Frankie, by Graham Norton.

            I am sure anyone would agree that we are living at the moment in very uncertain times;  the world is undergoing great change politically and physically and ordinary people (thee and me) are reluctant witnesses, it seems,  to many international injustices both large and small so we must look for any form of escapism that works – and reading, the art of the story, still features hugely with the majority of us:  we need something elevating and heartwarming to remind us that the world is still a good place., and such a story is Graham Norton’s ‘Frankie’.

            In Ireland, Frances Howe’s parents died in a car accident when she was ten years old;  Frances was an only child and her care was taken over by her mother’s sister who was married to an Anglican minister who tended to address everyone in biblical phrases, always careful to stress how charitable her aunt and he were being in providing her a home.  Frances’s only happiness at this time was her schoolfriend Norah’s home in which she was always welcomed by Norah’s refreshingly normal parents;  sadly, this situation changed when Frances was seventeen:  her Uncle married her off to another clergyman who was much older than she and when her new life commenced, Frances found that the reality of being a Canon’s wife was vastly different from what she’d imagined – including the marital bed, the mysteries of which remained as opaque as ever.  Until Frances, delivering eggs to needy parishioners as part of her wifely duties, met one of the flock whose very presence ignited an eroticism with which Frances was entirely unfamiliar:  needless to say, there was no happy outcome for Frances;  her sham marriage was over, she was ‘cast out’ by her anything-but-saintly husband, and exiled to London, to share a flat with Norah.

            And Norah had been having adventures of her own, deciding that the company of women was infinitely more preferable than men, but she was instrumental in ‘retraining’ Frances in the secretarial arts – shorthand and typing, filing etc – to an efficiency that earned Frances a trip to New York with her new Boss, a woman of ‘that’ persuasion hoping to change her new secretary’s mind as to her sexual preferences – which didn’t happen, and after a disasterous start to her time in The Big Apple, Frances becomes Frankie and her real life, with its stratospheric highs and dismal lows, finally begins.

            Graham Norton in his Acknowledgements pages says that his editor always makes him feel like a novelist rather than a chat-show host with notions.  Well, the wonderful protagonist he has created is a shining example of his talent at story-telling on the grand scale:  I defy anyone to say that they were not fully engaged with Frankie’s adventures, from her sad beginnings to her loving end, for this is a story of love in all its colours and stripes, and that is what the world certainly needs at this troubling time.  FIVE STARS. 

              

 

 

 

 

 

The Cracked Mirror, by Chris Brookmyer.

            Penny Coyne (yes, really!) is a very elderly librarian from a small Scottish village:  what makes her notable is that she has highly reputable skills as an amateur detective, solving numerous cases that have foiled many police, and forcing them to call on her services more than they would wish to.  Eat your heart out, Miss Marple!

            She is about to meet Johnny Hawke, typical burnt-out LA detective, with a reputation not only for putting away the bad guys (some of them in a very permanent fashion) but also for inadvertently causing the demise of every partner he has had so far:  in light of that fact, are Ms Coyne’s days numbered?

And why would they ever meet except for both receiving invitations to an impossibly High Society wedding at a very grand Scottish Mansion now being run as a hotel – neither of them know either bride nor groom.  Which is enough to prick anyone’s curiosity, so here they are, Penny in tweed skirt and twinset, and Johnny, trying not to look like an LA cop in a very cheap suit.

            The stage is set for one of the cleverest Whodunnits I have read for years, and the Big Reveal doesn’t happen to the very last page – and even then presents more questions than answers.  Johnny has ended up in Scotland because he’s on suspension for being the cause of death yet again of his latest hapless partner and has been told by his boss to ‘get out of town and stay out’.

The wedding invitation arrives at a very welcome time though he is worried as to how the bank account will survive the experience, especially in light of the Great and the Good arriving for the wedding;  they have no such financial worries.  The bride and groom, too, seem madly in love – until the bride reveals to Penny last-minute cold feet, then she disappears just before the ceremony is to begin – and is found dead, a presumed suicide, in a similar fashion to the circumstances of the crime Johnny was investigating in which his new partner died, and further investigation reveals that this is the third similar death in similar circumstances. 

