The Left-Handed Booksellers of London ~ Garth Nix

Now really, I ask you, what self-respecting book blogger could resist a book with a title like that? The questions that it raises! What about the right-handed booksellers of London? What, it eventually becomes apparent I should be asking, about the evenhanded booksellers of London? And why does it matter in the first place?

Nix’s novel does not, however, begin in London. It begins somewhere in the West of England, not far from Bath, at 5:42 am on May Day, 1983. Susan Arkshaw is celebrating her 18th birthday and wondering again just who the father she has never met might have been. Susan is planning to make her way to London, to study art when the new academic year begins but in the interim to try and find out something about this mysterious father of hers. Is he in any way related to the mystical dreams that she has been having or are they simply the product, as she muses, of “a childhood diet of Susan Cooper, Tolkien and CS Lewis”? She intends to start by visiting ‘Uncle’ Frank, who always sends and signs a Christmas card and who might, therefore, just be a possible candidate. However, no sooner does she arrive at the home of Frank Thringley than he is ‘disincorporated’ by a young man who turns out to be one of the left-handed booksellers of the title. Not only is Uncle Frank not Susan‘s father, apparently he is not human at all but what the young man, who introduces himself as Merlin, describes as a ‘Sipper’, a blood-drinker and thus one of the evil mystical folk from the Old World of magic against whom the booksellers, both left and right handed, (‘one for the books and one for the hooks’) are ranged. Why booksellers you might well ask. Well, as Merlin goes on to explain, the ‘normal world is the top layer of a palimpsest’ and ‘under certain conditions or at particular times, the Old World comes to the top…Booksellers can exist on multiple levels at the same time…and for various reasons we’ve ended up…policing, I suppose’.

Susan is confused.  Why should one of the denizens of the Old World be concerned with her? In fact, as she and Merlin make their way across London it soon becomes apparent that Uncle Frank is not the only Old World creature seeking to do her harm. Urchins or goblins surround the couple as they pass along Mayfair and very nearly trap them in the mystical fair ground from which the thoroughfare takes its name.  What is it about Susan that attracts so much Old World attention? Is it to do with her absent father? The Left-handed Merlin and his Right-handed sister, Vivien, set out to help her find the answers.  

‘Merlin’ and ‘Vivien’ – I trust you are making the connection. You should be, because this book is riddled with nods in the direction of other fantasy writers: writers who, presumably, have provided gateways to the Old World for their readers over the decades if not over centuries.

Children’s writers…quite often they discover the key to raise some ancient myth or release something that should have stayed imprisoned, and they share that knowledge via their writing. Stories aren’t always merely stories, you know.

Part of the pleasure of this book for anyone who is as soaked in fantasy and children’s literature as I am, is picking out the references to other works. Susan doesn’t leave home before indulging in my favourite meal, Tolkien’s ‘second breakfast’. Merlin has clearly been spending time in the company of Ben Aaronovitch’s Peter Grant as both of them have a tendency to attract what can only be described as ‘weird shit’ and like all good wizards, as teenagers booksellers are sent off to their own very special school ‘at Wooten Hall’.

I am a great fan of Garth Nix’s Abhorson novels, but I’ve never really green able to engage with any of his other books, so although the title definitely intrigued me, I have to say that I picked this up with a little trepidation. I shouldn’t have worried, I absolutely loved it. So much so, that I am disappointed to see that there is no indication that there might be a follow-up, or even a series. I could happily spend a lot more time in the company of the Left-Handed Booksellers of London. Please don’t dismiss this book just because it’s intended for a teenage readership. Anyone who enjoys good fantasy writing will enjoy this, not the least because of the homage it pays to so many of its predecessors, to which it is a worthy successor.

With thanks to Gollancz and NetGalley for the review copy.

The Children of Green Knowe ~ Lucy M Boston

I had been teaching for about three years, I think, when my headteacher came in one day and told me that I was now in charge of the school library. He wasn’t the sort of person who consulted his staff about their preferences, nor was he the sort of person with whom you argued, so from that day on I was in charge of the school library. Having been an avid reader since before I went to school myself, it wasn’t the onerous task it might have been to someone else, but I was aware that I had stopped reading children’s fiction when I was about eleven or twelve and, other than my forays into Enid Blyton and Lorna Hill, I couldn’t really remember very much about it. So, every Friday evening before I went home I would nip into the library and pick up a couple of books by authors I hadn’t yet encountered for my weekend reading.  Thus began my lifelong love affair with children’s literature.  

