MORE GREAT READS FOR FEBRUARY, 2016

In the Cold Dark Ground, by Stuart MacBride

Logan Balmoral MacRae is back, and about time, too, I say!  In the tried and true genre of Crime fiction – you know;  burnt-out detectives with shattered private lives but an uncanny knack for solving the most difficult crimes – well, Burn-Out Logan makes his recent experience of demotion to Police Sergeant in a small but dreary town in North East Scotland entirely credible.  Yes, he – and his team of fellow reprobate law-enforcers - all suffer from varying degrees of exhaustion and burn-out, but policing anywhere is a tough job: someone has to do it and they’ve put their hands up.  More fools them.

            Not much has changed since Logan’s last appearance in ‘The Missing and the Dead’ (see review below), except to worsen:  his beloved girlfriend Samantha has been in a coma for five years (truly!).  She will never wake and he has been told by hospital staff that it is time to say goodbye, a situation he has been dreading and shying away from even though his rational mind knows it is inevitable.  Another death is imminent:  wee Hamish Mowat, crime boss supreme of Aberdeen is in the terminal stages of cancer.  In a last conversation with Logan, wee Hamish informs him that he wishes Logan to take control of his empire for he knows that upon his death all the other crime lords from near and far will be circling like vultures, ready to break up his ‘life’s work’:  he is convinced that Logan (despite the fact that he is a Police Officer – how I wish I’d read all those earlier books!) will be the only one strong enough to hold it all together.  All this under the homicidally jealous eye of Reuben, the Reubenator, wee Hamish’s wing man who has the intimidatory strength to keep things going – but not the brains.  Reuben hates Logan, and Logan knows it is only a matter of time before the Reubenator mounts an attack.

            He is almost relieved when a conventional murder rears its ugly head:  a man’s naked body is found in the woods, hands bound behind his back and a rubbish bag taped over his head.  Despite the classic imitation of a local gangland-style killing, Logan is not convinced that the Bad Guys actually did this – for once, they are innocent – of this crime, anyway, and when the Major Investigation Team from Aberdeen (still run by his old boss and friend – and proud lesbian – DCI Steel) mounts an investigation, his suspicions prove to be correct.

            Sadly, Logan’s week from Hell doesn’t end there:  he is also asked by the Police Internal Professional Standards division to covertly investigate DCI Steel:  there is suspicion that she manufactured evidence to send a sexual predator and rapist to jail.  As much as everyone abhors his crimes (for which he was never convicted) Scottish justice has to be SEEN to be done:  who better to investigate Roberta Steel, than her trusted friend and confidante, the turkey-baster father of her children, Logan Balmoral MacRae.  Yes, let’s add betrayal to the list of Logan’s Lousy Week.

            Last but not least, a new Superintendent from the Serious Organised Crime Task Force is visiting and seems have taken an inexplicable and irrational dislike to him, thus making his life doubly miserable.  Could anything else go wrong?  Well, of course it can and it does, at a breakneck pace that this reader could barely stand – I wanted to yell ‘Slow down, slow down!!’ – and all because I didn’t want this mighty episode in the hapless (but not entirely hopeless) life and times of Logan to end.  Stuart MacBride is a storyteller Extraordinaire, a superb wordsmith who is in the enviable position of being unable to write fast enough to supply his readers’ demands.  FIVE STARS    

The Missing and the Dead, by Stuart MacBride

True to form, I have made the acquaintance of hapless detective Logan MacRae in the ninth book of his adventures – to my disadvantage, for Logan is a thriller reader’s treasure:  canny;  brave (well, of course!);   not averse to using unconventional methods to catch the crims – to the despair of his superiors;  messy private life (I’ll say:  his girlfriend’s been in a coma for FOUR YEARS.  Whaaaat???);  and the absolute loyalty and devotion of his team in rural Aberdeenshire, where he has been posted (a demotion?  Of course not, merely a ‘development opportunity’.  For whom?  Certainly not Logan). 

            Yep, Logan must have trodden on a lot of Brassy toes in the previous books to have been consigned to what is essentially scraping up drunks and druggies off the pavement on Saturday nights, and rounding up stray livestock (any old night).  A change of uniform from Detective Inspector to the bullet-proof vest and black T shirt of Police Scotland is a far cry from what he is used to, but he tries to be philosophical about his new circumstances and rounds up drunks, druggies and cows diligently – until the body of a little girl is found in an abandoned swimming pool just outside one of the small towns he polices.

            Despite the arrival of a Major Investigation Team, there are no leads as to the identity of the little girl,  in fact their enquiries seem to reach a dead end on every front – and the last thing they need is a maverick consigned to the sticks trying to stick his oar in.

                Enter Detective Chief Inspector Roberta Steel, Logan’s former partner, proud wife of Susan and mother of two daughters for whom Logan donated the sperm (yes, truly!  I wish I’d gotten onto these books sooner, then all these revelations would seem quite normal).  Regardless of her various little quirks (she is serially unfaithful) DCI Steel also thinks outside the square, and she needs Logan’s help.  Which is not forthcoming, for he has been ordered to stay away from all pending investigations, on pain of dismissal.  He has been accused – not entirely without foundation – of wrecking months of other peoples’ investigative work with his under-the-radar methods, so Steel will have to soldier on alone.

            This is a great read.  Mr MacBride has another more recent anti-hero, detective Ash Henderson in operation , which is how I was introduced to this latest opus.  What makes Mr MacBride’s stories so credible is his skill at writing of the foibles and vagaries of characters so real we can recognise in them people we know – and ourselves.  He is a superb storyteller, and lifts crime-writing up several notches with each book.  Highly recommended.

Napoleon’s Last Island, by Tom Keneally

In 2012 Australian author Thomas Keneally attended an exhibition in Melbourne of artifacts and mementos of Napoleon Bonaparte;  his ‘garments, uniforms, furniture, china, paintings, snuffboxes, military decorations and memorabilia’.  The origins of this collection intrigued him, for a large part of the trove was supplied by the Australian descendant of the Balcombe family, whose head was the providor and agent for the British East India Company on St. Helena, when Napoleon was exiled permanently to this island in the Atlantic after the Congress of Vienna decided his and Europe’s future in 1815.

