FIRST GREAT READS FOR AUGUST, 2017
Marlborough Man, by Alan Carter
And what a wonderful advocate he is of all things Kiwi,
particularly in his neck of the woods at the top of the South Island: there can be no keener observer of daily
life, good and bad – including NZ politics and big business and its effects on
the environment: he doesn’t miss a
trick, as my dear old gran used to say.
Add to that a clever plot and engaging characters, and crime writing has
never been better.
Police Sergeant Nick Chester is in a witness protection
program, fleeing from the UK with his wife and Downs Syndrome child to
anonymity – he thinks – 13,000 miles away Down Under. He can’t be traced here, surely; he and his family are set up in the back of
beyond at the end of a dead end road little more than a gravel track, so. Why does he still feel jumpy (paranoid would
be closer to the truth), continually on edge, waiting for a sign that his
enemies are coming for him? To make the
situation worse, the discovery of a child’s abused and tortured body, dumped by
the side of a local road has galvanised and distracted all his colleagues from
the usual boy racers, firewood thieves and Saturday night drunks. He should concentrate on this shocking crime,
not on vague feelings of unease, no matter how disturbing they may be.
But his instincts are correct: the criminals who want to kill him have the
means to pay computer hackers to find him.
They are on their way; he and his
family are in mortal danger – then another little boy goes missing: his life has become a nightmare.
Nick’s colleagues rally round: another safe house is found for his wife and
little boy until he can ‘dispatch’ the assassin who must inevitably show his
face, or be dispatched himself, but their concerns – and his – are taken up
with the discovery of the body of the second child in the same abused state as
the first. The whole of Marlborough is
reeling with horror: this bastard HAS to
be caught – it can’t happen again! Yeah,
right. That’s what everyone said the
first time. And making matters
worse? There are no clues; no revealing evidence. This sicko has done this before, including
casting red herrings like confetti to lead everyone into dead ends which, predictably,
lead to more dead bodies.
Mr
Carter moves the action along at a very satisfying pace; he is a smart, witty writer and his
characters are all satisfyingly as they should be, from the villains (there are
several grades of villain here, from the ‘good’ baddies who save Nick’s bacon,
to the really evil paedo baddies that get caught in the end) to Nick’s
colleagues, chiefly his sidekick Constable Latifa Rapata, smart-mouthed
upholder of the local law and acknowledged expert in unarmed combat, when she
isn’t ticketing boy racers – one of whom has fallen in love with her and wants
to be engaged, even after a deadly beating she endured at the hands of the
villain: ‘Look! Engaged, and me with a face like a
kumara. Isn’t he a sweetie?’ Nick can’t deny it, but Latifa is a sweetie,
too, and from the novel’s conclusion it appears that we may not meet these
great characters again, which will be our loss.
Chester and Rapata would have made a great team for a very satisfying
future Kiwi crime series. I hope Mr
Carter will change his mind. FIVE STARS
Saints for All Occasions, by J. Courtney Sullivan
This family saga is a book of secrets, kept not only by
Nora from the rest of her family – her remaining children have no idea that she
has a sister, let alone that she is a Nun – but by the Uncles and Aunties too,
of the big Boston Irish family to which they belong. The siblings are staggered to find that they
are literally the last to know that when Nora and her younger sister Theresa
came from their little village in Ireland to make a new life in Boston with
relatives of Nora’s fiancĂ© Charlie, everyone knew that the sisters had had a
‘falling-out’; Theresa had obtained a
teaching job in Brooklyn, then eventually entered a convent in Vermont. Ancient history, not worth mentioning, so the
family didn’t, until the Nun appears at the Wake. Now John (always trying (and failing) to gain
his mother’s approval and praise; Bridget – gay, and hoping to have a baby with
her lovely partner, if only her mother would not turn a blind eye to their
relationship, introducing Natalie to everyone as Bridget’s ‘room-mate’; and youngest son Brian, a failed Baseball
player, drinking too much and living at home with his mother, need answers from
the stoically silent matriarch.