            It is not long before the brawny brainy gumshoe recognises a kindred spirit in the woollen-clad, keen observer of human behaviour  -  ‘there are always consequences when you break any rule, Johnny’ – and they combine to make a formidable team.  Until , further into this dazzling story, the reader is aghast to realise that Johnny and Penny are not bona fide protagonists, (spoiler alert) but characters in a  brilliant video game:  no-one is what they seem and Chris Brookmyre has tricked us all with his marvellously inventive characterisations and plotting:  what a booki!  What a writer!  What a game!  SIX STARS     

 

The Spy Coast, by Tess Gerritsen.

        

            Where do old spies go when it’s time to retire?  (always assuming they last that long.)  In Tess Gerritsen’s first novel in her new series, five of them have moved to a  small seaside town in Maine, on the North-Eastern Canadian border.  It’s a very tame life now for these ex-CIA veterans but they meet regularly and try to be content with their safe but boring new circumstances – until a strange woman – obviously from the agency – confronts one of their number at her home, full of questions that she has no intention of answering.  Maggie Bird is happy with her new life;  she has had a career of great danger and enormous rewards which led to the most tragic event in her life;  now she is content to live in peace on  the chicken farm she purchased, and has no intention of getting dragged into any ructions caused by the last (and worst) job she was on.  She sends the woman away with instructions not to come back.

            But she does:  as a corpse, laid out crucifixion-style with two bullets in her skull, all done while Maggie was meeting with the other exes for Martinis.  Her neighbour appraises her of this when he sees the police-car lights in Maggie’s driveway.  It would seem that Maggie and her friends are going to be dragged back into the old job with its old mysteries and those seeking revenge whether she wants it or not.  To make matters worse, the local (acting) Police Chief, Jo Thibodeau, is not satisfied with the friends’ version of what they were doing at the time of the murder:  drinking Martinis and calling themselves the Martini Club was not befitting the seriousness of the crime committed in Maggie’s driveway, and how come Maggie has the best security cameras that money can buy – for a chicken farm?  And Jo would appreciate it if she could show them the footage NOW, please, which only reveals an SUV with tinted windows and a heavily-disguised shape delivering the body.  Which satisfies no-one. And sends Jo Thibodeau away with the knowledge that somehow, some way, Maggie Bird and her friends know a lot more than they are saying and that makes her determined to find out what, and who they really are.   She may never have left Purity, Maine, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be good at her job, so there!  She’ll keep on digging whether they like it or not.

            Ms Gerritsen has written a perfect airport thriller, strong, believable protagonists,  (read the Author’s Note), mile-a-minute action, and a plot that takes us all over the world without losing its credibility. FIVE STARS

( And Book Two is available at your library:  ‘The Summer Guests.’  Can’t wait!)      

 

Sea Change, by Jenny Pattrick.

 

            Jenny Pattrick is New Zealand’s premier historical novelist – who hasn’t read ‘The Denniston Rose’ and ‘Heart of Coal’ - and IF you say to your shame ‘not me’-  then it’s time to start gorging yourselves on her lovely stories of early New Zealand and its turbulent history, BUT! 

            This is a contemporary novel, dealing with and exposing 21^st century problems and the differing solutions according to those with the power, and what’s available those who have none.

            A huge earthquake devastates the top of NZ’s South Island;  the damage and loss of life is huge and all the North Island’s first responders are sent to the worst-hit areas;  meantime, the quake has struck a small Kapiti Coast village not far from capital city Wellington – the damage from that was bad enough, but a huge tsunami has inflicted a fatal blow to property and people living close to the beach.  Those few whose houses are on higher ground fare better than others, like Lorna, a retired public servant, and her neighbour Toddy, a retired engineer – who is also blind.  And their next neighbour is Eru, 9 years old and an orphan:  his father was fishing in his dinghy when the tsunami rolled in. 