            William Balcombe, his wife and family of five children had already been residents of St Helena for several years before Napoleon made his impressive arrival.  St Helena was an important trading stop for His British Majesty’s ships as they travelled east to Africa or west to the Americas.  Various regiments were garrisoned on the island and its benign Governor was provided by the British East India Company:  for the Balcombes the organisation and provision of stores for the troops as well as the locals gave them status and security that they would not enjoy back ‘home’ in England.  Life was good, and the arrival of Napoleon, ‘The Great Ogre’ and his colourful entourage, all of whom brought unaccustomed French Style and more than a whiff of celebrity notoriety, was  more excitement than the gossip-starved inhabitants had enjoyed in many a year.

            Betsy Balcombe, a name that leapt out at Mr Keneally at the exhibition was barely a teenager at this time, but he decided that he would tell of Napoleon’s last exile in her voice.  She kept a journal which he read, and this superb novel is narrated by her – that wilful, blunt and witty girl, ‘the Emperor’s chief friend and annoyer’.  She speaks to us eloquently of events and characters that are undimmed after two centuries, and the injustices, penury and exile her family endured (to the penal colony of Australia) thanks to their friendship and support for OGF – Our Great Friend, Napoleon Bonaparte.

            Betsy recounts that at first, the Ogre’s exile was comfortable;  he was billeted in a charming little pavilion on the Balcombe’s estate ‘The Briars’, and such was his charm and magnetism that many of the military who were ostensibly his guards availed themselves often of his august company, excellent wines and the exotic foods prepared by his personal chef.  William Balcombe in particular profited handsomely from all the entertaining, as it was his duty to provide all the ingredients for the Emperor’s table – a satisfying situation for everyone, until the Crown decided to relieve the British East India Company of its administrative power on St Helena.  Mild-mannered and tolerant Governor Wilkes was replaced by Sir Hudson Lowe (‘Lowe by name and Lowe by nature’ according to Betsy, coiner of many apt phrases), Napoleon’s new jailer, and one who took his position seriously.

            Governor Lowe has many questions, such as:  ‘This prisoner is living in great comfort.  In no other prison are prisoners afforded such conditions:  why is this?  Why is the prisoner allowed entertainments and exotic food?  Why does he have a retinue of servants?’  It is Lowe’s task – which becomes an obsession – to bring Napoleon to heel:  under Lowe’s watch, the self-styled Emperor will eat crow instead of chicken for the remainder of his miserable life.  Luxury is now a thing of the past.

            Mr Keneally has reconstructed  history in thrilling fashion;  what a master he is at breathing wonderful life into his characters great and small, especially Betsy, who misses nothing, speaks her mind – and even uses her fists when she must.  If she were alive today she would be Australian Prime Minister!  FIVE STARS     

GREAT READS FOR FEBRUARY, 2016

A Little Life, by Hanya Yanagihara

This story is a heart-breaker.  And it could break wrists,too, from its size

 and weight if the reader is tackling a hard copy, for Ms Yanagihara has constructed a giant of a novel in all respects.  There are no happy endings here:  its themes are horrifying and indescribably sad, but there is also much to celebrate in this huge opus;  spare, beautiful prose, wonderful characters and an epic story that never flags:  what more could a reader want?

            Four young men, fast friends and Ivy League graduates, are establishing themselves in New York, city of ambition and mecca for all those aspiring to carve out a reputation in the arts and commerce.  Malcom Irvine, lucky scion of a rich family, has trained to be an architect and thanks to his parents’ wealth, fully expects to achieve eventual success.  Jean-Baptiste Marion, (JB) of Haitian origin, is the group’s aspiring artist;  he makes up for his lack of money by having a larger-than-life personality which endears him to his friends but his mouth sometimes gets him into trouble.  Willem Ragnarsson, Wyoming import and like all handsome waiters, an aspiring actor – ‘a kind boy who grew into a kind man’, is flatmate of Jude St. Francis, law graduate, and the star of the group – because he is so gifted he could have chosen a career as a mathematician, a classical pianist, or an opera singer:  instead he has decided on the law. 

            Everybody loves Jude;  he is kind and loyal, generous to a fault – but he has huge secrets.  He wears long-sleeved shirts, always, even when it is high summer.  No-one has ever seen him without clothes;  he walks with a pronounced limp and at times appears to be in severe pain.  He refuses to discuss his origins and expertly fobs off those who enquire.  Jude is a mystery to all and his friends in particular, but for the most part (JB being the noisy exception) they respect his privacy and feel that eventually he will reveal more about himself.

            But he never does.  As the years pass, the friends establish themselves in their various careers, becoming exactly what they want to be, achieving success beyond all expectations, and Willem has found fame as a movie star -  which is thrilling, but he can’t help thinking that his very self is disappearing, overwhelmed by the many different ‘selves’ he is hired to play.  His most concrete reality is his friendship with Jude, most treasured companion and the person who needs him most, for Jude, whose success in law is awe inspiring, has many demons that seem intent on consuming him -  but he still won’t seek help or talk about his past, or why his body is covered with scars.

            Jude’s life, which he considers worthless and little is a mighty achievement against terrible odds.  This is a story about love;  the many permutations of it and the enormous cruelties and injustices committed in its name.  Ms Yanigahara’s characters personify every variation and do her justice on every page.  What a tour de force she has created:  anyone who reads this will not forget it easily.  With this massive master work she has created a major place for herself in contemporary American literature.   SIX STARS!!

The Secret Chord, by Geraldine Brooks

Biblical King David, mighty warrior of Judah and bringer of lasting unity to the tribes of Israel;  founder of The City of David called Jerusalem, yet still a man of the people, able to commune intimately with the most lowly and gain their permanent loyalty;  David, kingly in every way, blessed with strength and beauty and possessed of a divine gift to compose and perform celestial music with voice and harp;  David, anointed by The Name as the ruler to establish and lead a powerful empire.

