Pãtea Boys, by Airana Ngarewa.                      NZ Fiction

 

          Airana Ngarewa has already made a tremendous impact with his first novel ‘The Bone Tree’, a Take-No-Prisoners exposé of racism, colonialism and every other shameful ‘ism’ that Aotearoa New Zealand is guilty of, but ‘Pãtea Boys’ is different, for he has written about his home and upbringing in a small Taranaki town – chiefly famous for the NZ-wide top hit song ‘Poi E’ (check out YouTube!) performed in the 0ughties by the Pãtea Maori Club -  all the Nannas when they were young and full of rhythm and, with the advent of this wonderful collection of stories Pãtea will once again be rightly famous for producing a son who cherishes his history and community, and writes of it superbly.

            ‘Bombs for the Bros’ concerns Turi, who wants to make the biggest Bomb(splash) in the local pool’s history, gaining the undying respect of all his mates – and the bigger Bros who are his idols.  The way to do that is to launch himself off rails that are higher than anyone has tried before and to do it when the lifeguard is distracted – no easy task because she’s pretty fearsome, but!  He does the business – the biggest bomb ever!  The only problem being that the lifeguard (who is his Nan) saw everything and her rage is incandescent:  he’s barred from the pool FOREVER, and just wait till they get home!  Was it worth it or not?

            Each story illustrates the closeness of a small community and their Marae, and how Maori deal with different aspects of life, especially if they leave, as so many had to, to find work elsewhere – automatically, leavers lose a certain amount of influence if they return home only occasionally, then try to put their opinions forward:  ‘Why’s he putting his oar in?  He’s never here!’  Marae funerals are written of with great affection, too, with enormous respect for all the old people looking down at their descendants from their photos on the walls, and once again Turi features with his little sister, both consigned to the kitchen to help with the funeral feast – because they’re not related to the dead person, so not grieving.  The conversation they have as they work is a demonstration of their affection for each other, and the life they have with their Nan, the strongest wahine they know.

            Airana Ngarewa writes of his home, dominated by Mount Taranaki, his maunga, with great love and respect, and a restless, wonderful energy and humour that would beguile any reader and, for students of Te Reo the stories are contained in Maori in the second half of the book.  CHUR, BRO!  SIX STARS.      

 

 

 

Tell Me Everything, by Elizabeth Strout.

 

            Elizabeth Strout’s beloved characters are all lined-up here, again ready to allow us into their lives, feelings and dramas and what a privilege it is to meet them again:  Olive Kitteridge, former maths teacher in Crosby, Maine where she has lived her entire prickly, outspoken life (she is now 90);  Lucy Barton, now a respected novelist who has moved with her ex-husband William to Crosby during the Pandemic ‘to see what happens’ – to see, really, if they can be properly and permanently reconciled after William’s several affairs;  and Bob Burgess, a lawyer returned to his nearby hometown of Shirley Falls with his wife Margaret, a Unitarian Minister.  The scene is set.

            Bob and Lucy are firm friends and go walking by the river each week, rain or shine.  Lucy is privy to the fact that Bob gave up smoking years ago but at a certain place on their usual path, he lights up his verboten ciggy, then has to make sure the wind doesn’t blow the incriminating smoke onto his clothing;  Margaret would be scandalised if she knew of his lapse!  And Lucy finds in Bob the perfect listener as she bounces ideas and opinions off him;  his common-sense logic and practicality is invaluable.        

            From the distance of her retirement home Olive watches and shrewdly evaluates the growing friendship, for Lucy visits her, often with stories of her own to tell, and it’s possible that this story could have turned out differently if a local woman that everyone detested went missing, not to be found until months later submerged in a car at the bottom of a quarry:  her middle-aged reclusive son Matt is the main suspect – he was her caregiver but was also a weirdo, liked to paint pictures of nude pregnant women.  What a pervert!  Until Bob consents to defend him, should the case go to trial, and all the stories start to float up to the surface, Olive remembering many of them.

            ‘Tell Me Everything’ is exactly that, for unburdening themselves eases many heavy hearts in this beautiful little book;  every character has something that they never want to think of again, but are unable to think of anything else.  No-one is exempt from heartache, regardless of how well they pretend.  And I wonder if this is Olive’s last hurrah – her best and only friend at the retirement home seems to be sleeping more and more lately.  Olive’s still wide-awake, but for how long?  I cannot imagine one of Ms Strout’s books without her.  Rock on, Olive, rock on!  FIVE STARS

 

Death at the Sign of the Rook, by Kate Atkinson.

