by Mike Barnes

The Adjustment League follows The Super, our dangerous and somewhat mentally unbalanced narrator. While his condition leaves him catatonic every November, he fights for those who can’t defend themselves in his functional moments––“adjustments,” as he calls it. When a call for help sends him to investigate the mistreatment of a dementia patient, he starts to uncover layers of dirt that her wealthy family spent years hiding and ignoring. As he probes deeper, it becomes unclear if he can finish what he started before his window of function closes, or if he’ll even leave this adjustment with his life.

Barnes’ story has a slow build, for better or for worse. On one hand, this works well to characterize the people and their surroundings before the action hits. And we get there; almost without warning, given the leisurely pace up to then, we suddenly get treated to an unflinching portrayal of gritty violence. The problem is that we almost immediately move away from it. In this way, I’m reminded of Kazuo Ishiguro’s A Pale View of Hills: It’s a good story in many ways, and it could have been great if we didn’t lose the excitement right after we got it.

That being said, my favourite aspect of The Adjustment League is the actual writing. Barnes’ prose is effective in three major ways. Firstly, his detailed descriptions bring us into The Super’s dirty, unsavory world. Secondly, he captures non-verbal cues that showcase emotions very well, giving us a glimpse into characters without using a cumbersome narration to do so. And, finally, he successfully shapes the narrator’s voice, both with the things he says and thinks, but also by using many simple, no-nonsense sentences to say it.

Ultimately, while I loved Barnes’ use of the language and the authenticity inherent in his writing, I struggled with the plot and pacing of The Adjustment League. That being said, my experience with other noir fiction makes me think it would improve immensely with a second reading.