The Children of Green Knowe, the first in Lucy M Boston’s sequence based around her own house and garden, was one of the earliest books I took home with me. Published in 1954 and set in the depths of East Anglia, it is very much of its own time and place. Its main character, seven year old Toseland, (and, as promised, that is a picture of Toseland Bear at the head of this post) is going to spend Christmas for the first time with his great-grandmother, Mrs Oldknow, who lives in the eponymous Green Knowe. The surrounding countryside is completely flooded and later in the story the property is cut off yet again by snow and this isolation from the world around it is fundamental to the sense that the house and gardens are trapped in an understanding of time all their own: a time that has no respect for ordinary temporal boundaries but which allows generation after generation to co-mingle in a manner that has nothing to do with haunting but everything to do with knowing who you are, where you have come from and finding your place in the world.

Like Lucy M Boston’s own home, Green Knowe has stood for almost 900 years, always in the hands of the Oldknow family who, in their stead, are always served by a Mr Boggis. When Toseland first arrives he can feel the weight of past generations surrounding him as he explores the house which is to be his new home. Toseland is an old family name, it has come down through the generations and so there will be no confusion, his grandmother shortens it to Tolly (Toseland Bear is never shortened to Tolly) and she tells him about a previous Toseland, known as Toby, and about his brother, Alexander and their sister, Linnet. This generation of Oldknows appears to have lived in the middle of the 17th century because we later discovered that they died in the great plague of 1665. Tolly becomes completely fascinated by them and their lives, especially by the horse which Toby rode, Feste, and as he shows himself to share the same interests as they had, to be subject to the same sensitivities, to be, in fact, a true Oldknow, so gradually the children, whose memories still linger, show themselves to him.

I found myself reading the book much more slowly this time than I suspect I did the first time round. There is some beautiful writing in it.  Here is Tolly, lying in bed on a night when the frost is biting hard.

The owls hooted outside. Their sound seemed to echo from a glassy, frost-hard sky. Tolly could literally hear how wide the meadows were.

I was also much more aware of the underlying concerns rather than simply concentrating on the storyline. This isn’t, as I suspect I thought on my initial reading, a ghost story. It seems to me that what Boston is really interested in is the way in which not only our own past but also the past of those generations that have preceded us forges our identity.  Yes, we are free to make our own decisions, but how we do that will inevitably be influenced by past experiences, even if not our own and even if we only react against them.  Up until this point in his life, Tolly has been pretty much shoved from pillar to post, isolated in a boarding school and, because his father and stepmother are abroad, forced to stay there even during the holidays. Now, for the first time, he has a sense of his own identity, of where he has come from, of his heritage, and this knowledge gives him the strength to grow and to begin to make choices for himself.

I am so glad I went back to this book. If you don’t know it then do you try and pick up a copy and appreciate Boston’s work for yourselves. I seem to remember thinking that the third book in the series, A Stranger at Green Knowe, was even better – a treat for another weekend, perhaps.

The Best Laid Plans….

Sometimes, life just doesn’t go the way you want it to. I had my schedule of posts all worked out, not just in my head but on paper even – two a week, right through to the end of October. A nice neat list, absolutely essential because I’ve decided to pick up a study programme this term and in order to fit everything in I need to be organised. Then blow me, if I didn’t go and hit two books in a row that I just didn’t want to write about. The first was actually a very good book, one that we discussed in my Monday Reading Group and that we all thought was excellent. I don’t know quite why I didn’t want to blog about it, possibly because the author was coming at life from such a totally different point of view to mine that while I could appreciate the quality of the writing I would have found it hard to say anything in agreement with the perspective that he was taking. In fact, the more I think about it the more I find the novel actually to be morally offensive; which is interesting, I hadn’t realise I felt so strongly in that area.

The second was a different kettle of fish altogether. It was a book I had requested from the publisher because I’ve always enjoyed the author’s writing in the past and was expecting this one to give me the same amount of pleasure. Halfway through, however, I was, well I was going to say beginning to change my mind, but actually I had already very definitely changed it. It wasn’t simply that I didn’t like any of the characters, you can no more expect to like everyone you meet in a book than you can everyone you meet in real life, but I couldn’t engage with them. I simply didn’t believe they existed and a large part of that was because the narrative voice kept me at such a distance. It was a bit like looking at events through the wrong end of a telescope. So instead of writing a blog post for today I had to write to the publisher instead and say I’m very sorry but I can’t review this book because you wouldn’t like what I have to say about it. I am going to be fascinated to read other people’s reviews when they start to appear.

