2010

THE HANGING SHED is a thriller. It's a searing portrayal of post-war Scotland, a haunting story of the personal after-effects of war, dislocation, friendship, loyalties, and mistakes. It's powerful, atmospheric, uplifting, sad, violent, and compassionate.

The central character, Douglas Brodie, is a former policeman, who on returning from fighting for King and Country in the Second World War, secures a job in London as a reporter. News from his native Glasgow that childhood friend Hugh Donovan is about to be hanged for the murder of a child has him returning home, conflicted. The cause of the conflict is yet more history, between him and Donovan. Although hard for Brodie to put aside, it must be, as for everything that has happened between them, Brodie has a strong sense of right and fairness.

The whole of this book simply worked for me. The sense of compassion and sadness that wove it's way into the violence and desperation. The loss and fracture of the past, made even more stark by the impact of the war. The deprivation in the United Kingdom, the deprivation and sense of loss of those returning from fighting. The way that the path back into life was so individual, the way that Brodie struggles to find his place again.

It's about as pitch perfect a book as I've read in a long time. Perfect enough to ensure the purchase of BITTER WATER, the next in the series.

Even allowing for the lighter nature of this series, the idea of death by Hindu goddess in the middle of a laughter class is a bit of a stretch for anyone's imagination. But the thing I really like about the Vish Puri series of books is the gentle humour that eases the underlying message. The message of THE CASE OF THE MAN WHO DIED LAUGHING appearing to be the tension between modern and age-old Indian society, and hypocrisy in all its guises.

Knowing that the author married an Indian woman, and has lived in India for a period of time explains why a man with such an English name seems to be writing about that society and those messages with a combination of understanding, exasperation and great affection. Whilst Puri is a larger-than-life character, often referred to as the Indian Hercule Poirot, with his own particular set of mannerisms and ... well affectations ... underneath the slightly stereotypical persona there is an interesting mindset, and a man with a way of operating that seems somehow, quintessentially Indian.

The books also provide an insight into family life, and the way that the society functions within Puri's own particular class. Personally I love the character of Puri's Mummi-ji, even though I can't get Ummi from the Kumars at No 42 out of my head whenever she appears on the page...

The lightness of touch does rather deceive in this book though. At the start I just kept thinking the whole plot was too fantastic, too ludicrous to possibly be able to be explained logically and physically, and whilst there are more twists and turns to come before the resolution, the whole thing did ultimately make sense.

As this is now the second of the Vish Puri books don't let that worry you. Both of them would work out of order, so don't not pick up THE CASE OF THE MAN WHO DIED LAUGHING because you've not read THE CASE OF THE MISSING SERVANT. I'd also say don't be put off by the feeling that the both of them could be a bit light on, fluffy or even a tad unsympathetic. Sure they are entertaining and funny, but there's a little starch in the kurta at the same time. Oh and the food descriptions are positively cruel.... you can't read these books without a craving for authentic Indian food that just will not go away.

The fifth book in the Annika Bengtzon series, I've absolutely no idea whether or not the entire series has been translated in order or not. I've sort of lost the plot with this series, probably because the first book - THE BOMBER - didn't appeal a lot. The last I read, PRIME TIME, was better, but a lot of the problem is that Annika, as the main focus, is a character I find it very hard to either warm to, or increasingly raise much interest in.

The plot of RED WOLF, that idea of the past having a direct impact on the present, is something I'm noticing a lot these days. The interweaving of the 1969 destruction of a plane on a Swedish air base, home-grown Communist sleeper cells and the impacts of the Cold War on Sweden then and now was carefully drawn out, given immediacy and current day relevance by the death of another journalist, Benny Ekland. It's an interesting idea, in this book executed reasonably well, although it does take a little while to get going. Which wasn't exactly helpful, as there's also a lot going on in Annika's personal life, which, if like me, you're having trouble with Annika, doesn't help with getting into this book.

