22.11.63, by Stephen King [audiobook]. Read by Craig Wasson. Audible edition.
Wow. Just wow. Jake Epping, a high school teacher, discovers that there's a wormhole in time back to 1958 through the back room of his local diner. The diner owner persuades him to go back in time to prevent the Kennedy assassination in 1963, and Jake has other reasons for making the journey. Life, obviously, intervenes, too... This is an amazing book - the details of life in the 50s, the implications of time travel, the interplay between past and present... Impossible to describe, but wonderful
The dry, by Jane Harper. London: Abacus, 2016.
Three of the Hadler family - mother, daughter and father - are found shot in and around their farmstead; the baby boy survives. It looks like a murder/suicide, but when Aaron Falk, a policeman who has moved away from the area, returns for the funeral, he finds it difficult to believe that Luke would have done this. But then, Luke has always had secrets... and Falk was hounded out of the community after the death of a young boy. There's been a lot of fuss about this as a "literary thriller"; I don't see it as being any more literary than many good crime novels, but on the other hand, it does genuinely work as a thriller. The crushing weight of the Australian drought is almost an extra character, too. Highly recommended.
Boulting's vélosaurus: a linguistic Tour de France, by Ned Boulting. London: Yellow Jersey, 2016.
This is fun and silly, and one to dip in and out of. Boulting has taken French words, a few of which do actually have something to do with cycling, but many of which don't, and thoughtfully provided them with definitions and examples from cycling history. Some of these flights of fancy work wonderfully; some less so; but if you like cycling and French and France, this is a nice book to have by the bed, or if you keep bathroom books...
The hunting season, by Elizabeth Rigbey. London: Penguin, 2007.
Dr Matt Seleckis has never been much of one for the woods, but has moved back to Utah with his wife and young son. After a disturbing incident at the hospital, he's more inclined to accede to his ageing father's request to a father-son hunting trip. While they're preparing, Matt meets an old friend and an unwelcome memory of one particular summer comes back, needing to be explored. This is really claustrophobic with a creeping sense of dread - nothing's quite what it seems, and Matt's world threatens to come crashing down around him.
In bitter chill, by Sarah Ward. London: Faber, 2015.
Rachel Jones and Sophie Jenkins were abducted in 1978; only Rachel returned home. Over thirty years later, Sophie's case is re-opened when her mother commits suicide. And then there is another death. Rachel has taken refuge in a career in genealogy, but realises that the only way she will be able to live with herself in future is to investigate the past, and try to discover what really happened so many years ago. As she does so, she and investigating detectives Sadler, Palmer and Childs uncover layers of deception, and eventually danger. This was unputdownable, and I was very glad to find it was the beginning of a series.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Saturday, October 14, 2017
2017 books, #41-45
Gone with the wind, by Margaret Mitchell. Kindle edition.
I keep wondering why I haven't read many more books this year, but we've had some real bricks to read for book group, several of which I didn't quite finish so didn't count as reviewable... This would have been a 993-page paperback so it had to be a Kindle book. I hadn't read this before, although obviously had seen the film. I didn't really enjoy the film because I hated Scarlett so much; and my opinion of her didn't really improve on reading this. (I think she should just have been called Emma to warn the reader; literary Emmas seem uniformly awful.) There are some moments, when she's in Tara with an entire household of hopeless and ailing mouths to feed, when I have some sympathy with her, but as soon as she starts to make her way in the world again, her natural selfishness becomes horribly rapacious, and it's painful. What really did shock me, though, was what I find is called revisionist history of the Reconstruction, and much of that was left out of the film due to the prevailing atmosphere in 1930s America, along with the length of film production. The idea that the Ku Klux Klan's foundation was entirely due to attacks by "uppity free blacks" on white women, though, was somewhat breathtaking, and the stereotyping of Yankee soldiers as opposed to our brave Confederate boys was a little bit nauseating in the current climate. Parts of this book, which was named as America's favourite book (after the Bible) in 2014, definitely explain the romanticism around the Confederate statues in the south, and the myth of the noble Southern slave owner. If you haven't read it, you probably should. I need a palette cleanser in the form of a more neutral account of Reconstruction, though.
Rain dogs, by Adrian McKinty. Kindle edition.
Sean Duffy's still there, in the Troubles, in the rain, in riot gear; but then journalist Lily Bigelow is found dead in the middle of the courtyard of Carrickfergus Castle, having supposedly fallen from the parapet. The castle was locked, though, and the portcullis down; the only real suspect is the castle caretaker, but Duffy just can't find a motive. His superiors are as exasperated as ever at what they see as his tendency to overthink the case, but Duffy won't be bullied or rushed, and uncovers a series of plots involving local and international economic politics. Another terrific book from McKinty.
Triple crown, by Felix Francis [audiobook]. Read by Martin Jarvis. Audible edition.
Jeff Hinckley's at it again in Francis's new thriller. This time, he's investigating horse nobbling at the major US races, the famed "triple crown". He goes undercover as an Irish "lad" (and oh dear, while I love Jarvis, his Irish accent isn't exactly stellar here; nor's his Puerto Rican) in a multinational crew, and keeps in touch with the US authorities with a succession of burner phones. All the classic Francis elements are there - the teaching-us-about-an-unfamiliar-area, the derring-do, the personal peril, the getting-the-girl - and the plot rattles along very well. Hinckley himself, however, is almost a cypher - Sid Halley, Toby Beach and Kit Fielding, just thinking off the top of my head, were memorable characters. Jeff's had three books to prove himself, and we still don't really know any more about him than we did at the beginning. I'll keep reading these because they're immensely entertaining, but it's a bit of a quibble.
The burial hour, by Jeffery Deaver [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Audible edition.
Lincoln and Amelia return; and travel. A nine-year-old girl witnesses a kidnapping in New York; the only thing remaining where the businessman stood is a miniature noose. Shortly afterwards, an almost identical crime happens near Naples. In both cases, the final breaths of the victim are recorded, set to music and put online. Who is "the Composer"? Rhyme and Sachs, all set to get married but bickering about their honeymoon location, fly to Italy to try to find out. I don't think this is one of the best Rhyme books, but hey, it's Deaver, and Rhyme, and Italy, and Deaver's getting a great deal of fun out of taking Rhyme out of his comfort zone and giving him something additional to grumble about. And while Jeff Harding's Italian accent isn't great, it's Jeff Harding. There's a classic rug-being-pulled-out-under-you Deaver moment in there, too, which I enjoyed.
Deep France: a writers yarn in the Béarn, by Celia Brayfield. London: Pan, 2004.
Celia Brayfield's daughter goes off to college, and so rather than stay in London in her empty nest, she takes the gap year she never had and heads off to south west France with her page proofs, her cats (the extremely stupid Duchess, who lives on "Planet Pedigree", the perennially petrified Piglet, and Tarmac, the black one) and some trepidation. The Béarn isn't the Dordogne with its huge proportion of "expat" residents (why we call them expats rather than the more accurate migrants is both obvious and depressing), but there are fair numbers of foreign residents around and despite her very good French, Brayfield seems to stick around mainly with them. This is a lovely book - Brayfield obviously appreciates the slower more sustainable, rhythmic, seasonal way of life, and we hear about a year in a small community in one of the lesser-known bits of France, and recounts the year month by month with accompanying recipes. But she's not sentimental, either; one Kiwi couple's business is almost wiped out in a hard winter, and she's realistic about only really wanting to spend a year living in France. I enjoyed this immensely. As did the previous owner (this is yet another find from the Colts bookcase at Hove station - I really need to start leaving things there), given the various food splashes on the recipe pages... One thing: the last section made me bawl on the train at the sheer optimism of it in terms of freedom of movement., people starting businesses, etc. - it was written in 2002. You might want to leave that section to read in private.
I keep wondering why I haven't read many more books this year, but we've had some real bricks to read for book group, several of which I didn't quite finish so didn't count as reviewable... This would have been a 993-page paperback so it had to be a Kindle book. I hadn't read this before, although obviously had seen the film. I didn't really enjoy the film because I hated Scarlett so much; and my opinion of her didn't really improve on reading this. (I think she should just have been called Emma to warn the reader; literary Emmas seem uniformly awful.) There are some moments, when she's in Tara with an entire household of hopeless and ailing mouths to feed, when I have some sympathy with her, but as soon as she starts to make her way in the world again, her natural selfishness becomes horribly rapacious, and it's painful. What really did shock me, though, was what I find is called revisionist history of the Reconstruction, and much of that was left out of the film due to the prevailing atmosphere in 1930s America, along with the length of film production. The idea that the Ku Klux Klan's foundation was entirely due to attacks by "uppity free blacks" on white women, though, was somewhat breathtaking, and the stereotyping of Yankee soldiers as opposed to our brave Confederate boys was a little bit nauseating in the current climate. Parts of this book, which was named as America's favourite book (after the Bible) in 2014, definitely explain the romanticism around the Confederate statues in the south, and the myth of the noble Southern slave owner. If you haven't read it, you probably should. I need a palette cleanser in the form of a more neutral account of Reconstruction, though.
Rain dogs, by Adrian McKinty. Kindle edition.
Sean Duffy's still there, in the Troubles, in the rain, in riot gear; but then journalist Lily Bigelow is found dead in the middle of the courtyard of Carrickfergus Castle, having supposedly fallen from the parapet. The castle was locked, though, and the portcullis down; the only real suspect is the castle caretaker, but Duffy just can't find a motive. His superiors are as exasperated as ever at what they see as his tendency to overthink the case, but Duffy won't be bullied or rushed, and uncovers a series of plots involving local and international economic politics. Another terrific book from McKinty.
Triple crown, by Felix Francis [audiobook]. Read by Martin Jarvis. Audible edition.
Jeff Hinckley's at it again in Francis's new thriller. This time, he's investigating horse nobbling at the major US races, the famed "triple crown". He goes undercover as an Irish "lad" (and oh dear, while I love Jarvis, his Irish accent isn't exactly stellar here; nor's his Puerto Rican) in a multinational crew, and keeps in touch with the US authorities with a succession of burner phones. All the classic Francis elements are there - the teaching-us-about-an-unfamiliar-area, the derring-do, the personal peril, the getting-the-girl - and the plot rattles along very well. Hinckley himself, however, is almost a cypher - Sid Halley, Toby Beach and Kit Fielding, just thinking off the top of my head, were memorable characters. Jeff's had three books to prove himself, and we still don't really know any more about him than we did at the beginning. I'll keep reading these because they're immensely entertaining, but it's a bit of a quibble.
The burial hour, by Jeffery Deaver [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Audible edition.
Lincoln and Amelia return; and travel. A nine-year-old girl witnesses a kidnapping in New York; the only thing remaining where the businessman stood is a miniature noose. Shortly afterwards, an almost identical crime happens near Naples. In both cases, the final breaths of the victim are recorded, set to music and put online. Who is "the Composer"? Rhyme and Sachs, all set to get married but bickering about their honeymoon location, fly to Italy to try to find out. I don't think this is one of the best Rhyme books, but hey, it's Deaver, and Rhyme, and Italy, and Deaver's getting a great deal of fun out of taking Rhyme out of his comfort zone and giving him something additional to grumble about. And while Jeff Harding's Italian accent isn't great, it's Jeff Harding. There's a classic rug-being-pulled-out-under-you Deaver moment in there, too, which I enjoyed.
Deep France: a writers yarn in the Béarn, by Celia Brayfield. London: Pan, 2004.
Celia Brayfield's daughter goes off to college, and so rather than stay in London in her empty nest, she takes the gap year she never had and heads off to south west France with her page proofs, her cats (the extremely stupid Duchess, who lives on "Planet Pedigree", the perennially petrified Piglet, and Tarmac, the black one) and some trepidation. The Béarn isn't the Dordogne with its huge proportion of "expat" residents (why we call them expats rather than the more accurate migrants is both obvious and depressing), but there are fair numbers of foreign residents around and despite her very good French, Brayfield seems to stick around mainly with them. This is a lovely book - Brayfield obviously appreciates the slower more sustainable, rhythmic, seasonal way of life, and we hear about a year in a small community in one of the lesser-known bits of France, and recounts the year month by month with accompanying recipes. But she's not sentimental, either; one Kiwi couple's business is almost wiped out in a hard winter, and she's realistic about only really wanting to spend a year living in France. I enjoyed this immensely. As did the previous owner (this is yet another find from the Colts bookcase at Hove station - I really need to start leaving things there), given the various food splashes on the recipe pages... One thing: the last section made me bawl on the train at the sheer optimism of it in terms of freedom of movement., people starting businesses, etc. - it was written in 2002. You might want to leave that section to read in private.
2017 books, #36-40
End games in Bordeaux, by Alan Massie. Kindle edition.
Catching up on some books read much, much earlier; it's too easy to leave books on the Kindle unreviewed because you don't physically have to put them anywhere. I read this back in February in Paris; it turned out to be the last part of a 4-volume series, and I might go back and read the rest. D-day has come, and the people of Bordeaux are waiting for the Nazi regime to crumble. In the chaos of the liberation, consciences are examined; punishments are starting to be dealt out; and there's still hope that people who disappeared earlier in the war. Meanwhile Inspecteur Lannes, suspended from duty by his Vichy masters, is searching for a missing girl and uncovering allegations of historic sex abuse. It's a dark, slightly gloomy sort of book which fitted in terrifically with Paris in February...
The lion's mouth, by Anne Holt. Kindle edition.
The Prime Minister of Norway is found dead at her desk, having been shot. The last appointment she had was with a judge who, it turns out, is also an old friend, and has just been appointed chief of an enquiry into the deaths of babies in 1967. As Hanne Willemson returns from her sabbatical in California to lead the investigation, she begins to discover other, more sinister, associations in the corridors of power, and to wonder exactly how corrupt the Norwegian establishment has become. I really enjoy Anne Holt's books - and as a former Home Secretary for Norway, she presumably knows what she's talking about it terms of machinery-of-government!
Swallows and Amazons, by Arthur Ransome. Kindle edition.
A book group book. I saw the recent film when it came out, and really enjoyed it; which meant that the actual plot of this book was somewhat tame in comparison without the additional spy story added in; but had forgotten quite how good the writing was, and how refreshing the children, and their freedom, was. If it's been a while since you read this, or you never have, definitely worth a re-read. I am also remembering the look of joy on the face of one of our members who grew up in Canada, on hearing that this was the first of rather a long series!
A lesson in dying, by Ann Cleeves. Kindle edition.
The school at Heppleburn isn't an entirely happy place to be - the headmaster has a vendetta against a nervous young male teacher, and the PTA is in disarray. The caretaker, George Robson, notices all these things, and is worried about his somewhat scatty daughter joining the PTA. Not as worried, however, as he is when the headmaster is strung up on the basketball hoop in the playground during a parents' Hallowe'en party. Inspector Ramsey investigates, and uncovers a morass of old grudges, incomer/native tensions and one final shattering secret. I enjoyed this a great deal; haven't read any of the Ramsey books until this one.
A bird in the hand, by Ann Cleeves. Kindle edition.
Teenager Tom French is found, binoculars in hand, on the North Norfolk coast; he's been viciously beaten. The floating population at the local bird observatory is shocked, but many of them soon move on to the next twitch. Retired civil servant and keen birdwatcher George Palmer-Jones starts to investigate, and discovers more secrets than he was bargaining for. Again, a new Cleeves series for me and one I'll follow up.