All this has come at a time when I really needed life to go like clockwork. (I know, what was I thinking?)  I have one course starting this coming Wednesday and another at the beginning of October and they are both with institutions I‘ve not worked with before and for which I have paid out real money! Finding my way round two very different sets of regulations is proving interesting! Past experience has taught me that once I’ve got the first couple of weeks behind me the level of panic that is currently coursing through my veins will subside and I’ll be able to get back onto something more of an even keel. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to be paying much heed to past experience at the moment.  So, for now I’ve gone back to my children’s literature and I’m going to satisfy myself over the weekend with a bit of re-reading. There’s no point in pushing either the reading or the blogging if it isn’t coming naturally.  The Bears and I are enjoying re-visiting Lucy M Boston’s wonderful 1954 novel, The Children of Green Knowe. Toseland Bear is particularly excited because he shares his name with one of the main characters and I have promised that if I write a post about it I will put his picture up as well.  Have a good weekend. 

The Darkest Evening ~ Ann Cleeves


I have come very late to Ann Cleeves’ novels and I haven’t actually read all of the previous books in the series featuring Vera Stanhope.  Consequently, in reading this, the latest episode concerning the Northumbrian DI, I am behaving very much out of character as I normally prefer to work my way chronologically through a sequence. However, having been given the opportunity to read The Darkest Evening for review, I couldn’t resist the temptation and in fact, reference to the aftermath of one of the cases I have yet to encounter apart, nothing substantial enough seems to have happened to the officers stationed at Kimmerston to make me feel that in doing so I am in anyway spoiling the novels between this and The Glass Room, my most recent read.

It’s the dead of winter; Christmas and the longest night are on the horizon; the snow is falling and against her team’s advice Vera Stanhope is trying to get back to her isolated cottage through the dark and a raging blizzard. Missing her turning she finds herself on a road she normally would not take and discovers an abandoned car, with door wide open and, when she investigates more closely, a toddler tucked up inside. There is no sign of any struggle, no evidence of any foul play, but why would a mother abandon her child on a night as wild as this? Freeing the child’s car seat from its restraints, Vera sets out with the baby in the direction she thinks the driver must have taken, in order to see if she is in need of any help. 

Rather than discovering the missing driver, Vera finds herself approaching a once grand but now rather crumbling country house, Brockbank, ancestral home of the Stanhopes.  As an adult, Vera’s father, Hector, a youngest son and very much the black sheep of the family, had rarely set foot in the place, and consequently, while Vera has some memories of visiting as a child, those memories are not necessarily happy ones and she approaches the encounter with her relatives with a trepidation we do not normally associate with the blunt and forthright DI. Crispin, Vera’s cousin, is dead, but his widow, Harriet, still lives in the mansion along with her daughter, Juliet, and Juliet’s thespian husband, Mark. Despite the foul weather, a house party is in full swing, as Mark attempts to interest backers in a scheme to turn Brockbank into a theatrical venue and consequently Vera’s interruption is not particularly well received. However, when one of the Stanhope’s tenants, Neil Heslop, arrives to collect his daughters, waitressing for the evening, with news that he has discovered a body, they are only too grateful that the police are already on the scene.

The body turns out to be that of Lorna Falstone, also a member of a tenant family, and it is clear from the start that she has been brutally murdered. Lorna has struggled as a teenager, suffering from anorexia, and in her tentative recovery and life as a young mother she has been supported by her former primary teacher, Constance Browne. Her relationship with her parents, Jill and Robert, has been less secure and when questioned it is clear that they know little of her current life and can offer no suggestion as to who might be the father of her young son, Thomas. Reluctantly, Vera leaves the toddler with them, unexpectedly showing, if not exactly a maternal side, then a concern for the child that is more personal than professional.

Hampered by the weather, the Stanhopes’ less than helpful attitude and Lorna’s, if not exactly secretive then certainly very private, lifestyle, Vera, along with her usual crew, Joe, Holly and Charlie, makes little progress towards discovering the identity of the murderer, although several possible motives begin to rear their heads and then Constance Browne goes missing. Did she know more about Lorna‘s life and personal entanglements than she has let on? Has she seen something, somebody, and consequently poses a threat that must be eliminated?

However gruff Vera may appear on the outside, I think anyone who has read the earlier novels knows that there is both a softer and more vulnerable individual hidden behind the unforgiving and unprepossessing exterior. In The Darkest Evening those warmer aspects of her character begin to show more openly, especially in relation to young Thomas, who may or may not turn out to be a distant relative. Questions of fatherhood abound and it isn’t only Thomas’s paternity that is called into question as the investigation progresses. I liked this rather more vulnerable Vera and I also found myself more in sympathy with Holly than has been the case in the previous books I’ve read. She and Vera seem to be coming to something of an accommodation with each other, perhaps beginning to realise that they have more in common than either might like to admit. All in all, a worthy addition to the continuing story of Vera Stanhope; now to go back and fill in the gaps.

With thanks to Macmillan and NetGalley for a review copy.  

