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Cassy has a typical love/hate relationship with her parents, especially her ex-army Dad, and she is well on the way to completing a Law Degree when she and her ambitious boyfriend Hamish decide to go off on a short trip to New Zealand, to fill the gap between a friend’s wedding and heading back to varsity.  At Heathrow, she promises her family she will see them in September.  But a fall out with Hamish and an offer of a lift from a friendly band of ‘hippies’ sees Cassy spend years in Gethsemane, a commune/cult not far from Rotorua.  The novel is structured with two and bit streams – one from Cassy’s POV, the second that of her devastated family, and there are some quotes from The Cult Leader’s Manual, written by an anthropologist specialising in destructive cults.  Although this book tells a predictable tale, it does so in a very suspenseful and ambiguous way – and there were a number of times when I was ready to pack my bags and head off to Gethsemane!  I was sure I knew what lay ahead for Cassy (or the woman formally known as Cassy – renaming being part of the package) but her story is so carefully told that I became totally enmeshed in her ‘present’, and I was kept guessing throughout the book whether Gethsemane and its leader, Justin Calvin, were really that bad compared to the ghastly events unfolding ‘outside’.  The depiction of the destruction of her family back in England is appalling, especially the effect of her choices on her younger sister – but isn’t that because her family just refused to believe all the wonderful things they are told about Cassy’s new home?  Even by the Private Detective they hire?  We are told we are living at the most peaceful time in human history, but it is kind of hard to believe with all the bad news bombarding us every day – and there have been a lot of earthquakes lately …  I don’t want to give too much away, as I was still questioning right up to the end of the book, but Charity Norman does a great job of making bizarre human behaviour seem perfectly reasonable.  I really enjoyed this book.

What makes a great thriller great is nerve-wracking plotting, rich atmospheric settings, and complex characters – Marlborough Man has the lot – and it treats the ‘Top of the South’ as Paul Cleave has been treating Christchurch for years – describing a heightened scuzzy substrate that tourists, and many residents, will never glimpse: “In rural New Zealand, calling police out at the sound of shots fired is like calling them out for the sound of cows mooing”.  Nick Chester, a Geordie cop, has been relocated to the Wakamarina Valley, near Havelock in the Marlborough Sounds, after an undercover job back home went South.  Chester makes fun of the Zild accent, double takes at the literary references to The Hobbit, and settles in to continue his class-based grudges, and to get to know Latifa Rapata, his new partner.  Rapata is 24 and is often the voice of reason; for Chester is a rebel; happy to toe the line when his duties only stretch to bad drivers and petty theft, but when it emerges there is a sexual predator preying on young boys in the area he just wants “… to catch the prick who’s been murdering the kids” – and he starts playing by his own rules.  He builds a case with the help of Rapata and her whanau.  And his interest is galvanized when he starts suspecting that the press-named “Pied Piper” may be one of the local arrogant-ocracy – those people that “… never get looked at …” – and to make matters worse one of them starts a logging operation in the valley that is ruining his view!  In Marlborough Man Carter breaks all the rules about not hurting animals, and he pulls no punches in showing the many sides of Chester – who makes some very bad choices.  Chester’s shaky marriage and his concern for their special needs son back-drop the story, as does the fact that comeuppance for the botched undercover job back in Geordie-land is stalking “the feral hills of the Wakamarina”.  The wild weather and visual beauty of the valley give you a sense of place in sand-fly-filled spades, and the mud and slips from the frequent downpours nicely echo Chester’s roller coaster ride.  A trip back to the old country triggers a new look at the Wakamarina, and Chester’s reentry into “A magic roundabout of people who won’t let go.”  It also gives Vanessa, Chester’s wife, a chance to become a more interesting character, and another foil to Chester’s excitability.  The crime plotting keeps you guessing the whole way, and the cliff hanger ending comforts me that there will be more.  Read this book!

Stray is a glimpse into the wasteland created by drug culture from a south of the border perspective.   “The dark secret of every American suburb is that every blunt, joint or bowl, line or pill, every Charlie-fed frat party, cranking rave or huddled knot of office stoners is washed in Mexican blood” – and in Stray the effect of the cartels and corruption on a small Yucatan fishing village isn’t unveiled by a gung-ho ex-marine or a naïve but true blue FDA agent – but by Tom Mullinger, a 20 something New Zealander fleeing his own drug based disaster back home.  When things go very very wrong in Auckland, Tom heads for the Yucatan – for a small seaside village recommended by his mate Dog as a haven, and far from the violence of the cartels.  But Tom arrives in Ria Lagartos at the same time as three headless corpses; in the year since Dog’s stay, the capture of El Chapo and the unravelling of his Sinaloa drug cartel have allowed other cartels to make deals and spread – and the Los Zetas cartel now has a hold on Ria Lagartos.  And along with the cartel, government corruption and a local armed citizens’ militia complete the trifecta of terror for the local community.  Tom gets involved with a local environmental protection group, in large part due to his fascination with Lorena, a researcher who has moved to Ria Lagartos to work on her thesis, and who has taken the cause of the local Maya fishermen as her own.  In her sights is Miguel Sabas, the local rich guy whose short-term profit monopoly on the local industry is proving disastrous for the environment as well as for the locals.  As the intimidation of the cartel increases, their narcomensaje threatening messages going up around town and their blatant disregard of the local law enforcement being made apparent, it becomes increasingly difficult to work out who is loyal to whom.  And Tom gets totally embroiled when he agrees to help Lorena get evidence of Sabas’ illegal activities.  There are some terrifically tense moments and lots of action.  But what I loved most about this book was the feel of Mexico; you can smell it and taste it as Lang describes the village and the jungle, and the slow flying pelicans cruising over the Mayan ‘endless apocalypse’.  At times the historical narrative gets a little adrift of the story, and almost all of the characters are extremely insightful and erudite, but sections such as Lorena relating the story of her forebears, are totally engrossing.  Tom’s story in Ria Lagartos is interspersed with the events in New Zealand that led up to his flight from Auckland, depicting a New Zealand drug sub-culture where the authorities are similarly powerless: “People are gonna do what people are gonna do”.  Tom didn’t want to be a tourist, he was “an outsider who likes the company of others” and wanted to find a place just to exist.  But Stray is a great example of character arc!  I really enjoyed this book.

