November 2024

NIGHT AND DAY . . . Between the covers

This is a collection of macabre tales from the creator of PI Charlie Parker, the private investigator from Portland, Maine. As fans of that series will testify, Parker is no stranger to the paranormal and the deadly creatures it allows into the human realm. Here, John Connolly presents a variety of supernatural experiences, ranging from the whimsical, through science fiction to extreme terror.

The Pilgrim’s Progress: A Tale of The Caxton Private Lending Library & Book Depository

Here, we learn the origin of one of the strangest libraries in the world. Its stock consists solely of first editions of great novels, each of which has been presented to the collection by someone (dressed as, if you are sceptical) one of its characters, shortly after the author’s death. We are in the precincts of Westminster Abbey in the fifteenth century, and in the company of William Caxton and his apprentice Wynkyn de Worde. The building they rent from the monastery contains the printing press that has recently produced the first bound copy of The Canterbury Tales. They are astonished when, one fine day, who should turn up on their doorstep but the Knight, the Miller, the Wife of Bath, the Nun’s Priest and the Summoner? What follows stretches Caxton’s credulity to its limits, and raises the interesting problem that, should he print a version of the New Testament, would it trigger The Second Coming?

And All the Graves of All the Ghosts

In this poignant story, Connolly gives us a perfectly normal family who move into an old house, and soon discover that there is ‘a presence’. In a corner of one of the rooms, it is always cold. There is a mysterious draught and, very soon, a misty shape begins to manifest itself. The shape eventually becomes more solid, and the young woman it resembles is clearly in mortal terror of something she has discovered on the floor at her feet. This phantom causes the family to disintegrate, and the narrator is left, more in tune with the nameless spectre than with his real-life family.

Evenings With Evans

Ghosts and phantoms are meant to be malevolent and spiteful, determined only to avenge wrongs inflicted on them when they were corporeal, they can also be benign. Here, a man is driving his car, his family alongside him, when he instinctively swerves to avoid a fox. The car crashes, fatally injuring his wife, son and daughter. Living alone in the old house they shared, he vows to find – and shoot – the distinctly marked fox that he blames for the death of his family. As his obsession grows ever more fierce, he is distracted by bizarre happenings in his ancient wine cellar. He sees flickering candlelight and, when he investigates, he finds a table set out with a wine glass, and a bottle of his very decent claret. This plays our beautifully, and Connolly suggests to us that death is not the end, and reunion with those we have loved and lost is not impossible.

Abelman’s Line

This a strange one, and no mistake. I had to use the ‘back button’ several times to clarify in my mind what was going on. It is what could be called science fantasy. We have a group of scientists, sometime in the not too distant future. They have devised a device that can warp physical time, and basically create parallel time lines for people they choose as subjects. Perhaps ‘targets’ is a better word, because the physicists are all Jewish. They take Nazi war criminals who are now long dead, but have evaded justice to die in relatively peaceful old age, often somewhere in South America. Put simply, the scientists ‘rewind the tape’ (to use an analogue term) of the Nazis’ lives, and then cause something deeply unpleasant – and terminal – to happen to them before they can pass away in their sleep in, say, a Chilean care home. I have to add the rider that I think that was what was going on. Readers with other ideas, please feel free to get in touch!

The Mire at Fox Tor

Connolly is very much in traditional ghost story mode here. We have the familiar trope of two men dining together, and one has a tale to tell. These fellows only ever have surnames, and they are usually bachelors with a public school or military background. Tenley, is one such, and an austere sort of chap who used to go on long hikes across hills and moors. He had been determined to navigate the dangerous Fox Tor Mire on Dartmoor. I instantly thought of Grimpen Mire in the classic Hound of the Baskervilles, but Fox Tor Mire conceals terrors even worse the Conan Doyle’s spectral dog. As Tenley strides across the morass, stepping from tuft to tuft, a mist descends, and he loses his sense of direction. His compass work has been honed to perfection, but now the needle seems to swing this way and that, leaving him totally disoriented. When a little boy appears out of the miasma, his troubles are only just beginning.

The Bear

This is a whimsical little story which has a deep vein of sadness and an ineffable sense of loss. I think it works as an allegory, rather an account of literal events. We are in Ireland, with a mother and her two young boys. Their father is no longer part of the family, and so the woman and her sons have taken a holiday cottage in North Kerry. While the mother is away shopping, a bear appears. The lovely illustrations by PJ Lynch show that this isn’t a wild beast, but more of a Pooh or Paddington. What happens when the mother returns changes the mood altogether.