V for Victory ~ Lissa Evans

I remember somebody once pointing out to me that while most of the literature coming out of and focusing on the First World War was to do with life in the trenches, that which took the 1939–45 war as its subject was far more likely to concentrate on the home front.  That may be very much an over-generalisation, but it certainly holds true where Lissa Evans‘s new novel, V for Victory, is concerned. The book begins in the autumn of 1944. London is being ravaged by V2s, rockets which were launched from mobile units only to come crashing to earth five minutes later with little or no warning, devastating buildings and killing in just a few short months over 2000 Londoners.  Fourteen-year-old Noel is living in Hampstead with his aunt Marjorie Overs. Except she isn’t his aunt and her name isn’t Marjorie Overs.  It takes quite some time for the full story of their relationship to be revealed but what we do learn very early on is that for some years previously Noel had lived in the house they now occupy with his godmother, Miss Matilda Simpkin, who is dead. Quite how he comes to be there at this point with his non-aunt Marjorie, who we actually know as Vee, isn’t clear, but what is obvious is that there is a great deal of affection between the two of them and that Vee, who is doing her best to keep the wolf from the door by taking in lodgers, is doing a very good job of bringing the teenager up. The situation rather reminded me of Noel Streatfeild’s Ballet Shoes, given that, like the Fossil girls, Evans’ Noel is relying for his education on the strengths of the various individuals who live in the same house.

English and Latin from Mr Jepson, who‘s a journalist. Mathematics and bookkeeping from Mr Reddish – he‘s a cashier – sciences from Dr Parry-Jones, French from Mrs Applebee… cookery from Miss Zawadska.

Running parallel with the story of Noel and Vee is that of Winnie, an ARP warden for whom the war has meant far more responsibility than she found in her previous role as a bit part actress and who has grown into the job until she is regarded by her colleagues with respect and affection. Only a month after their marriage Winnie’s husband, Emlyn, was among those captured at Dunkirk, and as a consequence their relationship since has relied on censored and stilted correspondence most of which, on Emlyn’s part, is centred around his plans for the home they will have when the war is over,

she had fallen for Romeo and now found herself padlocked to the editor of Modern Homes and Gardens.

Winnie is a twin; not, however, an identical twin. Avril is glamorous, svelt, works in the Ministry of Information and is married to a man who is currently abroad, doing something for the Foreign Office. She is also embarking on a new career, as a novelist. Her book, surprise surprise, is about an ARP warden but the life that she portrays is one that Winnie singularly fails to recognise.

Rodrick’s profile had an ancient blankness, as of a frieze in a torch-lit passageway. Binnie turned, silently, knelt on the mattress and slid her cushioned form alongside his. “If we died now there’d be no more pretence,” she said. She imagined their two bodies fused by violence into one melded, bloodied being, ensexed eternally.

Fortunately, Evans herself is much more prosaic and realistic about not only the perils but also the sheer weariness that Londoners are facing day by day five years into a war that never seems as if it’s going to end. She speaks of the way in which everyone is bored of everything, not simply the dangers that they face, but the lack of food, the lack of fuel, the lack of colour, the lack of joy. And she also hints at the determination of those who have lived through the experience that when it is over things are going to be different. She never actually ventures into the political realm, but she does speak of the returning soldiers shocked by the dismal grind of London life for whom tin medals weren’t going to be enough this time round. I don’t think I’ve ever understood the reason behind the election of the Labour Government in 1944 quite so clearly before.

I‘m told that some of the characters in this novel appeared in the author’s previous book, Old Baggage, a copy of which I own but which I have yet to get round to reading. I’m sure, however, that those of you who have read it will very much enjoy meeting these people again in what I thought was a very satisfying novel and I look forward now to going back and encountering them in their earlier incarnations.

With thanks to Doubleday and NetGalley for a review copy.

All The Devils Are Here ~ Louise Penny

All The Devils Are Here, is the latest novel in Louise Penny’s series about Quebec homicide detective, Chief Inspector Armand Gamache. However, unlike most of the earlier books this does not take place in the Canadian village of Three Pines; indeed, it isn’t sited in Canada at all. When I first realised that this novel was set in Paris, I have to admit I was concerned. Much as I like Gamache, I am just as drawn to Penny’s books by the wonderfully eccentric cast of characters that inhabit that small village close to the borders of Vermont. So much so, that I have been known to insist that the next house that comes up for sale in Three Pines is mine; however much it costs. How would I cope with a book that lacked the harum scarum Clara, the wise Myrna and the acerbic Ruth, not to mention the many delights of Gabri and Olivier‘s bistro?  The answer, surprisingly, was much better than I expected. In fact, I think this is possibly Penny’s strongest novel since Bury Your Dead.

