Allen & Unwin

This true crime account attempts to explain the mind of a manipulative killer.

It’s a cliché, but in this case it’s apt; if you came across a scenario like this in crime fiction you’d be hard pressed to stop your eyes from rolling. As is often the way, however, true life defies anything the very best fiction writers can come up with.  Reviewed for The Newtown Review of Books

"The perfect thriller for everyone who has ever worked in a corporate environment" may not exactly sound like much of a recommendation, and early on in NO WAY BACK, thriller fans could be excused for wondering what on earth they are doing in a story that seems obsessed with the mechanics and machinations of high-tech company restarts. Stick with it. All is not as it seems.

It goes without saying that Jimmy Thane has had a rather chequered background, and initially it seems like he's struck it lucky with the chance to steer a money sink company in the high-technology world out of the doldrums. The job's been given to him by an old friend, a venture capitalist with a lot of money at risk in this company. On the personal side, it's quickly obvious that his past has had a very direct impact on his relationship with his wife, which is fraught. And whilst things at work rapidly become quite complicated, somehow what's going on at home seems oddly passive yet tense at the same time.

With a story like this it's almost impossible to explain some things without getting into massive spoilers, so proceeding with caution, early on you may be wondering what on earth this is all about. Apart, that is from some very telling and quite funny observations about the various personality types that do pop-up in high tech companies with sales and marketing arms. But really there's doesn't seem to be a lot all that threatening or worrying, unless it was your money going down the company drain. There's also some rather obvious repetition which seemed a little overt and off-putting. It does seem to take quite a while for anything particularly "thrilling" to happen although all the time, there's something just not quite right about Thane, his wife, their relationship and the people around them. A lot of that, on the face of it, could be explained by his past, and yet, there's something else. Once the story gets into the revelation phase, lots of things start to fall into place, and a lot of things fall somewhere slightly different.

In many thrillers it's rather easy to see where the story is heading. The good guys struggle, the bad guys get it in the neck, world order is restored and everybody goes home for tea. Nothing is quite that straightforward in NO WAY BACK and it has to be said, regardless of how much you think nothing's happening, or that you know what's happening or where all this is going, stick with it. There's more twists and turns in this tail than your average ... twisty-turny thing.

Set in the early 1980's, I HEAR THE SIRENS IN THE STREET is the second book in a trilogy built around Sean Duffy, a Catholic cop working in the reality of Carrickfergus, Northern Ireland in the middle of The Troubles. This is when neighbourhoods and towns are divided by religion and loyalty, when unemployment and community disaffection are soaring, and local cops check under their cars for bombs every single morning they head out for work.

It's a bit disconcerting to think that this is a timeframe that many of us know well, although it's now regarded as "the past" or historical. After all, this is my teenage, young adult years. Hence there's much that resonates, even in another country. The music, the clothes, the vinyl LPs. The way that Duffy's evenings are spent with the record collection, because TV is so dire, there's not that much difference between my rural Australia and his Carrickfergus. There is, however, a big difference when it comes to the society in which Duffy is operating. The Troubles override everything. The tensions between religions and alliances are palpable, and the isolation of the unemployed and the powerlessness of people playing out in violence and disruption is visceral.

The complications of the plot in this book are partially the complications of that life, a torso in a suitcase, the need to track down an identity, and a murderer fighting for focus every day with sectarian violence, police station bombings, neighbourhood division and the pressures of political interference. The picture drawn is clearly a society tearing itself limb from limb, and for a while it almost seemed like the idea of a limbless body was some sort of fascinating metaphor. But, as in real life, there's nothing glorious or meaningful about yet another self-interested, self-involved murder and somewhere, deep under the layers, it all comes down to one of the same old same old - money, sex, influence or power. Having said that, there is a bit of heavy lifting going on towards the end of the book and whilst some readers might find some of the plot elements a little bit dodgy, for this reader, it didn't require too much effort to just go with the flow.

As a central character, Sean Duffy is a keeper. He's flawed, complex without being complicated, very real and profoundly likeable. The situation in which he lives his life is stark and beautifully drawn. The dialogue and interaction between the characters is absolutely pitch perfect, you can see, hear, feel these people's presence. The writing is glorious, the books are littered with the most lyrically beautiful passages, particularly where McKinty steps up to describe the worst of possible circumstances and events.

For this reader, I HEAR THE SIRENS IN THE STREET is possibly not quite as perfect as THE COLD COLD GROUND, in the same way that I sometimes ponder whether the Scottish Play is not quite as perfect as Hamlet.
 

