'We Solve Murders' turned out to be an entertaining read but, if it had been written by an author I didn't know, I'd have been thinking about3.5 stars
'We Solve Murders' turned out to be an entertaining read but, if it had been written by an author I didn't know, I'd have been thinking about setting it aside after the first hour. The start of the book put me off. The situations felt forced, the humour was brittle in a wannabe Carl Haaisen way, the people felt shallow and their world felt plastic. I was not engaged.
Because this was a Richard Osman book and the start of a new series trying something more plot-driven than 'The Thursday Murder Club' novels, I stuck with it.
Things changed, slowly. By the end of the second hour, I'd been pulled into the story by Nicola Walker's narration and I was starting to become interested in Amy, the bodyguard, and Steve, her ex-police detective father-in-law but I was still struggling with a plot that, while clever, had all the charm of a fake Doric portico stuck onto the front of an 'Executive Home'.
In the third hour, I settled into the story, which I'd now understood was a sort of fairytale with slightly subversive humour that reminded me of David Lodge. I began to enjoy the way the heist-movie-slick plot and the glitzy settings were constantly being undercut by a type of English humour that sees bling as essentially childish, and by characters whose curiosity was of the kind that would find the service tunnels in Disneyland more interesting than the rides. The plot was generating an enjoyable 'root for the underdog' vibe but the character development was still patchy.
By the halfway point, I was being swept along by the clever, original, fast-paced plot which kept me entertained until the end.
One of the things that I've enjoyed most about Richard Osman's other books is how relatable and well-observed and real his characters are. I felt this was missing for the first half of the book. Perhaps this is because I don't know any international criminals or people who choose to work in the close personal protection business and becuase many of the settings were a long way from home.
By the end of the book,, I had become engaged with most of the main characters. I thought that Steve, the widowed ex-police officer and Rosie, the top-selling thriller writer were well-drawn and easy to engage with. Amy, the bodyguard was a little different. Her character felt functional rather than engaging, like a knife or a gun or a good piece of code. Still, the three of them together had an attractive dynamic.
The humour lifts the book and often made me smile but it was the small moments of intimacy that I liked most, especially those grounded in Steve's New Forest village.
I'd like to see what Steve, Amy and Rosie do next, so I'll be back for the next 'We Solve Murders' novel....more
I don't normally read memoirs or autobiographies. I'm glad I made an exception for Sandi Toksvig's remarkable memoir, 'Between the Stops: The View of I don't normally read memoirs or autobiographies. I'm glad I made an exception for Sandi Toksvig's remarkable memoir, 'Between the Stops: The View of My Life from the Top of the Number 12 Bus'. I knew almost nothing about Sandi Toksvig's life but I've always enjoyed her wit and erudition when I've seen her on television, either as a comedian or as a host of game shows like QI or The News Quiz. We're from the same generation, we have similar views and she usually succeeds in making laugh even if the laughter is often of the kind I use to deal with how seriously messed up the world often is.
One of the things that puts me off reading memoirs is that the process of turning a life into a linear narrative often seems to convert memories into fictions that are too tidy to be real. I was attracted to Sandi Toksvig's memoir partly because she's avoided the traditional "I was born on a dark and stormy night...* narrative by structuring her story as a series of memories and reflections triggered by what she sees around her as she looks out from the topdeck of the Number 12 bus that takes her from her London home to the BBC headquarters.
Sandi Toksvig is a history nerd with a passion for collecting obscure historical facts about how the people of London lived their lives. When she looks out of the bus window, the London she sees is coloured by her knowledge of who and what used to be in that spot She's also passionate about feminism and is and always has been enraged by the inequalities that continue to make the lives of women harder. When Sandi Toksvig looks out of the bus window, she is constantly aware of how almost all of the Blue Plaques and statues and street names celebrating London's great and good belong to white men while the contributions of women to shaping the lives of Londoners are allowed to fade away of are actively erased.
The details of Sandi Toksvig's life are folded, like fruit in a Christmas cake, into her discourse on the London streets she's travelling through, That many of her stories are funny and are told with wit and skill was no surprise. What did surprise me was the quiet intimacy that she created as she talked about the painful times in her life, periods of loneliness, depression and despair, her travels into unpleasant and distressing places, her encounters with institutionalised prejudice as well as the many things that have brought her joy, to which she often appends the word 'glorious'.
