Quiet in Her Bones by Nalini Singh – 2021

Home to the successful and wealthy, the Cul-de-Sac sits shrouded in the Waitākere Ranges, near Auckland. It is home to Ishaan Rai, whose wife, Nina, disappeared 10 years ago – along with $250,000. After a serious car accident, Ishaan’s son, Aarav, returns to the home to recuperate, despite his loathing his controlling father. Then the police arrive to tell Ishaan and Aarav that the remains of Aarav’s mother, Nina, have been found. She has been lying in her dark green Jaguar, hidden by the dense bush not far from their home, for those ten years. Nina hadn’t been driving and the money is not in the car. Aarav is determined to find out who killed his mother, and in doing so he finds this gated community is home to tragedy, abuse, blackmail, and murder.

The proximity of the crime leads Aarav to look at his neighbours, then the hired contractors who frequent the Cul-de-Sac, and then further afield via unsecured social networking sites. “People tell me all kinds of things because I’m polite and empathic.” And Aarav is an excellent researcher – he is a multi-millionaire celebrity author; his one thriller having become a phenomenon that has been turned into a block-buster movie. He is under pressure to produce a second novel, so splits his time between writing and investigating his mother’s murder. But both enterprises are somewhat compromised by the severity of the car crash that sent him home. He badly smashed his foot – meaning he must hobble around in a moon boot, and he seriously injured his brain – meaning he has gaps in his memory, crippling migraines, and a less than firm grip on reality.

Quiet in her bones is written in the first person, with Aarav as the narrator, and he is an enigma. He is full of self-loathing, yet he acts kindly and considerately. Is he the sociopath he declares himself to be, or is that just a persona he adopts as a famous thriller writer? – “Writers are professional liars”. He is the quintessential unreliable narrator, as much to himself as to the reader. The book is a journey of discovery and the reader travels along with Aarav and his shattered mind. All he remembers of the night his mother disappeared is seeing his parents fighting, hearing his mother scream, and waiting up for her with a leg that “hurt like a bitch”. As Aarav tries to piece things together, we learn about his persons of interest, and there is no shortage of suspects who might have wanted to harm Nina, or to take the money.

With Aarav’s increasingly frequent blackouts, his lack of memories of major events, his slipped chronologies, and his sleepwalking, he starts to suspect himself as much anyone else in the neighbourhood. The two people he loved most, his mother and his last serious girlfriend, Paige, both left him. And he starts to wonder if he was the victim, or the cause of their going. But the reader often sees Aarav as a good person. Not least when he is with his half-sister, Pari, daughter of his father’s second wife, Shanti. Shanti was ‘bride-shopped’ in rural India as Nina had been, and she is much more the obedient wife that Ishaan had been hoping for. Aarav finds out that Nina was as unfaithful as his father had been, and his memories of her perfume are always mixed with the smell of alcohol.

Quiet in her bones is cram packed with vivid, interesting characters, some of whom are dead – Nina is a real presence, despite our only meeting her in ghostly memories. In the Cul-de-Sac are those who observe but are generally ignored, those who gossip, those who are keeping long-held secrets. And there is a mix of cultures, some of which value family honour over justice: “Rich Indians don’t report domestic violence, detective”, “Alice never tell. Shame. Shame”, “If you killed your mother,” he continued, “then we deal with it inside the home.” Then there are the multiple medical specialists Aarav consults. He has given up a reliance on alcohol and is living on an unhealthy diet of Coca Cola and sweets. He confuses his medications, and when he is shown proof of conversations and correspondence, he has no memory of them. He totally forgets people. And he gets others to tell him whether his writing is coherent, he can’t tell anymore.

Quiet in her bones is a slow burn, the tension comes from knowing Aarav’s condition is deteriorating and that he must find the truth before he is totally incapable of doing so. And a sense of dread comes from the looming Waitākere Ranges that surround the story, usually drenched in rain. They are menacing, with parts closed off due to kauri dieback disease, a disease which “brings slow death”. There are kauri that guard the Cul-de-Sac, and “Should humanity stop tomorrow, the dark green would begin its takeover the very next day.” There are plenty of clues in the narrative, but even when the reader gets them, they aren’t sure who is implicated. Despite the physical, mental, and environmental difficulties, Aarav won’t give up: “Someone had murdered my mother, ended the angry brilliance of Nina Rai, and I wasn’t about to let them live in peace.”

A great psychological thriller, highly recommended.