They’d better not hold their breath. Fortunately, the reader is luckier: in a series of flashbacks to the fifties and
beyond, Ms Sullivan,best-selling author of ‘Maine’ (see review below) takes us
back to Miltown Malbay, the village that set Nora and Theresa on their life’s
path: Nora is happy to be engaged to
Charlie, the son of the neighbouring farmer;
she is not in love with him – in fact she is not sure she even likes him
– but if they marry their two farms will combine, which will be a good
thing. Until another son inherits the
farm, and Charlie decides to settle with his brother in Boston. Nora’s fate is sealed; she must go too, and decides to take flighty
Theresa with her ‘to see that she doesn’t get into trouble’. Oh dear.
Theresa is wronged, and deserted, but Nora’s revenge on
the man who shamed her sister is one of biblical proportions, aided always by
loyal Charlie, who turned out to be so much more than she expected. Wasn’t she the lucky one?
At
the core of this fine book is what drives all families: sibling rivalry (John says that when he was
little, he always thought that Patrick’s name was MyPatrick, because that’s
what Nora always called him), solidarity, lots of humour, family love – and
secrets. Always secrets. Ms Sullivan writes simply and well of the old
ways of conservative Irish Catholicism;
how it sustains – and constrains.
FIVE STARS
Maine, by J. Courtney Sullivan
Three
generations of women from the same family congregate at the old family beach
house in Maine for the summer month of June – not because they planned to be
together, but because circumstance dictates it.
Alice, the matriarch, first came to the property as a newly pregnant
married woman nearly sixty years before;
her husband had won beautiful beachfront land on a bet with a friend and
since then the family, now spanning four generations, have made annual pilgrimages
to this lovely and cherished place.
Alice is in her 80’s, sharp as a tack, a devout Catholic with a tongue
like a butcher’s knife – especially on matters of faith – and a defiantly heavy
drinker.
Alice’s
granddaughter Maggie has also arrived to stay solo ‘for just a few days’; the original plan of spending some idyllic
time there with handsome but irresponsible boyfriend Gabe scuttled after a huge
fight that has ended their relationship.
The problem now is that Maggie’s plan of confessing to Gabe that she is
pregnant – in a setting guaranteed (she hoped) to introduce him gently and
romantically to the responsibilities of impending fatherhood – has been
thwarted: she finds that at the age of
thirty-two, she will have to soldier on alone.
Gabe informs her by email that he can’t deal with fatherhood ‘at this
point in time’, which means it’s time to bite the bullet and inform the rest of
the family, specifically her mother, Kathleen.
Kathleen
is the oldest of Alice’s children, a former alcoholic and intentional rebel
against everything that Alice holds dear:
thanks to several massive family confrontations, one involving the death
from cancer of Kathleen’s beloved father Daniel, Alice and Kathleen are bitter
foes. Kathleen has sworn after her father’s
death never to return to Maine – until she gets the news of Maggie’s
pregnancy; then she swoops in from
California to take charge of her errant daughter and do battle with her
detested mother.
And into this mix is added
the long-suffering, martyred Ann Marie, Alice’s daughter-in-law, married to son
Patrick (‘I am the ONLY one of this family who looks after YOUR mother and what
thanks do I get?), who has reluctantly
arrived two weeks earlier than usual to keep an eye on Alice (and her drinking)
because she couldn’t persuade Kathleen to come from California to do her family
duty – until Kathleen gets the news of Maggie’s dilemma. Ann Marie is furious.
The
stage is set for family fireworks, and Ms Sullivan does not disappoint us: she writes beautifully of fraught family
dynamics, the struggles of successive generations to break iron-bound ties of
faith and Irish conservatism, and the attempts by Kathleen and Maggie to be as
unlike spiteful Alice as possible, without realising that they are more like
her than they can possibly imagine.
No-one to their lasting regret has inherited Daniel’s sanguine and sunny
nature, that calming and amiable influence that always steadied the family
ship, and as Alice eventually reveals yet another bombshell guaranteed to shock
her divided family to the core the reader is treated to the long-secret reasons
for all the family slights and resentments.
Each woman has successive chapters to herself, a narrative device that
works particularly well here, and by the end of this tender, funny and loving
tribute to an American family, the reader feels as familiar with the Kelleher
family as their own. Ms Sullivan
portrays beautifully ‘The importance of generations: one person understanding life through the
experiences of all the people who came before’.
FIVE STARS .
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