            David, ruthless strategist and schemer for his own ends, a killing machine in battle when the bloodlust is upon him, and able to perform the most bloodthirsty and terrible crimes ‘because it was necessary’;  David, lover of Jonathan but married to Jonathan's sister, the first of a long line of wives, all necessary to make sons.  Pulitzer Prizewinning author Geraldine Brooks brings David’s life and times to stark reality, capturing the reader from the first page to the last as she writes with elegance and grace of a man who was touched by The Divine, a man whose name has reverberated throughout history;  whose legend is as strong as ever.

            The device of having someone humble narrate a history of his master is not new, but Ms Brooks uses it to great effect when she introduces Natan, David’s Prophet to tell their story.  Natan is ten years old and tending his father’s sheep when he meets David, outlawed by King Saul, who is in the depths of madness.  David politely requests that Natan’s father give them supplies, a request that is furiously refused, to the eternal consternation of Natan’s village, for it is soon laid waste by David’s killers.  As Natan stands in his father’s blood he is seized by a voice not his own, a voice that promises David ‘a throne, an empire and a line that would never fail throughout the generations.’  And Natan’s path is also clear:  he must make his life for better or worse,  with David, as a receptacle for the mighty voice which speaks through him whenever The Name wishes pronounce judgement.

            Through the years Natan observes David’s triumphs – and his sins;  the lust David could not control for Bathsheba, wife of Uriah, one of his most loyal and principled commanders:  to have her David engineers Uriah’s murder, arranged as a convenient death on the battlefield.  Natan watches with growing horror as David’s indulgence and spoiling of his beloved sons  culminates in incest, rape and fratricide – all seen in awful visions by David’s prophet, who is unable to prevent any of it happening.

            The Name is exacting retribution for David’s hubris.  It is time to make him repent.

            And so he does, but there are more hard lessons to learn, especially involving the treachery of his sons, each vying for the kingship:  Natan records it all;  his master’s history, every last act, good and bad.  Ms Brook has done marvellous justice to a towering historical figure, taking the reader to The Land of the Bible, Land of Milk and Honey, Land of the Fathers, and Land of David, Father of a Line that never failed, throughout the Generations.  This is a great book.  SIX STARS!!! 

       

LAST GREAT READS FOR JANUARY, 2016

House of the Rising Sun, by James Lee Burke

I first doffed my hat to Mr Burke’s literary excellence when I read ‘Feast Day of Fools’ (see 2012 review below); now he delights us yet again with another rip-roaring tale of Hackberry Holland, Texas Lawman and singular hero of impossible situations, but this story travels back in time to the early years of the 20^th century and the War to End All Wars:  Mr Burke writes of Hackberry Holland’s grandfather of the same name, a man with more demons than a fellow rightly needs, but (when he’s not killing no-good varmints and giving lesser baddies a good whuppin’) he is a man of honour, according to his own reasoning;  a champion of the weaker sex and those of colour – until he goes on a bender:  Marshal Holland and booze should never mix, for when they do all principles are forgotten and he becomes no better than those he despises.

The action begins in 1916 when Hackberry travels to Mexico in search of

His son Ishmael, an Army officer who leads a troop of coloured soldiers.  Hackberry has let down his son and the boy’s mother, Ruby Dansen in such a way that he feels he will never be able to make amends, but he has to make the attempt even if he is shunned for his efforts.  He doesn’t find his son, but finds trouble, lots of it;  in fact so much that he has to kill a Mexican General, plus several soldiers who are visiting a brothel run by a mysterious and beautiful (naturally) woman called Beatrice DeMolay.  The Madam has helped his son escape;  now Hackberry is happily indebted to her, but makes a formidable enemy when he blows up a hearse (yes, truly) packed with weaponry owned by an Austrian gunrunner called Arnold Beckman – but not before he searches the hearse and finds a mysterious artefact hidden within it.

            Arnold wants his artefact back and is seriously ticked off about the loss of the weaponry;  he is also a sadist and murderer who, if he ever got his homicidal hands on any member of the Holland family would subject them to a long and torturous death.  In the hands of any other writer, Arnold would be an arch villain from a fruity Victorian melodrama, but Mr Burke invests him with a chilling liveliness that makes the hairs rise on the back of the neck, and dialogue so scintillating that it is a pleasure to read what Arnold is going to say next.

            And Arnold Beckman is not the only smiling monster in Mr Burke’s arsenal of Hackberry’s enemies:  Maggie Bassett, prostitute and sometime lover of Butch Cassidy, famed gunslinger of the Hole-in-the-Wall gang has a very big bone to pick with Marshal Holland.  On one occasion when Hackberry was Under the Influence, she swears they married – which may have happened, but Maggie was an inconstant wife and left him pretty quickly – until he wanted a divorce so that he could marry Ruby Dansen, the mother of his child.  (Are you still with me?  There’s no such thing as a simple plot here.)

            In short, Hackberry’s problems are legion.  Absolutely EVERYONE wants him dead, except the reader, and what a pleasure it is to see how Mr Burke manages to extricate Our Hero time and time again from nostril-deep ordure, each close call accompanied by unique humour provided by colourful minor characters, all of whom save Hackberry’s bacon more than once.

            And once again, Mr Burke writes achingly beautiful prose to describe the country he loves;  he evokes superbly a time long gone but his peerless imagery enables the reader to be there, amongst the poverty and beauty and cruelty of a lawless land.  This is the thinking man’s Western.  FIVE STARS

           

Feast Day of Fools, by James Lee Burke

So.  I have to ask myself the question:  what rock have I been hiding under all these years that I could remain uninterested in a superlative writer who has now completed thirty thrillers?  Because I thought he was probably the same as all the other formulaic writers, that’s why.  Well, shame on me.