The Flaw

This is probably my favourite story in this collection, because it is pure MR James. Did you ever read his tale The Mezzotint? It describes a museum curator who receives a mysterious print, which begins to change, and shows a rather nasty figure bit by bit abducting a child from a house. In Connolly’s version, a man buys a painting of some ancient standing stones. The character, Hayden, has inherited a cottage, and from his bedroom window, he can actually see the stones, known as The Five Good Children. What happens next is deeply disturbing, but I strongly suggest that you buy or borrow the book and find out for yourself.

Unquiet Slumbers

This is as charming a short story as I have ever read, but it is hard not to give the game away with spoilers. We are back in The Caxton Library. Remember, its unique way of sourcing books is that when author dies, a copy of their most famous work is left on the library’s doorstep, usually accompanied by the main character from the book. For no other reason than it is a deeply spiritual place the library has relocated to be in the sacred shadow of Ely Cathedral, with its mighty tower and unique Octagon. The librarian, a Mr Hanna, is peeved that someone has broken a window trying to get in. He repairs it, but when it happens a second time, he is astonished to see that he has a visitor. If I tell you that the year is 1848, and you have an amazing song written by an 18 year-old woman in 1978 running through your head, you might guess the identity of Mr Hanna’s visitor.

Our Friend Carlton

From Victorian Cambridgeshire we move to modern day New Jersey and a trio of crooks. We never learn the narrator’s name, but the other two are Stanhope and Carlton. Carlton has become something of a liability, as in terms of money belonging to some deeply unpleasant people, he has adopted a very loose understanding of the old Latin phrase, meum et teum. So he has to die. The trio go to the depths of Wharton State forest, ostensibly for a leisurely stroll, and Stanhope puts a .22 hollow point into Carlton’s skull, and they bury the corpse. Sadly, that is not the end of the matter.
“Stanhope couldn’t understand why our friend Carlton wouldn’t, or couldn’t, accept that he was dead and do what dead people did, which was stay that way.”

What we have here is a collection of stories written over the years by John Connolly, each commissioned differently, as he explains at the end of the book. Perhaps this explains the dramatic variety in moods, textures and themes of the tales. What is astonishing is that here is a writer skilled enough to shape-shift in style subject matter and tone, without compromising quality. Published by Hodder and Stoughton, Night and Day is available now.

THESE NINE STORIES TAKE UP JUST OVER HALF THE BOOK.
THE FINAL STORY, HORROR EXPRESS, IS NOVELLA LENGTH,
SO I WILL REVIEW IT SEPARATELY.

November 28, 2024 0

A KILLING IN NOVEMBER . . . Between the covers

Somehow, I missed this first time round, but reviewed books two and three in this excellent series but Simon Mason. In Ryan Wilkins and Ray Wilkins we met one a rather unusual cop partnership. Ryan is something of a chav, scruffily dressed and with a huge chip on his shoulder. He is, however, very astute. Equally clever, but much more an establishment man, despite his ethnic origin, is black officer Ray. He is a family man, suave and well spoken, and clearly destined for higher things. Their beat is Oxford.

The contrast between the Oxford educated Ray and Ryan, graduate of a seedy South Oxford caravan site (trailer park for American readers) couldn’t be greater. Simon Mason chooses a superb location for their first professional engagement. Barnabus College is where a young woman has been found strangled in the rooms of the college Provost. Ray is all diplomacy and respect, while Ryan, much the more observant, needles the well-to-do members of the college by refusing to grovel at the altar of their social and academic status. It is eventually confirmed that the dead is Syrian, from a wealth family, but due to the political situation, has been forced to earn a living as a porn model. Working as a domestic servant in the college is Ameena Najib, also from Syria, but from a very different background. She is a devout and militant Muslim, and when she is found dead, also strangled, the mystery deepens.

In the background to this murder investigation is civil unrest in the Oxford district of Blackbird Leys. A child has died after being hit by a police car, and protests are violent and bloody. The Leys is a real place, and is a superb example of urban planners concocting idyllic rural names for dire housing estates. I was at Teacher Training College nearby and, trust me, if it was announced the Leys was where you were sent for Teaching Practice, you were not happy.

Simon Mason lets us know, in one of the most scary scenes in the book, why Ryan is so disturbed. Ryan’s wife Michelle died of a drug overdose, leaving him to bring up their little son, also called Ryan. When Ryan senior fails to collect the lad from nursery, the staff phoned one of the contact numbers – that of the little boy’s grandparents. Bad call. They are a disaster. Grandma is, literally, bruised and battered by her feral husband, and when Ryan and Ray break into the shabby caravan on the grim site in South Oxford to rescue the child, all hell breaks loose.