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The Beautiful Dead by Kim Hunt – 2020

Cal Nyx came to live with her Aunt Zin in rural New South Wales, after an horrendous incident at her home in Aotearoa. She is now an adult, a park ranger living on the property of a farmer friend, and spending most of her time out in the bush. It is when she is carrying out a moth count that she finds the body – it is very decomposed, but as Cal muses, it was once “Someone who lived and breathed, who probably belonged to others.”

Detective Inspector Liz Scobie is given the case when the death is ruled a murder, not an accident. She has a small team of two two-person teams, and plenty of suspects, but no obvious motive. On the suspect list is a young part-time mechanic who looks after his mother who is living with MS, a man who runs diggers and trucks and who has a criminal record, and a young rich son of a local legend, who has a financial interest in a local nightclub where the victim provided the sound system.

The victim, Phillip, was a suspect in a previous murder, that of his partner, Stefan. Stefan’s body was found at his stylish home, where expensive artworks adorn the walls. All three of the suspects were known to associate in some way with the victims. And it transpires that Stefan also has a sister who lives out of the area, but who was at one time suspected of trying to extort money from her and Stefan’s mother. Was the motive for the murders “Money. Sex. Hate. All possible … Fear’s a pretty strong motivator”?

Meanwhile Cal discovers she knew the person whose body she discovered. Phillip (Pip) was the brother of a friend of hers, Di. She is also dealing with the imminent death of a close friend, who is in a hospice. So, she takes some leave, intending to spend time with her ailing friend and to attend Pip’s memorial service. But really, she wants to help Di by doing some poking around to see if she can work out who killed Pip, and why. With two parallel streams of investigation, it isn’t long before Cal realises that her being in most of the places of obvious enquiry, means she is being added to the police persons of interest list. And then Cal becomes a different type of person of interest for DI Scobie, and that leads to the police teams starting to wonder about the leadership capability of their ‘skip’.

What I really liked about The Beautiful Dead was the character of Cal. She is part of a community apart from that where she works, which is not a community, just a group of people who “looked out for each other because they needed one another for survival”. Cal’s community are those she feels safe with, free to express wants that are “not governed by rules or etiquette.” Cal has her uniforms altered to fit: “Trousers, men’s fit … The wide-waist and narrow-hip cut fit her perfectly”, she likes driving fast, pushing cars to their limit, she was “brought up by wolves”, she’s “No lady, mate”, and she frequents a dungeon.

But Cal is also vulnerable, and she is guilt-ridden when she loses her friend in the hospice, and then another woman who was very close to her, in the space of two weeks, feeling she let both down. She is an expert in the local trees, plants, and animals. This means the sense of place is well captured, as Cal is always mentally taking in her surroundings, and birds flying over her or in the bush beside her. You realise the vastness and dangers of the bush, and another skill of Cal’s is getting into danger, leading to some pretty tense scenes.

The Beautiful Dead is a good murder mystery – plenty of suspects, plenty of clues, plenty of possible motives, plenty of danger. Including the danger that stems from community prejudices which require some to keep secrets, secrets about ‘money, sex, hate, fear’, all motives for murder. I enjoyed this intriguing read.

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Toto Among the Murderers by Sally J Morgan – 2020

Yorkshire in the 1970s, a group of young people have graduated from art college. Most are starting to settle down into further education or jobs. But one of them, Jude Totton – Toto to a select group of friends – is still aimless: “Does the edge between life and death glitter for you, Toto?” And aimless is dangerous when the news is full of missing girls – for this is the time of Fred and Rose West, who pick up young women in their car and then torture and murder them.

Toto and some of her friends have just moved into a cheap flat in Leeds, their neighbours are cheeky kids, sex workers, and those who keep to themselves. The story is told from the points of view of Toto and Nel. Toto helps at an alternative school. Nel is training to be a teacher and hating it, she is only doing it to help her passive aggressive boyfriend Simon, who has stayed behind in Sheffield to do an MA in print making. Toto’s crowd are all experimental – with sex, with drugs, with relationships.

The alternative school where Toto hangs out is run by a combination of anarchists and dropouts, Toto is attracted to both: “I like the idea of True North being a wandering thing, trying to find itself. I like the idea of it being a magnet that everything points to, but which can’t find a place to settle.” Toto finds herself drawn to danger, she feels invulnerable yet is also afraid, “I’m frightened of everything, which makes me frightened of nothing.”