For me, listening to Sandi Toksvig share her stories was a glorious experience. I felt moved by the bad things that she's lived through and cheered by her resilience, intelligence, humour and compassion. There were many occaisions when an observation or reaction she shared made me think "So it's not just me. She thinks/feels that way too!" , a reaction which I found oddly comforting.
I strongly recommend the audiobook version as it make the book fee even more like a conversation with a friend....more
Sometimes, you really can judge a book by it's cover. This cover is familiar enough to evoke the Longmire brand but it's grey and a little tired and oSometimes, you really can judge a book by it's cover. This cover is familiar enough to evoke the Longmire brand but it's grey and a little tired and offers no new incident or symbol to excite a reader's curiosity. It says, 'Read Me - I'm a Longmire novel' and not much else.
If I wanted to get someone to understand why I read so many Longmire books, I'd point them to 'The Cold Dish' or 'Another Man's Moccasins' or 'The Western Star' but not 'Land Of Wolves'. It's not that the novel is bad, it's just that it's only of interest to someone who is already a Longmire fan.
'Land Of Wolves' is the first book after Walt's traumatic, violent, only-I-working-alone-can-save-my-daughter mission in Mexico in 'Depth Of Winter', I was disappointed by 'Depth Of Winter' as a resolution to a long-running story arc and angry with Longmire's lone-martyr act but even I could see that the violent events of the book would alter Longmire and redefine the series. I went into 'Land Of Wolves' wanting to see what those changes were.
One of the things that I liked about 'Land Of Wolves' was the quiet, almost gentle way, that Craig Johnson made those changes apparent. At first, nothing much seemed to be different. I thought 'Land Of Wolves' was going to be one of those leisurely let's-talk-philosophy spirit-quest Longmire books with a bit of Basque culture thrown in to spice things up. After 'Depth Of Winter', I welcomed the return to the familiar and found myself relaxing into the book as I listened to George Guidall's distinctive voice take me through Walt's thoughts.
The plot was spun around two investigations, one into the presence of a lone wolf in the mountains and the other into the death by hanging of a shepherd alone in the same mountains. This being a Longmire book, I knew that neither the wolf nor the shepherd's death would be what they first seemed to be. The unexpected presence of a large wolf was bound to trigger Longmire's mystical side and the shepherd's death was bound to lead to dark secrets being revealed. I was happy with that.
The storytelling was slow, almost sleepy, and lubricated by gentle humour. The pace reflected both Walt's state of mind and his newly-limited physical abilities. The new scar on his face wasn't the only souvenir he brought home from Mexico. What he did there makes him reassess himself. The head injuries he suffered mess with his memory. The wound in his side limits his mobility and has taken away his stamina. These things combine to produce points when Walt spaces out entirely, disassociating and hallucinating. As the story is told entirely from Walt's point of view, it's not surprising that the novel had a distant, slightly confused atmosphere to it.
The plot around both the lone wolf and the shepherd works well, even though Walt is labouring under severe disadvantages that he's too stubborn to acknowledge.
The real point of the book seems to be to show Walt questioning whether he can or should continue as Sheriff and what he might do, who he might become if he took off his badge.
I'll have to wait for the next book to find out....more
'Manor Of Life And Death' was a bit of a disappointment in comparison to the first two offerings in the Beaufort Scales series 'Baking Bad' and 'Yule 'Manor Of Life And Death' was a bit of a disappointment in comparison to the first two offerings in the Beaufort Scales series 'Baking Bad' and 'Yule Be Sorry'.
The book had a promising start with DI Adams agreeing to take a weekend spa break with the women of the WI at an English country house owned by Miriam's sister. I liked the idea of seeing DI Adams' off-duty self (although it turned out she didn't have one, or at least one she was prepared to share. I was amused at watching invisible-to-those-not-in-the-know dragons joining in with a Yoga class on the terrace. And then there was the big 'dog' only DI Adams could see.
The dog was the main reason I was there. I prefer the DI Adams books to the Beaufort books, they feel sharper and better written and the 'dog' is with DI Adams in her next DI Adams escapade, 'All Out Of Leeds' so I wanted to read the book where they first met.
I settled down to see what kind of country house mystery Adams, the dragons and the WI would find themselves unentangling. There were lots of possibilities with sets of guests who probably weren't who they claimed to be, strange creatures in the woods, an invisible dog, a talking cat and rivalries and resentments between the staff and within Miriam's more-than-a-little-eccentric family, Add in a suspicious death in the sauna in the middle of the night and a massive storm that cuts the house off from the outside world and you have the makings of a fun mystery.