Ryan’s propensity for violence, his unwillingness to ‘play the game’, and his chaotic personal life make it inevitable that he is dismissed from the force. However, his sharp insight into what makes people tick combined with his intuition, enable him to solve the mystery. Ray, despite his initial horror at Ryan’s manner and attitude, keeps the phone line open with his former colleague, and the Barnabus killer is brought to justice.

This is a wonderful read, and I finished it in just a few sessions. My only quibble is that Ryan Wilkins is such an outrageously out-of-kilter character, dressed in his trackies, trainers and baseball cap (back to front, naturally) that it is hard to imagine him making senior rank in the modern police force, which is notorious for signing up to all the latest DEI fads, and renowned for its many acts that seem woker than woke. Simon Mason has created a brilliant – and unique – member of the Cri-Fi Detective Inspector union, and any crime enthusiast who doesn’t enjoy this needs to collect their hat and make for the nearest exit. A Killing In November is published by Riverrun, and is available now.

November 28, 2024 0

DOWN IN THE DUNGEON!

There were exciting times in the dungeon of Newcastle’s castle last night at the launch of AD Bergin’s new novel The Wicked of the Earth. The audience listened to suitably bloodthirsty excerpts read by the audio book narrator, Cliff Chapman.

Bergin’s novel is set in Newcastle in 1650 and tells of a former Parliament army officer, James Archer and his investigation into the notorious Witchcraft trials, and his search for his sister, who was caught up in the turmoil.

To read my review of this excellent historical mystery, click the image below.

November 22, 2024 0

THE WICKED OF THE EARTH . . . Between the covers

I live in what could be called Cromwell Country. Oliver’s former house in nearby Ely is a tourist attraction, and he is well commemorated in Huntingdon. Was he a Great Englishman? He was certainly an excellent military commander and a successful politician, but I find him hard to warm to. This novel takes us back to the England of 1650. The Civil Wars were over, the King was dead, but the peace was deeply uneasy.

The political situation in 1650 was complex. The country was ruled by the Council of State, a group of forty or so senior politicians who held supreme executive power. It would be another three years before Oliver Cromwell became Head of State, styling himself as Lord Protector. The most significant former Royalists were businessmen and merchants. Their riches and commercial acumen were essential for the country to regain some form of equilibrium after the turmoil of the war years irrespective of their having backed the losing side.

James Archer, a native of Newcastle, is something of a contradiction. He made himself locally notorious by breaking away from his Royalist roots and signing up to fight for Parliament. Although still in his twenties, he has seen – and participated in – great violence, including Cromwell’s barbaric campaign in Ireland. He is sent back to his home town by the Council of State, ostensibly to check that the former King’s men who ran the vital mining and shipping of coal were playing by the rules.

Archer’s subsidiary mission is to investigate the findings of the now infamous Newcastle Witch trials, which took place in 1649 and 1650. The deaths of these women are only of procedural interest to the Council, but Archer certainly has a dog in the fight, as his sister Meg was one of the accused.

What made me distinctly uncomfortable in Bergin’s narrative is his reminder that a society dominated and swayed by hellfire preaching and scriptural quotes is a deeply unstable one. Archer observes the Newcastle town-folk, crowded on the benches of St Nicholas Church, quaking as Dr. Jenison, “so skeletally angular that it appeared he was already half way to the grave,” spits out his sectarian venom, and his demeaning view of the place of women in society. Thank goodness we have no places of worship in Britain where this still goes on. Oh, wait….

After a series of violent encounters, Archer becomes the victim of a conspiracy involving the Great and The Good of Newcastle’s commercial and political world, and he resolves to abandon the town, and head north into the countryisde to search for his sister. As the bruised and battered Archer ventures into border country, he notices something.
“…no men were to be seen. The old had died in the hard winters, the young not yet returned from the wars.”

It is in the Teeside village of Norham that Archer finally earns the truth about his sister, and Bergin has created a masterly ironic twist that is worthy of Thomas Hardy. There is so much to admire in this novel, but one or two things stand out. The fight scenes – and there are several – are superbly described, and the reader can almost hear the clash of steel, and smell the sweat and blood of the participants. Bergin’s historical research is immaculate, as befits a Cambridge history graduate, and his portrayal of the dark and foetid alleys of 17th century Newcastle is vivid and memorable. Published by Northodox Press, this fine novel is available now.