Catching up on some books read much, much earlier; it's too easy to leave books on the Kindle unreviewed because you don't physically have to put them anywhere. I read this back in February in Paris; it turned out to be the last part of a 4-volume series, and I might go back and read the rest. D-day has come, and the people of Bordeaux are waiting for the Nazi regime to crumble. In the chaos of the liberation, consciences are examined; punishments are starting to be dealt out; and there's still hope that people who disappeared earlier in the war. Meanwhile Inspecteur Lannes, suspended from duty by his Vichy masters, is searching for a missing girl and uncovering allegations of historic sex abuse. It's a dark, slightly gloomy sort of book which fitted in terrifically with Paris in February...
The lion's mouth, by Anne Holt. Kindle edition.
The Prime Minister of Norway is found dead at her desk, having been shot. The last appointment she had was with a judge who, it turns out, is also an old friend, and has just been appointed chief of an enquiry into the deaths of babies in 1967. As Hanne Willemson returns from her sabbatical in California to lead the investigation, she begins to discover other, more sinister, associations in the corridors of power, and to wonder exactly how corrupt the Norwegian establishment has become. I really enjoy Anne Holt's books - and as a former Home Secretary for Norway, she presumably knows what she's talking about it terms of machinery-of-government!
Swallows and Amazons, by Arthur Ransome. Kindle edition.
A book group book. I saw the recent film when it came out, and really enjoyed it; which meant that the actual plot of this book was somewhat tame in comparison without the additional spy story added in; but had forgotten quite how good the writing was, and how refreshing the children, and their freedom, was. If it's been a while since you read this, or you never have, definitely worth a re-read. I am also remembering the look of joy on the face of one of our members who grew up in Canada, on hearing that this was the first of rather a long series!
A lesson in dying, by Ann Cleeves. Kindle edition.
The school at Heppleburn isn't an entirely happy place to be - the headmaster has a vendetta against a nervous young male teacher, and the PTA is in disarray. The caretaker, George Robson, notices all these things, and is worried about his somewhat scatty daughter joining the PTA. Not as worried, however, as he is when the headmaster is strung up on the basketball hoop in the playground during a parents' Hallowe'en party. Inspector Ramsey investigates, and uncovers a morass of old grudges, incomer/native tensions and one final shattering secret. I enjoyed this a great deal; haven't read any of the Ramsey books until this one.
A bird in the hand, by Ann Cleeves. Kindle edition.
Teenager Tom French is found, binoculars in hand, on the North Norfolk coast; he's been viciously beaten. The floating population at the local bird observatory is shocked, but many of them soon move on to the next twitch. Retired civil servant and keen birdwatcher George Palmer-Jones starts to investigate, and discovers more secrets than he was bargaining for. Again, a new Cleeves series for me and one I'll follow up.
2017 books, #31-35
Another day in the death of America, by Gary Younge. London: Guardian Books, 2016.
Gary Younge picked a random 24 hours in the US, and the stories of 10 random children and young people killed by guns in that period. The kids range from 8 to 20 years old, from a variety of backgrounds and ethnic origins; and in many cases, the deaths didn't even make the local news. The individual stories are heartbreaking; but the sheer banality of death by gun violence, and its acceptance by many families, is the most horrifying aspect of this book. Younge interweaves the history of, and attitudes to, firearms into the separate stories as a powerful howl of rage against the situation.
The absence of guilt, by Mark Gimenez [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Oxford: ISIS, 2017.
The Super Bowl is due to happen in Dallas, and the authorities uncover a plot to use a weapon of mass destruction inside the stadium. A hate preacher is arrested and the president announces "We won!" on national TV. Unfortunately, there's one snag: there's no evidence of a connection between the plot and the preacher. That problem falls to new US district judge A. Scott Fenney; is he holding an innocent man, and if so, who are the guilty ones? This is extremely well plotted with a good reveal towards the end. It's also really quite hawkish and strays from anti-extremist to anti-Muslim an uncomfortable number of times. Rather like the Vince Flynn books, it's slightly "know your enemies". Having said that, Judge Fenney is a good guy, and so are the characters immediately surrounding him. I'd try another by this author, if Jeff Harding were reading it...
Blazing saddles: the cruel and unusual history of the Tour de France, by Matt Rendell. London: Quercus, 2007.
Matt Rendell's wild sense of humour is in evidence here; but he's also put together a great year-by-year history of the Tour with some anecdotes and a lot of fact (and some seriously good photos). You get a really good sense of the different eras. What comes over most, though, is the sheer lunacy of Henri Desgrange, the founder of the Tour and its first director, a man who said that the ideal Tour would be one only one rider could finish. Obviously it's slightly dated now, but still an excellent read.
Presumed guilty: the British legal system exposed, by Michael Mansfield with Tony Wardle. London: Mandarin, 1994.
Michael Mansfield looks at miscarriages of justice in the British legal system, after his experience of representing the Birmingham Six and other high-profile cases. The case he examines, though, is the murder of a man in a High Wycombe café in 1989, and the trial, conviction and subsequent acquittal of a man called Talat Sarwar. Mansfield presents a compelling case for the adoption of the juge d'instruction system used in France, and includes a detailed description of how French prosecutors work with investigators, something I've found quite difficult to understand in the past. Some of the things Mansfield recommends have been adopted in the 23 years since this book was written; some of the things he deplores have been reinforced. A very interesting read, anyway.
Re: cycling: 200 years on two wheels, by Michael Hutchinson. London: Bloomsbury Sport, 2017.
An immensely entertaining history of cycling, from the earliest machines to the present day. What I particularly like about this book is the social history element - the amount of freedom which cycling was able to give people, particularly women (and the kerfuffle about appropriate cycling attire for women is a sad and hilarious section), and the class perceptions of the activity at different periods in history. There's also a thread running through which explains why the phenomenon of the competitive British road cyclist is relatively new, and includes Hutchinson's own history as a champion time-triallist.
Gary Younge picked a random 24 hours in the US, and the stories of 10 random children and young people killed by guns in that period. The kids range from 8 to 20 years old, from a variety of backgrounds and ethnic origins; and in many cases, the deaths didn't even make the local news. The individual stories are heartbreaking; but the sheer banality of death by gun violence, and its acceptance by many families, is the most horrifying aspect of this book. Younge interweaves the history of, and attitudes to, firearms into the separate stories as a powerful howl of rage against the situation.
The absence of guilt, by Mark Gimenez [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Oxford: ISIS, 2017.
The Super Bowl is due to happen in Dallas, and the authorities uncover a plot to use a weapon of mass destruction inside the stadium. A hate preacher is arrested and the president announces "We won!" on national TV. Unfortunately, there's one snag: there's no evidence of a connection between the plot and the preacher. That problem falls to new US district judge A. Scott Fenney; is he holding an innocent man, and if so, who are the guilty ones? This is extremely well plotted with a good reveal towards the end. It's also really quite hawkish and strays from anti-extremist to anti-Muslim an uncomfortable number of times. Rather like the Vince Flynn books, it's slightly "know your enemies". Having said that, Judge Fenney is a good guy, and so are the characters immediately surrounding him. I'd try another by this author, if Jeff Harding were reading it...
Blazing saddles: the cruel and unusual history of the Tour de France, by Matt Rendell. London: Quercus, 2007.
Matt Rendell's wild sense of humour is in evidence here; but he's also put together a great year-by-year history of the Tour with some anecdotes and a lot of fact (and some seriously good photos). You get a really good sense of the different eras. What comes over most, though, is the sheer lunacy of Henri Desgrange, the founder of the Tour and its first director, a man who said that the ideal Tour would be one only one rider could finish. Obviously it's slightly dated now, but still an excellent read.
Presumed guilty: the British legal system exposed, by Michael Mansfield with Tony Wardle. London: Mandarin, 1994.
Michael Mansfield looks at miscarriages of justice in the British legal system, after his experience of representing the Birmingham Six and other high-profile cases. The case he examines, though, is the murder of a man in a High Wycombe café in 1989, and the trial, conviction and subsequent acquittal of a man called Talat Sarwar. Mansfield presents a compelling case for the adoption of the juge d'instruction system used in France, and includes a detailed description of how French prosecutors work with investigators, something I've found quite difficult to understand in the past. Some of the things Mansfield recommends have been adopted in the 23 years since this book was written; some of the things he deplores have been reinforced. A very interesting read, anyway.
Re: cycling: 200 years on two wheels, by Michael Hutchinson. London: Bloomsbury Sport, 2017.
An immensely entertaining history of cycling, from the earliest machines to the present day. What I particularly like about this book is the social history element - the amount of freedom which cycling was able to give people, particularly women (and the kerfuffle about appropriate cycling attire for women is a sad and hilarious section), and the class perceptions of the activity at different periods in history. There's also a thread running through which explains why the phenomenon of the competitive British road cyclist is relatively new, and includes Hutchinson's own history as a champion time-triallist.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
2017 books, #26-30
The underground railroad, by Colson Whitehead. London: Fleet, 2016.
Cora's life on a cotton plantation in Georgia, where she is an outcast even among her fellow slaves, ends when she's persuaded by Caesar, a recent arrival from Virginia, to run away. Things go badly from the start - Cora kills a young white boy who tries to capture her. Although they find a station on the railroad, and are transported to South Carolina, they are now hunted.
In this book, and this is where the fiction comes in, the Underground Railroad is literally there, a network of hidden railroads with irregular trains flying North to freedom, with engineers, and tunnels, and conductors. As Cora travels, she realises that situations which at first seem benign are actually quite insidious, and that she is endangering the people who shelter her. It's an amazing story. There is, as you'd expect, an awful lot of casual brutality; that part isn't fiction... but it's also a compelling story, and very readable.
Bring me the head of Sergio Garcia! my year of swinging dangerously on the pro golf tour, by Tom Cox. London: Yellow Jersey, 2007.
I have no interest whatever in golf; but I do like the way Tom Cox writes. Turning 30, Cox and his wife decide that he needs to get the teenage desire to be a golf pro out of his system, so he applies to join a minor Tour and competes in various tournaments. This is a lovely account of falling in and out of love with a sport, and a critical look of the culture around golf. Very readable if you like Tom Cox's cat books (he's the chronicler of the late lamented The Bear, AKA @WHYMYCATISSAD).
Peter Pan must die, by John Verdon [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Rearsby, Leics.: WF Howes, 2016.
A Dave Gurney book; and follows the same pattern as the others. Gurney gets involved in a new and potentially dangerous case; his wife alternately sulks and whines at him; things get ever more dangerous and he exceeds his brief but keeps on with the investigation; dangerous things happen; there is resolution. That doesn't mean it isn't a good ride while it's going on (and Jeff Harding does his usual excellent job here) but there is a certain formula, and Verdon isn't as good as someone like Lee Child about varying it up, or telling us something new about his characters. Definitely worth listening to; I'm not convinced I'd have read it in print though.
We'll always have Paris: trying and failing to be French, by Emma Beddington. London: Pan, 2017.
Emma Beddington had a fascination with the French from an early age; she went to French films, envisaged herself sitting moodily outside a Paris café smoking a Gitane, and mugged up on her Gainsbourg and Besson... She met a Frenchman, married, had two children, and then had the chance to live in Paris. And it wasn't at all what she expected. This is the best account I've ever read of being miserable in posh Paris (granted, that's a niche memoir); weirdly, Beddington ended up living just round the corner from where I'd been miserable a a few years before, sitting on benches in the Parc Monceau watching her kids (my au pair charge, in my case), staring through the windows of pâtisseries, dealing with incredibly unfriendly French bureaucracy. It's also an exploration of grief, and some tragedy; but it's also handled with a wonderful honest, humorous sense. And there's a love story at the heart of all this; the central relationship, but also falling in and out of love with cities and the notion of home. Brilliant book. One to be kept, which is a rarity these days.
Death ship, by Jim Kelly. London: Crème de la Crime, 2016.
Kids digging a fort in the sand on Hunstanton Beach unearth a bomb,which explodes. Is it a WWII unexploded bomb, or something newer and more sinister? And is it connected with the new, and contentious, pier being built? Shaw and Valentine are already based in Hunstanton, trying to catch a killer who's handing out poisoned sweets at bus stops, while looking for a missing Dutch tourist who walked out of his hotel one day and disappeared. The more they look into the case, the more confusing all these strands become; and the further back Shaw finds himself digging. Another really excellent book by Kelly, which romps along, and captures the atmosphere of the Norfolk Coast perfectly.
Cora's life on a cotton plantation in Georgia, where she is an outcast even among her fellow slaves, ends when she's persuaded by Caesar, a recent arrival from Virginia, to run away. Things go badly from the start - Cora kills a young white boy who tries to capture her. Although they find a station on the railroad, and are transported to South Carolina, they are now hunted.
In this book, and this is where the fiction comes in, the Underground Railroad is literally there, a network of hidden railroads with irregular trains flying North to freedom, with engineers, and tunnels, and conductors. As Cora travels, she realises that situations which at first seem benign are actually quite insidious, and that she is endangering the people who shelter her. It's an amazing story. There is, as you'd expect, an awful lot of casual brutality; that part isn't fiction... but it's also a compelling story, and very readable.
Bring me the head of Sergio Garcia! my year of swinging dangerously on the pro golf tour, by Tom Cox. London: Yellow Jersey, 2007.
I have no interest whatever in golf; but I do like the way Tom Cox writes. Turning 30, Cox and his wife decide that he needs to get the teenage desire to be a golf pro out of his system, so he applies to join a minor Tour and competes in various tournaments. This is a lovely account of falling in and out of love with a sport, and a critical look of the culture around golf. Very readable if you like Tom Cox's cat books (he's the chronicler of the late lamented The Bear, AKA @WHYMYCATISSAD).
Peter Pan must die, by John Verdon [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Rearsby, Leics.: WF Howes, 2016.
A Dave Gurney book; and follows the same pattern as the others. Gurney gets involved in a new and potentially dangerous case; his wife alternately sulks and whines at him; things get ever more dangerous and he exceeds his brief but keeps on with the investigation; dangerous things happen; there is resolution. That doesn't mean it isn't a good ride while it's going on (and Jeff Harding does his usual excellent job here) but there is a certain formula, and Verdon isn't as good as someone like Lee Child about varying it up, or telling us something new about his characters. Definitely worth listening to; I'm not convinced I'd have read it in print though.
We'll always have Paris: trying and failing to be French, by Emma Beddington. London: Pan, 2017.
Emma Beddington had a fascination with the French from an early age; she went to French films, envisaged herself sitting moodily outside a Paris café smoking a Gitane, and mugged up on her Gainsbourg and Besson... She met a Frenchman, married, had two children, and then had the chance to live in Paris. And it wasn't at all what she expected. This is the best account I've ever read of being miserable in posh Paris (granted, that's a niche memoir); weirdly, Beddington ended up living just round the corner from where I'd been miserable a a few years before, sitting on benches in the Parc Monceau watching her kids (my au pair charge, in my case), staring through the windows of pâtisseries, dealing with incredibly unfriendly French bureaucracy. It's also an exploration of grief, and some tragedy; but it's also handled with a wonderful honest, humorous sense. And there's a love story at the heart of all this; the central relationship, but also falling in and out of love with cities and the notion of home. Brilliant book. One to be kept, which is a rarity these days.