“… did Jude Totton ever turn up anywhere when she was supposed to? Ever since I’ve known her, she’s been in the wrong place, on the wrong day, with the wrong stuff.” Toto’s friends are used to her unreliability, yet they love her and stay loyal while she constantly flirts with danger. But they, and the reader, follow her story with dread – after all we all know that “The world runs on the random acts of cruel men”. And Toto is addicted to hitchhiking: “My preferred game is much more dangerous. It’s played with men in small cars who hide girls under leaves on the top of moors and deep in the woods.”

Toto among the murderers is full of the feel of the era: boys dressed like pirates flouting the sumptuary laws, light bulbs wrapped in coloured cellophane, “… posters of Indian gods and Cuban revolutionaries” on flat walls,  Your so vain on the record player, or for the slightly more elevated, “The mellow notes of Dave Brubeck’s ‘Take Five’” and perfumed candles on the windowsill. Toto is taken in by Callie and Hugo, one of the college lecturers. They have an open marriage, and Toto becomes a weapon between them. “Life is full of rules, but most people forget to tell me what they are. How am I supposed to know what I want?”

The tension in the book is relentless, “Fear is the only constant I know”, and there are some brilliant devices – such as Nel projecting her anxiety onto a murmuration of birds. Usually described in terms of beauty and elegance: “It wheels as though fearful, each bird is lost and clinging to the one beside it. An anxious sound like Chinese whispers – we’re lost, who knows the way? No one. No one knows the way.” Yet the characters are self-aware – Nel: “How the sweet Jesus did I end up picking a man like Dad? A weak man, a cruel, spineless man like my dad”. Toto: “Will I always be living in shit rooms in the shit parts of shit cities?”

The characterisations are wonderful, Nel bravely battling to freedom and honesty: “It has never occurred to me that I might be the one with talent or that Simon might be mediocre.” And Toto being so reckless, yet the reader understands why she is loved. And no less than when she is with the sex worker, Janice, who admires Toto’s shabby flat – “I’ve never had a room on me own”. You realise that despite herself, Toto is naturally kind. And you see it again when she falls in with two borstal boys, how she is easy to be with, easy to like. And Toto is fragile despite her toughness, hanging on to items that might bring her luck. As she says, it’s just that “I’ve been blown off course and have no idea where I am.”

Toto among the murderers captures that liminal time, between the freedom of youth and the security of an adult plan, the gradual awareness that the joy of waking up on the floor at a party and walking home barefoot is now “cold and hard”. When you look around while waiting for a lift on the road side, and you see your fellow hikers as “lost souls waiting for the boatman at the side of the Styx” – “If time stopped now, I would be forever frozen as a reckless ne’er-do-well, a grubby, hungry lost girl, listening for the ticking of an unseen crocodile.”

I just loved this novel, it talks of the terrors of the world, especially for young women, but also the friendship and unexpected love there is to be found in others. But having said that it is far from sentimental, the dread remains, even when there is the hope of a haven, it could be in “Something that might get me fired from jobs or beaten up outside nightclubs”. Toto among the murderers captures the self-destruction of youth, but also its conformity, the old tropes that play out under the guise of freedom and rebellion – there are many murderers around young women like Toto and Nel. Read a copy and see what you think.

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Tell Me Lies by J.P. Pomare – 2020

Margot Scott is a psychologist dealing daily with troubled people, she is meticulous in her professional life, has records going back to the beginning of her practice. She is respected and on the lecture circuit. She is comfortable in her marriage to Gabe, and they have two healthy children, July and Evan. Then an old university colleague refers a new patient to her, Cormac, and her near-perfect life starts to go seriously off course.

Cormac has been referred for writing essays for his fellow students, for a fee. His actions don’t make sense, he wasn’t making that much money and he has jeopardised the continuation of what was proving to be a stellar stint at university. Margot is also treating Joe, who might have PTSD from his job mediating a social media site for objectionable material, and Xanthe, totally lacking in self-esteem, with wild mood swings, a liar, in thrall to an abusive partner, her clothes concealing where she cuts herself.

All cases worry Margot and she starts to feel uneasy at work, but on the home front all she is concerned about is July’s new boyfriend – she is spending a lot of time with him when she should be studying – and her previous boyfriend broke her heart not long ago. Evan seems to have settled down since they had to ban him from gaming for a while, after he had been caught cyber-bullying. Gabe is a rock as usual, dependable even if a bit boring, an accountant who would rather diet than go running with her each morning to keep trim.