November 22, 2024 0

FLOWERS FROM THE BLACK SEA . . . Between the covers

Revenge thrillers come in many shapes and sizes, and Flowers From The Black Sea by AB Decker (left) begins with the main character, a barely competent English security consultant called Matt Quillan travelling to end-of-season Turkey on an all-expenses-paid favour for his old university chum Ben Braithwaite. Quillan’s task appears relatively simple, and it is to locate the whereabouts of a man called Ahmet Karadeniz, last known of in the vicinity of Karakent, a small town on the south coast. Any job is a job as far as Quillan is concerned, and so he fetches up in Karakent and starts to ask questions. However, on his bus journey from Istanbul he meets a mysterious stranger called Rekan, who gives him a USB flash drive for sage keeping. Anyone with a grain of sense would probably have refused, but Quillan takes it, and when the bus is stopped by the police, and Rekan is taken into custody, our man begins to wonder.

After being questioned by the police Quillan is allowed to continue his journey, and soon makes the acquaintance of a local English estate agent, Pearl, and then her sister Amber, who is in town for her annual holiday. Eventually Quillan learns why he has been sent to Turkey. Ben’s sister Peggy married Karadeniz but died in circumstances which were, from a distance, highly suspicious although, according to Muslim custom, Peggy was interred very quickly, and autopsy was ever carried out.

Having reported back to Ben via phone, Quillan is surprised when his wealthy friend arrives in Karakent, aboard his luxury yacht. Quillan is, perhaps, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and he is persuaded to stay around while Ben exacts revenge for the untimely death of his sister.

The matter of the flash drive and what it contains is central to the plot. I haven’t been to Turkey since the 1970s, and I won’t pretend that it was an altogether pleasant experience. Yes, countless British holidaymakers go to tourist resorts these days and experience nothing but enjoyment, but these places are pretty much gated off from the real Turkey. Back in the day, we were ‘hippy’ travellers with little cash and, shall we say, we had our moments. Today, Turkey is pretty much an autocracy, and its treatment of minorities such as Kurds and Armenians is often in the news.

This novel is not a sermon about the shortcomings of Muslim societies, but it reference the mistreatment of women in what is predominantly a patriarchal society, by any Western standards. I suppose, aside of the dramatic plot, Decker is simply reasserting what we have known for centuries. Turkey is very much a ‘twixt and between’ place, never sure if it belongs to the urbane West or the visceral certainties of the East.

Long story short, Ben and Matt are captured by gangsters, Ben’s yacht is seized and run aground but, thanks to an intrepid Kurdish nationalist called Leila, the mysterious contents of Rekan’s USB drive, all’s well that ends well. Except it isn’t. Literally in the last paragraph, we have an act of violence that redefines the nature of revenge. Decker has written a convincing and engaging thriller which captures the sense of menace and political uncertainty in a complex country. Published by The Book Guild, it is available now.

November 20, 2024 1

VICTIM . . . Between the covers

Former Oslo police officer Alexander Blix is trying to put his life back together after serving a spell in prison for killing the man who murdered his daughter Iselin. There was eventually a retrial, and he was acquitted and released. He is doing nothing in particular, while he waits for the full compensation package to come through from the government. He knows he can no longer work as a policeman, but then his world is turned upside down. Back in the day, his most significant failed investigation was the disappearance of Elisabeth Eie, a young mother. The whereabouts of her body, if indeed she was killed – and the identity of the person who abducted her – remain a mystery. Then, out of the blue, he is contacted by a man who claims to be Elisabeth’s killer. Almost simultaneously, a party of school children out on a forest nature walk discover a body. It is that of Elisabeth.

Blix has few friends, but one is investigative journalist Emma Ramm, with whom he has co-operated on previous cases. She, too, is no longer working, but living on the proceeds of a true crime book she wrote. She is approached by a young woman called Carmen who asks for her help. Carmen’s stepfather, Oliver Krogh is in police custody, suspected of the murder of a young woman – Maria Normann – who worked in his fishing and hunting store, which was destroyed in a mysterious blaze. The only sign of Maria, however, was traces of her blood on the door of one of Krogh’s gun cabinets. Carmen is convinced that Krogh, the only father she has ever known, is incapable of murder.

Blix’s relationship with his former colleagues is, at best fraught, and he is kept at arm’s length as the disappearance of Elisabeth Eie becomes a murder case. The killer seems to be fixated with Blix, however, and has invaded his personal space. here are many brilliant moments in this novel, but one stands out. In order to keep himself vaguely sane, Blix makes fishing flies. It is a process that requires delicacy of touch and a great deal of patience. One particular fly has been very testing, and he has left it unfinished while summoning up the mental energy to have another go.

