The Merge, by Grace Walker.

  

        This is a very disturbing story.  Disturbing because some of the reasons for ‘Merging’ are already painfully evident:  summer wildfires laying waste to various European countries; overpopulation and consequent food shortages and, at the novel’s beginning, a new ‘privileged’ class springing up in the UK called Combines:  you have to give up your seat on public transport for a Combine – and your house, accepting instead inferior accommodation – while it is still available – for Combines are part of a new world order designed to reduce the world population by ‘combining’ through a radical new scientific process:  two souls  transforming into one physical body – a healthy one!  All kinds of major diseases will disappear.

            Like Alzheimer’s disease, with which Amelia’s mother Laurie has been diagnosed – if Amelia and Laurie sign up for the Merge of their separate consciousness into one body, Laurie will be well again – except, except that Amelia’s boyfriend Albie is implacably against the whole idea, in fact he is an integral part of a very strong protest movement which is starting to receive a lot of publicity, but Amelia decides to go ahead with the probationary period – she wants her beloved mum back – and she’s perfectly placed to expose all those Combines if it turns out to be a huge scam.  Surely it’s a win-win situation?

            And it is, but for whom?  The other candidates for the Merge have endeared themselves to Laurie and Amelia, but they are all at different stages of thought about whether it’s the Right Thing to do, and one young reformed addict starts talking suicide – which changes the minds of Laurie and Amelia, who eventually find that their new opinion means nothing:  they are part of the Merge whether they like it or not.

First-time novelist Grace Walker has produced the Dystopian Novel par excellence:  her depiction of life in a world under pressure in the not-too-distant future is chilling and all too real, and the increasingly desperate measures that ordinary people are forced to consider so that they and their loved ones may stay alive are all too poignantly written.  There are no happy endings here, but justice may be done on the very last page.  SIX STARS.

 

 

 

 

The Retired Assassin”s Guide to Country Gardening,

By Naomi Kuttner.

 

Cozy Crime has now become a successful and popular genre – one that readers could tire of in time to come for its very predictability; the villains always get what’s coming to them, and there’s just the right amount of romance and twists in the plot to keep readers guessing.  And there’s nothing wrong with that so far, as retired MI6 Assassin Dante Reid decides to take early retirement and decides that a remote little town in New Zealand called Te Kohe is the ideal place in which to start a different life, the only snag being his reclusiveness and utter lack of sociability and the incontrovertible fact that Te Kohe is like every other small town anywhere:  it thrives on gossip, and the addition of a tall, handsome etc etc solo male with absolutely no social skills is more newsworthy than Donald Trump.

            Enter Charlie Wilson, a young gardener calling to find out what Dante would require from his services, which was tending to the former elderly occupant’s beautiful grounds and conservatory, where a Corpse plant will soon come into bloom (the Horticultural Society is mad with excitement!) and will require extra care.  An employment agreement of sorts is reached and Charlie is happy because he loves his job – but hasn’t been entirely honest with Dante:  he sees ghosts.

            All his young life Charlie has seen ghosts, usually the elderly of Te Kohe.  This has given him a reputation of talking to himself, which kind people dismiss as harmless eccentricity and the cruel make rude gestures involving screws loose but, having ‘lived’ with this phenomenon for so long, he has decided that his new employer needn’t be shocked by the supernatural this early  in the piece.  In any case, there’s going to be a big social occasion at Te Kohe’s poshest hotel very soon, everyone will be invited even though they don’t like the town’s richest man who’s paying for everything, including a massive fireworks display – he loves rubbing everyone’s nose in the fact that he’s a success and they aren’t, but hey!  He’s paying, and maybe a firework will go up his nose:  That would be something to see.