Death ship, by Jim Kelly. London: Crème de la Crime, 2016.
Kids digging a fort in the sand on Hunstanton Beach unearth a bomb,which explodes. Is it a WWII unexploded bomb, or something newer and more sinister? And is it connected with the new, and contentious, pier being built? Shaw and Valentine are already based in Hunstanton, trying to catch a killer who's handing out poisoned sweets at bus stops, while looking for a missing Dutch tourist who walked out of his hotel one day and disappeared. The more they look into the case, the more confusing all these strands become; and the further back Shaw finds himself digging. Another really excellent book by Kelly, which romps along, and captures the atmosphere of the Norfolk Coast perfectly.
2017 books, #21-25
Dominion, by CJ Sansom [audiobook]. Read by Daniel Weyman. Rearsby, Leics.: Clipper, 2012.
It's 1952 and Britain is twelve years into Nazi rule under Lord Beaverbrook, Winston Churchill is leader of the Resistance and the British Jews are being rounded up for deportation to camps on the Isle of Wight. Civil servant David Fitzgerald is recruited to the Resistance and asked to break scientist Frank Muncaster, an old school friend, out of the mental hospital in Birmingham where he has been confined after being accused of killing his brother. This is very cleverly done - you find yourself thinking aaaah every now and then as another piece of the alternative world slots into place - and a good read. Daniel Weyman narrates this very competently and reminds me that a well-read audiobook is a very satisfying thing indeed.
Silence, by Shusaku Endo. London: Picador, 2015. Originally published in 1966.
Portuguese priest Sebastian Rodrigues sets sail for Japan in 1640 to help the suppressed Christians there; and to find out what has happened to his former mentor who is rumoured to have renounced his faith under torture. Rodrigues is idealistic, but life in Japan gradually brings him to the realisation that although there are still faithful people there, his presence is as much of a danger as a comfort to them. This was... interesting... but really, if you want to read an account of a priest examining his usefulness in a hostile environment, you'd be better off with Greene's Power and the Glory. There's a curious lack of detail about daily life in 17th century Japan to distinguish this from the Greene, too.
The wrong side of goodbye, by Michael Connelly. London: Orion, 2016.
A Harry Bosch book; and a good one. Bosch is working for the cold case unit in San Fernando, California, as a retired volunteer detective, and also doing private investigations on the side. He is summoned to a meeting with a billionaire aerospace company owner who is at the end of his life, and tortured by the idea that he may have a living heir. Bosch makes progress quite quickly despite worries about the people who might be interested in his not finding out about living relatives; but at the same time, the "cold case" he's working on, a series of rapes, suddenly starts to heat up again with another suspected attack. This is very good indeed, even by Connelly's usual standards; having read much less than usual this year for whatever reason, I raced through this in a day and really enjoyed it.
Strangers on a train, by Patricia Highsmith. London: Vintage, 1999. Originally published in 1950.
Guy Haines and Charles Bruno meet on a long-distance train; after a night of drinking, Bruno proposes that he dispose of Haines's troublesome estranged wife, in exchange for Guy killing Bruno's hated father. It would, he suggests, be the perfect crime as both would be entirely motiveless. Haines shrugs it off as a chance encounter; but then he leaves a book in Bruno's train carriage with his address in it, and creates a disturbing link between them... I'd forgotten quite how compelling this thriller really was; it seems much more modern than something written in 1950, and most of us in my book group found it unputdownable once we'd started to read it. Very glad to have read it again.
Gun Street girl, by Adrian McKinty. London: Serpent's Tail, 2015.
Sean Duffy has what looks like a double murder and suicide to deal with. But as ever, he seems to be determined to make it as complicated as possible, at least in the eyes of his superiors. The more information he turns up about the suspect, the less convinced he is by the initial view of the case. And then a mysterious American agent, and MI5, turn up on his doorstep. This series continues to be extremely engaging.
It's 1952 and Britain is twelve years into Nazi rule under Lord Beaverbrook, Winston Churchill is leader of the Resistance and the British Jews are being rounded up for deportation to camps on the Isle of Wight. Civil servant David Fitzgerald is recruited to the Resistance and asked to break scientist Frank Muncaster, an old school friend, out of the mental hospital in Birmingham where he has been confined after being accused of killing his brother. This is very cleverly done - you find yourself thinking aaaah every now and then as another piece of the alternative world slots into place - and a good read. Daniel Weyman narrates this very competently and reminds me that a well-read audiobook is a very satisfying thing indeed.
Silence, by Shusaku Endo. London: Picador, 2015. Originally published in 1966.
Portuguese priest Sebastian Rodrigues sets sail for Japan in 1640 to help the suppressed Christians there; and to find out what has happened to his former mentor who is rumoured to have renounced his faith under torture. Rodrigues is idealistic, but life in Japan gradually brings him to the realisation that although there are still faithful people there, his presence is as much of a danger as a comfort to them. This was... interesting... but really, if you want to read an account of a priest examining his usefulness in a hostile environment, you'd be better off with Greene's Power and the Glory. There's a curious lack of detail about daily life in 17th century Japan to distinguish this from the Greene, too.
The wrong side of goodbye, by Michael Connelly. London: Orion, 2016.
A Harry Bosch book; and a good one. Bosch is working for the cold case unit in San Fernando, California, as a retired volunteer detective, and also doing private investigations on the side. He is summoned to a meeting with a billionaire aerospace company owner who is at the end of his life, and tortured by the idea that he may have a living heir. Bosch makes progress quite quickly despite worries about the people who might be interested in his not finding out about living relatives; but at the same time, the "cold case" he's working on, a series of rapes, suddenly starts to heat up again with another suspected attack. This is very good indeed, even by Connelly's usual standards; having read much less than usual this year for whatever reason, I raced through this in a day and really enjoyed it.
Strangers on a train, by Patricia Highsmith. London: Vintage, 1999. Originally published in 1950.
Guy Haines and Charles Bruno meet on a long-distance train; after a night of drinking, Bruno proposes that he dispose of Haines's troublesome estranged wife, in exchange for Guy killing Bruno's hated father. It would, he suggests, be the perfect crime as both would be entirely motiveless. Haines shrugs it off as a chance encounter; but then he leaves a book in Bruno's train carriage with his address in it, and creates a disturbing link between them... I'd forgotten quite how compelling this thriller really was; it seems much more modern than something written in 1950, and most of us in my book group found it unputdownable once we'd started to read it. Very glad to have read it again.
Gun Street girl, by Adrian McKinty. London: Serpent's Tail, 2015.
Sean Duffy has what looks like a double murder and suicide to deal with. But as ever, he seems to be determined to make it as complicated as possible, at least in the eyes of his superiors. The more information he turns up about the suspect, the less convinced he is by the initial view of the case. And then a mysterious American agent, and MI5, turn up on his doorstep. This series continues to be extremely engaging.
Saturday, April 22, 2017
2017 books, #16-20
The apprentice of Split Crow Lane: the story of the Carr's Hill murder, by Jane Housham [audiobook]. Read by Jim Barclay and Anna Bentinck. Rearsby, Leics.: Clipper/WF Howes, 2016.
Sarah Melvin was killed at the age of five in Felling, Newcastle, in 1866; the first suspects were her parents, poor Irish immigrants, but then when the real killer was discovered, it raised as many questions as it answered. While Housham keeps returning to the murder, this is also a wider investigation into notions of sanity and responsibility in Victorian England, an exploration of the treatment of mentally ill prisoners, a look at the early days of Broadmoor, and a discussion of a few similar cases of the era. Really interesting, and genuinely suprising at times.
In the morning I'll be gone, by Adrian McKinty. London: Serpent's Tale, 2014.
Sean Duffy has been demoted for an incident which happened, unseen, during I hear the sirens in the street; he's offered his old rank back, in Special Branch, for agreeing to investigate the escape of an old school friend, IRA commander Dermot McCann, from the Maze Prison in 1984. When visiting McCann's ex-wife, Duffy hears about the unsolved suspicious death of her sister, Lizzie Fitzpatrick, three years earlier. He makes a dangerous bargain, and continues to pursue both cases. As ever, real events are woven carefully into the narrative here, with tremendous effect in the eventual climax of this novel. It's probably just as well I have to wait for the library to come up with the next book...
Zola and the Victorians: censorship in the age of hypocrisy, by Eileen Horne. London: MacLehose, 2015.
Unlike the English Victorians in the first book in this post, nobody comes out well here. Including Emile Zola, who is a hero of mine. I had no idea about the reception of Zola's books in Britain - I read them in French and was captivated enough to want to do a PhD in them - although I did know that they'd scandalised a section of French society. Here, the attitudes expressed 60 years later in the Chatterley case - "would you wish your wife or servant..." - are right to the fore, to the extent that publishers of Zola in English, in however bowdlerised a fashion, were prosecuted for indecency, while copies of the books in French were openly sold. Henry Vizetelly, the publisher involved, is ruined, while Zola seems profoundly indifferent to his fate, quibbling only about his royalties. It's a stunning indictment of hypocritical prudishness, closed-minded Philistinism and a distrust of foreign influences which is depressingly familiar today.
Silent witnesses: the story of forensic science, by Nigel McCrery. London: Arrow, 2014.
I'm told the author of this is the creator of Silent Witness on TV, but as I've never seen it... A short, workmanlike history of forensic science which covers all the usual bases, but less interestingly than Val McDermid's recent similar book. Some interesting additional/alternative test cases for some of the information though. The photos in the middle of the book are stunningly uninformative and could easily have been left out...
To hell on a bike: riding Paris-Roubaix, the toughest race in cycling, by Iain MacGregor. London: Bantam, 2015.
MacGregor cycled from Lands end to John O'Groats in the 1990s, and took up cycling again in his early 40s; after cycling the Etape du Tour in 2013, he looked for another challenge. So why not the "hell of the North", Paris-Roubaix, or its sportive equivalent? This is a nice mixture of a history of the race, some self-deprecating stuff about MacGregor's own cycling prowess, and some excellent interviews with journalists, commentators, former racers and organisers of the race - MacGregor's background in publishing has obviously allowed him to build an impressive contacts book - ending with an account of the ride itself. Very enjoyable and readable; and some really good photos in this one.
Sarah Melvin was killed at the age of five in Felling, Newcastle, in 1866; the first suspects were her parents, poor Irish immigrants, but then when the real killer was discovered, it raised as many questions as it answered. While Housham keeps returning to the murder, this is also a wider investigation into notions of sanity and responsibility in Victorian England, an exploration of the treatment of mentally ill prisoners, a look at the early days of Broadmoor, and a discussion of a few similar cases of the era. Really interesting, and genuinely suprising at times.
In the morning I'll be gone, by Adrian McKinty. London: Serpent's Tale, 2014.
Sean Duffy has been demoted for an incident which happened, unseen, during I hear the sirens in the street; he's offered his old rank back, in Special Branch, for agreeing to investigate the escape of an old school friend, IRA commander Dermot McCann, from the Maze Prison in 1984. When visiting McCann's ex-wife, Duffy hears about the unsolved suspicious death of her sister, Lizzie Fitzpatrick, three years earlier. He makes a dangerous bargain, and continues to pursue both cases. As ever, real events are woven carefully into the narrative here, with tremendous effect in the eventual climax of this novel. It's probably just as well I have to wait for the library to come up with the next book...
Zola and the Victorians: censorship in the age of hypocrisy, by Eileen Horne. London: MacLehose, 2015.
Unlike the English Victorians in the first book in this post, nobody comes out well here. Including Emile Zola, who is a hero of mine. I had no idea about the reception of Zola's books in Britain - I read them in French and was captivated enough to want to do a PhD in them - although I did know that they'd scandalised a section of French society. Here, the attitudes expressed 60 years later in the Chatterley case - "would you wish your wife or servant..." - are right to the fore, to the extent that publishers of Zola in English, in however bowdlerised a fashion, were prosecuted for indecency, while copies of the books in French were openly sold. Henry Vizetelly, the publisher involved, is ruined, while Zola seems profoundly indifferent to his fate, quibbling only about his royalties. It's a stunning indictment of hypocritical prudishness, closed-minded Philistinism and a distrust of foreign influences which is depressingly familiar today.
Silent witnesses: the story of forensic science, by Nigel McCrery. London: Arrow, 2014.
I'm told the author of this is the creator of Silent Witness on TV, but as I've never seen it... A short, workmanlike history of forensic science which covers all the usual bases, but less interestingly than Val McDermid's recent similar book. Some interesting additional/alternative test cases for some of the information though. The photos in the middle of the book are stunningly uninformative and could easily have been left out...
To hell on a bike: riding Paris-Roubaix, the toughest race in cycling, by Iain MacGregor. London: Bantam, 2015.
MacGregor cycled from Lands end to John O'Groats in the 1990s, and took up cycling again in his early 40s; after cycling the Etape du Tour in 2013, he looked for another challenge. So why not the "hell of the North", Paris-Roubaix, or its sportive equivalent? This is a nice mixture of a history of the race, some self-deprecating stuff about MacGregor's own cycling prowess, and some excellent interviews with journalists, commentators, former racers and organisers of the race - MacGregor's background in publishing has obviously allowed him to build an impressive contacts book - ending with an account of the ride itself. Very enjoyable and readable; and some really good photos in this one.
Saturday, March 25, 2017
2017 books, #11-15
Cast iron, by Peter May. London: riverrun, 2017.
The sixth, and presumably last, of the Enzo books - although Enzo's wager with Roger Raffin covers seven historic cases, all the loose ends are tied up in this book and it seems very final. Which is a shame, as this is an immensely entertaining cast of characters. In this book, though, Enzo is looking for the killer of Lucie Martin, a 20-year-old girl found in a dry lake bed years after her disappearance. The killing has always been blamed on Régis Blanc, a serial strangler who was known to Lucie, but Enzo isn't so sure, and Blanc has always denied the killing. Meanwhile, Enzo's investigation is putting his daughter and her fiancé in danger. Excellent plotting, the sort of book you devour in a couple of sittings. I'm going to miss this series.
Ashes of London, by Andrew Taylor [audiobook]. Read by Leighton Pugh. Rearsby, Leics.: WF Howes/Harper Audio, 2016.
In the aftermath of the Great Fire of London, a body is found in a tomb which ought to be empty; James Marwood is asked by the government to investigate. Marwood has no choice - he's the son of a printer who was disgraced for Republicanism and who is now deeply affected by dementia - but the investigation takes him deeper into political intrigue and danger. I sort of enjoyed this - but I found it really difficult to remain concentrated on it, despite the reader being a good one.
Medium raw: a bloody Valentine to the world of food and the people who cook, by Anthony Bourdain. London: Bloomsbury, 2010.
This has all the hallmarks of classic Bourdain - hundred-miles-an-hour, no-holds-barred, full-frontal writing; but from ten years after Kitchen confidential opened up many doors to the restaurant world, and after Cook's tour gave Bourdain the opportunity to travel all over the world in the search for exotic food. Starting, shockingly, with the consumption of ortolans, Bourdain writes about the world of cooks and restaurants and food producers, and also about the difference in himself between the angry, burned-out man who wrote Kitchen confidential and the husband and father he is by 2010. Excellent book.
Long time dead, by Tony Black [audiobook]. Read by Darth Cruickshank. Oxford: Isis, 2010.