James Lee Burke’s literary reputation is so secure that he hardly needs an endorsement from a Library blog in New Zealand, but that won’t stop me from singing his praises all the same.  I’m just vexed at myself for not reading his books sooner.  Fortunately, ‘Feast Day of Fools’ despite being the latest in a series of stories about Texas sheriff Hackberry Holland  (yep, that’s truly his name),  is easily read as a stand-alone novel, for Mr Burke’s skill is such that he can bring the first-time reader (me!) up to speed with action from previous books,  introducing it so seamlessly that I never felt mad as I usually do, for approaching the series from the wrong end.

Sheriff Holland is an old man now, nursing much sorrow and many regrets, but still functioning superbly as the guardian of the law in a small West Texas town close to the Mexican border.  He has a loyal staff consisting of  deputies Pam Tibbs, whose devotion is a thin disguise for the great love she feels for him; and  R.C. Givens, whose frail-looking physique belies his resourcefulness and intelligence -  and let us not forget switchboard operator Maydeen Stolz, whose vulgarity offends the Sheriff daily.

Crime in the area is usually connected with the Wetbacks, those hapless Mexicans who cross the Rio Grande, then pay ‘Coyotes’, unscrupulous guides, to help them find menial work in Texas.  They are illegal aliens, willing to do anything to make a living, for compared to their miserable lives in Mexico the United States is still the Promised Land.  However, when the remains of a tortured man are found by a local alcoholic and reported to the sheriff, a chain of events is started that leads not just to wets and coyotes, but to defence contractors and organised crime, an ex-C.I.A operative and the shadowy pursuers of them all, the F.B.I.

Oh, everyone gets a mention in Mr Burke’s complicated plot and there are baddies of truly Olympian proportions, but Hackberry’s true nemesis from previous encounters is Preacher Jack Collins, a messianic, scripture-quoting killer whose favourite weapon is a machine gun.  Preacher Jack is a one-stop-shop of high intelligence, hatred, malice and forward planning, and he and the sheriff have unfinished business to conduct:  every now and then Jack rings Hackberry to remind him, to keep him on the back foot – and these little exchanges are gems.  Mr Burke writes scintillating, witty dialogue, so good that despite the fact that some of the characters reach caricature proportions, they are continually redeemed by their folksy, down to earth humour and logic. 

Sadly, logic is jettisoned in the last chapter of this otherwise fine story:  after a gun battle that should have left no-one alive, Hackberry and his allies march off into the desert and imminent rescue, even though they are all leaking gallons of blood and shouldn’t be able to walk a single step.  That’s stretching the reader’s credulity to snapping point!

But let us not forget Mr Burke’s wonderful descriptions of the natural world around him:  he populates his stark and beautiful landscapes with roiling purple clouds, fiery sunsets and the vastness of desert spaces.  Until I read this book I didn’t know a butte from a banana or a mesa from my elbow but I’m happy to say that I NOW HAVE THE PICTURE, thanks to Mr. Burke’s marvellous imagery.  He has the singular ability to make the reader examine crime in all its guises, too -  not just the who-done-it variety, but the greater crimes that start wars, the terrible crimes that wars unleash, and the criminals who set it all in motion.  Highly recommended.

MORE GREAT READS FOR JANUARY, 2016

Midnight Sun, by Jo Nesbo

Jon Hansen is on the run.  He is a fixer, a reluctant hitman for The Fisherman, premier Norwegian drug dealer;  (see May review below)  sadly, for someone who is supposed to be a ruthless assassin, Jon doesn’t have the killer instinct, still less the complete lack of remorse associated with ending the lives of those who don’t pay their debts.

            His problem is hesitation:  once he looks at the intended victim all his murderous resolve flies out the window, particularly when he is offered a split of the money rightly owed to The Fisherman, and a cast-iron alibi for disposal of the ‘corpse’.  And he needs the money, for he has a young daughter who needs urgent medical treatment.  Despite his dissolute lifestyle (he sells hash by the tonne) he loves his little girl and would do anything to help her get well;  unfortunately The Fisherman is not interested in giving him a loan;  instead Jon must earn money as a hitman, whether he wants to or not. 

            The inevitable happens:  Jon’s precious daughter dies;  he betrays The Fisherman and escapes Oslo with a horde of drugs and wads of cash, this time pursued by real, more reliable hitmen dispatched by his vengeful boss.  He has no clear destination except to go as far north as possible – into the Land of the Midnight Sun.  Perpetual sunlight, guaranteed to drive a callow Southener like himself totally mad, especially one who depends heavily on Valium and alcohol.

            And the local inhabitants of Kåsund, the village he fetches up in, are a pretty rum lot:  either deeply religious or wildly pagan – and the local plonk could strip paint off the wall, not to mention what it could do to his digestive system.  Still, he is alive, and until his murderers find out where he is he intends to make the best of an impossible situation, and the very finite time left to him on earth.

            With an ease born of great skill, Jo Nesbo recounts Jon Hansen’s misadventures, miss-steps and mistakes as he attempts to make sense of and eventually alter the course of his sorry destiny, especially when he makes contact with a good Christian woman and her enormously engaging son:  there may be a future worth striving for after all, if only he can thwart those who want him dead.

            Mr Nesbo is a consistently reliable author:  the reader knows that a high standard of plot and characterisation will always be maintained, and the action will never flag.  He justifiably deserves to be called ‘A writer at the top of his game’ (what an awful expression, but it is true!);  what a pleasure it is to welcome each new title from this great storyteller.  FIVE STARS

           

Blood on Snow, by Jo Nesbo

Olav Johansen is dyslexic.  He has had trouble reading all his life, but it hasn’t stopped him trying.  His memory for what he so painstakingly absorbs is razor-sharp, as he reveals in his first-person narrative – except that he is self-deprecating whenever he shares with the reader a little morsel of his vast knowledge on myriad subjects – ‘but what do I know?’  He is also a romantic, and inclined to donate money anonymously to down-and-outers;  he falls in love with fallen women – and he is also a hit man, a ‘fixer’ for one of Oslo’s bigtime gangsters.

 He sees nothing incongruous in his coldblooded dispatching of whoever his boss tells him to remove, and the soft side of his nature which exhorts him to care for the exploited prostitutes his boss employs, particularly Maria, a deaf-mute with a limp:  he still can’t understand why Maria works as a prostitute, until he finds out that she is paying off her junkie boyfriend’s drug debt.