This is probably my biggest cause of confusion with this series. I can't work out why Annika grates quite as much as she does. Somehow she comes across to me as less stoic and determined and more whingy and inclined to play the martyr. Less put upon and more the cause of most of her problems.

There's also another pattern I've noticed a bit. Whilst having a journalist as an investigator of crimes, outside the law, isn't that big a stretch of the imagination, there is sometimes a tendency to just make out that the official police investigators have "missed" vital clues. Again, not a big stretch of the imagination to think that maybe it could happen... but every time a journalist is involved?

Blast, I think I'm in nitpicking territory. Which isn't a good thing. The biggest problem I've now got is that I'm not keen on the idea of just abandoning a series based on problems with one or two books - working on the principle that a book should stand alone, as well as be part of the series. 3 books out of 5 translated that have left me feeling a bit disappointed might mean that I have to shuffle the other couple down the priority pile a bit.

My pencilled list of things to expect from Italian Crime Fiction isn't particularly long or even all that surprising. A certain, shall we say obsession, with food; an eccentric, slightly grumpy, protagonist who spends a lot of time in his own head and seems to be quite happy there; and the occasional unexpected interpersonal relationship. That's a tick in boxes for RIVER OF SHADOWS then. Set on the banks of the River Po in Parma during a long cold, wet winter where the best everyone can hope for is that the river freezes to limit the reaches of the flooding, a barge captain goes missing on a night when everyone is distracted by the rising water levels.

That night the bargeman's brother falls from a window in a local hospital, a death that looks like suicide, but is quickly shown to be murder. Set in the current day, the roots of the fate of both brothers weaves its way into the society of boatmen and river dwellers and back to their time as fascist militia members in WWII.

Whilst there's a slightly subdued feeling to the story telling in this book, there's something beautifully atmospheric, introspective, and complex building.  Commissario Soneri contributes a lot to all of those aspects, a wonderfully individualistic character with a particular personal style, he's a thinker and an observer, rather than an action man. Unless you're talking about his rather unusual relationship with a girlfriend who is commitment phobic and fond of eclectic sexual encounters. A girlfriend who could be some men's idea of the perfect woman - all sex and no complications - it's Soneri that seems to long for more. I really liked this Commissario, and not just because he's my favourite sort of detective - a bit grumpy, a bit eccentric, a loner by circumstance rather than preference. I liked that he questioned everything and everybody, including himself. I liked his cynicism, his sense of irony.

There was something very believable about the way that the past directly impacted on everyone. There's something very evocative about the way that the communist / fascist differences in particular continued to affect present day lives and perceptions. That idea of the past and the future winding in and out is repeated in the way that the life of the people ebbed and flowed along with the river that dominated how and where they lived.

RIVER OF SHADOWS really is exactly my sort of book - characters, a society and a landscape each with their own positive and negative aspects. Considered, introspective and thoughtful analysis of all of those elements, and a direct line between the past and the present.

Now if you're sitting comfortably, a bit of housekeeping. RIVER OF SHADOWS is the fourth book in the overall Soneri series, and the first one available in translation. A second has been translated - THE DARK VALLEY - which I understand is the 6th book in the series. As teeth grindingly annoying as that is, if you love slower, atmospheric translated crime fiction, then this is seriously good option.

The frustrating thing about discussing a book like BEREFT is the reason Womersley's the author, and I'm the reader. How do you put into words something as moving, involving, immersing as BEREFT and make it intelligible? No idea, so let's go with the next best option.

"A searing gothic novel of love, longing and justice" sounds, to be frank, not my sort of thing. It's probably the juxtaposition of "gothic" and "love" that somehow or other has my befuddled brain thinking "regency" / "romance". No idea to be honest, but, regardless of why, if THE LOW ROAD hadn't been such a revelation I probably would have gone on ignoring BEREFT in MtTBR. But there was always something that had my eye wandering back to this book, and despite the ridiculous delay in getting started, this turned out to be a one sitting book. Which meant a second reading was required, as once I got to the end, albeit a somewhat rushed ending, I wasn't at all ready to leave Quinn Walker, and had to go back and start over.