This is the fourth one in a series, which may be why I felt as if I was slightly missing information all the way through. Anyway; Gus Dury is taken to hospital after a hit-and-run, but his alcoholism is causing worse problems. His best friend Hod asks him to investigate the on-campus hanging of an Edinburgh University student with a rich, high-profile mother who has promised a large reward. Gus needs the money, and gets a janitor's job at the university so he can take a look into the case; he uncovers a similar hanging which happened in the 1970s, and realises his life is in danger. I enjoyed this; but I'm not convinced I'll be looking for others in the series.
I hear the sirens in the street, by Adrian McKinty. London: Serpent's Tail, 2014.
Sean Duffy, back at work after the events of The cold cold ground, is given the case of a torso found in a suitcase. When he tracks the suitcase back to its previous owner, he finds another murder, that of a UVF soldier; everything becomes more complicated, step by step. And then there's the Troubles to deal with... Another excellent, gripping read with the background of the Falklands War...
The sixth, and presumably last, of the Enzo books - although Enzo's wager with Roger Raffin covers seven historic cases, all the loose ends are tied up in this book and it seems very final. Which is a shame, as this is an immensely entertaining cast of characters. In this book, though, Enzo is looking for the killer of Lucie Martin, a 20-year-old girl found in a dry lake bed years after her disappearance. The killing has always been blamed on Régis Blanc, a serial strangler who was known to Lucie, but Enzo isn't so sure, and Blanc has always denied the killing. Meanwhile, Enzo's investigation is putting his daughter and her fiancé in danger. Excellent plotting, the sort of book you devour in a couple of sittings. I'm going to miss this series.
Ashes of London, by Andrew Taylor [audiobook]. Read by Leighton Pugh. Rearsby, Leics.: WF Howes/Harper Audio, 2016.
In the aftermath of the Great Fire of London, a body is found in a tomb which ought to be empty; James Marwood is asked by the government to investigate. Marwood has no choice - he's the son of a printer who was disgraced for Republicanism and who is now deeply affected by dementia - but the investigation takes him deeper into political intrigue and danger. I sort of enjoyed this - but I found it really difficult to remain concentrated on it, despite the reader being a good one.
Medium raw: a bloody Valentine to the world of food and the people who cook, by Anthony Bourdain. London: Bloomsbury, 2010.
This has all the hallmarks of classic Bourdain - hundred-miles-an-hour, no-holds-barred, full-frontal writing; but from ten years after Kitchen confidential opened up many doors to the restaurant world, and after Cook's tour gave Bourdain the opportunity to travel all over the world in the search for exotic food. Starting, shockingly, with the consumption of ortolans, Bourdain writes about the world of cooks and restaurants and food producers, and also about the difference in himself between the angry, burned-out man who wrote Kitchen confidential and the husband and father he is by 2010. Excellent book.
Long time dead, by Tony Black [audiobook]. Read by Darth Cruickshank. Oxford: Isis, 2010.
This is the fourth one in a series, which may be why I felt as if I was slightly missing information all the way through. Anyway; Gus Dury is taken to hospital after a hit-and-run, but his alcoholism is causing worse problems. His best friend Hod asks him to investigate the on-campus hanging of an Edinburgh University student with a rich, high-profile mother who has promised a large reward. Gus needs the money, and gets a janitor's job at the university so he can take a look into the case; he uncovers a similar hanging which happened in the 1970s, and realises his life is in danger. I enjoyed this; but I'm not convinced I'll be looking for others in the series.
I hear the sirens in the street, by Adrian McKinty. London: Serpent's Tail, 2014.
Sean Duffy, back at work after the events of The cold cold ground, is given the case of a torso found in a suitcase. When he tracks the suitcase back to its previous owner, he finds another murder, that of a UVF soldier; everything becomes more complicated, step by step. And then there's the Troubles to deal with... Another excellent, gripping read with the background of the Falklands War...
Sunday, March 12, 2017
2017 books, #6-10
The hanging tree, by Ben Aaronovitch. London: Gollancz, 2016.
The sixth of the Peter Grant series, and another really enjoyable read. A young girl is found dead at a party of Bright (and Drugged-up) Young Things, and Lady Ty's daughter is present. Peter is called in because he owes Lady Ty a favour, and because it's probably not politic to have the daughters of river gods involved in this sort of thing. So we have a combination of Peter, the super-rich, magic and the river gods. What could possibly go wrong? If you haven't picked up this series before, do. But start at the beginning or parts of this will make no sense whatsoever. Only regret is that I raced through it way too fast...
Cold earth, by Ann Cleeves [audiobook]. Read by Kenny Blyth. Oxford: Isis, 2016.
During the funeral of Magnus Tait, a landslide crashes through what should have been an abandoned croft, and the body of a beautiful woman in a red dress is found in the wreckage. Jimmy Perez has no idea who she is, and starts to investigate; then he finds the woman was already dead when the landslide hit. As he tracks the woman back through her stay on the island, he begins to realise that he is stirring up a number of vested interests including the oil companies which give Shetland their prosperity. I don't know why I really didn't quite get into this book; the reader is good; the plot is well-done. Maybe I was just distracted by other things. I may go back and read/listen to this one again before the next one comes out...
Fear of 13. Netflix.
A bit unusual, as this isn't a book or an audiobook, but it might as well have been the latter; you could listen to it without the visuals, as the majority of the visual content is watching one man sitting on a chair telling his story of wrongful conviction. It's quite disorienting, because you find out a lot about Nick Yarris's life inside prison, and his state of mind, before you ever find out how and why he ended up on Death Row for 21 years. It's two hours of intense, very moving narrative delivered like a one-man show - it's no wonder that Yarris now makes part of his living in public speaking.
A very English scandal: sex, lies and a murder plot at the heart of the establishment, by John Preston. London: Penguin Viking, 2016.
This is a story I vaguely remember from childhood, but didn't understand properly at the time; it's Jeremy Thorpe, and the attempted murder of his lover Norman Scott. As the child of card-carrying Liberals, I remember the shock when he resigned, and the scandal of the trial, but not much else. This book gives short biographies of everyone involved, who might have known what and when, and how much coverup there actually was (spoiler: a lot). And it's all very readable.
Trieste and the meaning of nowhere, by Jan Morris. London: Faber, 2002.
Trieste is literally neither here nor there, a place which no country has really seemed to want over the centuries and which has ended up as the tag-end of Italy, nearer former Yugoslavia than anywhere else, and without its original purpose as a trading port for the whole Mediterranean. Morris writes lovingly about it - the first visit, as a young soldier during World War II, and the subsequent ones - but also slightly wonderingly, not really being able to pin down its charm. It's a memoir of the city, and also of Morris herself. Not a lot happens, but I have a strong desire to visit it and just be a flâneuse in this city.
The sixth of the Peter Grant series, and another really enjoyable read. A young girl is found dead at a party of Bright (and Drugged-up) Young Things, and Lady Ty's daughter is present. Peter is called in because he owes Lady Ty a favour, and because it's probably not politic to have the daughters of river gods involved in this sort of thing. So we have a combination of Peter, the super-rich, magic and the river gods. What could possibly go wrong? If you haven't picked up this series before, do. But start at the beginning or parts of this will make no sense whatsoever. Only regret is that I raced through it way too fast...
Cold earth, by Ann Cleeves [audiobook]. Read by Kenny Blyth. Oxford: Isis, 2016.
During the funeral of Magnus Tait, a landslide crashes through what should have been an abandoned croft, and the body of a beautiful woman in a red dress is found in the wreckage. Jimmy Perez has no idea who she is, and starts to investigate; then he finds the woman was already dead when the landslide hit. As he tracks the woman back through her stay on the island, he begins to realise that he is stirring up a number of vested interests including the oil companies which give Shetland their prosperity. I don't know why I really didn't quite get into this book; the reader is good; the plot is well-done. Maybe I was just distracted by other things. I may go back and read/listen to this one again before the next one comes out...
Fear of 13. Netflix.
A bit unusual, as this isn't a book or an audiobook, but it might as well have been the latter; you could listen to it without the visuals, as the majority of the visual content is watching one man sitting on a chair telling his story of wrongful conviction. It's quite disorienting, because you find out a lot about Nick Yarris's life inside prison, and his state of mind, before you ever find out how and why he ended up on Death Row for 21 years. It's two hours of intense, very moving narrative delivered like a one-man show - it's no wonder that Yarris now makes part of his living in public speaking.
A very English scandal: sex, lies and a murder plot at the heart of the establishment, by John Preston. London: Penguin Viking, 2016.
This is a story I vaguely remember from childhood, but didn't understand properly at the time; it's Jeremy Thorpe, and the attempted murder of his lover Norman Scott. As the child of card-carrying Liberals, I remember the shock when he resigned, and the scandal of the trial, but not much else. This book gives short biographies of everyone involved, who might have known what and when, and how much coverup there actually was (spoiler: a lot). And it's all very readable.
Trieste and the meaning of nowhere, by Jan Morris. London: Faber, 2002.
Trieste is literally neither here nor there, a place which no country has really seemed to want over the centuries and which has ended up as the tag-end of Italy, nearer former Yugoslavia than anywhere else, and without its original purpose as a trading port for the whole Mediterranean. Morris writes lovingly about it - the first visit, as a young soldier during World War II, and the subsequent ones - but also slightly wonderingly, not really being able to pin down its charm. It's a memoir of the city, and also of Morris herself. Not a lot happens, but I have a strong desire to visit it and just be a flâneuse in this city.
Sunday, January 29, 2017
2017 books, #1-5
Inferno, by Dan Brown [audiobook]. Read by Paul Michael. Rearsby, Leics: Clipper, 2013.
This is, of course, dreadful tosh. But a good shout at the CD player over New Year was welcome, and although it was initially a disappointment that Jeff Harding wasn't reading this one as well, the reader was excellent, particularly in the area of Italian pronunciation. There was so much wrong with the Dante part of this that I won't even start; and the setup so that Robert Langdon could mansplain his way round another landscape was as clunky as ever. But there were some pleasing plot twists, and a lot of knitting, tidying up and reading was done while listening to this.
The cold cold ground, by Adrian McKinty. London: Serpent's Tail, 2012.
I heard about this author via @TriciaindaHouse on Twitter - an excellent source for book recommendations if you like the sort of thing I review here. This is a brilliant book, and happily it's the first in an ongoing series. Sean Duffy is a rare bird, a Catholic sergeant in the RUC in the spring of 1981. Most of his work is in attempting to contain sectarian violence, but then he comes across a very odd case - two killings of gay men within a matter of hours. Is this the work of a serial killer, or something different? There are some great "period details" here - high-security visits of Margaret Thatcher, the IRA hunger strikers, the backdrop of the Royal Wedding - and also some shocking reminders of how totally abnormal life in the North was at the time. Highly recommended. I've already got the second one on reserve.
Saturday requiem, by Nicci French [audiobook]. Read by Beth Chalmers. Rearsby, Leics.: Clipper, 2016.
It was a completely open and shut case when 18-year-old Hannah Docherty was arrested for the murder of her mother, father and brother, and she's been incarcerated in a secure hospital ever since. When Frieda Klein, a psychotherapist, is asked by the police to assess Hannah, she is horrified and haunted by the girl's condition, and begins to investigate the circumstances of the murders. What she finds makes her doubt both her own sanity, and Hannah's guilt. This is tightly plotted and fascinating.
Paper towns, by John Green. London: Bloomsbury, 2010.
Margo Roth Spiegelman is Quentin Jacobsen's next door neighbour, and an awesome rebel. Q has been in love with her forever, and is amazed when she commandeers him to go on a riotous, night-long revenge prank. And then Margo disappears. The phenomenon of paper towns was unfamiliar to me until I read this book... The setup, and to an extent the main character, who is not the narrator, is familiar from Green's Looking for Alaska, but this is an altogether different thing, and makes you laugh and cry, and believe, as I did as a teenager, that dysfunctional teens are probably the best.
The strange case of the composer and his judge, by Patricia Duncker [audiobook]. Read by Maggie Mash. Rearsby, Leics.: Clipper, 2010.
Hunters in the Jura come across a strange sight: a semi-circle of dead bodies, staring upwards into the sky. Dominique Carpentier, a judge with more than a passing interest in cults, is called up by a policeman who is also her old lover; the pair start to investigate, and realise that there is a connection between the dead and a composer and conductor, Friedrich Grosz. This is a strange sort of book - half police procedural, half a search into a mystical realm, and I'm not entirely sure it's successful; but it's a good listen, with an excellent reader.
This is, of course, dreadful tosh. But a good shout at the CD player over New Year was welcome, and although it was initially a disappointment that Jeff Harding wasn't reading this one as well, the reader was excellent, particularly in the area of Italian pronunciation. There was so much wrong with the Dante part of this that I won't even start; and the setup so that Robert Langdon could mansplain his way round another landscape was as clunky as ever. But there were some pleasing plot twists, and a lot of knitting, tidying up and reading was done while listening to this.
The cold cold ground, by Adrian McKinty. London: Serpent's Tail, 2012.
I heard about this author via @TriciaindaHouse on Twitter - an excellent source for book recommendations if you like the sort of thing I review here. This is a brilliant book, and happily it's the first in an ongoing series. Sean Duffy is a rare bird, a Catholic sergeant in the RUC in the spring of 1981. Most of his work is in attempting to contain sectarian violence, but then he comes across a very odd case - two killings of gay men within a matter of hours. Is this the work of a serial killer, or something different? There are some great "period details" here - high-security visits of Margaret Thatcher, the IRA hunger strikers, the backdrop of the Royal Wedding - and also some shocking reminders of how totally abnormal life in the North was at the time. Highly recommended. I've already got the second one on reserve.
Saturday requiem, by Nicci French [audiobook]. Read by Beth Chalmers. Rearsby, Leics.: Clipper, 2016.
It was a completely open and shut case when 18-year-old Hannah Docherty was arrested for the murder of her mother, father and brother, and she's been incarcerated in a secure hospital ever since. When Frieda Klein, a psychotherapist, is asked by the police to assess Hannah, she is horrified and haunted by the girl's condition, and begins to investigate the circumstances of the murders. What she finds makes her doubt both her own sanity, and Hannah's guilt. This is tightly plotted and fascinating.
Paper towns, by John Green. London: Bloomsbury, 2010.
Margo Roth Spiegelman is Quentin Jacobsen's next door neighbour, and an awesome rebel. Q has been in love with her forever, and is amazed when she commandeers him to go on a riotous, night-long revenge prank. And then Margo disappears. The phenomenon of paper towns was unfamiliar to me until I read this book... The setup, and to an extent the main character, who is not the narrator, is familiar from Green's Looking for Alaska, but this is an altogether different thing, and makes you laugh and cry, and believe, as I did as a teenager, that dysfunctional teens are probably the best.
The strange case of the composer and his judge, by Patricia Duncker [audiobook]. Read by Maggie Mash. Rearsby, Leics.: Clipper, 2010.
Hunters in the Jura come across a strange sight: a semi-circle of dead bodies, staring upwards into the sky. Dominique Carpentier, a judge with more than a passing interest in cults, is called up by a policeman who is also her old lover; the pair start to investigate, and realise that there is a connection between the dead and a composer and conductor, Friedrich Grosz. This is a strange sort of book - half police procedural, half a search into a mystical realm, and I'm not entirely sure it's successful; but it's a good listen, with an excellent reader.