 

   

         Ex-Detective Jackson Brodie is now a Private Detective doing the gumshoe work usually associated with ex-coppers, which is making a living off the surveillance of extra-marital sinners and the like;  now he has been instructed to find a missing painting thought to have been stolen by an old Yorkshire lady’s last caregiver.  But his new employers do not strike him with confidence, either – they are too dismissive of the painting’s value (just an old keepsake, sentimental value only’), especially in light of the ruthless evaluation of everything else in the house:  ‘Lady with a Weasel’ (well, what else could that fur ball be, sitting on her lap, thinks Jackson when he sees a rare photo of the painting.  Jackson’s knowledge of fine art is minimal at best.)

  Something Stinks in the State of Denmark, reflects Jackson later, when another painting by Turner is audaciously removed from a stately home not too far from the first theft, the stately home now being reduced to running Murder Mystery Weekends in a part of the building converted into a hotel for paying guests by the sons of local aristocrat Lady Milton.  Sadly, it would seem that her Secretary went missing the same time that the Turner was cut from its frame:  too many coincidences, thinks Brody (and everyone else!)

            Ms Atkinson has decided to follow the ironclad rules of the classic Detective fictional story here:  a troupe of actors hired for the Mystery Weekend;  a motley collection of guests including the local vicar, an army major (lost a leg in Afghanistan, no less!), Jackson himself as the pillar of logic and lightning converter of clues; oh, and don’t forget the mysterious caregiver/secretary, who also returns to stir up the waters – which aren’t waters at all, but a blinding snowstorm, which traps everyone in place when the power fails.  And guess what is revealed when the lights come back on?  Well. You’ll have to read the book to find out.

            And what a book!  Ms Atkinson has never been better at setting the scene, providing each great character with a backstory that is entirely rational but exceptional, and when the plot’s end is finally revealed the reader has to take off their hat (whether wearing one or not!) to the relentlessly perfect dotting of I’s and crossing of t’s – there is absolutely nothing left to chance;  all is revealed in the most marvellous and witty manner.  And it goes without saying that the crooks are the most entertaining!  SIX STARS.   

 

 

 

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.     

               

 

Joe-Nuthin’s Guide to Life, by Helen Fisher.

 

  

          Neurodiversity:  the 21^st century’s current euphemism for the many  psychological illnesses and anxieties that beset modern society.  In the ‘Old Days’, anyone who was afflicted with a mental illness was just that:  mental, but these days there has been a concerted effort to bring the neurodiverse into daily life, to integrate them into ‘normal’ society, thus helping them to live their very best lives.

            In theory, for ‘normal’ society can be anything but. 

            Such a person  is Joe-Nathan.  He calls himself  that (his proper name might be Jonathan) because two names are like Dinner and Dessert – should anyone ask.  Joe lives with his widowed mother Janet, and works for the Compass Store, a big supermarket whose Boss Hugo sees the Brownie points accruing for employing Joe, who has Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, but comes to like and admire him anyway, not only for his ruthless attention to detail, but also for the fact that Joe-Nathan is a lovely young man, stricken by a cruel syndrome, but with the help if his indomitable Mum, making the very best of things.

            Except for workmates Mean Charlie and his mate Owen:  they delight in calling him names – Joe-Nuthin – and threatening to open cans of red sauce because they know that anything red upsets him terribly – BUT!  Joe is not without friends who will defend him, particularly workmate Chloe, whose language is so bad that Joe makes her a swear-box that he calculates will make her rich within a year.  Chloe puts Mean Charlie in his place with a physical attack so violent Boss Hugo is forced to consult HR, resulting in Mean Charlie’s sacking.

            Job done!  Time for all to live in happy diversity ever after, but life, particularly these days, seldom follows the best script:  Joe’s darling mum has a fatal heart-attack and Joe is forced to face vast, monstrous changes in his life, living alone being just the first;  however, Janet has anticipated life for Joe and his struggles after her death and to that end has left two books of instructions, the first a ‘how-to’ cook, clean, repair etc’, and the second more important advice about friends and how to treat them, particularly if one wanted to keep them – which makes Joe think of Mean Charlie and the fact that he might have more sadness in his life than everyone thinks, particularly when Joe inadverdently sees all of Charlie's bruises.  It’s time to make a new friend, and Joe has decided that for good or ill, Mean Charlie is the one!

