
Available as: HB, 352pp, audio, e
Source: Author
ISBN(HB): 9780008724665
I like talking about books, reading books, buying books, dusting books... er, just being with books.

Of Mineral, of Bone by Emma J Lannie draws on the rich mining heritage of the North. Whether in the copper mines of Alderley Edge, the salt mines of Cheshire or the coalfields, mining has always been a superstitious trade. A dangerous business, it sought to know and placate whatever spirits or beings dwelt in the depths, able to cause catastrophe and take lives. We see such rituals in this story. But what happens when the miners leave and the mines are abandoned? There is a legacy - mineral-laden waters that can pose a hazard. A solution seems to have been found here, but Lannie leaves the reader uneasy that there may be aspects that engineers and builders haven't considered. A truly creepy, menacing story.
Modern Britain has a truly diverse range of food traditions, much of it derived from abroad and unfortunately subject to the same tedious culture wars as other aspects of life (periodic social media arguments erupt over the proper statues of chicken tikka masala, for example). In Away With the Fairies by Mae Tang, we see an incomer, Zhenyi, pushing back against her ignorant neighbour and seeking to respect local lore and tradition in new and bold ways. This one really made me smile and I think while short, is a microcosm of a larger truth, showing how tradition is not fixed but is the brilliant result of human effort and bargaining with real, active powers.
Mother of God by Sophie Parkes makes a similar point, contrasting the busloads of tourists coming to see the quaint folk customs in a village with the hard lives of the residents. A couple of girls, left on their own by parents out at work, add their own spin to the packaged tradition on display for the visitors. This is the only story (I think) without a dash of overt supernatural (though possibly I'm wrong about that).
Charcoal Nils by Emma Sprakarn is very much a folk tale, though a modern one. Set in Scandinavia this is the one of only two stories that doesn't take place in Northern England, though the atmosphere - the cold, the mountains - is one with the rest of the book, as is the sense of being a little at the margins. And also the theme of the ancient in the modern, in a story of revenge and the failure of the modern world with its invented rules to take account of what is real.
Cups and Rings by Victoria Stewart, set in Scotland, looks at those enigmatic Pictish markings mainly found on upland stones (presumably because these are less likely to have been disturbed). Nobody knows what they mean, what they were for or the particulars of who made them but here we see two different attempts at interpretation set, perhaps, a hundred years apart. And we see what becomes of the investigators. I called this one "Jamesian" above, and it has that sense of obliqueness, of time folding away - and also, perhaps, a message that sometimes it's better to leave well alone.
The Monster of No Seeming by Sophie Reck Pointon is perhaps, of the stories here, the most obviously a folk tale, taking a young girl, Isla, set to guard the sheep, on a quest to rescue her sister Netta. In the best spirit of folklore, impossible tasks have to be carried out and the quest results in learning and growth. Punctuated by occasional remarks and exchanges from the narrator, The Monster sets up both a distance from its subject (this all seems to have happened long, long ago) and a closeness (the two settings are perhaps very intertwined).
good-dark-night (Suzannah Evans Furnass) is set in a community of the future, finding its own rituals to control a harsh environment. In a world of global heating and environmental catastrophe, that means yearning for and seeking to bring back the good, dark nights.
So, this set of stories interrogate the nature of tradition - how it can be changed, and when it’s best respected; its relationship to landscape and the use of the landscape; the place of people - individuals families, the long-settled and the newcomer, in that landscaper; and much more besides.
An impressive start to the Carnyx list, and I’ll be eager to see what comes next.
For more information about Oaths and Offerings, see the publisher's website here.
In a sense I feel that reviewing Quite Ugly One Evening, Chris Brookmyre's new Jack Parlabane novel, is rather superfluous, on at least two levels. First, Brookmyre is already a phenomenon, an industry to himself almost and trying to comment on it feels as though I am the ant sitting on the axletree of the wagon and shouting "see how much dust I raise!"
Then there's the point that this is not just a Brookmyre book, but a Brookmyre Parlabane book, and that is something his fans always want to see more of. What can I say that could change this (in either direction)? Perhaps this level of fannish investment is a bit of a double edged sword for an author (see Conan Doyle and Sherlock Holmes) but we are where we are. For many readers the reappearance of Mr Parlabane alone will make this a must-read.
All that said - I think there is more to QUOE (can I coin that?) than fan-pleasing. A lot more
For a start, as we know well, Parlabane isn't a cardboard cutout character. That is the point of him, of course, he matures, he learns (or not) from his mistakes. But still I feel that the man we see here is, while recognisable and clearly the Parlabane of old, also a beautiful study in (middle) aging, regret, and loneliness.