Saturday, December 31, 2016
2016 books, #86-90
Freeze frame, by Peter May. Kindle edition.
I'm starting to become quite freaked out with the coincidences in locations with this series of books - I read this while in Morocco for work in November, and one of the first scenes is set in the 1960 Agadir earthquake. Then two days later, we were in a museum looking at a painting of the 1960 Agadir earthquake... Anyway; this is another excellent Enzo Macleod mystery, which spans 60 years. Enzo is asked by a man's widow to look at his study and try to figure out the clues he left 20 years ago for his son, who died shortly after him without being able to work out who had killed his father. The mystery takes Enzo to an island off the coast of Brittany - the man who was tried, and acquitted, of the murder is still around, and many of the locals don't want the story brought to life again. As ever, Enzo doesn't let this deter him; even though things in his private life are doing their best to distract him...
The box of delights, by John Masefield. London: Egmont, 2014.
I'd forgotten quite how enjoyable this book was; and also that it was the companion to The midnight folk, which I'll have to track down and re-read. Kay Harker comes home from school for Christmas, but some mysterious characters share a carriage with him, and a strange man at the station tells him that The wolves are running... Then his and his siblings' guardian is called to London at short notice and doesn't reappear, and clergy start disappearing from the Cathedral... A creepy Christmas tale for all ages.
No man's land, by GM Ford [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Bath: BBC Audio, 2008.
Frank Corso is summoned to a high-security prison, where inmates have taken over. The ringleader, Timothy Driver, is the subject of one of Corso's biographies, and demands Corso come in and talk to him. Subsequently Driver kidnaps Corso, and he and another prisoner escape. Corso is dragged along during a killing spree; and a television journalist is also trying to track Driver and his companion down. This ought to have been thrilling, and it's read as ably as ever by Jeff Harding, but I did find my attention drifting from time to time...
Fatal pursuit, by Martin Walker. London: Quercus, 2016.
Bruno, chief of police in the Dordogne town of St Denis, is supervising a vintage car rally when news comes that a man has died on the outskirts of the village. It looks like a natural death - the man is elderly, overweight and has a terrible diet - but Bruno's just not sure. He can't find the papers the man is meant to have been working on, and there are no files on his computer relating to his current commission. Meanwhile he's also dealing with a family feud, the car rally and the presence of his old flame Isabelle who has been stationed nearby dealing with a high-level fraud investigation. This series continues to charm, and also to wrap up satisfying plots; bravo.
Blowback, by Peter May. Kindle edition.
Enzo Macleod's fifth cold case from Roger Raffin's book takes him to a chateau in the Jura, home and restaurant to three-star Michelin chef Marc Fraysse, who was murdered seven years before. He has a limited amount of time to investigate as the restaurant is about to close for the winter season, but he has a mole in the kitchen staff already, and the cooperation, at least initially, of Fraysse's family. As he investigates, though, he digs up a mass of seething sibling resentment, betrayal and infidelity which both put him into danger and lead to disturbing parallels with his own life. Another excellent outing for Enzo.
I'm starting to become quite freaked out with the coincidences in locations with this series of books - I read this while in Morocco for work in November, and one of the first scenes is set in the 1960 Agadir earthquake. Then two days later, we were in a museum looking at a painting of the 1960 Agadir earthquake... Anyway; this is another excellent Enzo Macleod mystery, which spans 60 years. Enzo is asked by a man's widow to look at his study and try to figure out the clues he left 20 years ago for his son, who died shortly after him without being able to work out who had killed his father. The mystery takes Enzo to an island off the coast of Brittany - the man who was tried, and acquitted, of the murder is still around, and many of the locals don't want the story brought to life again. As ever, Enzo doesn't let this deter him; even though things in his private life are doing their best to distract him...
The box of delights, by John Masefield. London: Egmont, 2014.
I'd forgotten quite how enjoyable this book was; and also that it was the companion to The midnight folk, which I'll have to track down and re-read. Kay Harker comes home from school for Christmas, but some mysterious characters share a carriage with him, and a strange man at the station tells him that The wolves are running... Then his and his siblings' guardian is called to London at short notice and doesn't reappear, and clergy start disappearing from the Cathedral... A creepy Christmas tale for all ages.
No man's land, by GM Ford [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Bath: BBC Audio, 2008.
Frank Corso is summoned to a high-security prison, where inmates have taken over. The ringleader, Timothy Driver, is the subject of one of Corso's biographies, and demands Corso come in and talk to him. Subsequently Driver kidnaps Corso, and he and another prisoner escape. Corso is dragged along during a killing spree; and a television journalist is also trying to track Driver and his companion down. This ought to have been thrilling, and it's read as ably as ever by Jeff Harding, but I did find my attention drifting from time to time...
Fatal pursuit, by Martin Walker. London: Quercus, 2016.
Bruno, chief of police in the Dordogne town of St Denis, is supervising a vintage car rally when news comes that a man has died on the outskirts of the village. It looks like a natural death - the man is elderly, overweight and has a terrible diet - but Bruno's just not sure. He can't find the papers the man is meant to have been working on, and there are no files on his computer relating to his current commission. Meanwhile he's also dealing with a family feud, the car rally and the presence of his old flame Isabelle who has been stationed nearby dealing with a high-level fraud investigation. This series continues to charm, and also to wrap up satisfying plots; bravo.
Blowback, by Peter May. Kindle edition.
Enzo Macleod's fifth cold case from Roger Raffin's book takes him to a chateau in the Jura, home and restaurant to three-star Michelin chef Marc Fraysse, who was murdered seven years before. He has a limited amount of time to investigate as the restaurant is about to close for the winter season, but he has a mole in the kitchen staff already, and the cooperation, at least initially, of Fraysse's family. As he investigates, though, he digs up a mass of seething sibling resentment, betrayal and infidelity which both put him into danger and lead to disturbing parallels with his own life. Another excellent outing for Enzo.
2016 books, #81-85
Bringing in the sheaves: wheat and chaff from my years as a priest, by Richard Coles. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2016.
This is a lovely book. It's based around the church's year, and mixes serious spiritual stuff with the comedy and tragedy of human life as seen by a parish priest. Coles's compassion shines through, and there's some extremely funny stuff which is instantly recognisable to anyone who's been part of a church community. Highly recommended.
Fool me once, by Harlan Coben [audiobook]. Read by January LaVoy. [S.l.]: Bolinda Audio, 2016.
What do you do when you've just buried your husband after his brutal murder in Central Park, but then see him on your nanny-cam? Maya is convinced that Joe is dead, but she also wants to believe the evidence of her own eyes. Joe's family has many hidden secrets; and Maya's not short of those herself. This is another real brain-twisting thriller from Coben, who's the specialist in convincing you you haven't a clue what's going on...
Requiem Mass, by Elizabeth Corley [audiobook]. Read by Jonathan Oliver. Bath: Oakhill, [n. d.]
Andrew Fenwick has just returned to work after the death of his wife; he's assigned a missing persons enquiry which initially he feels is beneath him. Then a teacher is murdered, and it turns out that there is an old link between the two women, and with two or three more. Fenwick becomes convinced that someone is taking revenge for an old tragedy, and he and his colleagues start to hunt the killer. This is a bit long, and not all that tightly-plotted; but Fenwick is well enough drawn that I'll look for more by this author.
A mortal curiosity, by Ann Granger [audiobook]. Read by Laurence Kennedy and Maggie Mash. Rearsby, Leics.: WF Howes, 2011.
Lizzie Martin is sent off to Hampshire to be companion for a teenage woman, Lucy Craven, who has just lost her baby, and whose husband is in China. She is living with two maiden aunts in an isolated house, and Lizzie is worried about Lucy's mental state. So is the mysterious Dr Lefebre, and this opinion seems to be confirmed when Lucy is found crouching over the body of a murdered man, covered in blood; the murder weapon is a knife from the aunts' kitchen. Lizzie calls on Ben Ross, who comes down from London, and the two investigate again. This has a cliffhanger of an ending...
The Green Mill murder, by Kerry Greenwood. London: Constable, 1993.
Phryne Fisher is at a dance marathon with goopish Charles Freeman when a man is stabbed right beside her. Charles vanishes before being questioned by the police, and Phryne is left both to find Charles and to investigate the murder. This is set squarely in the Jazz Age, with the wonderfully named Tintagel Stone and his band, and Phryne's little plane comes into its own here when she has to track down a shellshocked War veteran who has made his home in an isolated part of the Australian bush. Wonderfully entertaining, as ever...
This is a lovely book. It's based around the church's year, and mixes serious spiritual stuff with the comedy and tragedy of human life as seen by a parish priest. Coles's compassion shines through, and there's some extremely funny stuff which is instantly recognisable to anyone who's been part of a church community. Highly recommended.
Fool me once, by Harlan Coben [audiobook]. Read by January LaVoy. [S.l.]: Bolinda Audio, 2016.
What do you do when you've just buried your husband after his brutal murder in Central Park, but then see him on your nanny-cam? Maya is convinced that Joe is dead, but she also wants to believe the evidence of her own eyes. Joe's family has many hidden secrets; and Maya's not short of those herself. This is another real brain-twisting thriller from Coben, who's the specialist in convincing you you haven't a clue what's going on...
Requiem Mass, by Elizabeth Corley [audiobook]. Read by Jonathan Oliver. Bath: Oakhill, [n. d.]
Andrew Fenwick has just returned to work after the death of his wife; he's assigned a missing persons enquiry which initially he feels is beneath him. Then a teacher is murdered, and it turns out that there is an old link between the two women, and with two or three more. Fenwick becomes convinced that someone is taking revenge for an old tragedy, and he and his colleagues start to hunt the killer. This is a bit long, and not all that tightly-plotted; but Fenwick is well enough drawn that I'll look for more by this author.
A mortal curiosity, by Ann Granger [audiobook]. Read by Laurence Kennedy and Maggie Mash. Rearsby, Leics.: WF Howes, 2011.
Lizzie Martin is sent off to Hampshire to be companion for a teenage woman, Lucy Craven, who has just lost her baby, and whose husband is in China. She is living with two maiden aunts in an isolated house, and Lizzie is worried about Lucy's mental state. So is the mysterious Dr Lefebre, and this opinion seems to be confirmed when Lucy is found crouching over the body of a murdered man, covered in blood; the murder weapon is a knife from the aunts' kitchen. Lizzie calls on Ben Ross, who comes down from London, and the two investigate again. This has a cliffhanger of an ending...
The Green Mill murder, by Kerry Greenwood. London: Constable, 1993.
Phryne Fisher is at a dance marathon with goopish Charles Freeman when a man is stabbed right beside her. Charles vanishes before being questioned by the police, and Phryne is left both to find Charles and to investigate the murder. This is set squarely in the Jazz Age, with the wonderfully named Tintagel Stone and his band, and Phryne's little plane comes into its own here when she has to track down a shellshocked War veteran who has made his home in an isolated part of the Australian bush. Wonderfully entertaining, as ever...
2016 books, #76-80
Splinter the silence, by Val McDermid [audiobook]. Read by Saul Reichlin. Rearsby, Leics.: Clipper, 2015.
Carol Jordan is still in exile, renovating her old barn in the Yorkshire hills. Until one night she has more than one too many, and is picked up by a traffic patrol and charged with drunk driving. At her lowest, the only person she can think to call is Tony Hill. But life is about to change for both of them as a result of a Home Office initiative. Carol and Tony are back in harness, chasing a cyber-bully who seems to be driving feminists to suicide. Another excellent book in this series.
Conclave, by Robert Harris. London: Hutchinson, 2016.
This book was completely fascinating. I think anyone following this blog for long will know that a) I'm Catholic and b) I wasn't a fan of the last Pope; so a thriller set at a conclave which might, who knows, elect a progressive Pope was always going to be attractive. This, in a way, reminds me of earlier John Grisham - the setup is brilliant; the characters are well-defined; there are cliffhangers all along the way; and somehow, the ending is ever so slightly disappointing. I don't regret reading it, though.
Jeremy Hutchinson's case histories, by Thomas Grant. London: John Murray, 2016.
Recommendation from Jan - thanks! This is the story of the cases of Jeremy Hutchinson, lawyer to the stars of iconoclasm and freedom of speech from the 1960s onwards. The trial of George Blake, the Profumo affair, the Chatterley trial, right through to Romans in Britain and Mary Whitehouse, told in an entertaining, engaging style which puts the cases into the context of how the world was at the time. One of the books I enjoyed reading as a teenager was a history of Bernard Spilsbury's cases - this is way better. A truly excellent read.
Blacklight blue, by Peter May. Kindle edition.
The third of the Enzo novels; read it in Colmar in September. Which was weird, because it starts in Strasbourg, which I was travelling through at the time... Enzo's daughter Kirsty is caught up in an assassination attempt, he's diagnosed with a terminal illness and his son-in-law's gym burns down, all seemingly in an attempt to stop him investigating another of the unsolved murders detailed in Roger Raffin's book. Enzo establishes his family in a safe house, but the person looking for him is someone with many identities and who will not hesitate to kill. This one has one heck of a twist in the tail...
The murder of Mary Russell, by Laurie R. King. London: Allison and Busby, 2016.
Mrs Hudson comes home to Sussex to find a large pool of blood on the floor, and no sign of Mary Russell. She calls the police, and Holmes; but is aware that all the clues left point directly to her - or, in fact, to Clarissa, the woman she once was. This is much more about Mrs Hudson than it is about Mary or Sherlock Holmes, but it's pretty fascinating for all that, and an interesting exercise in alternative back-stories...
Carol Jordan is still in exile, renovating her old barn in the Yorkshire hills. Until one night she has more than one too many, and is picked up by a traffic patrol and charged with drunk driving. At her lowest, the only person she can think to call is Tony Hill. But life is about to change for both of them as a result of a Home Office initiative. Carol and Tony are back in harness, chasing a cyber-bully who seems to be driving feminists to suicide. Another excellent book in this series.
Conclave, by Robert Harris. London: Hutchinson, 2016.
This book was completely fascinating. I think anyone following this blog for long will know that a) I'm Catholic and b) I wasn't a fan of the last Pope; so a thriller set at a conclave which might, who knows, elect a progressive Pope was always going to be attractive. This, in a way, reminds me of earlier John Grisham - the setup is brilliant; the characters are well-defined; there are cliffhangers all along the way; and somehow, the ending is ever so slightly disappointing. I don't regret reading it, though.
Jeremy Hutchinson's case histories, by Thomas Grant. London: John Murray, 2016.
Recommendation from Jan - thanks! This is the story of the cases of Jeremy Hutchinson, lawyer to the stars of iconoclasm and freedom of speech from the 1960s onwards. The trial of George Blake, the Profumo affair, the Chatterley trial, right through to Romans in Britain and Mary Whitehouse, told in an entertaining, engaging style which puts the cases into the context of how the world was at the time. One of the books I enjoyed reading as a teenager was a history of Bernard Spilsbury's cases - this is way better. A truly excellent read.
Blacklight blue, by Peter May. Kindle edition.
The third of the Enzo novels; read it in Colmar in September. Which was weird, because it starts in Strasbourg, which I was travelling through at the time... Enzo's daughter Kirsty is caught up in an assassination attempt, he's diagnosed with a terminal illness and his son-in-law's gym burns down, all seemingly in an attempt to stop him investigating another of the unsolved murders detailed in Roger Raffin's book. Enzo establishes his family in a safe house, but the person looking for him is someone with many identities and who will not hesitate to kill. This one has one heck of a twist in the tail...