            Helen Fisher has written a beautiful story on friendship, the courage to be ‘other’, especially when there is no choice, and the beauty and necessity of humanity’s desire for affection.  My heart was full at story’s end.  Thanks HEAPS, Ms Fisher!  SIX STARS          

 

Knife, by Salman Rushdie.                       Memoir

 

        

    In 1989, acclaimed author Salman Rushdie was sentenced to a Fatwa by Iranian Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini –a  death sentence executed by any pious Muslim, for writing a novel called ‘The  Satanic Verses’, deemed to be contemptuous and scornful of Islam.  For the next several years, Rushdie was kept under 24 hour surveillance and reluctantly lived the life of a recluse, a fugitive who never knew when and where death would strike – until, finally, he became tired of living his life in the shadows;  he needed to feel the sun again, travel as he pleased, and socialise with his friends and loved ones:  to hell with Fatwas – he’d take the risk and live his life as he wanted to, in freedom.

            Until August, 2022, Salman Rushdie did just that.  Life was good;  he’d fallen in love (and it was reciprocal!); his new novel was about to be published, and he’d agreed to give a lecture at Lake Chautauqua, upstate New York on the importance of keeping overseas writers from harm, those in danger from fanatics from their places of origin.  What an irony for, as he was introduced on stage a black-clad figure rushed towards him brandishing a knife – a knife that inflicted numerous serious wounds before his assailant was overpowered and prevented from continuing.  Rushdie was taken by helicopter to hospital, and not expected to survive.

            ‘Knife’ is Rushdie’s personal account of his ordeal;  his grievous injuries – he has lost the sight of his right eye, and his left hand which he lifted in defence as the assailant rushed towards him has permanent damage to the tendons, not to mention numerous cuts and scarring on his body – are testament to an iron determination not to be a soon-to-be- forgotten  victim of religious bigotry and fanaticism, but to survive and still live his best life.  He pays grateful tribute to his family, friends and loving wife, all of whom never left his side – once they’d got there;  one of his sons had the misfortune to have a fear of flying, so had to come by sea from the UK, much to his chagrin, but he did it!  Meantime, the would-be assassin had pleaded not guilty to all charges, despite a packed auditorium of witnesses.

            Which prompts the victim to imagine several conversations with his would-be killer, none of which persuades a change of heart or mind:  Rushdie is evil and must be removed from the earth.  Okay then!

            But not yet.  Salman Rushdie has produced from awful personal experience  a darkly humorous, irrefutable treatise on religious tolerance, his own atheism and his unshakeable conviction that though knives are lethal, the Pen is always Mightier than the Sword.  FIVE STARS.           

             

                

 

        

 

James, by Percival Everett.

 

            Percival Everett is a distinguished Black professor of English and a prize-winning novelist:  he is also a Pulitzer finalist, and eminently qualified to write a ‘What If’ story about the fates of two of American literature’s most beloved characters, Huckleberry Finn and the slave Jim, Mark Twain’s timeless, runaway heroes, and the various good, bad, strong and weak people they meet in their attempts to reach a place of safety.

            Jim finds out that his owner Ms Watson is planning to sell him down South;  that would be perfectly fine – if he were by himself, but he has a wife and little daughter that he loves above all else:  he can’t leave them – he won’t leave them:  without them he is nothing.  He will run and hide for a time until they stop searching for him, then he will return and take his family with him to safety.  Wherever safety may be.  Jim has heard that going North (he is in Missouri) is the best destination – if he remains uncaught:  if they find him he will either be beaten to death, or lynched.  Or tracked down by dogs who will not wag their tails when they see him.  But Jim knows a safe place, a little island in the nearby Mississippi river where he can hide out for a while; he can swim there and plan his next move.

            All well and good.  But someone else knows about the island, too – Jim is joined whether he likes it or not, by young Huckleberry Finn, who has staged his own death so that he doesn’t have to live any more with his Pappy ‘who shore does hate him!’ – Huck reckons it’s better to live in hiding with all the risks it involves than to be beaten bloody every night.  And that’s very true, except that Jim has a terrible sinking feeling when he hears that, for he knows that white folks will add two and two, and decide that runaway Jim has probably killed young Huck Finn:  how will he ever get back to his family with an extra imaginary crime hanging over him?

            Jim and Huck’s adventures in their attempts to avoid discovery are terrible, suspenseful and simultaneously uproariously funny:  the characters they meet travelling on the mighty Mississip are fitting heirs to Mark Twain’s genius for characterisation, and a tribute to Mr Everett’s formidable power as a writer – and a terrible indictment against the enslavement of one people by another.  Even though the story ends with the start of the American Civil War, the hatred hasn’t gone away.  SIX STARS.   