Olav’s life is fairly predictable, and he doesn’t expect it to change in any dramatic way – until his boss tells him that his next ‘assignment’ is to remove the boss’s faithless wife.  Olav feels a sense of awful forboding with regard to this new task, especially when he stakes out the rich apartment in which Mrs Boss spends her ineffectual days and learns that she has a young man who visits her every day at the same time to beat and rape her.  True to form, Olav’s warped sense of chivalry rears its mutant head and he decides to rescue Mrs Boss – and ‘fix’ her tormentor.

And that is just the start of Olav’s life-threatening problems.  Life goes pear-shaped and remains so, despite his best attempts to resolve his situation so that he may be the White Knight for Mrs Boss.  Maria has been entirely forgotten and while many people will die because of his actions,  he will learn yet again that the people he most trusts are capable of the worst betrayal.

Once again, Jo Nesbo has created an anti-hero that every reader backs to the hilt.  As always Mr Nesbo makes each sentence do the work of ten, giving this story  a huge impact in relation to its size, and the bloody imagery of the title is never more appropriate than in the final pages.  FIVE STARS

Something to Hide, by Deborah Moggach

It is said that there are only six degrees of separation between each of us in life, and Ms Moggach’s latest book amply demonstrates this theory as she tells the story of a group of seemingly disparate characters on opposite sides of the world who, through circumstance and machination find themselves very closely connected indeed.

            Petra is sixtyish: she has a posh background, posh job and posh house in Pimlico; she is the envy of many when in reality she is long-divorced, has no success at relationships, is achingly lonely (even her two children when they left the nest, established nests in other countries) and detests with a purple passion the round-robin computer letter she receives each year from West Africa, written by her best friend -

            Bev, who has known Petra since their school days.  She has come from an ‘unfortunate’ background, but tenacity and a very thick skin has enabled her to gain reluctant acceptance into the higher levels of society – and win Jeremy, her husband, subject of the ecstatic letters she dispatches to all and sundry from West Africa, where Jeremy works for a big chemical company.  Oh, what a life they both have!  They are still after all those years, lovers and very best friends – and they laugh, oh, how they laugh together!  According to Bev, life with Jem is just one long perfect funny idyll.  And Petra hates her for it.  Bev has the kind of life that Petra thinks she will never have, and she wishes Bev and her deliriously happy, detestable bulletins would disappear from the face of the earth – until Jeremy makes a business trip to London and looks her up.  And guess what happens??

            The inevitable hot and entirely spontaneous affair, that’s what, catapulting them both into plans for a future together that obviously does not include Bev.

            Meanwhile, Lorrie, a Texan housewife, is in a state of abject despair:  she has just lost her family’s entire savings to a computer phishing scam, the savings that would have seen her and her army husband able to move out of their cheap and nasty rental into a much better new housing estate on the good side of town.  She has no idea how to break the news to her husband, who fortunately will be deployed overseas soon, and thank God he doesn’t check their finances, preferring her to handle all of that.  She is in an absolute turmoil until her friend across the street presents her with a solution:  become a surrogate mother!  Carry someone else’s baby for nine months and be paid for it!  Oh, could this happen?  Can Lorrie achieve this deception while her husband is away?  She’s overweight anyway, so no-one will notice more poundage for a while.  Heart in mouth, she agrees to be impregnated with the semen of Mr Wang, an enormously wealthy businessman from Beijing, whose wife is unable to have children, and he himself has a perilously low sperm count, thanks to Beijing’s high levels of pollution. 

            Li Jing, Mr Wang’s wife, is kept in the dark about most of his plans, including the source of his wealth, but this time he has appraised her of her impending motherhood.  She is ecstatic, but still would like to know more about the mysterious life he leads on his frequent trips out of China – to West Africa, to the little country where Bev and Jeremy live ‘as lovers and best friends’.

            Ms Moggach skilfully weaves the many colourful strands of her story into a shocking tapestry of deceit (and I’m not talking about Lorrie here -  she’s small potatoes compared to the rest of them!) and murder, where seemingly ordinary people will go to any lengths to keep what they regard as theirs, and where anyone will do anything for the right reward.  This was a great read.  FIVE STARS.    

    

FIRST GREAT READS FOR JANUARY, 2016

Crimson Shore, by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child

  

          ‘When the doorbell chimed, Constance Green stopped playing the Flemish virginal and the library fell silent and tense.’

            Well.  Who else would start off a novel with such deliciously florid and torrid prose but Messrs Preston and Child – and do it so successfully?  This is the latest in a long line of adventures starring Special FBI Agent Aloysius Pendergast and his mysterious ward, Constance, proficient virginal player.  The plots of each book have become progressively more outlandish, unbelievable – and HEAPS of fun, not to mention faster paced than a speeding bullet.  And let us not forget the addictive factor:  Agent Pendergast, with his silvery eyes, inexhaustible supply of funereal bespoke suits, seeming invincibility against everything that villains most dastardly can throw at him, and superlative deductive powers (he has more PhDs than you can shake a stick at) is a protagonist who has gathered devoted fans (including me) from all over the world – he has his own website, for goodness’ sake!

            We last met him in ‘Blue Labyrinth’ (see review below);  now, he and Constance are persuaded by a noted sculptor to do a little moonlighting:  someone has stolen the sculptor’s priceless wine collection from his home in a converted lighthouse on the wild and stormy New England coast.  Would Pendergast (whose stellar reputation at solving difficult crimes has even penetrated artistic circles) care to investigate?  There would be considerable financial reward – but our hero, after learning that a single case of wine had survived the theft, requests just one glorious item from that case:  a bottle of Chateau Haut-Braquilanges.  The Nectar of the Gods.  (Needless to say, for mere mortals such as I, its virtues would be entirely wasted.  It’s just as well Aloysius knows his stuff.  I’ll take his word for it.)

            Anyway.