But then the unease of her professional life explodes into her private life. And while trying to keep things together, she discovers Evan is dealing with an awful online situation involving a character called Raze, “Please Mum, don’t make him angry”. Is she just paranoid when she, and some of her patients, feel they are being stalked? She starts trying to figure out whether any of her patients are a risk to her and her family, trying to balance professional ethics with getting the police to take a close look at those she suspects.

Psychologists always have trouble understanding themselves”, Margot knows she is not rock solid, she has not been completely honest with Gabe about an incident at the start of her career, but it was just “a rookie’s mistake”. She wasn’t completely honest with her father, misleading him about her university grades, but that was just her trying to live up to his expectations. She might not be perfect, but all this terror can’t be aimed at her … can it? “My career is a house of cards waiting for a gentle breeze to tip is over.”

Tell me lies is a superb psychological thriller, the reader guesses, second-guesses, third-guesses, but is still totally unprepared – there was one reveal that literally made me gasp! What links Margot, her family, her patients? And what does a man being pushed in front of a train have to do with any of it? Whose trial is unfolding in the background? The plotting is excellent, the characters worrying, and the book downright thrilling. The reader is given clues, but they are as deceptive as the characters. “Wrong person”, “Wrong person.” There is a loudly terrifying denouement, and a quiet equally terrifying ending. Sheesh what a book! As Margot’s Mont Blanc pen says: “Introspection is always retrospection”. Tell me lies is a stunning and disturbing quick read, so grab a copy!  

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City of Vengeance by D.V. Bishop – 2021

It is Florence, 1536. Cesare Aldo is an officer of the Otto, a criminal court with its own investigators. Aldo has secrets, and Florence runs on the trading of secrets. Aldo ends up investigating the murder of a moneylender Samuele Levi, who he had recently protected as he travelled from Bologna back to Florence. Aldo only trusts one other Otto investigator, young Corporal Strocchi. Strocchi is investigating the horrendous death of the latest courtesan to show themselves off at Sunday Mass, but he discovers this courtesan is a young man, and that not many care about the death of a homosexual.

One thing both victims have in common is leaving incriminating books behind. In Levi’s case it is his ledger, written in Hebrew, which at this time is a language only used for liturgy and intra-Jewish commerce, making it hard for Aldo to find out why it has been stolen. And the young courtesan, Corsini, left behind a diary in which he described many of his high-profile clients, complete with drawings – and when Aldo hears that a despicable Otto officer, Cerchi, has Corsini’s diary, he joins the many Florentines who are nervous of their future.

As both investigations proceed, it becomes apparent that there is more than just greed and fear behind the crimes – there is the threat of insurrection. A plot threatening the Duke of Florence, Alessandro. And Aldo is given a deadline – he must solve the case in four days, or the case will be taken from the Otto and handed over to the military. If the Duke is killed, a power vacuum will result. And one of the many willing to fill the vacuum is Cosimo I de’Medici, son of Aldo’s former boss, Giovanni and his widow, Maria, a staunch supporter of her son’s cause.

City of Vengeance is full of secret alliances and untrustworthy characters. Many Florentines are of no importance, most of them women; mothers and widows with “all the responsibilities and none of the power”, or young women mostly dependent on their fathers or future husbands. Then there are the men who don’t conform and who must love in secret and live under constant threat. And those in the Jewish community, with their own laws, tolerated due to their facility with money, but when murder is involved the law of Florence takes precedence.

And the law of Florence is not as just as one might think, employing torture and bribery, and dealing in secrets. Florentine society is a hierarchy, from its highest echelons down to its dreaded prison, Le Stinche. It is a mercenary, pragmatic society and the streets of Florence are awash in butchers’ blood, mud, and shit. Yet Aldo “loved Florence, though that love had often got unrequited thanks to the city’s laws, and sometimes its people.” And when human blood starts running in the streets, he wants to do the right thing, for the victims not for the rulers: “Did it matter who led Florence? One ruler was little different from the next”.

There are some complex characters in City of Vengeance: Aldo, committed, horrified to realise that people are dying because they were helping him with his enquiries, constantly being beaten up and staggering on through pain and exhaustion; Rebecca, Levi’s daughter, unsure of her future after the death of her father and conflicted over whether to obey his dying wish; Sean Orvieto, a Jewish doctor and man of conscience, who Aldo feels drawn to; and there is the lovely Corporal Strocchi, still quite new to Florence, and still astounded at the goings on: “what was wrong with people in this city?”