In QUOE, Parlabane is approaching 60 and is suddenly orphaned after his mum dies (something that happened to me a couple of years back, so I can confirm Brookmyre's handling of this sensitive subject and Parlabane's stunned, regretful and confused response). The mystery of the father who abandoned mother and son years before remains. At a loose end after a(another) story goes wrong and with his job on the line (again), Parlabane goes rogue and - perhaps - repeats an earlier mistake, accepting work from MI5.
(Will he never learn...?)
For reasons that don't make a lot of sense to begin with (they will make more by the end of the story) Five send Parlabane off on a luxury transatlantic cruise, tasking him to get close to an eccentric British family, the Maskyns. The Maskyns own a beloved 1960s puppet series that is NOT, I repeat NOT, Thunderbirds. (But clearly it also is).
The Imaginators is, unlike its real-life model, embroiled in culture-war shenanigans. Vastly popular through a spin-off role-playing game, it has become beloved of keyboard warriors who resent the idea of an updating, let along one that might pay deference to modern sensitivities regarding race, gender, colonialism and so on. At the same time, the IP is drowning in debt and a hostile takeover bid looms. All of which comes to a head on that luxury liner, currently hosting a themed cruise with most of the Maskyn family aboard. Business feuds, personal disputes, family politics and general skullduggery will all come to a head - with Parlabane the potential and handy fall guy.
But why, exactly, are the spooks interested...?
I was impressed by the sheer verve of this book. That's quite a feat for Brookmyre to pull off, when his lead character is already jaded and disenchanted and has just suffered a bereavement. Yet there's something about the combination of the writing, the very real peril, and the acerbic commentary on the modern cultural landscape, that makes QUOE a gripping page-turner.
Almost incidentally it's also a brilliant example of the locked-room mystery - indeed a double locked-room mystery as we have a locked room on a mid-Atlantic liner. Parlabane (whose fear of being isolated on the ship adds a sense of peril) has to deploy all his skills and keep his wits about him to reach the finishing line here. And he may not like everything he discovers.
Something of an old-fashioned mystery (but aren't hose the best?) but imbued with very modern dilemmas, Quite Ugly One Evening really invigorates this series. This book isn't just one more in its franchise, it shows that Parlabane's countercultural instincts and bloody-mindedness remain vital and relevant. I would strongly recommend.
For more information about Quite Ugly one Evening, see the publisher's website here.
I'm grateful to the publisher for giving me access to an advance e-copy of First Date to consider for review. Apologies that I'm a little tardy publishing my review.
Amandine and Connor’s first date doesn’t go quite as they expected.
At one level, it’s not a surprise to Amandine. She never had high expectations, and she nearly bailed on the whole thing. Amor paints Amandine sympathetically, showing her psychology, her expectations that things will go badly - based on bitter experience, including the man who wanted to throw her down the stairs because he would “get off” on that. Behind all that is her sense of loss, after the accident that killed her parents and a growing certainty that she doesn't see the world quite as others do: she has trouble with life and resorts to coping mechanisms such "miracle words" to focus and channel the world where she needs it to be.
Amor also shows us Amandine’s determination, courage and ability to cope with a world that views her as, in Connor’s words, “neurospicy”. Naturally she’s wary of Connor. She tries to read the runes of his messaging. Is he texting her too much, a potential stalker? What does he mean by his emojis? Amandine anxiously watches for “red flags”, signs that, “the Internet” warns her, will perhaps disclose a bad man.
But there are so many signs, and so many bad men.
For his part, Connor also lacks confidence. He's still in his 30s and living with his dad. How can he take a woman home, even if things do go well? Will he put his foot in it? How much interest in Amandine is too much? How will she see him?
There is a tender story to be written of the two, their tentative first date - which actually goes well, until it doesn't - their growing attraction to one another, and the happily ever after to which it leads.
This isn’t, though, that book.
Instead, Amor introduces us to a third person, never named, referred to as the “Lone Diner”. We see him from both Amandine’s and Connor’s perspectives. (Lots of red flags, she thinks. An unpleasant slob, he thinks). That’s bad enough.
We also though see his first person persona. This is just gross. I have to stress that was one of the most unpleasant reading experiences I’ve had for a long time, perhaps ever. Gemma Amor is a brilliant writer with a wonderful ability to write personality, psychology and, well, character. She is - as she proves here - as brilliant at that where the character is sleazy, vile and evil as where they are good, or even, just middling.