            And a murder does occur, which leads back to other, older crimes concerning Charlie’s family and the Town’s Richest Man:  how to prove that he’s not as clever as he thinks, particularly when Eleanor, a recent sophisticated and elegant recruit to Te Kohe’s Upper Echelons, decides to lend her considerable deductive talents to the mystery – ‘Helping the Police with Their Enquiries’ takes on all sorts of extra emphasis, especially when Charlie and Dante are both viewed as suspects and the police think they have a cast-iron case. 

            Fortunately for everyone’s nerves Ms Kuttner keeps all her ducks in a very clever row;  every i is dotted and t crossed so that we can prepare ourselves for the very next book in the series – which I hope will be soon;  despite blood and gore and ghosts, the main, best ingredient is humour:  this was seriously good fun.  FIVE STARS.     

  

 

The Human Scale, by Lawrence Wright.

 

 

            So.  On the human scale, who is worth more:  an Arab or a Jew?  An Arab who has farmed and nurtured his ancestral land for centuries in the same family, or recent Jewish migrants who want to buy the land and settle on it themselves – because God and their Zionist leaders told them they could. This is their Promised Land, and if those Arabs won’t give it up, then they’ll find other means of taking it, and all the worthless Palestinians can drown themselves in the sea. 

            And by the time that American-born Palestinian FBI Agent Tony Malik decides to attend a family wedding in Hebron and renew old ties and acquaintances as part of his convalescence (he was the only survivor of an attempt TO dismantle a bomb built by Hamas to blow up a Jordanian aircraft), he is in a pretty frail state, certainly not up to his usual professional expertise, which means he is entirely unprepared for the lack of action by police against the flagrant, everyday abuse that Palestinian Arabs endure – and their savage retaliations against such injustice (Palestinian boys are athletes of Olympian stature when it comes to throwing stones.)  And stealing!  He saw one wearing his hat when he had his rental car robbed;  the consequent pursuit ended up with him being arrested by the local cops and a very surly bunch they were, too.

            Tony’s visit has not started well, and he is appalled by the blatant criminality, the corruption that he sees on both sides of the spectrum;  it’s only after he proves his worth in exposing the worst of that corruption that he starts to gain some respect – until the local police chief is discovered cruelly murdered.   Bridegroom Jamal (nicknamed the Peacemaker) immediately goes on the run despite the fact that he is innocent: – he knows how justice works in Hebron:  it doesn’t work at all.

            Lawrence Wright has produced an extraordinary, exhaustive and brilliant story of hatred and enmity as old as civilisation itself; the conflict and animus will never end, especially when the I.D.F. carefully targets the apartment of a Gazan family who has given Jamal the Peacemaker shelter:  that fatal attack turns Peacemaker into Avenger, with predictable, awful results

            A reader of this fine book before me gave it a score of 10 out of 10. And how right they were.  Thank you Lawrence Wright, for showing us what everyone has ended up with for all their machinations:  a lifelong burden of grief.  SEVEN STARS.      

 

 

 

 

The Last Living Cannibal, by Airana Ngarewa.

 

          1940’s Aotearoa New Zealand and the Second World War is raging:  Taranaki Maori have not joined the fighting by choice – the cream of their manhood has been decimated over the last century by colonialism, bringing on the Land Wars and unjust imprisonment for some warriors like Koko, who had to endure shame and humiliation because he had fought to retain ownership of his tribal land;  now Koko is  in his 90’s and the fight has gone out of him as it rightly should.  Younger men than he should step up to continue the fight – until he learns from his beloved grandson Blackie that Koko is known at his grandson’s school as The Last Living Cannibal by the pakeha teachers.

            Then insult is added to injury when he hears that Blackie and his mates are threatened with the Strap, a leather strip used for sharpening razors and capable of inflicting nasty welts on young skin:  Okay, that’s the last straw:  time to show that high and mighty schoolteacher who has the most mana.  Koko will cut him down to size.  And does, from the back of an unpredictable horse who will sometimes allow people to ride him – and sometimes not;  fortunately he must have been in a generous mood to carry Koko to his triumphant meeting with the gobsmacked teacher:  the effect they created is unforgettable, the only problem being a fatal heart attack for Koko on his winning way home.  Koko has lost his last battle.