Armand and Reine-Marie Gamache are in Paris for the birth of their daughter’s second child. Annie along with her husband, Jean-Guy Beauvoir, have moved to the French capital following Beauvoir’s resignation from the Sûreté du Québec to take up a position with GHS Engineering.  Beauvoir is no engineer, a fact brought home to him by the barely disguised contempt of his second-in-command, Séverine Arbour. Why was the position offered to him? His talents lie in detection. Has he been placed in the company in order to ferret out some sort of wrongdoing? If he has, he doesn’t really know enough about the business to be able to spot any type of corruption that might be going on. Jean-Guy is frustrated; never a good situation.

Annie isn’t the only member of the Gamache family resident in France‘s chief city. Their son, Daniel, also lives there, working for a bank in the field of venture capital. It has been apparent throughout the series that, much to Armand’s distress, there is an estrangement between father and son but, unable to fathom the cause, Gamache has been able to do nothing about it.  While Annie is delighted her parents are there, you get the feeling that Daniel would rather they were anywhere else on Earth.

The final member of the Gamache “family“ greets Armand on the night that he and Reine-Marie first arrive in Paris. Stephen Horowitz is Armand’s godfather. Now in his 90s, this immensely rich man, has been very much a father to the Chief Inspector after his parents died in a car accident when he was nine. Although German by birth Horowitz was a member of the French Resistance and has spent most of his life since then outing corruption in financial and business enterprises around the world. Leaving a restaurant where the family have been dining on that first night, Horowitz is the victim of a hit-and-run attack, clearly targeted at him and equally clearly intended to kill. When Armand and Jean-Guy then visit Stephen’s apartment and find a body there, it becomes apparent that mischief is afoot and that somehow it is linked to the upcoming GHS board meeting.

Of course, Gamache has not always been a “lowly“ Chief Inspector. His career has taken him to the very top and as a result he knows other top policeman around the world, including Claude Dussault, the Prefect of Paris Police so, when he feels that the assigned officers are not taking his insistence that Stephen was deliberately targeted seriously, Armand calls on his friend for assistance.  But is Dussault to be trusted? Is it possible that the Prefect himself has been corrupted? Are Stephen’s claims of his part in the war valid? And, most troubling, can Gamache place his faith in those who are closest to him of all? Much of the novel turns on the question of who can and who cannot be trusted with Gamache really only able to depend entirely on Reine-Marie and Beauvoir.  

You have to keep your wits about you during what is quite a substantial novel. There are many twists and turns before the reasons behind the murders and attempted murders are revealed and answers to the question of who is on whose side are fluid right up until the very dramatic conclusion. Big business and those who sit on the boards of such institutions do not come out of it well. Don’t trust anything manufactured might well be one message taken away by the reader; I may never get in a lift again! After Penny’s previous novel, A Better Man, which I thought was a disappointment, this is a very welcome return to form. If you are already a fan then I think you’ll enjoy it; if you have yet to meet Gamache and Beauvoir then I suggest you go back to the start of the series with Still Life, rather than beginning here, knowing that you have some very fine books ahead of you. 

With thanks to Sphere and to NetGalley for a review copy.

Strange Flowers ~ Donal Ryan

Sometimes you come across a book that is just so beautifully written and so intensely moving in its subject matter that it is hard to say anything about it other than ‘this is perfect’. That’s the way I feel about Donal Ryan’s new novel, Strange Flowers. Having finished it last night, I am still reluctant to write about it, partly because I just don’t feel anything I say can do it justice, but mainly because I simply don’t want to disturb the feelings of gratitude and privilege of being having allowed to read this book. However, if I don’t put pen to paper, as it were, then some of you now reading might never think of picking up this short but atmospheric work and that would be a terrible shame.

Like most of Ryan’s work the novel is set primarily in rural Ireland, in this case in County Tipperary, however, some of the more important scenes thematically are sited in London where two of the main characters try to find a place to lose themselves after traumatic loss sours their experience of home. In 1973, Moll Gladney vanishes from the humble bothy that she shares with her parents, Paddy and Kit, leaving no word of explanation behind her. For five years her devastated family continues with their daily round, Paddy working in the mornings as the local postman and in the afternoons walking the marches of his landlord’s property, keeping an eye on the stock and carrying out any work that might need doing to maintain the land. Then, just as unexpectedly as she left, Moll returns and following her comes her husband, Alexander, a black Presbyterian bringing with him not only his parents but the son, Josh, that Moll has left behind.

While the love that Alexander feels for Moll is patiently obvious to everyone, her feelings about her husband and child are less clear and it is apparent that there is more to the story of her disappearance than any of the family knows. Alexander stays on in Ireland and gradually finds a place for himself in the community, playing hurling with the local team and building a landscape gardening business that looks fit to thrive and help change the fortunes of the Gladney family. And then Alexander is killed in a road accident and the fragile equilibrium that the family has achieved is once more shattered. This time it is Josh who takes himself off to London, working at whatever job he can find while he struggles to make his mark as a writer. From this point in the book the family story is intercut by Josh’s retelling of the story of the blind man cured by Jesus, a story, he tells us, that has to have more behind it than appears in the gospels.

