In All Honesty, Smith Should Stick to Diet Books

The Ancient Nine - Ian K. Smith, MD

Spenser Q. Collins made his way from the mean streets of South Chicago to the ivy-covered halls of Harvard on the strength of his valedictory address and his jump shot. Now in his sophomore year, the young African-American premed student is flabbergasted to be “punched”¹ by a “final club”² - in fact, the finest of them all, Delphic. Upon hearing he’d been punched, Spenser’s best bud, filthy-rich Dalton Winthrop some number-or-other, informed him that Delphic is not just the best Harvard club, it’s also the most mysterious: some kid disappeared into their palatial clubhouse one night in 1927 and has never been heard from again. Ooooh: a mystery.

Spenser and Dalton are convinced that the club has an inner-inner circle, The Ancient Nine, who protect some deep dark secret in a secret chamber. Dalton’s pretty sure his uncle is one of The Nine.

The two embark on a mission to determine the truth of the secret-chamber and ancient-nine rumors, along the way committing both burglary and grave robbery. Spenser continues in punch season, a series of debauched gatherings at which booze flows like water and ladies of questionable morals make frequent appearances. That’s even as he practices for basketball and woos the drop-dead gorgeous Ashley, a townie presumably uninterested in dating some rich Harvard boy. For some reason, Spenser neglects to mention to her that he’s the son of a single mother from a Chicago “project.”

When Spenser and Dalton aren’t jetting off to “interview” some alum or easting in one of the many Boston restaurants that are name-dropped, Spenser is visiting one of the many libraries on campus. Oh, and since it’s 1988, there are no cell phones and precious few computers… but never mind that, because you just know our hero will solve the mystery.
I’ll be blunt: as mysteries go, The Ancient Nine is at about the level of something written by a fifth-grader. Although some reviewer at the river said the action is “heart-pounding,” that’s far from an apt description. In fact, Ian K. Smith MD’s novel reads far more like a travel history of Harvard College; chock full of architectural details of the various buildings and tidbits about campus life. The “solution,” such as it is, to the mystery is presented in expository form by a minor character who knew the details all along and simply dropped the story in Collins’s lap in the final chapter. The only actual bit of “detecting” the pair performed was [spoiler alert, but you knew it was gonna happen…] finding the entrance to the fabled secret chamber. In all honesty, the “secrets” they find are pretty small beans.

Smith’s novel leaves a lot more questions unanswered than what the Coincidence Fairy delivered in the last chapter. Perhaps the most pressing question is, “When does Spenser go to class?” He writes no term papers, takes no tests, and seems to be enrolled in just three classes: Philosophy, Organic Chemistry, and “Biology.” Somehow I expect a premed student to be carrying a heavier load, not to mention that a sophomore should probably be taking something more rigorous than introductory biology… And while we’re at it, what position does Spenser play on the basketball team? And if he’s so great, how come he finally got his first double-double???

Smith’s novel could be a caricature of the excesses of frat boys, in particular frat boys from the one percent. There’s a “team-building” exercise for Delphic punches at a farm in which the winning team is rewarded with a trip to a cottage staffed [groan...] with beautiful, naked hookers. On a trip to NYC, a small group hits the titty bars, but Spenser retires to the host’s pied-à-terre overlooking Central Park where the wealthy alum's fabulosa Venezuelan wife makes him “feel like a man.”³ That’s even while Collins is mooning over Ashley, typical townie trope tootsie, although before the two both blurt out that it was love at first sight.⁴
Besides The Ancient Nine, Smith’s oeuvre comprises more than a dozen non-fiction books (most about the SHRED diet, whatever that is) and one FBI thriller that got fawning reviews (mostly from fans of his diet books). Based on the sophomoric love story, the weak mystery plot, the plot holes, and the stultifyingly dull travelogue of Harvard and long-gone eateries, I’d give it two stars. Heck, it's so bad, I think I'll lower that to one and a half

I’m tempted to drop it to one since Collins never once attends class, especially since I’ve known Harvard students who actually did…

copyright © 2018-2019 scmrak

¹ If this were about a fraternity, it would be rush season…
² …but Harvard doesn’t have fraternities.
³ Digit lodged in throat.
⁴ op. cit.