            BUT!  More trouble awaits:  Koko is laid out on the Marae in advance of his funeral;  his spirit is still watching to see who is going to visit to pay their respects.   He is attended by his feckless son, Blackie’s dad and Blackie himself, plus all the old Aunties without whom these useless men can’t seem to function, when unexpected strangers arrive who don’t seem to be particularly friendly.  They are Tainui, the Northern Tribe of Blackie’s mother, and everyone is shocked to see her arrive and demand to take Blackie with her back to her tribal home on the Waikato.  She left Blackie’s dad after he beat her in a drunken rage – now she wants her son under the law of Muru, a just repayment for former wrongs suffered:  she wants her son:  Taranaki Maori  have had him long enough!

            Once again Airana Ngarewa has blessed us with unforgettable, exuberant characters – Blackie’s mates in particular, (and don’t forget that horse!)  – and lessons in history that pakeha would much rather forget but as always, he accentuates the positive and like Koko, we recognise that despite great tragedy and injustice optimists can still take heart in some parts of this troubled world.  SIX STARS.   

      

 

  

 

The Glass Man, by Anders De la Motte.  

 

 

 

          Scandie Noir is flourishing as a genre in the hugely capable hands of De la Motte and his excellent translator Alex Fleming.  This is the second book in a series with Leonore Asker, brilliant but flawed (aren’t they all?) police detective as the main protagonist, along with her long-time friend University professor Martin Hill, a tried and true companion on some truly life and death adventures and – if Leo were to be honest with herself, a future significant other, not least because they trust each other completely.   They will always come to the rescue of each other, if they can.

            In the meantime, Martin has been offered his dream job writing a book about the history of one of Sweden’s most successful international medical companies, founded and still administered by the original family, the Irvings:  could his luck be any better?  Of course not – he’s ecstatic, especially when the Irving estate and manor house will be at his disposal along with all (he hopes) its records.

            By unhappy contrast, Leo is still hidden and labouring away sight unseen in the depths of the Police basement in charge of various officers who have talents not really required by their colleagues, or hoping soon for retirement:  such is her punishment for being too good at her job – she made the Stockholm Hotshot who took over her position look silly more than once, with the result that when a body is discovered close to her father’s farm, she is not allowed any information connected to it.  It’s ‘none of her business’, even though her father – whom she loathes – becomes the main suspect.  While she knows her father is capable of anything, she is also sure that this murder is definitely NOT his Modus Operandi.  Something Stinks in the State  of Denmark.

            And life is not going as well as first thought for Martin:  he does not have the open and free access that he expected on the Irving Estate[J1] , in fact he seems to be watched by an awful lot of people – even by Drones when he walks outside, but the worst thing – the very WORST THING - -was being persued by a huge man-like creature through the gardens when he was returning to his accommodation.  He’s never been so scared in his life – Leo, where are you???

            From a very convoluted plot De la Motte unravels the Irving family’s real reason for their interest in Martin, revealing  a Trump-like narcissism in  their belief that he will marvel at their mastery of Cryogenics – or  become their next victim.  What some people will do to advance the cause of science – or live forever.  FIVE STARS

 

 

 

 

 

---

 [J1]

 

 

 

 

The Mind of a Murderer, by Michael Wood.

And it’s sequel, The Devil’s Code.

       

  

          I am enormously proud of myself.  I have finally started a book series off at # 1 – usually I discover after several pages that I have done my usual trick of starting after several books have already been written, then having to rely on the author being kind and filling in key information – well, this series is so obliging it even has the first chapter of the next story to refresh peoples’ minds and whet their appetite for more blood and gore - and this series is awash with it, for its main protagonist is a forensic psychologist who started off life as Olivia Button, a normal little child, content in the bosom of her loving family, until she came home from school one day to find her younger sister dead in her dying mother’s arms, blood pouring everywhere and urged by her fatally stabbed mum to ‘RUN!’

