The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man: A Novel, by W. Bruce Cameron

Read this book if: You’ve read one too many uninspired thrillers by Gillian Flynn wannabes and need a reprieve.

Don’t quit reading until at least: The end of chapter 4.

W. Bruce Cameron’s The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man follows the story of our hero and narrator, Ruddy McCann, lifelong resident of sparsely populated Kalkaska, Michigan. McCann has fallen from grace as a young football star and now spends his days bouncing at the Black Bear, a struggling bar which has been owned and operated by his own family since his childhood. By night he repossesses vehicles from people delinquent on payments – it’s a job he excels at… and relishes. Unexpectedly, Ruddy begins hearing the voice of deceased Alan Lottner, a murdered real estate agent from a neighboring town, in his head. Alan went missing under suspicious circumstances and is rumored to be guilty of a heinous and terroristic crime. From within Ruddy’s head, Alan urges our reluctant hero to solve the mystery of his disappearance and clear his name while Ruddy begins to question his own sanity. Jake, the aggressively lazy but unwaveringly companionable mutt, is an anchor to Ruddy among the shifting motives and loyalties of those he loves.

It is this book’s dry, candid sense of humor that makes it irresistible. Cameron does not rely on the shock value of some contrived sadistic crime to keep you reading – instead he performs that rare magic trick of talented writers: he echoes your own thoughts and feelings back to you through the filter of a character that still feels entirely novel. To boot, Ruddy is helplessly likeable; most of the laughs come from his frank and unblinking observations (although he is only sometimes in on the joke). Ruddy bulldozes his way along several simultaneously unfolding plotlines, including the search for Alan’s killers, his crush on already-engaged Katie (it’s complicated), and his sister’s search for happiness and her courageous bid to save their bar, the endangered Black Bear. All these tightly intertwined plotlines move the story forward at a harried downhill pace – but you’ll find yourself engaged, not exhausted.

You won’t be slowing down to explore the scenery or get to know anyone through any long-winded descriptive prose in this book. The players are off and running often with nothing more than a few flippant brush strokes, left to define themselves through action and dialogue. Still, they feel real – Ruddy’s sister Becky has “a tapeworm or something that was always draining the fun out of her, turning her dour and sad.” His best friend Jimmy “had even been in a TV commercial once, though his career as an actor was somewhat hampered by his inability to act.” Cameron gives you these essentials and then allows you to move on, letting you get to know the characters all on your own.

I will admit, I haven’t felt this enamored with every W. Bruce Cameron novel I’ve read. There tends to be a sugary-sweet overtone to some of his work that prioritizes likeable heroes over interesting ones, and recognizable villains over complex ones. Even in Midnight Plan the resolve feels a bit cute, relying on some unlikely coincidences and luck to deliver a harmless finale. But ultimately the magic here lies in the narration. You will love spending time with this book, and although the story stands on its own spectacularly and doesn’t conclude with any pandering cliff-hangers, you will find yourself eager to follow up by reading its sequel, Repo Madness: A Novel.

If you’d like to read along: in April 2020, I will be reviewing The Kitchen God’s Wife by Amy Tan.