Graceland, by Nancy Crochiere.

 

            Ex-TV Soap Star Olivia Grant wants to go to Memphis, Tennessee one last time:  she intends the trip to be her Swansong, her last flamboyant gesture before she takes her final wheezy breath from the oxygen cylinder that has been her constant companion for decades, thanks to her youthful 60 per day Camel habit – and she intends to expire, not in a hospital bed (she abhors hospitals) but at Graceland, home of The King Himself, Elvis.

            The glitch in all her meticulous planning is her daughter Hope, Olivia’s planned chauffeur:  she refuses to make the trip from Boston, citing heavy work commitments, not to mention parental responsibilities, but the real truth is that they do NOT get on.  The idea of spending more than hours in her mother’s company is akin to the Chinese Water Torture to Hope.  Sorry, can’t be done.

            Which is unacceptable to Olivia.  Okay, she’s prepared to admit that she wasn’t up-to-snuff as a parent, especially as she did all her filming in LA and they lived in Memphis, but the trip to Graceland is her dying wish – she’s going, dammit, and Hope’s daughter Dylan, pink-haired teenage rebel extraordinaire, will be the chauffeur in her notoriously unreliable VW Beetle.  Shove THAT up your nether regions, daughter dear!

            Daughter dear, when she realises what has happened, is naturally appalled, not for the obvious reasons that an old lady and a 16 year-old are travelling in an unroadworthy vehicle several thousand miles to grant the old B’s last selfish wish, but for the fact that 17 years ago, Hope left Memphis in a tearing hurry, pregnant and covered in shame and self-loathing, for she was paid to leave and take her secrets with her:  if ever she returned to Memphis the shite would truly hit the fan.  Now, Hope has no choice:  she has to get her daughter away from Memphis and exposure to several painful truths, not the least of which is the identity of Dylan’s father.

            This is Nancy Crochiere’s debut novel, and what a road trip it is – each protagonist has their own chapters, and their perceptions of each are a revelation, especially Dylan’s relationship with her grandmother;  sometimes being a generation removed fosters a respect and intimacy that is seen in her mother as being restrictive and smothering.  To add even more spice to the mix of characters, Hope’s travel companion is her cousin George, a true-blue friend-in-need – with one major flaw:  he’s a cross-dresser, adores women’s clothes and wears them at every opportunity.  Which creates many problems as he’s 6’5”.  Ms Crochiere has created three generations of women hampered by their perceptions, but always ready to forgive, and to love each other.  Feel-good writing at its best.  FIVE STARS.       

 

The Spy, by Ajay Chowdhury.

 

            Here’s #4 in Ajay Chowdhury’s enormously entertaining series starring Kamil Rahman, disgraced Kolkota Detective, London waiter/cook/London Detective, and in this story, MI5 Spy as he tries to dismantle and foil a heinous plot engineered by rebellious Muslims to cause death and destruction during a visit to London by the corrupt Hindu Prime Minister.

            Kamil is Muslim but not fanatically so until Imam Maroor, the imam of his local Mosque is kidnapped with another of his congregation, someone who is having second thoughts about helping the rebels manufacture an explosive device.  The imam is Kamil’s friend and mentor and has helped him immeasurably since his arrival in London;  Kamil cannot let the London Police proceed at snail speed in their investigations, even though one of their own, Tahir, is doing his best to keep the kidnapping in the forefront of their investigation – but everything  ramps up when a burnt body is found with the imam’s phone not far away. 

            Kamil’s sorrow and and anger are boundless:  to ruthlessly kill such a good and saintly man is a crime that he will avenge - by fair means or foul.  His initial refusal to be recruited to MI5 is overturned:  he will find the imam’s killers by every means at his disposal.  There will be no escape for any of them.

            Mr Chowdhury makes some very salient points about fanaticism, Muslim, Hindu and otherwise:  no-one gets off lightly or without a weighing-up of blame or responsibility, and his assessment of Kashmir, fought over like a bone by China, Pakistan and India is masterly.  Which is when there is a much-needed change in plot direction:  Tandoori Knights, the restaurant that has saved Kamil’s sanity on many an occasion is still flourishing, even more so because Anjoli, Kamil’s heart’s desire, has hired a new chef – baldheaded, tattooed and musclebound, whose new menu is too atmospheric and grandiose to be true – but people are flocking in.  And Anjoli seems to be attracted to him as well.  He calls himself Chanson but Kamil reckons he’s a Chancer.  And when has he ever been wrong?

            Mr Chowdhury has done it again – produced yet another feverishly fast-paced thriller, efficiently plotted and with the usual dazzling array of minor characters:  bring on #5!  FIVE STARS.       

 

Table for Two, by Amor Towles.

 

            I don’t usually read many volumes of short stories – not because they’re not an accepted form of literary endeavour, but because I prefer concentrating on one big story, with one particular set of characters.  There are very few authors who alter my mindset in that regard, Amor Towles being one of them.  After reading his previous novels, particularly ‘A Gentleman in Moscow’ and ‘The Lincoln Highway’ I bit the bullet at the appearance of ‘Table for Two’:  he is such a sublime writer that I had to  give his latest book the attention his reputation merited.  And I’m so glad I did.