Quelle horreur!  After careful examination of the wine racks, Pendergast is able to deduce – from a tiny finger bone (!) -  that behind the empty shelves is a niche which had contained a body – a man who was  bricked-up in said niche and left to starve to death:  the wine theft was a clumsy cover-up by people who wanted to remove the body and surrounding evidence.  There is a lot more villainy afoot in this storm swept little village than the theft of wine, distressing though that may be to its owner and wine connoisseur Pendergast.

            Naturally, the intrepid team of Pendergast and Green are soon following clues scattered everywhere like confetti;  Constance is dispatched to the local historical society, there to uncover evidence of the remains of a coven of Salem witches who fled from the trials and deaths of their sisters, and our Super FBI agent uncovers dreadful evidence in the wild salt marshes of a heinous 19^th century crime – but wait:  there’s more!

            Constance, despite her penchant for prowling in dark basements and stubborn preference for retro garb (long cardies and longer tweed skirts), still harbours what can only be regarded as lustful thoughts towards her Guardian:   she lays her hand on his knee as they partake of the delights of Pendergast’s hard won bottle of Chateau whatsit.  A passionate embrace cannot be avoided, but Aloysius Pendergast is a man of superhuman self-control, and he thrusts her from him, crying ‘you are my ward!’

            Much to Constance’s fury.  (What a hussy!)  In fact she is so irate that she stalks out into the wild and stormy night clad only in her robe and nightie, filled with vengeful thoughts:  she will show that prissy paleface that she can solve the remaining mystery BY HERSELF.  Who needs Aloysius the Virginal (and we are not talking about the musical instrument): just you wait, she is the ultimate Weapon of Darkness – until someone even darker makes his big move. 

            Oh, oh, OH!  Constance is in the crapola, and can only be rescued by her funereal guardian, who realises too late that an arch enemy whom he thought dead (didn’t Constance push him into a bubbling volcanic crater?) has almost certainly returned.  Which just goes to show that Messrs Preston and Child can be as absurd as they like;  despite the presumed death of Aloysius, the disappearance of Constance (she has returned to the reassuring darkness of the basement) and the resurrection of Diogenes, Pendergast’s diabolical bro, we are still hanging onto every word and furious because this episode of epic silliness is finished. Well, buggeration is all I can say.  Preston and Child had  better be writing the next adventure at the speed of light.  What fun -can’t wait.  FOUR STARS

Blue Labyrinth, by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child

Special FBI Agent extraordinaire Aloysius Pendergast returns yet again to do battle against the forces of evil – and not before time, I say!  His myriad fans have been languishing without him, and it’s all very well for Messrs Preston and Child to throw them a bone from time to time with various solo novels and the combined authorship of a series featuring a new hero, Gideon Crew, BUT.

All that secondary activity is a mere distraction until the Master resurfaces, this time to fight a mysterious new villain, one who has hidden his identity so well that more than half the book is (greedily) consumed before his identity is revealed.

In common with all the other evil ones that Pendergast has dispatched to the hereafter, Mystery Man is festering with hatred towards our pale hero -  but he is no ordinary Dastard, for he is motivated by revenge:  thanks to an awful genetic curse wrought upon his family by one of Pendergast’s ancestors, Mystery Man contrives through absolutely genius planning, to infect Pendergast with the same fatal malady - but not before leaving the dead body of Pendergast’s twin son on the Agent’s front doorstep as a calling card and to start the ball rolling.  Pendergast’s days are numbered!

Now.  Because Pendergast knows something about absolutely everything he is able to self-medicate for a while as he searches for his killer, but as the horrid disease starts to have its wicked way, raising his temperature uncomfortably in his black wool suits, he realises that the cavalry will have to be summoned – and who better to ride to his rescue than Margo Green, anthropologist and ethnopharmacologist,  doughty companion on many previous bloody adventures at the New York Museum of Natural History.  It will be her job to manufacture ASAP an antidote from rare  ingredients pinched by none other than Constance Green, Pendergast’s mysterious ward – well, she’s certainly mysterious to ME, as I haven’t yet found the book (and I thought I had read them all) where she makes her first appearance.

By any reader’s calculation she must be about 150 years old, but is as young and glowing as the dawn;  the only clue to her advanced years is her curiously formal way of speech, and her retro fashion sense, but – but the woman is an Amazon!  And she knows HEAPS about various acids, and how to administer them to nasty men who should know better than to try to stop her at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden from stealing a super-rare plant to save Pendergast’s failing life.  Constance Green is a warrior, and she accomplishes grand larceny and mass murder in minimum time and maximum efficiency (he’s definitely worth it!) clad only in a silk Teddy.  Sorry, Constance:  chemise.

Does Our Hero survive?  Well, what a silly question:  of course he does, returning to his healthy pallor in no time at all, and enjoying a fresh supply of Armani funeral garb.  And he and Constance are closer than ever, which is only right:  she rubbed out half an army of mercenaries that he might live!  Do you suppose she fancies him?  Watch this space.  FOUR STARS

The Bazaar of Bad Dreams, by Stephen King

Stephen King’s latest collection of twenty short stories contains some that have never before been published, plus oldies but goodies that have been revised.  Preceding each is a little intro from King, explaining to his Constant Readers his thoughts and motivation for writing the story, and for me this was almost as entertaining as having an actual conversation with this great storyteller.

Big themes permeate many of the tales:  morality, guilt, greed – and fear, for what would a Stephen King book be without that most disabling of emotions?  With accomplished ease he makes the hair on the back of one’s neck stand and the goose bumps rise, especially in Mile 81, the tale of a car supposedly broken down and needing assistance at a deserted rest stop on one of Maine’s highways:  those good Samaritans who stop to help meet an awful fate, until the line of deserted cars with doors hanging open eventually attracts attention of a more positive kind.  This is vintage King at his creepy-crawliest.

‘Batman and Robin have an Altercation’ doesn’t involve the supernatural;  instead the author examines senility, its ravages and the resentment of a loving son who dutifully takes his elderly dad to the same restaurant every Sunday for lunch, watches him eat the same thing, and say the same things EVERY SUNDAY – until one Sunday, when dear old dad is being driven back to the nursing home a road-rage attack of horrific intensity changes their lives forever:  a frail, handicapped old man still has it in him to become Batman, the Caped Crusader.