The murder of Mary Russell, by Laurie R. King. London: Allison and Busby, 2016.
Mrs Hudson comes home to Sussex to find a large pool of blood on the floor, and no sign of Mary Russell. She calls the police, and Holmes; but is aware that all the clues left point directly to her - or, in fact, to Clarissa, the woman she once was. This is much more about Mrs Hudson than it is about Mary or Sherlock Holmes, but it's pretty fascinating for all that, and an interesting exercise in alternative back-stories...
Saturday, November 05, 2016
2016 books, #71-75
A rare interest in corpses, by Ann Granger [audiobook]. Read by Maggie Mash and Glen McCready. Rearsby, Leics.: WF Howes, 2006.
In 1864, Lizzie Martin comes to London from Derbyshire, as companion to her godfather's widow. On the way to her employer's house, she sees a body being taken out of a house which is being demolished to make way for the new St Pancras Station. As time goes on, she discovers that the household and the house at St Pancras have a connection, possibly a dangerous one; and that she's already acquainted with the police inspector charged with the investigation. This is tightly-plotted, and I love the details on the building of St Pancras as someone who sees it every day. The dual reading is a nice format, given the two narrators, and there's some real humour here.
Roughing it in the bush, by Susannah Moodie. Kindle edition.
Susannah Moodie and her husband emigrated to Canada in 1832, with their small baby in tow; this is the story of the first few years of their life in the new territory. Susannah is at time exasperating - she has the sententious Christianity of her age - and the poetry at the beginning and end of each chapter did absolutely nothing for me; but it's a fascinating account, occasionally very humorous. It has the attitudes, and language, of its age, but is often very refreshingly not what you'd expect from a Victorian matron. And there's some awful hardship along the way, too. I don't think I'd have carried on with this after the first few chapters if it hadn't been a book-group book; but on the other hand I'd have missed a lot by giving up.
I let you go, by Clare Mackintosh. London: Sphere, 2014.
A five-year-old, Jacob, is killed by a hit-and-run driver; the grieving mother of a dead child runs away to the Welsh coast; two police detectives on the verge of an affair can't let the hit-and-run case go, and continue to investigate. It all seems pretty straightforward for the first half of the book, until there's a breakthrough - and a cliff-edge for the reader worthy of Jeffrey Deaver at his finest. And it all gets even darker. I would warn (and this is slightly spoilery) that if you've found the Helen-and-Rob plot arc on the Archers distressing, this may not be one for you. I found it hard reading at points but the need to know is very strong by that point.
Triumphs and turbulence: my autobiography, by Chris Boardman. London: Ebury, 2016.
Normally, I read for a bit on the train and then pick up my knitting and put on a podcast. I started reading this on Thursday night, had to lever myself away from it to switch the light off, and finished reading on the train nearing home on Friday night. I slightly regret reading this so quickly, but it had to be back at the library on Saturday... This is a wonderful book. If you like Chris Boardman and have heard him commenting and commentating, and podcasting, you can hear this in his own voice. It's self-deprecating, sardonic, funny, often painfully self-critical. Boardman's fully aware of the degree of self-obsession required for performance sport, to the extent of having missed the birth of his second child because he needed to recce a course ahead of a race; and of the difficulty of leaving that mindset after retirement from competition. And there are some great pen-portraits of the people he's worked with and raced with and against over the years, and a sense of the deep debt of gratitude he owes to his wife Sally, who's kept it all together all these years.
One day ahead: a Tour de France misadventure, by Richard Grady. Kindle edition.
You couldn't get a higher contrast to the last one than this book, read on the Eurostar on the way to Alsace in September. Four amateur cyclists decide to race the 2012 Tour route one day ahead of the professional péloton , and rope a motley collection of friends in for the ride and as support workers. It's an occasionally very funny account of the attempt, and the love of France comes through strongly; but it's also an honest, warts-and-all account of what happens when you get eight disparate people, with different expectations and senses of entitlement, living in close quarters in two camper-vans for nearly a month. It's a combination of a tale of massive, heroic endeavour and a warning never to go on holiday with people you don't know well...
In 1864, Lizzie Martin comes to London from Derbyshire, as companion to her godfather's widow. On the way to her employer's house, she sees a body being taken out of a house which is being demolished to make way for the new St Pancras Station. As time goes on, she discovers that the household and the house at St Pancras have a connection, possibly a dangerous one; and that she's already acquainted with the police inspector charged with the investigation. This is tightly-plotted, and I love the details on the building of St Pancras as someone who sees it every day. The dual reading is a nice format, given the two narrators, and there's some real humour here.
Roughing it in the bush, by Susannah Moodie. Kindle edition.
Susannah Moodie and her husband emigrated to Canada in 1832, with their small baby in tow; this is the story of the first few years of their life in the new territory. Susannah is at time exasperating - she has the sententious Christianity of her age - and the poetry at the beginning and end of each chapter did absolutely nothing for me; but it's a fascinating account, occasionally very humorous. It has the attitudes, and language, of its age, but is often very refreshingly not what you'd expect from a Victorian matron. And there's some awful hardship along the way, too. I don't think I'd have carried on with this after the first few chapters if it hadn't been a book-group book; but on the other hand I'd have missed a lot by giving up.
I let you go, by Clare Mackintosh. London: Sphere, 2014.
A five-year-old, Jacob, is killed by a hit-and-run driver; the grieving mother of a dead child runs away to the Welsh coast; two police detectives on the verge of an affair can't let the hit-and-run case go, and continue to investigate. It all seems pretty straightforward for the first half of the book, until there's a breakthrough - and a cliff-edge for the reader worthy of Jeffrey Deaver at his finest. And it all gets even darker. I would warn (and this is slightly spoilery) that if you've found the Helen-and-Rob plot arc on the Archers distressing, this may not be one for you. I found it hard reading at points but the need to know is very strong by that point.
Triumphs and turbulence: my autobiography, by Chris Boardman. London: Ebury, 2016.
Normally, I read for a bit on the train and then pick up my knitting and put on a podcast. I started reading this on Thursday night, had to lever myself away from it to switch the light off, and finished reading on the train nearing home on Friday night. I slightly regret reading this so quickly, but it had to be back at the library on Saturday... This is a wonderful book. If you like Chris Boardman and have heard him commenting and commentating, and podcasting, you can hear this in his own voice. It's self-deprecating, sardonic, funny, often painfully self-critical. Boardman's fully aware of the degree of self-obsession required for performance sport, to the extent of having missed the birth of his second child because he needed to recce a course ahead of a race; and of the difficulty of leaving that mindset after retirement from competition. And there are some great pen-portraits of the people he's worked with and raced with and against over the years, and a sense of the deep debt of gratitude he owes to his wife Sally, who's kept it all together all these years.
One day ahead: a Tour de France misadventure, by Richard Grady. Kindle edition.
You couldn't get a higher contrast to the last one than this book, read on the Eurostar on the way to Alsace in September. Four amateur cyclists decide to race the 2012 Tour route one day ahead of the professional péloton , and rope a motley collection of friends in for the ride and as support workers. It's an occasionally very funny account of the attempt, and the love of France comes through strongly; but it's also an honest, warts-and-all account of what happens when you get eight disparate people, with different expectations and senses of entitlement, living in close quarters in two camper-vans for nearly a month. It's a combination of a tale of massive, heroic endeavour and a warning never to go on holiday with people you don't know well...
Saturday, October 22, 2016
2016 books, #66-70
Cheer up, love: adventures in depression with the Crab of Hate, by Susan Calman. London: Two Roads, 2016.
This is a wonderful book. It's often extremely funny, as you'd expect; but it's also extremely honest about living with depression, and some of the things Susan Calman has found help with her own depression; there's also a great section on the things to say, and not to say, at difficult times. Calman looks at the impact of social media on mental health, at talking therapies, at people's attitudes to her being gay and depressed, at physical appearance... It's all extremely engaging, and beautifully written, and (again) funny. And obviously, there are cats. Highly recommended!
Out of bounds, by Val McDermid. London: Little, Brown, 2016.
A teenage joyrider crashes a stolen car, killing his three passengers and putting himself into a coma. When his DNA is analysed to see whether he'd been involved in other car thefts, it seems to hold the key to the 20-year-old murder of a hairdresser killed on a night out. DCI Karen Pirie of the Cold Cases Unit is extremely keen to find the perpetrator of a crime which affected all the people involved so deeply, but it's not as straightforward as it seems; and Pirie also has enemies within Police Scotland who resent her involvement in the present-day crime and wish to stop her. As the investigation goes on, some very powerful people are stirred up and Pirie's life is in danger. As ever, this is brilliant. (There's also an extremely accurate description of a Select Committee session in Portcullis House - Pete Wishart MP of the SNP is credited at the end for help with that one!)
The escape artist: life from the saddle, by Matt Seaton. London: Fourth Estate, 2002.
I had this recommended by the bibliography at the back of another cycling book; and it's a really interesting account of a keen amateur, almost-professional, cyclist in the 1990s, and the sacrifices people make to an obsession. What I hadn't realised was that it's the Matt Seaton who's also the Family editor for The Guardian and widower of Ruth Picardie, whose heartbreaking Before I say goodbye... columns I read in the Observer in the 1990s. So it's also a pretty poignant memoir; it balances the exhilaration of racing, and of feeling physically in completely top condition, with the guilt of not spending time doing more responsible, more social things.
The long way home, by Louise Penny. London: Sphere, 2014.
I finished The beautiful mystery, the previous book in the series, just before a meeting in Bloomsbury; and bought this on the way home. Gamache and Reine-Marie are starting to enjoy a life in retirement in Three Pines, but there's one unresolved mystery - Peter Morrow hasn't returned to his wife Clara after their one-year trial separation, and while Clara is still undecided as to whether she really wants him back, she knows Peter wouldn't stay away if there wasn't something very wrong. Gamache agrees to help find Peter, and it turns into a slightly bizarre road trip around Québec and Ontario. There's a lot about art and artists, and about losing one's way and trying to find it; and a surprising, heartbreaking conclusion. Extremely good.
The critic: an Enzo MacLeod investigation, by Peter May. Kindle edition.
The second of the Enzo novels. After solving one historic unsolved case, Enzo is again taking time out of his day job as a chemistry professor at Toulouse University to look at another case, this time in the vineyards of the Gers. A prominent US wine critic went missing from the area a decade before, and no trace of him has been found, until his corpse appears displayed in a vineyard, seemingly having been pickled in wine all this time. Enzo's enquiries aren't popular with everyone, though, and his motley crew of students, his daughters and their boyfriends prove both a help and a hindrance before the mystery is finally (slightly horrifyingly) solved. This was a brilliant book to be reading in France last month.
This is a wonderful book. It's often extremely funny, as you'd expect; but it's also extremely honest about living with depression, and some of the things Susan Calman has found help with her own depression; there's also a great section on the things to say, and not to say, at difficult times. Calman looks at the impact of social media on mental health, at talking therapies, at people's attitudes to her being gay and depressed, at physical appearance... It's all extremely engaging, and beautifully written, and (again) funny. And obviously, there are cats. Highly recommended!
Out of bounds, by Val McDermid. London: Little, Brown, 2016.
A teenage joyrider crashes a stolen car, killing his three passengers and putting himself into a coma. When his DNA is analysed to see whether he'd been involved in other car thefts, it seems to hold the key to the 20-year-old murder of a hairdresser killed on a night out. DCI Karen Pirie of the Cold Cases Unit is extremely keen to find the perpetrator of a crime which affected all the people involved so deeply, but it's not as straightforward as it seems; and Pirie also has enemies within Police Scotland who resent her involvement in the present-day crime and wish to stop her. As the investigation goes on, some very powerful people are stirred up and Pirie's life is in danger. As ever, this is brilliant. (There's also an extremely accurate description of a Select Committee session in Portcullis House - Pete Wishart MP of the SNP is credited at the end for help with that one!)
The escape artist: life from the saddle, by Matt Seaton. London: Fourth Estate, 2002.
I had this recommended by the bibliography at the back of another cycling book; and it's a really interesting account of a keen amateur, almost-professional, cyclist in the 1990s, and the sacrifices people make to an obsession. What I hadn't realised was that it's the Matt Seaton who's also the Family editor for The Guardian and widower of Ruth Picardie, whose heartbreaking Before I say goodbye... columns I read in the Observer in the 1990s. So it's also a pretty poignant memoir; it balances the exhilaration of racing, and of feeling physically in completely top condition, with the guilt of not spending time doing more responsible, more social things.
The long way home, by Louise Penny. London: Sphere, 2014.
I finished The beautiful mystery, the previous book in the series, just before a meeting in Bloomsbury; and bought this on the way home. Gamache and Reine-Marie are starting to enjoy a life in retirement in Three Pines, but there's one unresolved mystery - Peter Morrow hasn't returned to his wife Clara after their one-year trial separation, and while Clara is still undecided as to whether she really wants him back, she knows Peter wouldn't stay away if there wasn't something very wrong. Gamache agrees to help find Peter, and it turns into a slightly bizarre road trip around Québec and Ontario. There's a lot about art and artists, and about losing one's way and trying to find it; and a surprising, heartbreaking conclusion. Extremely good.
The critic: an Enzo MacLeod investigation, by Peter May. Kindle edition.
The second of the Enzo novels. After solving one historic unsolved case, Enzo is again taking time out of his day job as a chemistry professor at Toulouse University to look at another case, this time in the vineyards of the Gers. A prominent US wine critic went missing from the area a decade before, and no trace of him has been found, until his corpse appears displayed in a vineyard, seemingly having been pickled in wine all this time. Enzo's enquiries aren't popular with everyone, though, and his motley crew of students, his daughters and their boyfriends prove both a help and a hindrance before the mystery is finally (slightly horrifyingly) solved. This was a brilliant book to be reading in France last month.
2016 books, #61-65
Lanterne rouge: the last man in the Tour de France, by Max Leonard. London: Yellow Jersey Press, 2014.
This was a good year to read this book - the last man to finish on the Tour de France this year was the lovely Sam Bennett, who rode all but the first stage with stitches in his right hand and a clamp holding his little finger together. Sometimes a bit of a joke, sometimes, like this year, a badge of honour and survival, the people who've "won" the lanterne rouge are a fascinating bunch. Leonard picks a dozen from all eras of the tour, and looks both at the Tour they rode that year and the rest of their careers; and in doing so sheds light on this fascinating "honour". Sam Bennett joked that as more riders finished the Tour than in any previous year this July, he was "the last of the last". This book shows he's in extraordinarily good company.
Telesa: the covenant keeper, by Lani Wendt Young. Kindle edition.
This was a book group book, a YA novel. 18 year old Leila's father dies, leaving her with only her autocratic grandmother; rather than spend her summer at an academic camp, she travels to Samoa to try and find out more about the mother who died when she was a baby. Far from being overjoyed, her mother's family are anxious and fearful at first. Leila settles in well at school and makes friends for the first time, but strange things are happening to her physically, and she's also awakening sexually. There's some fascinating stuff about Samoan traditions and superstitions here, and I think if I was a teenager I'd love these; as it was, reading about the perfectly-sculpted bodies of teenage boys made me feel uncomfortably like some middle-aged voyeuse.