            When everyone eventually meets up at the school hall (still standing, but the school isn’t) there is a very disparate group:  those who want to stay and get electricity and communications up to speed again;  those who want to get out immediately – not so easy – there is only access by sea; two gay plumbers (the Plumbelles) who will try everything to get fresh water piped again if they can only find a source;  and several jack-of-all-trades including a brilliant engineer (‘but he’s a recluse!’) who are undaunted by the situation – if only they could get some assistance from Wellington, which is sending manpower, firepower and dollars to the worst-hit in the South Island.

            Eventually the word from Wellington is that the village is too inaccessible to save:  there will be a managed retreat.  Which is not acceptable to everyone who has worked so hard to get everything up and running again, and definitely NOT cricket when it is found that the ‘managed retreat’ is to enable Lorna and Toddy’s very rich neighbour Adrian Stokes to eventually buy up cheaply all the undamaged land to build an exclusive private resort:  betrayal of the worst kind, and so easily done with friends in the right places.

            Jenny Pattrick has charmed us yet again with a story of triumph over adversity that could be ho-hum and mawkish in other hands;  instead she shows us all what logic, kindness and common sense can achieve when backs are against the wall – in a very logical, kind and common-sensical way!  SIX STARS.

                

 

The Valley, by Chris Hammer.

    
          Chris Hammer is a happily familiar face for all the tens of thousands of Crime novel fans in this part of the world, knowing as we do that each new book is always meticulously plotted and characterised, and that each story is a microcosm of contemporary Australian lives and times.  He has several returning characters to the differing themes in his books;  in this story we meet again with Nell, short for Narelle (what a good Aussie name that is!) Buchanan and Ivan Lucic, Detectives who didn’t work together very well at all a few titles ago;  now the rough edges have been worn away and they are a polished and effective team who always get their man.  Eventually.

            They have been sent to a central NSW valley where a local, a young and wealthy entrepreneur has been found dead, drowned in a beautiful lake not far from where he had established a luxury eco-resort for the wealthy and jaded to recharge their batteries.  It hasn’t taken long to confirm that blunt-force wounds to the head rendered him unconscious when he was put in the water:  drowning completed the job.  His young wife (his second) seems more business-like than mourning – she has a business to run, after all!  And the local businessmen of his acquaintance don’t appear to be mourning his passing.

            And there seems to be a secondary scandal and mystery pertaining to the abandoned goldmine halfway up the escarpment;  the woman who owned it threw herself off those cliffs when her husband’s body was found murdered in the depths of the mine.  But the more questions Nell and Ivan ask, the more mysteries they expose, including Nell’s parentage:  she was adopted as a baby and never knew her biological parents.  Now, that is about to change.  By birth, she is a local, too!  The clues to the victim’s seed wealth all seem to point to the abandoned and played-out mine, but countless searches for any gold have revealed nothing over the years, and the mystery of Nell’s parentage is almost more than she can cope with;  however, dogged determination as always, solves everything satisfyingly at the end  -  as it should. 

            And as always, Chris Hammer produces a highly satisfying page-turner, full of red herrings and pretzel turns and, particularly when describing The Valley, a lyrical and beautiful hymn to the wonderful Australian landscape and wildlife.  We can only pray that it stays that way.  FIVE STARS. 

 

The Things We Didn’t Know, by Elba Iris Pérez.

 

       
     Eight-year-old Andrea and her six-year-old brother Pablo are on their way to Puerto Rico with their mother.  Mama has grown terminally discontented with life in a U.S. East Coast mill town – which isn’t even a town;  she can’t even shop for food, or socialise with any friends unless her husband Luis takes her in his beloved Oldsmobile, and he will not hear of her learning to drive:  she is effectively his prisoner, subject to every one of his whims.  Which doesn’t mean that he’s a bad man;  he just loves his job at the paper mill, loves his family and doesn’t know why she doesn’t love her life too, which is so much better than Puerto Rico.