Unfortunately, these makings never really became a cake. The plot was chaotic. There was too much going on and no clear point of focus for viewing them through. There were funny lines and tense moments and surprises but they didn't hang together. Adams, the WI and the dragons were all out of their element and that seemed to make it hard for the story to get traction.
I loved some of the scenes- the dragons in flight coming to the rescue, the encounters with the other forest creatures, the bitter struggles between Miriam and her unreconcilable sisters - but these got lost in the messy, over-stuffed plot....more
‘In Bloom‘ is the sequel to one of my favourite Women Who Kill books, ‘Sweetpea‘. I know sequels can be challenging, especially sequels to books as or‘In Bloom‘ is the sequel to one of my favourite Women Who Kill books, ‘Sweetpea‘. I know sequels can be challenging, especially sequels to books as original as 'Sweetoea' so I wasn't sure what to expect of 'In Bloom' but I wanted to spend more time seeing the world through Rhiannon Lewis' angry, psychopathic eyes. I'll confess that I was looking forward to watching her deliver more violence and pain to the misogynistic men she constantly encounters.
C. J. Kuse's Sweetpea novels are often described as 'darkly comic'. I don't see them that way. Rhiannon isn't joking. She isn't amused. Her violence isn't ironic. She's damaged and enraged and violence is her bliss. I don't see anything comic in that. Sadly, I almost see it as an entirely rational response to Rhiannan's circumstances.
One of the things I liked most about 'In Bloom' was that Rhiannon's pregnancy triggers a period of introspection in which she seeks a deeper, surer understanding of her true nature. I liked that, for most of the book, Rhiannon hears the voice of her yet-to-be-born child and has conversations with it. In these conversations, the baby acts partly as the voice of Rhiannon's new responsibilities to protect her child and partly as a sort of conscience attempting to get her to be more cautious in her actions and consider what she really wants from life. I can see that this dialogue might be seen as 'darkly comic' but to me, it seemed like an entirely plausible way for Rhiannon to consider the course she wants her life to take.
I was a little lost at the start of 'In Bloom' because it continues straight on from the final scene of 'Sweetpea' which left me scrambling to remember details that had faded over the past two years. My confusion didn't last for long, Rhiannon soon set herself up with a safe but temporary safe space to weather her pregnancy in, staying with the parents of her lover, who she killed and who is not the father of her child. She's aware enough of how predatory this is to refrain from killing either of her hosts, no matter how often they feature on her daily Kill List.
'In Bloom' wasn't as much of a thriller as 'Sweetpea' where I was often on the edge of my seat wondering how/if Rhiannon would avoid detection. There are thriller elements here, especially at the beginning and the end of the book. In some ways, this book is less violent, at least in terms of frequency, but the violence is spectacular and, from Rhiannon's point of view, entirely necessary.
The middle portion of the book, during which Rhiannon is heavily pregnant, is taken up with her struggle to keep her unborn child happy and safe by NOT killing anyone, no matter how much they deserve it, unless she absolutely has to. She just about manages to restrain herself from killing but she can't prevent herself from stalking paedophiles and predators by catfishing them on social media. The predators that Rhiannon stalked were easy to believe in and deeply disturbing. Once again Rhiannon's response seemed, almost, rational. Except that her struggle with restraint and her ever-growing need for release, showed Rhiannon an inescapable truth about her own nature: she kills because she NEEDS the release it brings. It's her nature to kill. She's good at it and she relishes it. Yes, she kills bad people but, if there were no bad people she'd have to kill anyway. Someone would always find their way on to her daily Kill List.
The last third of the book was intense. As Rhiannon struggles to reconcile what she knows about her nature with what will be required of her in her impending role as a mother and tries to deflect her relentless pursuit by an implacable homicide detective, she can feel her need to kill growing with each day. I was back on the edge of my seat wondering how/if Rhiannon would get through all this. It's a tribute to how well the book is written (or a sign of my own incipient psychopathy) that I found myself hoping that Rhiannon would get away with everything.
The ending was strong and believable. It also made me hungry for the third book in the series, 'Deadhead'.
I recommend the audiobook version of 'In Bloom', narrated by Georgia McGuire....more
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