It's almost impossible now to read these books and not have visions of the perfect Essie Davies as Phryne in the TV series wafting elegantly before your eyes. Which actually enhances the storylines as, although always beautifully described and outlined by Greenwood, she now has a physicality and a more three dimensional feel. It also didn't hurt that the dialogue, which was always crisp, sharp, clever and funny, has a voice as well.

I sort of lost my way with the Phryne Fisher series somewhere back in the middle of what is now 19 books, and it was actually sharing the listening to the audio books with himself in the car that rekindled interest. It's too easy to forget the humour, and the gentle social commentary in these books, especially when the cover art and the blurbs often tend to suggest that there's something slightly on the cosy side about the series. Whilst the delivery might be cleverly on the lighter side, and the humour subtle and very tongue in cheek, the plotlines are often veering into non-cosy territory (as does Miss Fisher's love life), but possibly, to my memory, never quite so pointedly as in UNNATURAL HABITS.

For a book that's set in 1929 there's something depressingly current day about the main storyline - the mistreatment, abuse and exploitation of young girls. Girls who are the victims of rape, abuse, poverty, neglect or simply girls who made a mistake, they were abandoned to systems and organisations which, whilst carefully revealed in UNNATURAL HABITS, were obviously appalling. Whilst Greenwood is cautious in her revelations of details of what went on, there is no masking the revulsion and disapproval of the institutions and facilities that treated young women, and their babies with such awful cruelty. It's the restraint with which many of the observations are made that makes them all the more pointed.

As with all things Phryne however, this is not a single stream plot. In the search for missing young girls, Phryne encounters a variety of establishments and people from the "gentlemen-only" Blue Cat Club, to the farming commune of women in Bacchus Marsh, and a brush with the "middle-class" which seems to have the potential to derail Phryne more than any of society's "fringe dwellers" ever would. In a particularly satisfying sidebar, there's also the small matter of a vigilante anaesthetising and surgically, and very skilfully, sterilising serial women abusers.

Melbourne, and Greater Victoria, are always lovingly rendered in these books. There's obviously considerable research into the locations of the period, but the books never read as a geographical treatise. The action insinuates itself into the landscape of the time beautifully, the little details of what Phryne sees, and experiences, come alive for the reader, transporting you back, for example, to the fledgling Apple Orchards of Bacchus Marsh and surrounds.

As you'd expect, there is quite a bit of ladylike and very non-ladylike action in these books. Phryne commits acts of daring doing in order to save the day, ably assisted by her retinue of minions (now where have I heard that word before...). Her household continues to evolve, her wardrobe to beguile, and her Melbourne enchant. You can't help but foster a sneaking desire for an Adventuresses Club, to see the wonder of the Blue Cat Club, and the Block Arcade as it was then.

UNNATURAL HABITS, by dint of the subject matter that it tackles, seems to have headed off into slightly darker territory than previous books, but it does it elegantly, and with the same sense of wrongs to be righted, offences to be avenged, and life to be lived.

The HK Monaro wormed it's way into my heart in 1968. Bathurst, Bruce McPhee, Hardie-Ferodo, pole position and the race lap record at that time. A life-long love of those cars was started on the lino of the kitchen in South-West Victoria, shouting at a dodgy TV telecast, enthralled. Sure, my teenage years saw a shift in preference to the HG model, and I would always opt for the dark purple HG with the sidewinder stripes and, of course, the GTS 350, with the stiffened suspension and the power front disc brakes. Alas I suspect that passion is about the only thing that Tara Sharp and I would ever share. As far as STAGE FRIGHT was concerned, the Monaro had me at the very first book. The aura reading, the sense of humour and the madcap "antics" not so much.

STAGE FRIGHT fits right into that sub-genre of crime fiction that includes the Stephanie Plum books, and my particular favourite, the Grace Smith series. Whilst the best of that sub-genre can be hilarious and hugely entertaining, the worst is a tad too forced, often times a little overtly twee and predictable for my liking. They are undoubtedly books for readers who prefer their crime delivered with a hefty dose of dressing up. Chick lit with bodies and a bit of high camp fem-jep.

The Tara Sharp series is going to have it's fans, and if you happen to like the Plum books in particular, something that's got a similar feeling and tone set locally is a very good thing. You will have to have a tolerance for a lot of aura reading, and not mind the occasional bit of romantic tension and heavy-handed humour, but if that's you, then you really should give the local product a go.

STAGE FRIGHT is the third book in the Tara Sharp series. SHARP SHOOTER is the first, SHARP TURN the second.