            The only way to convince him that all is not well is to leave, to return to the life they had before America, Land of the Free, started singing its siren song – sadly, her children don’t feel the same way, especially when Mama immediately leaves them in the care of her sister Cecilia, a very kind and loving woman who would rather be a man, and lives as one.  It takes several weeks before they are used to their new living arrangements, gradually looking forward to starting school again in a strange environment but, just when they are starting to enjoy their new life with their manly aunt their Mama turns up with a new boyfriend and another sister for them to stay with.  And this sister is very poor to the extent of not having enough for them to eat:  their future looks grim, until Cecilia manages to contact their father – this criminal selfishness of a mother who refuses to mother her children has to stop, and Luis arrives to right the awful wrong his wife has created.

            But this lovely story is about much more than a marriage;  it’s about racism in all its forms:  aunt Cecilia isn’t despised in some quarters because she’s lesbian but because she’s negrito – her father was black and so is she.  Andrea finds that as she grows up, despite being blonde and blue-eyed by some genetic quirk, ‘white’ Americans regard her with suspicion, her first boyfriend’s mother as a typical example.  And her own beloved Papa is horrified and furious that she is choosing to marry a black man – never mind that he’s a University Professor:  he has fuzzy hair!

            Ms Pérez’s debut novel starts in the turbulent 60’s and covers some brutal times and huge changes in American society, especially when so many young men returned from Vietnam in wheelchairs – or coffins.  The Land of the Free is still in a state of discomfit and uncertainty, but there is always hope for it as long as they have writers like her to tell its truths.  FIVE STARS.    

 

 

When the Deep Dark Bush Swallows You Whole,

By Geoff Parkes

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            Just as Aussie Noir has become an established genre in South Pacific Crime writing, New Zealand writers have taken up the baton to produce their own brand of bushy WhoDunnits – and doing pretty well at it too, thank you, as evidenced by (amongst others) Catherine Chidgey, Michael Bennett and Rose Carlyle’s success, for our beautiful country has myriad spaces and places to create mysteries and murders galore.

            Such a place in the 80’s is the small Waikato town of Nashville – fictitious for the purposes of Geoff Parkes’s debut novel, but typical of small towns everywhere:  everyone knows everyone else;  they all love to gossip, and they can be forgiven for that for not much happens of note in Nashville – until a young hitch-hiker goes missing, a Finnish girl on her OE, who was temporarily working as a roustabout in a shearing gang on one of the local farms.  And this is not the first hiker to disappear in the town:  a couple of years before a young woman was last seen just out of town trying to hitch a ride;  someone unknown picked her up and she was never seen again.  The locals are starting to mutter about a Serial-Killer, gossip rubbished by the local police, but they don’t seem to have any clues either, even though HotShot detectives have been sent to investigate from the big cities. 

            It’s a mystery alright, especially for Otago law student Ryan Bradley, home for the holidays and working in the same shearing gang – and lover of Sanna, the missing girl:  he is frantic with worry for her but doesn’t believe he can do anything to help, so stays silent about their affair, thinking that no-one else knows.  Which is rubbish:  someone always knows something.  And he’s mystified by the change in his friendship with Phillip Nash;  growing up they were like brothers, peas-in-a-pod;  now, Phillip avoids him and only speaks if he has to, the excuse being is that Ryan thinks he’s too good for his old friends ‘now that he’s a lawyer-boy’:  there’s lots of anger simmering just under the surface, and lots of grubby secrets, too, which makes for a very satisfactory attempt at plot twists and turns.

            To reveal any more would spoil things, for it’s not just Ryan in the frame, and not all the characters are credible, which is a shame.  Having said that, what I really enjoyed about Geoff Parkes’s writing was the fact that his protagonists are a very good cross-section of society, with all its foibles, weaknesses – and loving-kindness.  FOUR STARS.