And this is one of the major themes of the book, that however much we know, or think we know, about the truth of a matter, there are always circumstances, details, outcomes, that are omitted from the telling. Just as we don’t know all the circumstances behind the life of the blind beggar, including what happened to him after his ‘miracle’, neither do we know the reason that Moll left all those years before nor truly understand what it is that is motivating Josh.  The other major theme, it seems to me, is the nature of love, the power of love and the sacrifices which that love, seen most often here, within the family setting, is prepared to make. No one reading this book can doubt Paddy’s love for his family, a love that widens to include Alexander and Josh when they make the crossing over the Irish sea. Nor can there be any question of the love that Alexander feels for Moll, even though he knows, as do we, that this is a feeling she is not able to return. Where love is not to be found is in association with power. Lucas Jackman, the Gladney’s landlord, abuses his power in the most atrocious manner and Josh‘s retelling of the gospel story forces the reader to question the extent to which Christ’s miracles were an act of love or if they were not rather part of a publicity seeking campaign designed to boost the persona of the man calling himself the Messiah, a man Ryan seems to suggest who has been overwhelmed by his followers and to have lost all his authority. 

However, the ultimate power of the book lies in the beauty of its language. As you read you feel that every word has been placed not just with precision but also with the same love that Ryan is celebrating in the story he depicts. He is, without doubt, a brilliant writer, far better than I am. I look back over what I have written here and feel that I have come nowhere near expressing the beauty or the force of his novel. All I can do is ask you to read it and experience the power of his words for yourself.

With many thanks to Doubleday and NetGalley for the review copy. 

Review Catch-Up ~ August 22nd 2020

woman holding brown open notebook

This is the fourth in a series of catch up posts with short reviews of books that I’ve read over the past couple of months but haven’t been able to get round to writing about in any great detail. It’s not meant to imply that the books are in anyway inferior to those which get a post to themselves, just that I tend to read faster than I can blog and it seems better to provide a brief comment than nothing at all.

Silent Kill ~ Jane Casey

Silent Kill is a novella that fits in between the last two of Jane Casey’s Maeve Kerrigan novels and unlike the short stories from Ben Aaronovitch which I reviewed a couple of weeks ago, it very definitely does add to the ongoing narrative of the series. For the last three novels Maeve, now a detective sergeant, has been plagued by the presence of DC Georgia Shaw. Georgia, a fast track entry to the force, rubs all her colleagues up the wrong way. She wants their attention, their recognition, to be included in everything that’s going on without quite seeming to realise that she has to earn both the respect and the right to the involvement that she seeks. Now, for the first time, Casey tells us a story from Georgia’s point of view and in doing so, offers some insight into why she behaves as she does.

15-year-old Minnie Charleston, a pupil at Lovelace, a private school in Battersea, is found dead in the seat she has occupied for the past few stops on a London bus. During the course of her journey several passengers have sat next to her but none of them appear to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Given that she has been stabbed one of them must surely be the culprit but CCTV is frequently blurred by other members of the public coming and going on the journey and so each of the passengers must be traced and interviewed.

As the team try to discover more about Minnie herself a disturbing picture begins to form. Clearly neglected at home (“some of the parents are more available and engaged than others,” says her headteacher) the teenager has turned into a bully and become caught up with right wing extremists. There are a good many people who might wish this young lady harm. Perhaps even more disturbing, however, for Georgia is that inevitably as we read on we see the parallels between Minnie and the police officer. Much of Georgia’s ineptitude is the result of the relationship that she has with her mother, who has never got over the loss from cancer of her beloved older daughter and who treats the younger sibling as if she is worthless. Georgia doesn’t know how to interact with and value others because she has never had an adequate role model.

Given that this occupies a timeslot before the action that takes place in The Cutting Place, I’m tempted to go back now and re-read that just to see if there is any indication that Georgia has matured somewhat as a result of the insights she seems to be gaining by the end of this novella.

After the Fire ~ Jo Spain

Tom Reynolds may have moved on from his position at the head of the Murder Squad in Dublin but even though he now holds the top job at the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation that doesn’t mean that he can’t still stick his nose in when a new and interesting case develops, in this instance the aftermath of a house fire early one July morning. When it becomes apparent that the two bodies found in the house were already dead before the fire began and that the sole apparent witness is a young Russian woman who can only tell them “I couldn’t save the baby“, Tom and the team, now led by DCI Laura Lennon, have to face the fact that they are looking for something more than just an arsonist. As the facade of respectability built up by the occupier of the house, Matteo Russo, begins to crumble, Tom and Laura realise they are dealing with the consequences of a falling out within the organised-crime world. However, getting to the roots of just which gangs are involved is not as easy as it might have been at one time. The once “big“ man behind much of the crime scene in Dublin, Patrick “BLT“ Cowell, is serving a life sentence in jail and it isn’t apparent who, if anyone, has picked up the reins of his empire. If there is a new major player in town, then the police don’t know who it is.