            As I said (I’m at an age where I repeat myself) I don’t enjoy chopping and changing characters and themes – until in The Ballad of Timothy Touchett I met the beautifully drawn and irresistible inhabitants of the antiquarian bookshop in New York, where aspiring (but not passionately enough) young author Timothy is employed by Mr Pennybrook, not only to sell first editions, but to practice signatures, at which Timothy excels, of famous, long-dead authors.  After he realises (it takes a little while; he’s not exactly dim but …) that Mr Pennybrook is making big money from Timothy’s ‘artistry’ a new rate is negotiated and all would have been well had not a contemporary author, still very much alive, realised that he didn’t sign that particular book in that particular place. Do heads roll, or not?

            In ‘I will Survive’, a young woman is asked by her mother to follow her stepfather to Central Park:  Nell’s mum is sure her husband is having an affair – then changes her mind and begs Nell to forget she ever asked.  But Nell is curious, and we all know where that leads – nowhere good, especially when his Central Park sojourn has nothing to do with romance.

            There are seven short stories altogether, the last one a novella which continues with a character from his first novel ‘Terms of Civility’:  Evelyn Ross is on her way home to Chicago from New York, but changes her mind at the last moment much to her parents’ consternation and heads to Hollywood instead.  It is the beginning of the 40’s;  she’ll try her luck in California before heading eventually overseas – and what luck!  Her decision to stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel leads to fortuitous meetings with an overweight and ageing has-been Movie actor, and Olivia de Havilland, future star of ‘Gone with the Wind’ – if only Olivia can pay off a blackmailer!  Oh, it’s all gripping stuff, especially the blackmail outcome, and so superbly written that I didn’t want to leave behind any of characters in the seven stories:  What have you planned for us next, Mr Towles? I know it will be dazzling.  SIX STARS

           

           

 

The Mountain King, by Anders de la Motte.

 

            Scandy-Noir:  since Stieg Larsson conquered the world with ‘Girl With a Dragon Tattoo’, Swedish thrillers have gained a huge part of the crime novel market – and rightly so;  there aren’t many that fall flat, including ‘The Mountain King’ who does just the opposite, shocking the reader to the very last page – literally!  I’m still thinking (and reeling from it) and wondering if de la Motte has already written a sequel to release us from this tension or must we have to wait AAAAGES for the next one.  We are being forced to Watch This Space.

            A young couple have gone missing;  because the female of the couple is beautiful and her parents very wealthy, there is suspicion that her boyfriend has kidnapped her and a ransom will soon be demanded – he’s an impoverished student , not of good standing.  It’s an open-and-shut case if they can only find them.

            Enter the Long Arm of the Law, consisting of Leonore (known as Leo) Asker, a crack Detective Inspector with a very damaged past;  her reluctantly-learned survival skills drilled in by her mentally Ill father are actually advantages in her job and she expects to be the lead officer on the couple’s disappearance – until she isn’t, usurped by a Big Wheel from Stockholm:  she takes too many risks and breaks too many rules.  She is shifted sideways with a move downstairs into the nether regions of the police building;  she can preside over all the other failures and would-be rebels.  Whether she wants to or not.

            But her forced exile reveals that another detective was working on cases which seem to have an uncanny similarity to the current ‘kidnapping’, until he fell down his stairs with a heart-attack;  he is now in hospital in a coma, but he has left a huge repository of notes and theories.  Maybe being consigned to the basement isn’t going to be as onerous as Leo thinks, but the chilling conclusion she comes to after tracing at least four other people to their eventual disappearance is that a serial-killer is at work.  And he takes a ‘souvenir’ from his victims – and leaves one behind in the shape of a tiny plastic figure, just so that he can laugh at the police and their stupidity, for the police, especially the hot-shot from Stockholm have no idea of the significance of the figures – or that he’s a monster, invincible, and truly the Mountain King.

            Scandy-Noir has never been better, especially in the hands of Anders de la Motte:  hurry up with Book Two!  FIVE STARS  

 

 

Long Island, by Colm Toibin.

 

            Colm Toibin’s lovely novel ‘Brooklyn’ was the setting for young Irishwoman Eilis Lacey’s liberating trip to the United States in the late 50’s, a trip which enabled her to have a new and completely different life from the predictable, safe but dull village existence she would have had in her county in Ireland with her boyfriend Jim, being a wife and mum like all of her friends.  Going to the States had changed that outcome, for she has met young Italian Tony Fiorello and they are both smitten.  Life is more than exciting – it’s wonderful!  And they are both going to live happily ever after.

            Twenty years later, the happily ever after has produced two teenagers, and the entire family – Tony’s parents and his brothers, plus wives and kids – have shifted from Brooklyn to a Long Island town, in a four-house cul-de-sac, almost like a compound, with everyone dropping in and out when they feel like it.  Which is a lot more often than Eilis would like, but she doesn’t really seem to have much say in the matter.  She is now in her 40’s and has come to the realisation that excitement and wonder have passed her by.