 

 

 

Everyone in my Family has Killed Someone, by Benjamin Stephenson.

           

       
     Classic murder mysteries follow strict rules:  a set number of people are gathered (or thrown) together at a place that is difficult to escape from;  one by one, they are picked off in various clever ways, thus building suspense and horror in the reader;  the denouement always, always reveals a murderer that no-one would ever suspect, and the remainder of the novel deals with the satisfying punishment and demise of the guilty party.  The great Agatha Christie was, as we all know, the unparalleled mistress of the genre and her shoes will never be filled;  however, there have been plenty less famous – and less talented upstarts ready to try their luck, with varying success.

            Australian writer Benjamin Stephenson does the opposite:  he has written an enormously entertaining 21^st century parody of that disparate group of people with grudges and grievances, in this case narrated by Ernie, disgraced within his family because he testified against his brother Michael at Michael’s murder trial – families stick together no matter what, and the Cunningham family has had more of its share of trouble with the law than it could possibly need or want.  He is the pariah in the family group organised to welcome Michael home after his mysteriously reduced prison sentence.  Everyone has gathered at a luxury ski lodge in the Snowy mountains, and Michael’s ex-wife Lucy is there hoping for a reconciliation;  unfortunately, Ernie’s ex (whom he still loves) shows up as Michael’s new lovebird and, true to form, the weather turns nasty:  what was meant to be a skiing weekend with lots of hot toddies and flash food is transformed into a violent storm that traps everyone, starting with a complete stranger killed in a most ancient and unusual way.  Victim One!

            The body count rises as the weather worsens;  Michael dies the same dreadful death as Victim One and when Ernie (he is the narrator, after all!) eventually gathers everyone together in the ski lodge library – a classic setting for so many Big Reveals – I feel I can say with confidence that no reader had guessed WhoDunnit, and  What Happened Next, because I certainly didn’t and I’m really good at that.

            Benjamin Stephenson has followed all the rules, in fact he has helpfully provided a copy of them at the beginning of the book – and he has given readers a laugh-out-loud, enormously entertaining variation of the genre with characters so good that I wish I could meet them in future works by him – but he’s killed them all off!  FIVE STARS.

                 

 

 

 

 

Listen for the Lie, by Amy Tintera.

 

     

       Lucy Chase is sent an airline ticket by her Grandmother to return to Plumpton, Texas, for Gran’s 80^th birthday celebrations and, though she loves her Grandmother more than anybody, she really doesn’t want to return to a place where she may have murdered Savannah, her very best friend five years before, and where she had to leave because the lack of evidence to convict her did not lessen the gossip and speculation.

            A new life in Los Angeles has earned only temporary respite, for a new Podcast series ‘Listen for the Lie’ has started, and one of the cold cases it wishes to explore is Lucy’s very own and, despite her continued rebuffs of Podcaster Ben Owens, he has generated so much advance publicity raking over all the old coals that she loses her job – and her boyfriend, whose loss isn’t so bad, except that she will have to find another place to live and another job.  So!  Might as well bite the bullet and go back to help Gran celebrate.

            Except that Ben Owens has turned up in that small Texas town too, and everyone is happy to talk to him – except Lucy:  why should she help him make money out of an event of which she can remember nothing?  For Lucy was found wandering along a road, semi-conscious, concussed and covered with her friend’s blood:  despite various mysterious and damning circumstances, she can remember nothing and, despite her longing to know what really happened, the thought that she may have killed her dearest friend is too horrifying to think about.  So she won’t, so there!  It’s a shame that no-one else feels like that, though – even her parents don’t believe that she could be innocent, and her ex-husband (another big Lucy mistake) has completely different memories of Savannah’s last night of life.  What really happened when Lucy and Savannah left the wedding celebrations to which they were invited?  Lucy can’t face it.  But if she didn’t kill Savannah, who did?

            Amy Tintera has previously written for Young Adults;  this is her first adult novel, and she has given us unforgettable, cranky, smart-mouth Lucy as narrator – the first big plus.  The second is a clever plot that unfolds logically and credibly, and the third:  a cover blurb by Stephen King and Liane Moriarty!  Those two really know what’s good, and they are absolutely right:  this is a FIVE STAR read.   

 

City in Ruins, by Don Winslow.

 

       

     The great Don Winslow, crime-writer extraordinaire, has announced that the above title, the last book in his contemporary trilogy based on Homer’s epic Iliad and Virgil’s Aeneid, will be his last.  In the immortal words of John Macinroe – (and millions of fans) HE CAN’T BE SERIOUS!!