            Which she does – fleeing her father, of all people, who had decided that after killing several complete strangers, it was time to dispatch his family.  And he is nearly successful with Olivia, wounding her terribly before the police overpower him.  Fortunately she survives her injuries and is lovingly cared for  by her grandparents who provide as much love and normalcy as they can as she grows up, but you don’t have to be Einstein to know that she will always want to explore, study and understand why some people kill (especially serial killers), and what they actually enjoy about it.  From her own experience she knows that familial love means nothing;  the thrill of ending someone’s life is paramount so, on the positive side and after a name change, Olivia has made a substantial career out of travelling the world and studying the deeds and minds of serial killers;  she is such an authority that her advice is sought by Police authorities everywhere, especially in London where a killer has struck again:  how she eventually unmasks him is very well plotted and, in the best tradition of all superior crime novels one never knows who the baddy is until the last possible minute.

            Book Two starts in a similar vein;  Olivia is required to go to Newcastle-on-Tyne to offer advice and suggestions to the authorities after a car was stopped on a stormy night by police;  when the car boot was opened, a body was revealed, cut into twelve pieces.  The driver will only say ‘no comment’, even as he is sentenced to life imprisonment.  A search of his house reveals documents which appear to be in code, but how to break it? 

And underlying all the mystery and worry that more remains will be found is Olivia’s father, still contacting her from prison whether she wants to hear from him or not (she doesn’t).  But he has other bodies – and murders – up his sleeve, and wants to brag about them whether she likes it or not! 

            Michael Wood has created a flawed, damaged but courageous protagonist in Olivia;  she makes mighty mistakes but great inroads, too, in outwitting her villains – and her nightmares.  FOUR STARS EACH.   

 

 

 

 

The Seventh Floor, by David McCloskey.

            

Typically, I have chanced upon #3 in David McCloskey’s series of Spy novels involving various colourful and driven members of the USA’s Central Intelligence Agency – why can’t I ever seem to start at #1!  He writes from experience, having worked for the CIA in another life – he knows how everything functions, especially the hierarchy on the seventh floor, Olympian home of Finn Armitage and Deborah Sweet, brand new leaders eager to make their mark on the organisation, which includes Artemis Proctor, a fearless – and tactless – leader of a subsection. The failure of an exercise against a Russian Source and the disappearance of handler Sam Joseph, captured and held by the Russians for three months until they swapped him for someone they needed more, provided Armitage and Sweet with the ammunition they need to boot her out of the only job she has ever really loved:  without her CIA job she is nothing:  ‘all your life you’re CIA.  Then you’re not.’

Working as an alligator wrangler at her cousin’s Florida theme park is no substitute, and the gators take exception to being rode twice a day;  they bite and will never be her pets.  Is this what her life will be like from now on?

Until Sam Joseph miraculously turns up bringing whiskey – and salvation in the form of explosive secret news that he hasn’t shared with anyone, including the various Psychologists and Medics he has seen since being released:  one of their number on the seventh floor has sold out and is providing the CIA’s most secret knowledge to the Russians.  A mole has been planted and that little critter is flourishing, absolutely bursting with information, and excellent at covering his tracks, having had so much training at doing just that at the CIA.

And how can a disgraced ex- section boss and an ex- undercover spy prisoner have any credibility with a leadership that wanted them gone anyway – no:  they will have to try to unravel and expose the traitor by themselves, the hard way, the dangerous, ‘they could kill-your-ass way.  Which is the only way.

David McCloskey’s superb prose takes no prisoners;  his character—building is second to none and, despite the demise of one of his main protagonists there are still enough great identities for the series to keep going, and going – and going!  Do you hear me, Mr McCloskey?!  SIX STARS.