How the light gets in, by Louise Penny. New York: Minotaur, 2013.
This is a stunning book. I like this series in general; but it's rare that a book manages to totally transcend its series, and this is one of those rare times. The title comes from Leonard Cohen's Anthem; Ring the bells that still can ring / Forget your perfect offering / There is a crack in everything / That's how the light gets in. After the events of Beautiful mystery, Gamache and Beauvoir are estranged, the Homicide unit of the Sécurité du Québec has been decimated by malevolent high-ups, and Gamache himself feels defeated. And in the middle of all this, Gamache has a call from Three Pines - Myrna's Christmas guest never arrived, and subsequently is found dead in her apartment in Québec City. Her secret is that she was one of a set of quintuplets who were astonishingly famous as children. But as Gamache looks into the crime, he's also being watched... There is so much despair, beauty and hope in this book. It's worth reading the entire series just to get to it.
The murder road, by Stephen Booth [audiobook]. Read by Mike Rogers. Oxford: Isis, 2015.
There's only one road out of the village of Shawhead; and now that road is blocked by a lorry which has got stuck under the bridge. There's no sign of the driver, but the cab is bloodstained. Ben Cooper starts to investigate, but the villagers of Shawhead are a strange lot, and his investigation isn't the only thing on his mind, as he drives back and forth to Nottingham to visit Diane Fry. Another extremely good book in this series, and I love Mike Rogers's Derbyshire voice.
Dirty work, by Gabriel Weston. London: Jonathan Cape, 2013.
The book starts with a disastrous surgical operation; and moves on to the disciplinary hearing before the British Medical Association. A young female doctor is charged with gross misconduct. We hear the entire process through her point of view, and the book's divided into four sections, one for each week of the hearings. We find out about her, about the events around the operation, about her family background and how she became a doctor; and as we move through, it becomes steadily more disturbing. This is definitely not one for the squeamish, either physically or morally; it's one which will stick in my brain for a long time. Weston is a doctor and writer, and recently presented a BBC series on the history of forensics, which led me to this book.
This was a good year to read this book - the last man to finish on the Tour de France this year was the lovely Sam Bennett, who rode all but the first stage with stitches in his right hand and a clamp holding his little finger together. Sometimes a bit of a joke, sometimes, like this year, a badge of honour and survival, the people who've "won" the lanterne rouge are a fascinating bunch. Leonard picks a dozen from all eras of the tour, and looks both at the Tour they rode that year and the rest of their careers; and in doing so sheds light on this fascinating "honour". Sam Bennett joked that as more riders finished the Tour than in any previous year this July, he was "the last of the last". This book shows he's in extraordinarily good company.
Telesa: the covenant keeper, by Lani Wendt Young. Kindle edition.
This was a book group book, a YA novel. 18 year old Leila's father dies, leaving her with only her autocratic grandmother; rather than spend her summer at an academic camp, she travels to Samoa to try and find out more about the mother who died when she was a baby. Far from being overjoyed, her mother's family are anxious and fearful at first. Leila settles in well at school and makes friends for the first time, but strange things are happening to her physically, and she's also awakening sexually. There's some fascinating stuff about Samoan traditions and superstitions here, and I think if I was a teenager I'd love these; as it was, reading about the perfectly-sculpted bodies of teenage boys made me feel uncomfortably like some middle-aged voyeuse.
How the light gets in, by Louise Penny. New York: Minotaur, 2013.
This is a stunning book. I like this series in general; but it's rare that a book manages to totally transcend its series, and this is one of those rare times. The title comes from Leonard Cohen's Anthem; Ring the bells that still can ring / Forget your perfect offering / There is a crack in everything / That's how the light gets in. After the events of Beautiful mystery, Gamache and Beauvoir are estranged, the Homicide unit of the Sécurité du Québec has been decimated by malevolent high-ups, and Gamache himself feels defeated. And in the middle of all this, Gamache has a call from Three Pines - Myrna's Christmas guest never arrived, and subsequently is found dead in her apartment in Québec City. Her secret is that she was one of a set of quintuplets who were astonishingly famous as children. But as Gamache looks into the crime, he's also being watched... There is so much despair, beauty and hope in this book. It's worth reading the entire series just to get to it.
The murder road, by Stephen Booth [audiobook]. Read by Mike Rogers. Oxford: Isis, 2015.
There's only one road out of the village of Shawhead; and now that road is blocked by a lorry which has got stuck under the bridge. There's no sign of the driver, but the cab is bloodstained. Ben Cooper starts to investigate, but the villagers of Shawhead are a strange lot, and his investigation isn't the only thing on his mind, as he drives back and forth to Nottingham to visit Diane Fry. Another extremely good book in this series, and I love Mike Rogers's Derbyshire voice.
Dirty work, by Gabriel Weston. London: Jonathan Cape, 2013.
The book starts with a disastrous surgical operation; and moves on to the disciplinary hearing before the British Medical Association. A young female doctor is charged with gross misconduct. We hear the entire process through her point of view, and the book's divided into four sections, one for each week of the hearings. We find out about her, about the events around the operation, about her family background and how she became a doctor; and as we move through, it becomes steadily more disturbing. This is definitely not one for the squeamish, either physically or morally; it's one which will stick in my brain for a long time. Weston is a doctor and writer, and recently presented a BBC series on the history of forensics, which led me to this book.
Monday, September 19, 2016
Knitting with Rainbows: a different kind of book review
Knitting with rainbows: making the most of gradient yarns, by Carol Feller. Available through Ravelry, or at Carol's website.
The knitting content on this blog hasn't been exactly stellar over the last few years - long days, much travel and the advent of Twitter are probably responsible - but the book reviews have carried on. Today, a combination of the two!
I've been enthralled by the number of dyers who've started to produce gradient sets over the last few years; and the very different definitions of gradients - some sets start at one point in the colour wheel and move to another; some are different intensities of the same colour; and everything in between. Some have four colours, some 6, some up to 15... Some come as mini-skeins, some as a single graduated skein.
When I was doing embroidery City and Guilds, I had a couple of sessions with Jean Littlejohn; and she used to joke that she did Mulberry Silks therapy. This consisted of standing next to a stitcher staring helplessly at a perfect, unopened pack of colourful threads, and intoning Open The Packet... Use The Thread.... And I've felt slightly similar with the gradient packs I've bought.
So this book is extraordinarily topical, and welcome.
There are eleven lovely projects; the one on the cover particularly attracts me; and this pair of long, long handwarmers is beautiful. There are cowls, and hats, and scarves, wraps and shawls of different shapes, at least half a dozen of which I'd love to make. In many cases there are two versions of the pattern made with different gradient sets, giving a completely different effect.
This is way more than a book of patterns, though; which is what I love about it. There's a lot of excellent practical information which helps a knitter lose the slight apprehension which comes with something which looks so perfect in the packet you don't really want to take the skeins out of the bag.
There's advice (and a table! Love tables...) on which techniques might go best with which type of gradient, and on what to do when your gradient set has a different number of colours or different yardage to the ones in a given pattern. And the fun idea of creating your own gradient sets out of leftovers, sometimes by doubling up the yarn to give the effect you want.
At the back, there's also information on joining those pesky mini-skeins, combining gradient packs for larger projects, and how to break up the sets in different ways. And there's a short bibliography (which makes my librarian's heart glad...).
Full disclosure: I was sent the eBook version for this review. It's a book I would willingly buy, and think is excellent value both for the patterns and for the number of ideas and the inspiration Carol gives to the reader.
Carol's running a KnitALong for patterns from this book over on Ravelry; so now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to drool anew at my Sparkleduck gradient set, and ponder what to cast on...
The knitting content on this blog hasn't been exactly stellar over the last few years - long days, much travel and the advent of Twitter are probably responsible - but the book reviews have carried on. Today, a combination of the two!
I've been enthralled by the number of dyers who've started to produce gradient sets over the last few years; and the very different definitions of gradients - some sets start at one point in the colour wheel and move to another; some are different intensities of the same colour; and everything in between. Some have four colours, some 6, some up to 15... Some come as mini-skeins, some as a single graduated skein.
When I was doing embroidery City and Guilds, I had a couple of sessions with Jean Littlejohn; and she used to joke that she did Mulberry Silks therapy. This consisted of standing next to a stitcher staring helplessly at a perfect, unopened pack of colourful threads, and intoning Open The Packet... Use The Thread.... And I've felt slightly similar with the gradient packs I've bought.
So this book is extraordinarily topical, and welcome.
There are eleven lovely projects; the one on the cover particularly attracts me; and this pair of long, long handwarmers is beautiful. There are cowls, and hats, and scarves, wraps and shawls of different shapes, at least half a dozen of which I'd love to make. In many cases there are two versions of the pattern made with different gradient sets, giving a completely different effect.
This is way more than a book of patterns, though; which is what I love about it. There's a lot of excellent practical information which helps a knitter lose the slight apprehension which comes with something which looks so perfect in the packet you don't really want to take the skeins out of the bag.
There's advice (and a table! Love tables...) on which techniques might go best with which type of gradient, and on what to do when your gradient set has a different number of colours or different yardage to the ones in a given pattern. And the fun idea of creating your own gradient sets out of leftovers, sometimes by doubling up the yarn to give the effect you want.
At the back, there's also information on joining those pesky mini-skeins, combining gradient packs for larger projects, and how to break up the sets in different ways. And there's a short bibliography (which makes my librarian's heart glad...).
Full disclosure: I was sent the eBook version for this review. It's a book I would willingly buy, and think is excellent value both for the patterns and for the number of ideas and the inspiration Carol gives to the reader.
Carol's running a KnitALong for patterns from this book over on Ravelry; so now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to drool anew at my Sparkleduck gradient set, and ponder what to cast on...
Sunday, September 04, 2016
2016 books, #56-60
Port mortuary, by Patricia Cornwell. London: Sphere, 2010.
Sometimes I wonder why I keep reading Scarpetta novels. This is one which is brilliant in some ways, and then intensely annoying in others. Scarpetta's called back from Dover air force base, where she's been dealing with the bodies of US troops killed in Iraq and Afghanistan, to her own centre to deal with the mysterious case of an unknown man who continued to bleed after death... or was not dead when shut up in Scarpetta's mortuary's fridge. And Scarpetta's husband Benton Wesley is, she suspects, working for the FBI again. This is an entertaining and gripping read, even while you want to knock the heads of everyone involved together and tell them to get over themselves... I think the most irritating aspect of it is the invention of more back-story which has never been mentioned but is still an overwhelming consideration for Scarpetta...
Ordinary grace, by William Kent Krueger New York: Simon and Schuster, 2013.
It's 1961 in Minnesota. Frank is 13, with a father who's a Methodist minister and a mother who thought she'd married a lawyer; a mother who directs music beautifully, and an older sister who plays the organ and is about to go to Juilliard; and a younger brother who stammers... And then that summer a child with a learning disability is killed on the railway tracks; and everything explodes.
This is a beautiful book. A heartbreakingly beautiful book. Many books are compared to To Kill a Mockingbird, as this one is in the reviews; and in so many cases this is just rubbish. This is more knowing in tone; but has an added degree of absolute clarity. There's a murder, but it's sort of incidental. The writing is so clear, and luminous, and there are some utterly perfect passages here.
Read this book. And if you have any influence, get this guy a UK book deal; I can't get a single one of his others from the library...
A particular eye for villainy, by Ann Granger [audiobook]. Read by Laurence Kennedy and Maggie Mash. Rearsby, Leics.: WF Howes, 2012.
Thomas Tapley, the neighbour of Scotland Yard Inspector Benjamin Ross, is found murdered with the traditional "blunt instrument" in his rooms. Lizzie Ross (née Martin) realises she saw him only hours earlier, being followed across Waterloo Bridge by a clown. When Tapley's cousin, a QC appears, the plot thickens. This is set in 1860s London, but Lizzie and Ben are unconventional enough as a couple to make it a fascinating read; and the geography is pretty good. The readers are excellent. I've no idea whether these books would be better read in order as I've come in in the middle of a series, but have ordered the first in the series from the library....
The corpse bridge, by Stephen Booth [audiobook]. Read by Mike Rogers. Oxford: Isis, 2014.
The Corpse Bridge is the route taken for centuries by mourners from local villagers to the burial ground across the river. When the local landowner announces plans to turn the burial ground into a car park, bodies start turning up along the traditional route... Back at work after the awful death of his fiancée (I'm sorry, but you don't expect this to be spoiler-free, do you?), Cooper's also got to deal with Diane Fry, about to move, finally, to Nottingham, and still with her TV in the back of his car. The plot here really is secondary to the characters, although it's not bad; and there's a very surprising twist at the end.
The beautiful mystery, by Louise Penny [audiobook]. Read by Adam Sims. Oxford: Isis, 2012.
A body is found in the abbot's garden of a remote island monastery in Québec, a monastery nobody had known about until a recent recording of Gregorian chant had brought them to the outside world's attention. One of the monks has been killed, presumably by someone else within the monastery. Gamache and Beauvoir travel over to the island and investigate, but bring their past history with them, and this is exacerbated with the arrival of a hated senior colleague. Meanwhile tensions within the monastery also emerge. This is very good, and ends on a real cliffhanger as far as the characters are concerned.
Sometimes I wonder why I keep reading Scarpetta novels. This is one which is brilliant in some ways, and then intensely annoying in others. Scarpetta's called back from Dover air force base, where she's been dealing with the bodies of US troops killed in Iraq and Afghanistan, to her own centre to deal with the mysterious case of an unknown man who continued to bleed after death... or was not dead when shut up in Scarpetta's mortuary's fridge. And Scarpetta's husband Benton Wesley is, she suspects, working for the FBI again. This is an entertaining and gripping read, even while you want to knock the heads of everyone involved together and tell them to get over themselves... I think the most irritating aspect of it is the invention of more back-story which has never been mentioned but is still an overwhelming consideration for Scarpetta...
Ordinary grace, by William Kent Krueger New York: Simon and Schuster, 2013.
It's 1961 in Minnesota. Frank is 13, with a father who's a Methodist minister and a mother who thought she'd married a lawyer; a mother who directs music beautifully, and an older sister who plays the organ and is about to go to Juilliard; and a younger brother who stammers... And then that summer a child with a learning disability is killed on the railway tracks; and everything explodes.
This is a beautiful book. A heartbreakingly beautiful book. Many books are compared to To Kill a Mockingbird, as this one is in the reviews; and in so many cases this is just rubbish. This is more knowing in tone; but has an added degree of absolute clarity. There's a murder, but it's sort of incidental. The writing is so clear, and luminous, and there are some utterly perfect passages here.
Read this book. And if you have any influence, get this guy a UK book deal; I can't get a single one of his others from the library...
A particular eye for villainy, by Ann Granger [audiobook]. Read by Laurence Kennedy and Maggie Mash. Rearsby, Leics.: WF Howes, 2012.
Thomas Tapley, the neighbour of Scotland Yard Inspector Benjamin Ross, is found murdered with the traditional "blunt instrument" in his rooms. Lizzie Ross (née Martin) realises she saw him only hours earlier, being followed across Waterloo Bridge by a clown. When Tapley's cousin, a QC appears, the plot thickens. This is set in 1860s London, but Lizzie and Ben are unconventional enough as a couple to make it a fascinating read; and the geography is pretty good. The readers are excellent. I've no idea whether these books would be better read in order as I've come in in the middle of a series, but have ordered the first in the series from the library....