Laura, her team depleted by the decision of the powers that be to focus on gun crime, calls in the assistance of Natasha McCarthy, head of sexual crimes, as it becomes clear that the more likely evil at the root of the conflagration is human trafficking. Tyanna, the young Russian girl still recovering in hospital, is nevertheless obviously being threatened by someone and when Nina Cusack, a drug addict, returns to her family home after a two-year absence, her parents realise that she too has been involved and is still frightened of some sort of retribution.

The investigation pinpoints an apparently respectable solicitor, Hugo de Burgh, who thinks every bit as highly of himself as Jane Austen’s Grande Dame of the same name.  Was de Burgh merely a client of what it is now clear was an active brothel, or does his presence on the CCTV point to a more sinister involvement? Former chief superintendent, Joe Kennedy, “the champion of horizontal career moves“ and still a thorn in Tom’s side, pinpoints him as “the go-to man for half of the gangsters in Dublin”, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he is also a murderer and an arsonist.

Meanwhile, Tom is in trouble at home. He is supposed to be on holiday and his wife, Louise, doesn’t appreciate the hours that he is putting in on what should be Laura‘s case. She is initially delighted, therefore, when he suggests they take a short break in Newcastle, less so when she discovers that he is looking for more information about the man who is now their main suspect.  However, it is in Newcastle that the case finally begins to come together and the race is now on to find and save the baby whose fate has so troubled Tyanna.

I came to Jo Spain‘s novels quite late in the series, which was a delight because it meant I had several investigations to catch up with. This latest is every bit as good as the earlier ones and if you haven’t yet made the acquaintance of Tom Reynolds and his team then I recommend them to you very warmly.

Cover Your Tracks ~ Claire Askew

woman holding mug of coffee beside opened bookCover Your Tracks is the third of Claire Askew’s novels centred around Edinburgh DI, Helen Birch; what is more, it’s the third one I’ve read this year, which says something about the continuing quality of Askew’s writing. Her latest offering focuses on a subject which has been hovering in the wings of both her previous books, namely, missing people. Birch’s own life has been blighted by the disappearance of her younger brother Charlie, a character central to What You Pay For, Askew’s previous book, and, although by no means as troubling, her father has also been absent since she was twelve. Now she finds herself confronted by a belligerent Scottish American, Robertson Bennet, demanding that she locate his missing parents for him. Robertson, or Robert MacDonald as he was born, has had no contact with his family since 1986 and not finding them at the address he expected he considers it the polices’ job to locate them for him. Birch explains, rather more politely than I would have done, that this is not the polices’ job, but Bennet refuses to be put off and returns with what he claims is evidence that his mother may be in danger as a result of his father’s acknowledged aggressive behaviour. Subsequent enquiries confirm that George MacDonald is indeed known to the police but the whereabouts of both him and Bennet’s mother, Euphemia, more commonly called Pharmie, prove to be elusive. Helen‘s superior, DCI McLeod, considers the whole business to be a waste of her time and tells her to hand it over to DC Amy Kato, but Helen is intrigued, and never one to follow orders blindly, is unable to stay away from the case.

Following up on suggestions that George was well known in the train spotting community, it gradually becomes apparent that he had, in fact, ‘helped’ the police with their enquiries far more often than Birch and Kato originally realised, calling himself on those occasions, Ginger Mack, and that almost always his involvement had been in relation to missing women. The novel is punctuated by newspaper reports concerning the disappearance of some of these women, the oldest of which dates back a full fifty years. We read the stories of Suzannah (Suzie) Hay and Christine Turnbull and encounter the heartbreak of Maisie Kerr’s mother, still hoping for news of her daughter who vanished in 1999.

Despite McLeod’s edict, Helen becomes more and more involved, but at the same time she is distracted by what is happening to her brother, now serving a long jail sentence. Branded not only because of his association with a senior police officer but also as the man responsible for the jailing of a major crime lord, Charlie almost inevitably, has become the target of prison violence and when this lands him seriously injured in hospital the fact that he has retaliated and is therefore almost certainly looking at an extension to his sentence simply piles the pressure on for his sister. Not, however, that Helen needs Charlie’s help to feel that she is snowed under by family concerns, because after a gap of more than two decades her father has finally got in touch again and unsurprisingly her first thought is that any renewed contact is bound to bring trouble. Perhaps this is why, when an anonymous tipoff is received, Birch misinterprets the message.