Once I had grasped that The Chinese Proverb is a simple piece of storytelling I started to really enjoy it.  Hunter Grant has nightmares from his time serving in Afghanistan; he lives a semi-solitary life organising security for anyone who can afford it “from dictators to drug cartel bosses”.  He has a supportive family, two sisters living close by his Auckland home and his parents further away.  He hangs out with his dog Scruff, retreats to his cabin out of Auckland whenever he can, and occasionally sleeps with a woman with whom he has nothing in common.  But his numbing life is jolted into focus one day when he is walking near his cabin and Scruff finds what Hunter fears is the dead body of a young boy.  But the body is alive, and not a boy: Dao is a young woman of indeterminate age who has been enslaved since she was a child.  The combination of Dao’s childlike naivete, fierce intelligence and hard earned survival skills hits Hunter where he lives, and she in turn becomes slavishly attached to her saviour.  The Chinese Proverb is the story of Hunter, with the help of his mates, making sure Dao’s tormentors get their come-uppance.  There is no mystery to solve, no surprises in terms of who are goodies and who baddies, no angsting over the fact that Dao is being pursued by the sorts of people Hunter employs to provide security for his clients – mercenaries who “will do anything if you pay them enough”.  The goodies are interesting: Hunter’s sisters, the lawyer Willow and the student Plum; his old army buddie Charlie, solid as and whose loves are her partner Kristen and her Eurocopter Squirrel AS350; and even the cops are caring, understanding and good sorts.  As for the baddies, they are really bad and we don’t get to find out anything about them apart from their badness.  I was expecting twists for a while – someone to be not who we think they are – but nope they are exactly what we read.  The energy of the story comes solely from the ongoing threats to Dao and Hunter, but this wouldn’t be enough to keep the reader engaged if it weren’t for the character of Dao.  She is as fascinating for the reader as she is for Hunter.  Dao knows nothing about how to navigate her newly discovered world, but also has none of the dissembling or conniving that goes with that world.  She has a native wit and intelligence which has enabled her to teach herself complex maths and a facility with machinery.  She is interesting enough that you can believe that she would turn Hunter’s world upside down in just a few days.  There is a great denouement, scary and eerie, but for me the novel ended too abruptly.  But maybe that just means Dao and Hunter will be re-appearing in another tale?  Which wouldn’t be a bad thing at all.

Well they just keep coming – The Agency is another excellent Kiwi mystery/thriller.  The murders are part of a canny scheme of revenge and greed, perpetrated by an angry woman with a facility for disguise that would make The Jackal weep.  The solving of the mystery falls to an ex-cop with baggage – who has ‘escaped’ to New Zealand, and who ends up teaching the local force a thing or two about detective procedures.  Dan Calder has an attitude problem, the reason he is an ex-cop, and is also prone to depression – which makes him fair game for V. Stenning – who scopes her victims by hacking into depression-related websites.  Dan’s neighbour is an unemployed social worker who is keeping herself busy trying to find a romantic interest for her lonely neighbour.  Her success in this field, Tara, leads to them doubling up on Dan’s suspicion that there is a serial killer on the loose.  Austin is very aware that his plotting is thick with coincidences – and throws in the ‘six degrees of separation is much less in New Zealand’ argument to cover them, plus overstating the problem so you think it’s not that bad: “… the coincidences, freakish events and downright unbelievable twists beggared all rational explanation …” – which is all good fun.  The story has the frame of Dan’s Auckland Marathon aspirations, which works well and provides a nail-biting denouement.  Some of the other plotting is a bit uneven, and the book would have benefitted from a good proof read.  The procedural passages, where Dan is tutoring the task force, are really well done, as are the passages dealing with depression, which are quite moving.   The irony of Austin emphasising the gender differences between Dan’s approach and Tara’s approach is nicely placed against the complexity of the villain – all adding to the tension of the story and characterisation.  The Agency also doesn’t answer all the questions about Dan and his murky past – so there are undoubtedly more Dan Calder tales on the way.