The corpse bridge, by Stephen Booth [audiobook]. Read by Mike Rogers. Oxford: Isis, 2014.
The Corpse Bridge is the route taken for centuries by mourners from local villagers to the burial ground across the river. When the local landowner announces plans to turn the burial ground into a car park, bodies start turning up along the traditional route... Back at work after the awful death of his fiancée (I'm sorry, but you don't expect this to be spoiler-free, do you?), Cooper's also got to deal with Diane Fry, about to move, finally, to Nottingham, and still with her TV in the back of his car. The plot here really is secondary to the characters, although it's not bad; and there's a very surprising twist at the end.
The beautiful mystery, by Louise Penny [audiobook]. Read by Adam Sims. Oxford: Isis, 2012.
A body is found in the abbot's garden of a remote island monastery in Québec, a monastery nobody had known about until a recent recording of Gregorian chant had brought them to the outside world's attention. One of the monks has been killed, presumably by someone else within the monastery. Gamache and Beauvoir travel over to the island and investigate, but bring their past history with them, and this is exacerbated with the arrival of a hated senior colleague. Meanwhile tensions within the monastery also emerge. This is very good, and ends on a real cliffhanger as far as the characters are concerned.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
2016 books, #51-55
My brilliant friend, by Elena Ferrante. Translated from the Italian by Ann Goldstein. New York: Europa, 2012.
Elena and Lila are growing up in a suburb of 1950s Naples, in a neighbourhood where violence is commonplace and the Camorra are always hovering in the background. Lila is a wild, fierce child, forever in scrapes, but brilliantly intelligent. Elena, although also extremely academically talented, is in her shadow. Elena is able to pursue her education past middle school; Lila leaves at 14 and joins her father's shoemaking business. This is the first book of 4; and while it was enjoyable enough, and the atmosphere is conveyed well, my book group all agreed that we had a great deal of difficulty liking any of the characters all that much. The book is roughly chopped off without resolving the cliffhanger the author gives us at the beginning, leading to a slightly cheated feeling on the part of the reader...
The racer: life on the road as a pro cyclist, by David Millar. London: Yellow Jersey, 2015.
This is a wonderful book. Millar takes us through the last year of his career as a member of the pro péloton, with all its ups and downs. Mainly downs, to be honest, but he's never self-pitying. On the way, he talks about early-in-the-year training (in a chapter called Welcome to the Suck which starts I fucking hate January), the Flanders classics, the Ardennes classics, Paris-Nice, Tirreno-Adriatico, the Dauphiné, the gutting experience of being dropped by his team four days before the start of what would have been his last Tour de France, the Commonwealth Games, the Vuelta and the World Championships, the last two of which he raced with two broken fingers. It's a brilliantly entertaining, often scatological, corruscatingly honest account you can almost hear Millar reading to you. On the front and back cover he explains that I want to write something else, a book that years from now my children will read and see what it was like, that their dad actually did all those years ago, the racer he was. But not only that, I want my friends from this generation to have something that will remind us of who we were. There was more to it than doping. We lived on the road because we loved to race. He succeeds on all counts. Chapeau.
Test of wills, by Charles Todd. Read by Samuel Gillies. Rearsby, Leics: WF Howes, 1999.
Ian Rutledge has returned to Scotland Yard after the First World War; accompanied by the constant voice in his head of Hamish, a man he had executed by firing squad for refusing to fight. A malicious colleague sends Rutledge out into the shires to investigate the murder of a former officer who was found with his head blown off. One of the main suspects is a shellshocked man, and Rutledge wonders who at the Yard has it in for him. Nevertheless, he investigates, and discovers a web of secrets, and some thoroughly unreliable witnesses. First in a series I'll be following up on.
My dining hell: twenty ways to have a lousy night out, by Jay Rayner. London: Penguin, 2012 (ebook), 2015 (print).
I think if I'd realised what a slim little volume this was (72 pp), I'd have bought the e-book, or forgone it altogether. It's a compendium of 20 of Rayner's more disaffected reviews of bad restaurants, with a bit of an introduction. While I love Rayner's turn of phrase: The twist in 'Julian's Vegetable Lasagne' was that it didn't contain pasta. Instead, it was a dense block of finely mandolined root vegetables that tasted mostly of salt and pepper and effortless regret - I also respect him as an accomplished novelist and a very entertaining writer about food beyond the reviews. I picked this up as an accompaniment to the Food commandments book he's just released, probably didn't read the blurb carefully enough, and so my disenchantment with this book might be my own fault. I still don't quite understand why Penguin thought it important enough to publish in print edition though. If anyone would like to read it, do drop me a line with some way to contact you, and I'll stick it in the post.
The soul of discretion, by Susan Hill. London: Vintage, 2015.
This is an excellent book. Don't get me wrong, it's back to form after a couple of slightly luke-warm books in this series. Simon Serrailler is sent under cover to try to trap the leaders of a paedophile ring; while continuing to be a complete git to his girlfriend who's just moved in. Meanwhile, his father's being accused of rape in the loos during a Rotary Club function. The plot is tight; the relationships are as sharply observed as ever and the finale is absolutely gripping. And then you go to the author's website, and find that although she's left at least three cliffhangers, she has no plan to write another Serrailler novel... and it all feels a bit futile.
Elena and Lila are growing up in a suburb of 1950s Naples, in a neighbourhood where violence is commonplace and the Camorra are always hovering in the background. Lila is a wild, fierce child, forever in scrapes, but brilliantly intelligent. Elena, although also extremely academically talented, is in her shadow. Elena is able to pursue her education past middle school; Lila leaves at 14 and joins her father's shoemaking business. This is the first book of 4; and while it was enjoyable enough, and the atmosphere is conveyed well, my book group all agreed that we had a great deal of difficulty liking any of the characters all that much. The book is roughly chopped off without resolving the cliffhanger the author gives us at the beginning, leading to a slightly cheated feeling on the part of the reader...
The racer: life on the road as a pro cyclist, by David Millar. London: Yellow Jersey, 2015.
This is a wonderful book. Millar takes us through the last year of his career as a member of the pro péloton, with all its ups and downs. Mainly downs, to be honest, but he's never self-pitying. On the way, he talks about early-in-the-year training (in a chapter called Welcome to the Suck which starts I fucking hate January), the Flanders classics, the Ardennes classics, Paris-Nice, Tirreno-Adriatico, the Dauphiné, the gutting experience of being dropped by his team four days before the start of what would have been his last Tour de France, the Commonwealth Games, the Vuelta and the World Championships, the last two of which he raced with two broken fingers. It's a brilliantly entertaining, often scatological, corruscatingly honest account you can almost hear Millar reading to you. On the front and back cover he explains that I want to write something else, a book that years from now my children will read and see what it was like, that their dad actually did all those years ago, the racer he was. But not only that, I want my friends from this generation to have something that will remind us of who we were. There was more to it than doping. We lived on the road because we loved to race. He succeeds on all counts. Chapeau.
Test of wills, by Charles Todd. Read by Samuel Gillies. Rearsby, Leics: WF Howes, 1999.
Ian Rutledge has returned to Scotland Yard after the First World War; accompanied by the constant voice in his head of Hamish, a man he had executed by firing squad for refusing to fight. A malicious colleague sends Rutledge out into the shires to investigate the murder of a former officer who was found with his head blown off. One of the main suspects is a shellshocked man, and Rutledge wonders who at the Yard has it in for him. Nevertheless, he investigates, and discovers a web of secrets, and some thoroughly unreliable witnesses. First in a series I'll be following up on.
My dining hell: twenty ways to have a lousy night out, by Jay Rayner. London: Penguin, 2012 (ebook), 2015 (print).
I think if I'd realised what a slim little volume this was (72 pp), I'd have bought the e-book, or forgone it altogether. It's a compendium of 20 of Rayner's more disaffected reviews of bad restaurants, with a bit of an introduction. While I love Rayner's turn of phrase: The twist in 'Julian's Vegetable Lasagne' was that it didn't contain pasta. Instead, it was a dense block of finely mandolined root vegetables that tasted mostly of salt and pepper and effortless regret - I also respect him as an accomplished novelist and a very entertaining writer about food beyond the reviews. I picked this up as an accompaniment to the Food commandments book he's just released, probably didn't read the blurb carefully enough, and so my disenchantment with this book might be my own fault. I still don't quite understand why Penguin thought it important enough to publish in print edition though. If anyone would like to read it, do drop me a line with some way to contact you, and I'll stick it in the post.
The soul of discretion, by Susan Hill. London: Vintage, 2015.
This is an excellent book. Don't get me wrong, it's back to form after a couple of slightly luke-warm books in this series. Simon Serrailler is sent under cover to try to trap the leaders of a paedophile ring; while continuing to be a complete git to his girlfriend who's just moved in. Meanwhile, his father's being accused of rape in the loos during a Rotary Club function. The plot is tight; the relationships are as sharply observed as ever and the finale is absolutely gripping. And then you go to the author's website, and find that although she's left at least three cliffhangers, she has no plan to write another Serrailler novel... and it all feels a bit futile.
Saturday, July 02, 2016
2016 books, #46-50
Missing you, by Harlan Coben [audiobook]. Read by Kerry Shale. Rearsby, Leics.: Clipper, 2014.
Detective Kat Donovan is signed up for an online dating site by her friend Stacey. Out of curiosity, she logs in and finds the profile of her ex-fiancé, a man she hasn't seen for 18 years. But when Kat gets in touch, she realises all isn't as it seems. And then the son of another woman hacks into the site, and enlists her help in trying to trace his mother... A classic Harlen Coben standalone, where nothing is as it seems; tightly plotted and terrifying on occasion, with a twist in the tail.
Faster: the obsession, science and luck behind the world's fastest cyclists, by Michael Hutchinson. London: Bloomsbury Sport, 2015.
I was a little bit dubious about this one, but I'd massively enjoyed Michael Hutchinson (or @Doctor_Hutch)'s previous book The Hour; this is all about the somewhat arcane discipline of the individual time-trial, and the physiology and psychology of speed. It explains why Mark Cavendish is a completely different racer from Hutchinson, or from Froome; it explains that you can have a huge pair of lungs, but if you have the wrong kind of muscles, you can't take full advantage of it. Hutchinson talks to people at the top of UK sport, as well as sports scientists, aerodynamics experts and dietitians to explore the notion of the world's fastest riders. And he makes learning about DNA and wind-tunnels fascinating, and funny.
The hangman's song, by James Oswald. London: Penguin, 2014.
An Inspector McLean novel. McLean's hated boss Duguid AKA Dagwood has seconded him to the Sexual Crimes unit, but he also answers his phone one night and ends up at a hanging. When a second body is found in similar circumstances, McLean investigates much to Duguid's dismay. And at the same time, McLean's domestic life is complicated by Emma Baird, newly out of a long coma and seemingly haunted by her experience. Quite literally - one of the things I'm less keen on in these books is the presence of the supernatural; I keep reading them, but there is a lot of what the Americans would call "woo" in these books...
The redeemed, by M R Hall [audiobook]. Read by Sian Thomas. Bath: AudioGO, [n.d.].
Jenny Cooper's another with a complicated domestic life; she really can't decide whether to throw in her lot with Steve, and her son's now living with his father. Among all this, she's dealing with an inquiest on Eva Donaldson, a former porn star, now Christian and seeking to eliminate pornography through a house church movement which is sponsoring a private members' bill on the subject. Alongside this, there's also the case of Alan Jacobs, a psychiatric nurse found in a graveyard with a cross carved into his chest and forensic evidence of very recent gay sex. The cases seem very separate, but it's never that straightforward, and the politics around the bill leads to a great deal of pressure being put on Jenny by her masters in Whitehall.
Hillsborough: the truth, by Phil Scraton. 20th anniversary edition. Edinburgh: Mainstream, 2006.
Having recently seen the documentary based on this book, I didn't learn a huge amount more; this is such a dreadful example of misconduct and a total lack of sympathy for the bereaved families that it makes hard reading. I've had a fascination for the tragedy because friends should have been at that end of the ground that day, but had a non-life-threatening car crash on the M1 coming up from London that morning. One of the best things about this book is the sheer tenacity of the families who refused to be fobbed off and carried on fighting for a full exposition of what had happened. It's a horror that it took 27 years.
Detective Kat Donovan is signed up for an online dating site by her friend Stacey. Out of curiosity, she logs in and finds the profile of her ex-fiancé, a man she hasn't seen for 18 years. But when Kat gets in touch, she realises all isn't as it seems. And then the son of another woman hacks into the site, and enlists her help in trying to trace his mother... A classic Harlen Coben standalone, where nothing is as it seems; tightly plotted and terrifying on occasion, with a twist in the tail.
Faster: the obsession, science and luck behind the world's fastest cyclists, by Michael Hutchinson. London: Bloomsbury Sport, 2015.
I was a little bit dubious about this one, but I'd massively enjoyed Michael Hutchinson (or @Doctor_Hutch)'s previous book The Hour; this is all about the somewhat arcane discipline of the individual time-trial, and the physiology and psychology of speed. It explains why Mark Cavendish is a completely different racer from Hutchinson, or from Froome; it explains that you can have a huge pair of lungs, but if you have the wrong kind of muscles, you can't take full advantage of it. Hutchinson talks to people at the top of UK sport, as well as sports scientists, aerodynamics experts and dietitians to explore the notion of the world's fastest riders. And he makes learning about DNA and wind-tunnels fascinating, and funny.
The hangman's song, by James Oswald. London: Penguin, 2014.
An Inspector McLean novel. McLean's hated boss Duguid AKA Dagwood has seconded him to the Sexual Crimes unit, but he also answers his phone one night and ends up at a hanging. When a second body is found in similar circumstances, McLean investigates much to Duguid's dismay. And at the same time, McLean's domestic life is complicated by Emma Baird, newly out of a long coma and seemingly haunted by her experience. Quite literally - one of the things I'm less keen on in these books is the presence of the supernatural; I keep reading them, but there is a lot of what the Americans would call "woo" in these books...
The redeemed, by M R Hall [audiobook]. Read by Sian Thomas. Bath: AudioGO, [n.d.].
Jenny Cooper's another with a complicated domestic life; she really can't decide whether to throw in her lot with Steve, and her son's now living with his father. Among all this, she's dealing with an inquiest on Eva Donaldson, a former porn star, now Christian and seeking to eliminate pornography through a house church movement which is sponsoring a private members' bill on the subject. Alongside this, there's also the case of Alan Jacobs, a psychiatric nurse found in a graveyard with a cross carved into his chest and forensic evidence of very recent gay sex. The cases seem very separate, but it's never that straightforward, and the politics around the bill leads to a great deal of pressure being put on Jenny by her masters in Whitehall.
Hillsborough: the truth, by Phil Scraton. 20th anniversary edition. Edinburgh: Mainstream, 2006.
Having recently seen the documentary based on this book, I didn't learn a huge amount more; this is such a dreadful example of misconduct and a total lack of sympathy for the bereaved families that it makes hard reading. I've had a fascination for the tragedy because friends should have been at that end of the ground that day, but had a non-life-threatening car crash on the M1 coming up from London that morning. One of the best things about this book is the sheer tenacity of the families who refused to be fobbed off and carried on fighting for a full exposition of what had happened. It's a horror that it took 27 years.
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