The result is an almost active experience of taint, as though even by following the Diner’s thought processes, his obsessive Internet creeping, his scorn for his wife, for women in general - as though even reading these things will corrupt, infect, debase. It’s simply visceral, a brilliant emotional achievement, an experience that will shake you, as you follow the story of those ill-fated would-be lovers.
That atmosphere of darkness and horror is the true heart of this story, intensified by the ordeal that the Diner inflicts on Amandine and Connor. We hope they'll avoid it, somehow, that they will turn the tables. Even though we saw the endpoint of the Lone Diner's hate in the opening of the story, how much worse is it to follow the process, the working out of the horror?
A grim book, for sure, and I’d certainly want to point at potential triggers here for abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture even. This won’t be for everyone. But if it is something you can bear to read, I’d strongly recommend it both as a story of courage and resilience and as a simply enthralling, stunning read from an author who’s just a real star. This is the book that kept me up past my bedtime, the book I just had to finish. The book that lurked in dark corners of my mind afterwards.
It's safe to say, you won't find any happily-ever-afters here, or redemption, or triumph. But what there is, makes it a spellbinding read.
For more information about First Date, see the publisher's website here.
Today I'm sharing the cover for Jenny Lund Madsen's new book, Under the Blazing Sun.
I so much loved Thirty Days of Darkness, and here's Jenny Lund Madsen with a followup - Hannah, the reluctant crime writer (who thought it would be SO EASY changing genre) is back. Here's what we've been told so far.
Hannah is miserable. Her love life is in ruins, her contract demands a sequel to her bestselling crime debut – and she's out of ideas. After a mortifying TV interview, her agent ships her off to a sun-drenched Sicilian villa with a simple order: finish the book. No distractions. No excuses.
But inspiration doesn't strike – murder does.
When a night out ends in murder, Hannah finds herself at the centre of a murder investigation … again. The police want her out of the way, and the only person who seems to believe her is a young but charming Italian police officer. That is, until she doesn't.
Soon Hannah is chasing suspects, fleeing crime scenes, and doing whatever it takes to avoid becoming the next victim. She came to write a crime novel. Now she's trapped inside one.
Dark, sly and deliciously atmospheric, Under the Blazing Sun is the second novel in the award-winning series featuring accidental sleuth and disgruntled literary author Hannah, whose pursuit of plot twists keeps turning dangerously real.
Translated by Paul Russell Garrett, Under the Blazing Sun is out from Orenda Books on 21 May in hardback and e-book. Get your preorders in now. You can buy from your local highstreet bookshops, via the Orenda site (with more info about the books) or from Bookshop UK, Hive Books, Blackwell's, Foyle's, WH Smith, Waterstones or Amazon.
Now, that cover...
I like that! It also echoes the cover of Thirty Days of Darkness.
I'm going to enjoy reading this one, I can tell already.
I'm grateful to Ewa for sending me a copy of The Murder Pool to consider for review, and for inviting me to join the book's blogtour.
In this latest instalment of the adventures of Stella Blómkvist - Icelandic lawyer and detective - written by Stella Blómkvist - mysterious Icelandic author - the cases come think and fast for Stella.
She’s asked to defend a young man accused of the murder of renowned painter “The Splasher” Kristinn Ófeigsson. Gunnar had been sitting for Ófeigsson who was known for his risqué works depicting scantily dressed young Viking hunks. Now Gunnar is accused of setting about The Splasher with an axe.
In addition to that, Stella is helping out her partner Rannveig, a documentary producer. One of Rannveig's colleagues is putting together an exposé of an abuser with high political connections - and some one seems to be leaning on the broadcaster to squash the story
Then there’s a senior policeman accused of corruption by a colleague with whom Stella’s crossed swords in the past.
And more besides.
These books are always rapidfire with multiple threads, twists and plenty of plot, but this time, Blómkvist - the author - has, I think, surpassed herself. The result is a busy, even hectic story where nothing stands still for long. All through, it's regularly punctuated by Stella herself with an "Ooof!" when she encounters a setback, discovers something surprising or has an insight. The effect is rather like a series of punches, drumming home an insistent, dramatic rhythm in this enthralling and fast-paced book.
That’s a reflection I think of Stella (the character) herself who has always had many plates juggling. But in this book she not only has crime to address but some chewy personal issues besides, and I began to wonder if it would all be too much. I’ve always felt that the tough talking, wisecracking Stella of the novels might be something of a front for a woman who has things at the back of her mind she’d rather not examine too closely. Overloading herself with work might just be another way to avoid that. Are we seeing Stella on the edge of crisis?