            But he is, and the reading public is the poorer for it, because ‘City In Ruins’ has all the excitement, suspense and heartbreak of the preceding novels, set in Rhode Island, and involving a gang war between the Italian Mafia (Greece) and uppity Irish crims (Troy) getting too big for their boots.

            Danny Ryan (Aeneas) is the main protagonist, and he is forced to leave his dying wife behind as he flees with his loyal gang to California, intent on straightening himself out and leaving all the criminality behind for he has a baby son to look after, and nothing can be more important than that:  he wants his son to grow up to be proud of him, and to that end transforms himself into a legitimate businessman.  Now, after various Hollywood misadventures he has transformed himself into a respected Casino owner, one of the richest movers and shakers in Las Vegas.

            But Danny has never been a favourite of the Gods;  every now and then they remind him that they can change his life in an instant, especially  when he makes a rash and impulsive decision to buy an old hotel at a very strategic site – nothing wrong with that, except that the hotel in question had already been sold to someone else, who takes Danny’s absurdly huge impossible-to-refuse offer very personally:  eventually, the loser brings in a Mafia hitman so twisted that said hitman actually disgusts the others of his ilk:  Danny, in his attempts to be an honourable and legitimate businessman of whom his son can be proud, has hit a major snag:  it’s Killing and Maiming time again, and this time, his friends and loved ones are about to be sacrificed:  whether he wants to or not, he has to become a ruthless and deadly killer again to protect everyone he loves.

            No-one can ratchet up suspense more efficiently than Don Winslow as any late-night reader with a speeding heart will attest, and his contemporary retelling of the great epics of Homer and Virgil is masterly.  I still hope his announcement that this is his last novel is a whim of the Gods – and if it’s his whim, please can he be less whimsical?  SIX STARS.

 

The Unwanted Dead, by Chris Lloyd (Book One)

Paris Requiem, by Chris Lloyd (Book Two)

    
     

          I have just read these books back-to-back and, amazingly, in the right sequence:  I am very proud of myself!  And happy to report that Crime Writer Chris Lloyd has produced a new, different burnt-out Detective.  Different because the First World War was the reason for his burn-out and, instead of returning to the French city of Perpignan to manage and inherit his parents’ book shop, Eddie Giral feels more of use battling – and sometimes winning – against ordinary criminals instead of the monstrous warmongers who ordered young men to legally murder each other.

            It is June, 1940, and the German Occupation has begun. Paris, the City of Light, is swathed in smoke and ashes and the only mobile traffic belongs to the German troops;  they are also the only patrons of the many Jazz clubs of Paris, and the local criminals are rubbing grubby hands together at the thought of relieving these young boys of their francs and anything else they can get:  times are hard – we’re all in this together, mates!  And Eddie agrees – up to a point, which is tested when he is called to the main railway yard to investigate the discovery of four bodies in a wagon who have been suffocated to death by the very nerve gas that killed so many of his friends:  who would do such a thing and why, especially as it is revealed that the men were Polish refugees hoping to flee the city before the Germans marched in.  They paid someone money to help them escape, but who?  And the more Eddie digs, the more is revealed about crimes of mass murder in Poland of innocent villagers buried in mass graves.  Who is going to bring this horror to the world’s attention, hopefully bringing the USA into the World fray, not to mention rumours of Jewish persecution beginning to surface?

            Paris Requiem starts a few months later;  the great city is full of thin grey ghosts, for rationing and coupons have started and no-one is getting enough to eat – except the German Occupiers.  Needless to say, they don’t have to queue for hours for a piece of bacon rind or a baguette, nor do they have to eke out for days whatever they were lucky enough to purchase.  Eddie is particularly irked by the delicious food left lying in his presence by his current nemesis, Major Hochstetter of the Abwehr, German Intelligence.  Major Hochstetter is particularly intrigued – as is Eddie – by the fact that a murder victim found in a closed nightclub was serving a two-year jail sentence:  Eddie remembers the case well, for he put him there!  Now he has to investigate his particularly grisly end.

            As a writer, Chris Lloyd is a bit rough around the edges;  he uses contemporary expressions which are out of keeping with the time, but he has created a very fine hero in Eddie, one who is weighed down by all the sorrow of what might have been, the estrangement from his family, the terrible randomness of one’s fate, but still he battles on with a suicidal fearlessness to right wrongs as he sees them, Hochstetter be damned!  FIVE STARS.