            Until she receives a visit one day from a stranger – an Irishman – who informs her that his wife is pregnant to her husband.  Tony is a plumber by trade and it appears that he added services to the job that were not normally required.  The betrayed husband tells Eilis that when the baby is born, he is bringing it to her to do with as she sees fit, but HE won’t be having it in the house.

  And neither will Eilis!

            She is appalled at her husband’s infidelity and it’s not long before the rest of the family knows about it too, but the worst thing – the worst thing! – is that her Mother-in-Law announces that she will raise the child, because it is a Fiorello, after all.  Eilis’s feelings and opinions are worth nothing in the face of family solidarity.  Which leaves Eilis little choice but to go back to Ireland ‘for an extended holiday’ for the first time in twenty years, ostensibly for her mother’s 80^th birthday, but to hide out and plan her next move.  And what sort of reception will she get back home, especially from her mother, her erstwhile best friend, and spurned boyfriend Jim?

            Colm Toibin has written another beautifully realised and poignant story of the different reactions to a massive lifestyle event, where no-one gets off scot-free.  There are many unanswered questions at novel’s end, which must mean there HAS to be a sequel – has to be, or the literary world will be in a very dark place!  SIX STARS    

 

The Trees, by Percival Everett.

 

            Southern trees bear strange fruit

            Blood on the leaves and blood at the root

            Black bodies swinging in the Southern breeze

            Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees

 

The verses of the song above help Percival Everett walk the fine line between horror and satire with great success in this novel of the complicated revenge struck by Black people for the killing – mainly lynching – of Black people for more than a century.  His portrayal of the murders of the Good Ole Boys whose families were responsible for the lynching of 14 year-old Emmet Till in Mississippi back in the day is chilling, especially for the fact that each corpse had his testicles removed, clutched in the hand of a dead Black man, also at the crime scene.  The redneck local Sheriff assumes, as anyone would, that said Black man is the killer, even though he was shot in the back of the head:  murder/suicide.  Wrap this up, guys.

            Except that the killing doesn’t stop:  more bodies are found further afield, along with their presumed Black killer clutching testicles, causing the redneck Sheriff to suffer the indignity of having to accept assistance from two Black detectives from the Mississippi Bureau of Investigation, followed by a frightening Black woman agent from the FBI – cain’t they even be left to clean up their own crap??  Apparently not.

            In fact, no-one can, for the country is in for a reckoning:  there have been so many hate crimes and racially based murders that Black spirits are not the only victims calling ghosts to Rise;  Asians are hearing the call of Genocide, too.  How will it all end, especially when the current leader in the White House (in this story Donald Trump) gets jammed under his desk and can’t get out, discovering wads of chewing gum stuck in his hair, a sure sign that his VP had been trying out the desk for size – while he was Making America Great Again!

            Mr Everett paints a frightening, shamefully true picture of the woeful state of race relations in America, overlaid with superb, satirical humour from  characters who speak truth in every sentence:   every country needs such a chronicler.  Even though the truth hurts and is frequently unpalatable, it’s always preferable to lies.  SIX STARS.

 

 

 The Space Between, by Lauren Keenan.

 

 

 

              

            Early 1860:  the British Crown has signed a Treaty with Maori and colonisation is in full swing;  settlers by the shipload have been arriving under the auspices of the New Zealand Company, new government agents (of a kind) charged with the immigration of those wishing to throw off the shackles of the stifling class system in Britain, hoping to make something of themselves and their families, and prepared to work hard to have a better life.  If only, for the class system has travelled on the ships with them:  it will take many, many years to shake off humble origins.

            In New Plymouth (called Ngamotu by those Maoris), a gentleman and his mother and shamefully spinster sister are trying their hand at farming.  George Farrington has been forced to leave England supposedly because their father lost all their money, then died – what was a man to do?  The Colonies seemed to be the only answer for someone so short of cash - the problem being that George was not a natural-born farmer, or a lover of the land, and his sister Frances, jilted cruelly by a ne’er-do-well called Henry White 12 years before has been raised as genteel – it is an entirely new experience for her to have to tend to fowls and milk cows, for their mother refuses to do anything that does not befit her station. 

            And to add insult to grievous injury, who should Frances meet outside Thorpe’s General Store but Henry White himself, there to meet his Maori wife Mataria – and Mataria shouldn’t have been there anyway because all Maori need a pass issued by the Military;  they are undergoing the laborious, humiliating process after their trip for supplies to the store.  Life has suddenly taken an equally harrowing turn for Frances and when brother George sees Henry and his wife talking with Frances he contrives to get the couple put in jail – no pass, no freedom!

            A military conflict is brewing, too:  the settlers want to expand the boundaries of New Plymouth and are dealing with a Maori representative who does not have tribal permission to sell any more land, but such is their desire to own more acres, they are arrogant in their belief in the rightness of their cause.  Of course!

            Lauren Keenan has portrayed events of the time with great clarity backed by strong historical research and her own tribal affiliation to Te Atiawa ke Taranaki.  She creates a superb portrait of a time that contained horrors that we can barely guess at – and the frail, perennial flowers of compassion, hope and affection that are essential for all of us to carry on.  SIX STARS.