The writing is atmospheric, conjuring up the chaos, stench, and darkness of Florence. The plotting is solid and engaging. There is a smattering of Italian through the text, some of which I found unnecessary and a bit coy given the subject matter: palle, cazzo, buggerone. The novel is a satisfying mystery, but also a great set-up for future Cesare Aldo adventures. One thing I am sure of now I have read City of Vengeance, is that regardless of gender, orientation, age, status, or religion, I am glad I didn’t live in Florence in 1536!  

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Soldiers by Tom Remiger – 2020

A group of New Zealand soldiers during the Second World War, we follow them from England to their deployment in Crete – in boredom, in terror, in transit, in confusion. Before leaving England, one of lower-rank, Cousins, is killed during a training exercise. Was it an accident, a suicide, or murder? A middle-ranked soldier, Breen, becomes determined to discover the answer – but has a crime been committed, or is Breen just trying to make sense of events in a world where “We take decent ordinary fellows and we train them to kill other decent ordinary fellows”? Breen pursues the case while drifting into a relationship with higher-ranked Sinclair.

Soldiers is a beautiful, disturbing, and visceral read. The long periods of inaction, with the soldiers longing for action but also not wanting anything to happen. The presence of Anzacs who served in the First World War, experienced but not welcome, “the Anzacs had grown old and fussy”. The reputation of the New Zealanders not being great from the earlier conflict: “They were not kind”, “Your fathers were not gentle.” And the situation Breen finds himself in; discovering that Cousins had written a letter before he died “The bastard topped himself … Now, who made him do that? And what the hell am I going to do about it?”, and when he finds himself attracted to Sinclair, “I didn’t even know it could be a thing … Not really. Buggered if I know why people joke about it”.

All the characters are similar in their trauma but unique in themselves, Tiger: “self-belief, luck, and an eye for the main chance”, Sinclair: a coward or just human believing “It’s no one’s duty to die”? Clark: a gambler, in debt to one of his men: “We’re a classless society” … “Sure we are”. Most of them are situated in a religion, but even the Catholic Father Emmet is a man in a war, is he protecting the seal of confession, or expressing his own opinion, when not helping Breen with his investigations? For Breen finds many motives for murder: sex, money, threats to prestige. He thinks he knows the culprit at one point, and leaves the suspect to the Germans rather than helping him, believing “… he had restored some sort of justice in the world”, but then he realises who the killer really is, as he believes he has witnessed him trying to kill someone else.

How reliable are Breen’s suspicions? He is drifting, “I don’t know that it’ll ever be over”. He is bone weary, he is forgetting things, “it was a long time since Breen had seen what trees were like at home”, he is feeling distanced from his fellows, “… they lay smoking in the dark, laughing at jokes that Breen could not understand”. And he becomes like another soldier he had earlier talked to, finding killing a man, “didn’t feel any different from shooting a rabbit or watching a man fall down a hill”. No-one supports his theory of murder, and the disagreement gets in the way of his relationship with Sinclair. His mates still support Breen, they just ignore his pursuit of Cousin’s case, advising  “You’re struggling, but you want things to fit into a pattern so that the world is in your control again and isn’t a place where people just die for no reason”.

All the soldiers are in a surreal environment. In England birds were active at night due to the light from a burning London. They remember Burnham as “Queues and unfamiliar bugle calls”. The reader is reminded occasionally that most of the boys are very young, what Sinclair later remembers of Breen is the “1939 appeal in his smile”. Breen and Sinclair both see mirages in a waterfall. The wearier Breen becomes, the more he “felt like a lost dog willing to obey any commanding voice”: “It would be so easy to sit in one place and wait. To hear unworried orders felt like listening to the heavy radio at home.”

What happened to Cousins drifts and wavers, when his brother writes to Breen, is he just wanting to hang on to the connection to a dead brother? Or is it more evidence? And we see crimes being committed and being left as “They didn’t have time to sort it out”. Breen is perplexed, “You’re saying we can’t have justice because justice is not a military necessity”. And what is justice during a war? Men who are not heroes are named heroes; it happens so often that it makes accepting undeserved medals acceptable. And those that get home take their secrets with them, “The soldiers came home and each of them wandered away from the others, looking for an emptier horizon and – some of them – with things to be ashamed of”.