One enormous pleasure for me when reading Mr King’s fiction is his command of the various speech idioms throughout his vast country – and his great sense of fun.  It may seem incongruous to people who see him solely as a writer of supernatural fiction that he has such a rich vein of humour running throughout his work;  in fact some of it is laugh-out-loud funny, and that’s as it should be, for humour is one of the most vital weapons in our armoury with which to battle life’s pitfalls.  In short (and I could have said this first)  You need the laughs to balance the scary bits!

And the laughs come in abundance with ‘Drunken Fireworks’, a tale of neighbourly rivalry, initially good-natured, between a mother and son living in a little summer shack on the poor side of the lake, versus a prosperous Italian family living on the rich side of the lake.  Every 4^th of July it is the custom for people to let off fireworks, and what began as ‘who has the biggest sparklers’ turns into a take-no-prisoners battle to the bitter end, the whole fiasco narrated by the shame-faced son from ‘the poor side’.  What a gem.

To be followed by ‘Summer Thunder’, the last story of the collection.  Such was its impact that I am still thinking about it – because it could happen so EASILY.

Nuclear bombs have been detonated.  (Mr King does not say how many, or who did the deed, but think how many countries have them!)  The world is dying and he introduces us to a landscape with few people left to enjoy the last sunlight.  The Southern Hemisphere is buried under a poison cloud and it is something of a miracle that Robinson and his dog Gandalf (a stray he found after the Event) are still alive and can enjoy the sun’s rays.  Robinson is almost  paralysed with grief;  his wife and daughter are dead, as is most of the population, and there is evidence everywhere in the country area in which he lives that the wildlife is dying in droves – but he still feels that he can carry on as long as Gandalf is OK.

There is no happy ending to this powerful little story.  With consummate skill Mr King demonstrates why man is the most ferocious animal on the planet, destroying his beautiful home and every life form in it to achieve dominance – over who, when there is nothing left alive?  FIVE STARS    

   

GREAT READS FOR DECEMBER, 2015

The Girl in the Spider’s Web, by David Lagercrantz,

Continuing Stieg Larsson’s Millenium series.

Swedish author David Lagercrantz has been given the daunting task of continuing Stieg Larsson’s blockbuster series of novels about Lisbeth Salander, ace computer hacker, mathematical genius and all-round general recluse and misfit, and Mikael Blomkvist, crusading investigative journalist, founder with his some-time lover Erika Berger of the high-end Millennium Magazine, their weapon against graft and corruption in high places.  They have many enemies;  those who don’t want their dirty secrets exposed, and colleagues from other publications who envy their stellar reputation.  Millennium is constantly under siege from those whose causes would be furthered if it became defunct, and when this story opens, Blomkvist and Berger are facing a takeover that has definitely turned hostile.

            Mr Lagerkrantz has done a formidable job of filling in the backstory from Stieg Larsson’s three wonderful books;  he is meticulous in the origins of Salander’s and Blomkvist’s relationship and has fashioned a credible, clever plot that every reader will find compelling, especially as Lisbeth’s long lost sister Camilla – as beautiful as Lisbeth is not – makes an appearance to equal that of her half-brother Ronald Niedermann, a monster impervious to pain.  It is very clear that the siblings’ awful father, Alexander Zalachenko has bequeathed some horrific genes to his unfortunate progeny, but Lisbeth is the only one with a conscience and a sense of what is right – which makes her a formidable opponent of her sister, whose hatred of Lisbeth is as deep as it is irrational.

            The reader has to concentrate;  Mr Lagerkrantz’s plot is not simple.  Professor Frans Balder, a technological genius and front-runner in the race to produce superior artificial intelligence is murdered by intruders but all they take are his computer and cell phone.  Unfortunately for the assailant, Balder’s 8 year-old son, August, witnesses the murder.  He is severely handicapped by autism – but he draws beautifully and it is absurdly easy for him to produce with photographic realism his impression of the death scene and the killer.  Which means that he has to die, too. 

            Enter Lisbeth Salander:  she literally comes to the rescue of August with a flying rugby tackle and the hijacking of an innocent motorist (who will never be the same again!) – she knew Professor Balder and has uncovered from her various hacking exercises (the National Security Agency has received special attention) that his worries about keeping his studies and conclusions secret were anything but unfounded.  She takes it upon herself (with the help of Blomkvist and Berger) to go into hiding with August, whose traumatic experiences Lisbeth identifies with completely. She is a formidable protector and once again the reader is swept up and borne inexorably on the waves of suspense to the end of a great story.

Mr Lagerkrantz is a highly efficient and meticulous writer;  he has covered every base, recreated Mr Larsson’s characters superbly and generated enough suspense for more than one novel – which I hope means that another won’t be far off for the beautiful, evil Camilla is still at large, and the NSA is still highly suspect despite being on the side of right. This is a very competent sequel and I look forward to reading the next one.  FIVE STARS

The Serpentine Road, by Paul Mendleson

Sequels don’t always fulfil the promise of the debut novel.  Sometimes the author is unable to generate the same rapport with the reader, the suspense and excitement -  particularly with thriller-writing – that is necessary to keep us all coming back for more:  happily, Paul Mendleson’s sequel to his great ‘The First Rule of Survival’ (see review below) more than meets all requirements and once again the reader is caught up in a plot so fast-paced that it is almost a relief to reach the end so that blood-pressure can return to normal levels.

            In 1994 Colonel Vaughn De Vries is a Captain in the South African Police Department.  The infamous Apartheid system is over;  Nelson Mandela is set to win the first democratic election for the Presidency of South Africa, yet dissident acts of violence have not abated, the latest being a bomb attack on a Capetown drinking hall resulting in carnage and destruction – and pursuit of the suspects by white police officers bent on bloody retribution.