Maybe. If so, it doesn’t hinder her from tackling her multiple cases. She draws on all the resources she has - her forensic skills, dismantling opponents in the courtroom, her press contacts and her sheer nerve. (Stella even, in one scene, marches into the Prime Minister's office to threaten consequences - a reminder that Iceland is a smaller country where everyone knows everyone, or at least their cousin).
It’s an engaging, dense story that leads back to the prisons of Bangkok and to the Reykjavik underworld, building on events and characters of previous books - nothing in Stella’s world is ever totally done with - to build a picture of rackets and dodgy dealing. Stella B is a brilliant person to have in her corner, and she comes through for her clients. By the end of the book though I thought I saw change coming for her. As I said, in these books nothing is ever done done.
As with the previous books in the series, Quentin Bates' translation is sharp and pacy, creating excellent readable English while preserving some lumps and bumps in the language (those nicknames?) that show the story's origin in a different language. Great fun to read.
Recommended. I’m eager to see what the next book brings...
For more information about The Murder Pool, see the publisher's website here - and of course the other stops on the blogtour which you can see listed on the poster below.
You can buy The Murder Pool from your local high street bookshop or online from Bookshop UK, Hive Books, Blackwell's, Foyle's, WH Smith or Waterstones.
I'm grateful to Karen at Orenda for sending me a free copy of Reaper to consider for review, and to Anne for inviting me to join the book's blogtour.
Reaper sees a welcome return for Max Grimes, Symon’s homeless ex-detective who lives on the streets of Auckland.
This book and its predecessor, Faceless, take a different and distinctly less comic (I'd even say, more gritty) approach than Symon's beloved Sam Shepherd series. In part (but only in part) that reflects the situation of the main protagonist. I’m sure that - as with other art - the best writing can come from working within constraints, and a detective story where the detective lacks not only any formal formal status but is at the margins of society, with few everyday resources, certainly qualifies on that score. It’s literally the opposite of the aristocratic, money Golden Age detective to whom everybody, police included, defers. And I was interested to see how Symon solves the problems that creates I'm not though going to spill the beans, you need to read the book!)
Reaper is not though merely a technical exercise in writing an outsider detective, it’s a book with heart and soul as we see Grimes caring for and suffering with his community. Indeed, he may be the only one who is caring for them, as the police miss the murders until he shouts about it and the Mayor then uses the deaths as a pretext to clear away the embarrassing street people.
Above and beyond that, though, Reaper is also a tautly written, complex and fast-paced mystery with plenty of tension and a distinct sense of menace. Has Max’s desire to learn the truth about his daughter’s death led him into a trap? Will it distract him to risks he may be running? Grimes is a strangely relatable central character, Symon makes him sympathetic though perhaps not likeable (which is a brilliant combination if you can make it work, as here). His relationship with police detective Meredith is well drawn, with her often frustrated and, rightfully, mistrustful - both feel like people who’ve been hurt and built barriers - but wanting to be of help.
Which brings me to a final point where I think this book, and the series so far (this is only the second so it’s early days) succeeds (and where it could have gone very wrong). You have to ask of a book like this, which sets out to portray a marginalised community, whether it isn’t indulging in a kind of misery tourism. That must always I think be a particular risk for crime fiction, shown for example in its proclivity for female victims, especially for attractive young female victims. (Not in this book).
It’s a danger, however, that Symon avoids. She’s clear eyed about the people she portrays, sympathetic without romanticising, demonstrating how prejudice and exploitation affect them, but without trying to construct a “rescue” narrative or minimising the problems that have brought them to their current state. Here, of course, Max is the exemplar, suffering after the tragic death of his daughter. Meredith wants to help him, but recognises - and articulates to us - that it’s not her place to reshape his life.
As to Max, what does he want? He's not, I think, sure. Perhaps we'll find out in future books (may there PLEASE be future books!)
So all in all an intelligent and engaging bit of crime fiction which I greatly enjoyed.
And - MINOR SPOILER - the dog is OK at the end, so you can rest easy if, like me, you worry about that.
For more information about Reaper, see the publisher's website here - and of course the other stops on the blogtour which you can see listed on the poster below.
You can buy Reaper from your local high street bookshop or online from Bookshop UK, Hive Books, Blackwell's, Foyle's, WH Smith (TG Jones if you must), or Waterstones.