And this, I’m afraid, is where I had a problem with the novel because I didn’t misinterpret the message. Despite the amount of crime fiction I read I am normally still hopeless at guessing who done it, let alone how and why but in the case of Cover Your Tracks I had the whole thing sorted from the moment that message arrived, which made the last two-fifths or so of the book something of an anti-climax. I tell you, I could have saved Police Scotland a fortune in digging time! Perhaps for some that would be a minor quibble, but I like the suspense ratcheted up to the end and so ultimately the book was something of a disappointment in terms of plot. Nevertheless, it’s still a very good read simply because of the quality of the writing and the development of the characters and I shall certainly not be put off reading the next in the series, whenever that should be available.

With thanks to Hodder & Stoughton and NetGalley for a review copy.  

Summerwater ~ Sarah Moss

woman holding mug of coffee beside opened book

Summerwater is the first novel by Sarah Moss that I have read; it won’t be the last. Located in a Scottish campsite populated by cabins which have been handed down through family generations, Moss sets her novel over a period of twenty-four hours in mid-summer. Subdivided into alternating longer and very much shorter sections, the book recounts how that one day, rain sodden as only a British summer day can be, is spent by the people staying on the site and, in the shorter sections, the wildlife that inhabits the surrounding woodland. We follow the attempts by members of each generation to fill the wet, isolated hours when even to set foot over the threshold is to be soaked to the skin. There is the elderly couple having to face the fact that she is slowly descending into some form of dementia; the young couple with two small children trying to find ways to amuse them cooped up in what seems to be a little more than a wooden box; the lovers planning married life on an isolated island for which this must seem like some sort of trial run and the teenagers, desperate without their social networking, fighting for independence with every breath.

What has brought these people to a location that, on this particular day, might well be called a God forsaken place? Moss seems to suggest that it is ingrained habit. These families have spent their holidays sequestered away in these selfsame wooden cabins summer after summer. It is what they do; it has become who they are. And this notion of ourselves as creatures driven by ways of being that have been handed down and reinforced year in and year out seems to me to be at the heart of what Sarah Moss is concerned with.

Some of these habits are relatively new, inasmuch as they have only been part of family life over one, two or three generations. Some are still in the process of being laid down – in one instance quite literally. ‘Zanzibar’ introduces us to Josh and Milly, the young couple who are intending to marry and moved to the island of Barra.

They are trying to have simultaneous orgasms.

If we can learn how to do it, Josh says, we will be like a hundred times more likely not to get divorced. I read about it.

So they are practising; they are trying to build a habit.

Much of Summerwater is heart wrenching, but not ‘Zanzibar‘, which we experience through Millie’s eyes as she tries hard not to judge [Josh’s] facial expressions nor to think about bacon sandwiches to pass the time.  I found myself repeatedly laughing out loud. It’s a sign of Moss’s excellent pacing that she knows just went to offer the reader some light relief and also a sign of the control she has over her material that when we meet the couple again, this time through Josh’s eyes, we realise that what he is actually trying to do is save the relationship, recognising that he has the habit of living in a small island community but Millie does not.

Habits are built over a lifetime and while they can be very useful in as much as they save us time where every day occurrences are concerned, they can also bind us and leave us tied to repetitive ways of living that have ceased to serve us well. And, some habits, some ways of thinking, some ways of reacting, are built over far longer stretches than one single being’s existence. This is perhaps revealed most strongly in the shorter sections which deal with the natural world that also inhabits this campsite and its surrounds. For me, the point is made most tellingly in always wolves, a bare dozen lines in which a doe, protecting her fawn, steps nervously out of the trees.

In her mind there are always wolves, day and night, a pack of them slinking on the edge of scent and sound. They creep nearer when she sleeps, when she and the fawn bow  their heads to drink, when the trees cluster to make hiding places.

Here is a creature who can never have encountered a wolf, but the herd memory, the fear instilled in generation after generation of her kind, still controls her reactions and informs her way of life. And the same is true of the human inhabitants of the campsite. They bring with them their ingrained fear, passed down from father to son, of those whose habits and way of life are different from theirs, a fear which manifests itself in the shape of distrust, dislike, anger and violence.  And, if Summerwater has a fault, for me it is in the ending, which exploits this fear and gives it concrete shape. It seems too sudden, too definite, for a book which has thus far dealt in less direct means of communication. But this is to quibble. The quality of the writing and of the act of creation, where both atmosphere and characters are concerned, seems to me to be outstanding. This is certainly one of the best novels I have read so far this year.

With thanks to Pan Macmillan and NetGalley for the review copy.