself. Never have I gone so long without knowing the main character’s name, and, more importantly, not realizing I didn’t know it. That too speaks to Robertson’s talents. If it is any indication of my recommendation, I cannot wait to see if the series begins as well as it ends.