“He stepped aside and moved over to the bench. A cold shiver ran through him. The fly was finished.“

It is obvious that Blix has a stalker, and one who has the keys to his apartment.

The past weighs heavy on Blix. His mother had Munchausen’s Syndrome by Proxy, and kept him constantly unwell by lacing his food with debilitating drugs. After she died of cancer he walked away from his neglectful father and went to live with his grandparents. His father is still alive, but in the later stages of dementia in a nursing home. Eventually, we learn who Blix’s stalker is, and that he had a similarly traumatic upbringing.

Emma finds out how and why Maria Normann died, and there is a dramatic face-off between Brix and his tormentor. Co-authors Thomas Enger and Jørn Lier Horst have captured the ambience of a bleakly autumnal Oslo, and have written a dramatic and atmospheric thriller, with two investigators who are perfect foils for each other. The novel is translated by Megan Turney, published by Orenda Books and is available now.

November 18, 2024 1

THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING MURDERS . . . Between the covers

Denzil Meyrick introduced us to 1950s copper Detective Inspector Frank Grasby in Murder at Holly House, and you can read my review of that by clicking the link.

Grasby and his boss Superintendent Juggers are despatched to the little Yorkshire fishing village of Uthley bay to investigate the apparent murder of fisherman. It is just before Christmas 1953 and, as in all good seasonal fiction, it is snowing heavily. When they take up their quarters in The Trout Hotel, they discover that they are in the middle of a very complex conspiracy, involving the smuggling and distribution of women’s stockings. Remember that this is Britain worn down by the struggle against Hitler and Hirohito and, eight years later, with no end to austerity in sight, many people are asking themselves, “ I thought we were supposed to have won the war?”

Despite the general tone of gentle humour there are moments that are deeply serious. Grasby is reassured by Superintendent Juggers that everything is going fine, but he has a pause for thought.

“Now, this instantly sends me into a funk. You see, I heard this type of thing so many times during the war from senior officers. Almost inevitably, there would follow an utter catastrophe, involving swooping Stukas, tanks appearing out of nowhere through a hedge in the bocage, or a division of German paratroopers landing on one’s head. However, I must remember that the war is over, but for me and so many others, we carry it with us like a millstone every day. One that becomes ever more cumbersome as the years go by and the memories crowd in on dark lonely nights.”

One of the things Meyrick captures with uncanny accuracy – and I use the word uncanny because he is too young young to have experienced it himself – is the unique bond which bound British society together in the 1950s. That bond was the shared experience of a generation that had fought two world wars in the space of four decades. Grasby fought Hitler, and Juggers was in the Great War trenches. I was born in 1947, but what my father – and his father – created was an almost tangible sense of time and place that belonged to all of us.

Of course, Grasby and Juggers eventually solve the mystery, despite many blunders and wrong turns, and Meyrick cannot resist the standard Golden Age denouement where the detective gathers everyone together (usually in the library) and exposes the villain after a lengthy explanation.

Meyrick has created a background set of characters who, undoubtedly comical, are just the right side of being grotesque. Grasby himself is undoubtedly clever, but has seen enough death and misery during his time with the army that has little personal bravery left, and his discretion trumps his valour every time. While Grasby is tall and spindly, Juggers is just the opposite. Short, square and perhaps running to fat, he always advances towards the sound of gunfire. Grasby’s father is a genuinely unpleasant fellow. He is a retired Anglican cleric and a total misanthrope. He is as horrible to his son as he was to the parishioners of whom he was supposed to have pastoral care. Grasby has fond memories of his late mother, and is genuinely disgusted by the fact that his father has a new paramour, in the spindly form of Miss Hetty Gaunt, an elderly psychic.

This is a seasonal delight, but would be just as good at any time of the year. Meyrick mixes some moments of knockabout farce with genuine reflections on human behaviour and our own history. To mix comedy with crime takes a very deft touch. We might read of a clumsy and overweight senior copper taking a pratfall, but a couple of pages later we witness the discovery of a dead body – someone’s husband, father or son. Few writers attempt it, and even fewer get it right. Back in the day, Colin Watson with his Flaxborough novels had it down to a ‘T’ and, more recently, Peter Bartram’s Crampton of The Chronicle novels strike exactly the right note. I suggest that Denzil Meyrick is just as good. This book is published by Bantam, and will be available on November 7th.