They had lives before, they hope for lives after, “… what happened in this strange time didn’t really count”. But of course, things are never left behind. We read of Sinclair’s wife, eventually burdened with all his secrets, thinking of the women who must now be expecting their sons to be taken away when the next war breaks out. The women who know “We cannot simply do what we will, and so we are left to do what we can”. I coincidently yet appropriately read Soldiers over Anzac weekend and I absolutely loved it. Read it and see what you think.  

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Spellbound by Catherine Robertson – 2021

A return to Gabriel’s Bay, and this time it is not a dog or a moose who welcomes and farewells us, but a cat, Brian. The local politicking around getting the tourist attraction Littleville off the ground is still the centre of concern, along with how to replace the Love Bus, which Mac Reid uses to ferry the elderly to Hampton once a week. But Spellbound is also about male insecurity, aggression, and vulnerability to suggestion, “The sensitive male ego had a lot to answer for”. But luckily Gabriel’s Bay has a formidable band of sisters, and some good blokes who support them, to tackle the growing problem.

Most of the characters in Spellbound are well known to those following the series: Sidney is still with Kerry, and she and Sophie (Jonty and Meredith Barton’s daughter) are now both heavily pregnant. Dr Ash is still besotted with Emma (Jacko and Mac’s daughter) and constantly worrying she will move on to a more exciting life. Barrett is living with salt-of-the-earth Vic on a farm, and he is struggling with how to be himself. And there is the irrepressible Mac, with her range of medical-prophylactic-advertising tote bags.  

When Ash becomes concerned about one of his patients, he discreetly asks for Patricia’s help, as she works with a women’s charity focused on domestic abuse. Patricia is shocked when Reuben, the child she and Bernard fostered for a while, is expelled from his primary school for showing up with a hunting knife. And Sidney is concerned about the behaviour of her eldest son, Aidan – is it related to his growing up, or has it something to do with his temporary martial arts instructor, Dale?

The book explores the dangers of online and offline recruitment of young boys into the spurious ideologies of the ‘disenfranchised and disrespected white male’, and the dangers of the remnants of the white patriarchy, those males who control and expect total obedience from their wives. The reaction to finding out about domestic abuse is varied, those on the outside asking, “Why didn’t she leave?”, those on the inside worrying why they didn’t see what was happening.

The arc of the novel is provided by the politics, the ongoing battle between Bernard and his nemesis on the Hampton Council, Elaine. Questions push the plot along, like who has made the anonymous donation that will solve Littleville’s problems? How will the new Chinese investor fit into the picture? And is recluse Magnus a secret white supremacist or a potential asset to the community? And as always, the children are respectfully portrayed, Reuben being entranced by The Hobbit, and Aidan stepping up when Sidney goes into labour.

Spellbound is funny and moving, and at times quite frightening – when Mac, Patricia and pregnant Sidney launch an intervention, things get tense when a rifle appears. There are poignant moments, such as when Bernard wants to reach out to comfort Patricia but finds himself incapable. And surreal ones, such as when Barrett, struggling with how to be gay in a predominantly straight environment, hesitates in a borrowed car, plucking up the courage to go out clubbing, and finds himself listening to Sondheim’s Send in the Clowns.

Spellbound is a treat to read, one that makes you laugh and makes you think. It can be read as a standalone, but if you haven’t read the previous two books in the series, Gabriel’s Bay and What you wish for, you should.

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Scare Me to Death by CJ Carver – 2021

Well, overactive, synesthetic Detective Constable Lucy Davies and shonky memory “attracted danger like blood attracted sharks” Dan Forrester, are back. And they are in a ripper of a thriller, dealing with bombs on planes, public hysteria, and shocking family secrets.

The story picks up not long after their last adventure, Know me now, with Lucy still suffering the effects of being kidnapped, but she now has DI Faris MacDonald, ‘Mac’, for support. Dan is still with Jenny, and with Poppy the dog, daughter Aimee, and Lucy is now godmother to their baby boy, Mischa.

Lucy declines when a friend of her Mum’s asks her to help her son Ricky, who has been arrested for murder. But then the friend offers information about Lucy’s long-scarpered father in return. Lucy still can’t get over her father running off with his yoga instructor many years ago, and then, after a few e-mails, completely ending all contact with his daughter. The chance to find out more about him is irresistible.

The police call Dan in for an interview when it appears the dead woman Kaitlyn, who Ricky is accused of murdering, knew Dan. But with his loss of “great chunks of his memory” Dan doesn’t remember her. But then a nightmare reveals Dan had saved Kaitlyn’s life in a catastrophic air crash 16 years previously, and the life of her younger brother, Josh. Josh is now permanently in care due to injuries sustained during the crash.