BEREFT is the sort of book that crept up on this reader. Set in 1909, a young man returns to his home district after fighting at Gallipoli and then in France in the First World War. He has a history - he fled his home when discovered hunched over the bloodied and abused body of his much loved younger sister. Everyone, including his own father and uncle, assume he killed her, they also vowed to take justice into their own hands should they find him. But post WWI, in the middle of the Spanish Flu epidemic, Walker comes home, desperate to see his mother (who is now dying from the Flu). He is lost, haunted by memories of the war, a sad lonely, bereft figure. His only friend turns out to be a 12-year-old orphan living rough in the bush, hiding from Walker's uncle. Somehow his ability to protect young Sadie Fox becomes his mission, a way of saving her, and himself.

There are touches of the paranormal in BEREFT, but woven, as they are, into the narrative of a man who is struggling anyway with the past and the present, reality and his memories, it is somehow seamless, unexceptional. Perhaps that is because there is so much more to the sense of hope and direction that Sadie gives to Walker that anything that's slightly outside the expected, normal, is somehow acceptable. Anything is okay as long as it gets them through.

But what BEREFT has in spades is intrigue, suspense, and a beautiful sense of love, courage and glimpses of optimism. Reading it was a wonderful experience, and reading it a second time, even knowing the ultimate outcome, just reinforced what a glorious thing it is.

Because SILENCE is the third of the Detective Kimmo Joentaa series, I read it third. (Rebellious you may well think, not paying attention is a much better explanation).

One of the things that I most love about these three books - ICE MOON, SILENCE and THE WINTER OF THE LIONS is the sheer beauty of everything. The place, the culture and the emotion. Sure Joentaa is in deep mourning for his wife who died too young, but there's no sense of self-pity, this is simply a beautiful example of a man struggling quietly, emotionally, but with enormous dignity to find his path, to resurrect his life.

Whilst he's doing that, aspects of real life must go on - in SILENCE it's about the past and the present - the long unsolved abduction, rape and murder of a young girl, and a copycat crime - the same spot, same method, same outcome. None of which seems to make sense given the great time gap between the two awful crimes.

One of the things that stays with you from all of these books is the gentleness, almost delicacy with which Wagner handles his characters, their places and the events that affect them. Everyone - parents, past and present police officers, even the killer are compassionately drawn. SILENCE is again a book more about why than how, and definitely about the after affects on so many participants - be they unwitting or complicit. It's a book about choices, it's a book about grief, and most of all it's a book about life. Needless to say, you've probably worked out, I loved this series - although I think, unlike me, you'd be best to read them in order to really get a feeling for Joentaa's journey in particular. These are books for those who are less interested in vengeance and action, and looking for something contemplative, compassionate and incredibly moving.

I probably should sit down and give a detailed, reasoned and careful analysis of DIE TWICE by Andrew Grant.  But can I just go with "I really liked this book".  Because "I really liked this book".  

I'm not sure why to be frank.  Perhaps it was the structure - I liked the opening of chapters laying out a principle that the central character David Trevellyan learnt in basic training, which he then went on to demonstrate.  Perhaps it was the level of action which was fast paced, tight and very nicely done.  Perhaps it was the character of David Trevellyan, a bit of a later day James Bond with a considerably sharper edge.  Perhaps it was because DIE TWICE is a spy thriller with double-crossing, intrigue, a ridiculously high body count and a lot of nefarious goings-on.

Sticking pretty closely to spy thriller scenarios there are plot points that won't stand a lot of scrutiny and there's a hefty dose of energiser bunny about the central character, but I still found this a very good example of its kind.  Interestingly, I haven't read the first book in the series, but that didn't seem to detract at all.  Everything I needed to know about David Trevellyan I found out, or could work out.  Everything I needed to know about his role as general problem-solver for the British Consulate I could glean.  In short - "I really liked DIE TWICE".