            De Vries is ordered to bring up the rear on their search of a slum settlement, to ‘get the officers’ backs’, but witnesses such a terrible act of atrocity by his commanding officer Kobus Nel that it still haunts him in 2015,  especially as his young family was threatened by Nel if he didn’t make the same report as everyone else.  This ‘masking’ the facts has never sat well with him, for De Vries, despite his myriad faults still believes in justice and fair play for everyone.  

The many rotten apples in the Apartheid era P.D. are now thankfully gone – only to be replaced by the same fruit, but of a different colour, as De Vries finds when he is designated Lead Officer in the murder of Taryn Holt, an enormously wealthy socialite and art patron.

His interviews with various witnesses and ‘persons of interest’ do not at first reveal anything of note despite her high profile and controversial lifestyle – until it is discovered that Ms Holt was having an intimate relationship with the son of one of the original founding fathers and leading lights of the ANC, and she was prepared to finance the birth of a new political party with her lover at the head:  suddenly, a senseless killing takes on a political hue, especially when orders start arriving from Pretoria to wrap the case up, and especially as a corpse conveniently turns up with the murder weapon in his hand and the victim’s blood on his teeshirt.  De Vries is furious but forced to conclude (rightly) that the Opressed have now become the Opressors.

Add to that the fact that every officer from the atrocious murders they took part in twenty-one years ago has started to die, all stabbed multiple times:  Once he makes the connection De Vries knows it is only a matter of time before it is his turn.  What to do?  Where to turn?

The only way to find out is to read this excellent story:  in spare, powerful prose, Mr Mendleson writes of a land where ‘the fight will never end’ and of many peoples who do their best to survive in hugely disparate circumstances, all told against a backdrop of great and savage beauty.  FIVE STARS     

The First Rule of Survival, by Paul Mendelson

Colonel of the South African Police Service Vaughn de Vries is a typical protagonist of classic crime fiction.  Suffering Burn-out?  Of course.  Marriage down the tubes?  Naturally.  Finding solace in Alcohol?  Goes without saying.  Appearance less than inviting?  Women ‘avert their eyes when they see him sitting at the bar’. 

            In short, Colonel de Vries’s life is rather less than satisfactory – except when he is working:  his job is ‘what gets him up in the morning’, and his passion for justice is legendary;  it is what elevates him above the norm, especially in respect of his colleagues, new examples of the integrated police force of Mandela’s Rainbow Nation, all vying for power and prestige in a department formerly run by white men like de Vries, whose time must surely soon be up.  They hope.  Yes, give him a bit more time and he will be the author of his own misfortune …… until the naked bodies of two malnourished teenaged boys are found in a skip at the back of a farm café miles from Capetown, de Vries’s base.  They have been murdered, and Vaughn, the token white officer is sent to investigate – and finds to his horror that they are the victims of a terrible abduction seven years before, when three young white boys, one the son of a serving police officer, were kidnapped on three consecutive days, never to be seen again.

            It is a case that has haunted Vaughn’s dreams, turned them into nightmares and destroyed his peace of mind forever, especially when the case becomes cold after months of searching fruitlessly for clues – any clue – as to their fate.  Now, two of the three kidnap victims have been found, obviously transported to the skip after death – from where?  And where is the third boy?  de Vries and his immediate superior Hendrik du Toit faced unprecedented contempt from the media and eminent child psychologists alike for their inability to provide answers seven years ago:  now, their new bosses are demanding bold actions and quick solutions to the murders;  any delay will reflect badly on the new Rainbow police hierarchy.  Those dinosaur Boers Messrs du Toit and de Vries better shape up or ship out.

            British writer Paul Mendelson has constructed an impressive debut thriller for his first foray into crime writing.  He has created credible, excellent characters – especially Vaughn’s black second-in-command Warrant Officer Don February, so called because his real name would be impossible for most people to pronounce – and his descriptions of the wild and splendid coastline and croplands around Capetown make one feel that they are riding shotgun with Vaughn de Vries and Don February, hanging over their shoulders, exhorting them to find the killers before more children are abused and killed.

            This is a page-turner par excellence, made the more readable by its magnificent setting.  FIVE STARS!!

It’s that time of year again –the time for all the LISTS -  you know:  the best ofs.  Well, I have compiled a list of MY best ofs, the very best books I have read this year, all reviewed on this blog.   So:  here’s my Top Twenty-Two for 2015 – I did try to limit myself to twenty but couldn’t do it.  They’re not in any order, for every one is a worthy addition to the list.  They are all different -  and all uniform in their excellence.

The Bright Side of My Condition, by Charlotte Randall       January blog

The Mountain School for Dogs, by Ellen Cooney      February blog

The Narrow Road to the Deep North, by Richard Flanagan          February

Amnesia, by Peter Carey                                                 March blog

The Same Sky, by Amanda Eyre Ward                         April blog

Swimming in the Dark, by Paddy Richardson                        April blog

The Bridge, by Jane Higgins    Young Adult                 May blog

Havoc, by Jane Higgins             Young Adult                May blog

The Whites, Richard Price writing as Harry Brandt  June blog

The Legend of Winstone BlackHat, by Tanya Moir   June blog

Chappy, by Patricia Grace                                               June blog

The Liar’s Key, by Mark Lawrence                                July blog

After the Crash, by Michel Bussi                                   August blog

Saving Midnight, by Suzy Zail       Young Adult           September blog

Orhan’s Inheritance, by Aline Ohanesian                   September blog

The First Rule of Survival, by Paul Mendelson          October blog

The Antipodeans, by Greg McGee                                October blog

Nora Webster, by Colm Toibin                                       October blog

The Party Line, by Sue Orr                                              November blog

Europa Blues, by Arne Dahl                                            November blog

A Spool of Blue Thread, by Anne Tyler                                    November blog

The Girl in the Spider’s Web, by David Lagerkrantz December blog

            It has been a great pleasure reviewing all these wonderful books this year and on behalf of the staff and the many volunteers of Te Takere, our beautiful library and community centre, I wish all Great Readers a very happy Christmas and a safe and healthy New Year.  See you in 2016!