Lucy and Dan soon realise Kaitlyn was on the trail of finding out the truth behind the crash, which had killed her parents and permanently damaged her brother. And that she had entrapped Ricky. But what had she found out, and how is Ricky, an accountant, caught up in it? Ricky’s client list gives some of the answers, as at least one is on the wrong side of the law, that one being Teflon Tom – an old school friend of Lucy and Ricky’s.

Lucy and Dan’s independent investigations lead to Morocco and a conspiracy with the potential for international carnage. Although a high-up Moroccan politician is involved, there appears to be a mysterious British mastermind behind it all, “ruthless as a crocodile and as cunning as a snake”.

Meanwhile Lucy is getting more and more unsure what to believe of what she is finding out about her father – is he a spy, a criminal, an undercover cop, an anti-racism campaigner, or just a jerk who took off and left his wife and daughter? And it doesn’t help that her mother is being particularly unforthcoming. Lucy doesn’t know which, if either, of her parents to believe. She ends up quite at a loss, “She wondered when she’d laugh again. It felt like an alien concept”. She also ends up quite sloshed at one point, and thankful that Mac and Dan have her back.  

Dan continues getting into trouble at home and abroad, worrying about Lucy while he does. When an airline flight attendant he knows comes down with symptoms which are initially thought to be caused by aerotoxicity, a poisoning caused by breathing contaminated aircraft air, another strand of the story emerges – the rapid spread of fear amongst the public, and those willing to encourage that spread to make a buck, or a million.

The story rips along, despite Lucy and Dan continually banging into brick walls, as people are too scared to talk for fear of the consequences – it is no coincidence that Kaitlyn ended up dead. When you do find out what is going on, and it is all nicely linked, poverty and a disastrous upbringing are given as the reason behind appalling atrocities, and the lack of loyalty to long-time partners. But this is adroitly countered by Dan refusing to put a boy he has only just met in danger, and Lucy determined to find justice for a woman she has never met. And it is encouraging that some crimes are even too despicable for criminals to tolerate.

Scare me to death is full of great characters, some of whom are the same character changing their names over time. The coincidences we are used to from the series are here again, this time explained by “six degrees of separation” and the Lord working in “mysterious ways”, they add texture to the plot. And Lucy is interestingly conflicted between being a cop and regaining her lost time as a daughter – there is a finely depicted scene where her parents finally meet again.  

The novel is full of mysteries and thrills, and there is even a hostage swap. Lucy, Dan, and their relationship are all holding up over time, those following the Dan Forrester series will be satisfied with the story arc, and those new to the series can read it as a standalone. And there is a hint about future installments – excellent!

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Southern Cross Crime by Craig Sisterson – 2020

Craig Sisterson, founder of the Ngaio Marsh Awards, journalist, reviewer, administrator of the Crime Watch blog, organiser of book events and festivals  in Aotearoa and elsewhere, tireless supporter and promoter of works of #YeahNoir – has given us a three-for-one in Southern Cross Crime. It is a handy well-informed reference book, a book to dip in and out of to cheer yourself up if you are feeling a bit bored or uninspired, and best of all, it is a luscious read from cover to cover.

Southern Cross Crime is gloriously egalitarian, describing works of lesser known, and sometimes single title, authors with as much care and gusto as those of well-established authors and literary greats. It describes cozy reads, hard boiled reads, novels with serious social commentary, straight forward whodunits, alongside raunchy reads and even horror – the only commonality being a criminal streak. The book is arranged thematically, looking at urban reads of the antipodes (Mean streets – big city crime), rural and outback reads (In the wop-wops), international settings but antipodean authors (Home and away), historical reads (Back in time), titles for young adults and juveniles (Start ‘em young) and there is a section on movies and TV programmes with themes of antipodean crime.

The descriptions of the works are set in their historical context (e.g. “While others help set the dynamite, it was undoubtedly JANE HARPER who lit the fuse …”) and in their international context (e.g. “While there are nods to Chandler and Hammett …”). Despite the huge number of entries, they manage to be exquisitely and sensitively written: “Switching between past and present, and Winstone’s fantasies and reality, Moir delivers a disturbing novel that is both subtle and hard-hitting, full of angst and breathtaking beauty” – from the description of one of my favourite novels The legend of Winstone Blackhat by Tanya Moir.

The reader also gets notes on the backgrounds and motivations of the authors, and there are in-depth interviews with a few of them at the end of the book. If you are in any doubt about the health, range or quality of antipodean crime writing, this book will sort you out – the wealth of material is added to at the end of each section with lists of further titles to explore. Southern Cross Crime is well indexed (making it just as useful as a reference book as if it had been arranged alphabetically), and includes a list of winners of antipodean crime novel awards.

I was trying to find descriptions of some of my favourite books, only to realise that they had been released since the publication of Southern Cross Crime – perhaps we can look forward to a second edition sometime in the future? At the time of writing this blog, Southern Cross Crime had been shortlisted for the H.R.F. Keating Award, to be announced at the International Crime Fiction Convention, CrimeFest, in May 2021. Kia ora!, Mr Sisterson!  

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Dance Prone by David Coventry – 2020

Con Welles was a punk rocker in the 1980s, touring the U.S. in a van and bludging food to stay alive. Most of his friends from that time, later became professionals: lecturers, lawyers, artists … But Con had been left in a hiatus, never knowing who had violated him, never knowing why his friend Tone Seburg shot himself the same night – his life defined by “what occurred there in Burstyn in ’85”.

Dance Prone ranges in time, from periods in the 1980’s through to 2019, and drifts geographically, from the U.S. to Northern Africa, Croatia, Spain, New Zealand… It is written in a poetic, hypnotic cadence, like a never-ending song lyric. The young characters talk in that slightly wanky way of well-read youth, which slides into a form of short-hand communication as they age. Years pass between Con’s meeting with one or other of his friends, years between the sharing of shards of information. As you become immersed in the lives of the characters, you start to see images from the past coming into focus.

The novel is about the unreliability of memory, the fact that history and explanations are all invented narrative: The oldest form of violence.” Con watches videos of events he has no recollection of attending. His on/off/on girlfriend, Sonya, lies about their past, but does it really matter? In one awful moment of revelation, Con realises he had unwittingly burdened another woman, Miriam, with his angst at a time she was dealing with her own horrific experiences.

Coventry’s wonderful debut novel, The Invisible Mile, had the same mesmeric technique of using one event, in that case the Tour de France, to explore the confused experiences of one man, and his attempts to make sense of his experiences. In The Invisible Mile, the stones of Carnac eerily and ambiguously emerge from the mist. In Dance Prone Conrad comes upon a “strange array of columns …, seven lined across the centre of the field. Thirty feet high and waiting on something”. Coventry is a master at making the reader see significance, make their own narratives.

I think how Angel’d said once how it takes up the same amount of memory recording nothing as it does an orchestra”, the vagaries of time, the pointlessness of art. There is a nihilistic thread through Dance Prone, “I thought every instant was a version of the end” – but then it is told from the point of view of post-traumatic confusion. Con and his friends consider the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas, the money spent on plans for restoration “as Afghans starved, as the poor suffered in drought and crop failure”. But the punk generation was about creation – Con is in the mountains near Marrakesh, witnessing the completion of an enormous artwork conceived by one of the many peripheral characters, Paloma: on the cliff face, enormous painted reconstructions of the blasted alcoves, “Blackened Buddhas caught in time”.

“‘The teenage versions of us used to be hardcore. Now we’re something else,’ Angel said”, punk rockers trying to make a difference: “I was just kicking my guitar around on the floor, watching it bang and clatter, how the strings were always hunting out harmony and how harmony happens to change its rules at the highest volumes. Feedback and flight: the great gifts of the twentieth century.” The reader can hear the feedback, smell the van, feel the cold of unheated travel, the fug of dingy accommodation, and fear those with “something compelling them to explore the output of violence and stupidity”. And amid the travelling, the band break-ups and the reunions, Con is always trying to find answers.

There are other tragedies besides Con’s in Dance Prone, major events and developments that the reader puts together. All the characters are keeping secrets, all carrying burdens for each other. All feeling, as Miriam does, that “There’s no such thing as random, and there’s no determined events, she’d told me, just a kind of nervousness for spectacles we can’t control or account for. There are those who know what happened in Burstyn in ’85”, and who the actors were, and they are damaged by knowing. The novel is meticulous, all mysteries are solved, all things explained. But the reader is still left with the uncertainty of history and sadness of damaged lives:I could no longer hear the interior monologues of others, just the ever-shifting shape of my own silence.”

Dance Prone is just superb – read it and see if you agree.

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