Harriet Devine's Blog

The Detective's Secret by Lesley Thomson

Here I go again -- its really hard for me not to say yes to things I get offered for review. Not that I review them all, by any means, but I was intrigued a while back by the newly established Sainsbury's ebooks (Sainsbury's, in case you are not British, being a large supermarket chain) and, although I'm not in general a huge fan of ebooks, thought I would give them a whirl. I very much enjoyed the first two I read, both by the American novelist Harlan Coben (here and here), and when I got offered another freebie, decided on this one. This was partly because I'd heard favourable reports of the first in the series, The Detective's Daughter, and partly because I discerned that this one was set in an area of London where I used to live. 

The Detective's Secret begins with a prologue. It is 1987. A man and woman are making love in a disused WW2 water tower situated near the river in Chiswick, West London. The woman leaves, slamming the door behind her, and the man is trapped inside. Fast forward to the present day, when we meet Stella Darnell, the detective's daughter (turned detective herself since her father's death) and her friend and fellow detective Jack Harmon. Stella works as a cleaner in her own contract cleaning business, and an obsessively thorough one at that, and Jack drives trains on the London underground. It has to be said that neither of them appears to be exactly normal. Stella seems difficult, possibly Aspergers, and definitely OCD, while Jack is extremely quirky, with a belief in the occult meaning of numbers and in the existence of what he calls True Hosts, though quite what they were I never did discover. 

The action of the novel is mostly set in the present, though at the beginning there are a few flashbacks to the 1980s, where we meet a couple of schoolboys, Simon and Justin, who have an obviously troubled relationship. Later we encounter another boy, known as the Captain, and his friend Nicky. It's obvious that we will meet these people in some guise in the main plot of the novel, but their identities don't become clear until much later. Indeed there is much playing with identities here. People use names that are not their own, or diminutives of their names, some of which were easily guessed by me though not, initially, by either of the detectives. 

The plot is in fact so complicated that although I've only just finished reading it, I can't give a very coherent account of it. It involves a man going under a train on the underground (a One Under, as the drivers call it), and there being some question whether it was suicide or murder. There are missing husbands, sudden appearances of unsuspected brothers, phones with special tracking apps to enable you to stalk anyone of your acquaintance, doppelgängers, howling winds, mysterious trips to the Chiswick eyot (a small island in the river) and much more besides. Jack takes a flat in the newly-converted water tower and spends a lot of time scouring West London through his binoculars, and muttering poems and nursery rhymes to himself. In the end, all the many disparate threads, including the death of that man trapped in the tower in 1987, prove to be inextricably connected and everything ends relatively satisfactorily for Stella and Jack, I think.

I can't help thinking I'd probably have got more out of this novel if I'd read the two previous ones in the series. I know Lesley Thomson has many fans, including Ian Rankin who proclaims on the cover that she is 'in a class above'. Above what, it doesn't say, but I mustn't be cynical. This is definitely one for anyone who loves her books, but I can't comment on how it compares with the other two. I'm not sorry to have read it, and did find it intriguing if at times rather confusing. Many thanks to Sainsbury's ebooks for giving me the opportunity. They've got lots of excellent titles on offer at very good prices, so why not take a look?

 

 

Woman in Hammock

The French post-impressionist artist Henri Lebasque (1865-1937) painted quite of few pictures of women reading -- take a look at this Pinterest page devoted to him -- but I was seduced by the glorious colours in this one of a woman not doing anything except sitting on a hammock. It looks like a really hot day, and she'll be glad the hammock is in the shade. Here in my part of France it has been unseasonably cold, so let's hope the sun bursts through soon and we get proper summer weather. 

Revelation by C J Sansom

 

I've been off the radar for a while, most of the time on holiday on the Greek island of Kefalonia where Ulysses apparently came from. And in fact where part of my family apparently came from, though we're going back some three hundred or so years. I had visualised myself lying on the beach reading, but in fact that didn't happen as the weather, though pretty warm, was also rather variable and I didn't end up lying on any beaches at all. But I did read, needless to say. I'd decided to treat myself to a book at the airport, and wanted it to be something big (in size rather than import) and something I might not otherwise have read. I'd been hearing a lot lately about CJ Sansom's Shardlake series, and had become especially curious after reading Adele Geras' review of the latest one, Lamentation, in Shiny 4. Adele described that novel as 'stunning in its scope, its intelligence and its humanity'. Phew -- I definitely needed to read Sansom. 

Now as you may know, this is a series, of which Lamentation is the sixth and Revelation the fourth. Why didn't I start at the beginning, you may ask? Simply because Dissolution, the first novel, is a rather slimmer book than the ones that followed, and as I said, I wanted a big book. I'd been assured that it didn't matter if I plunged in wherever I chose in the series, and I think this is true, though of course you do then want to go back and start at the beginning, and no doubt I shall be doing that. But you probably want to know what I thought -- did the novel measure up to the massive build up?

I wish I could say a wholehearted yes. I certainly did enjoy it, though not in that obsessive way that sometimes happens when you simply cannot wait to pick a book up and go on reading it. This didn't happen, but I did get caught up in the story increasingly, and didn't guess the identity of the person who was perpetrating the terrible crimes at the centre of the story, all to the good. 

In case you don't know this series, which is set at the time of Henry VIII, the main protagonist is a lawyer, Matthew Shardlake. He once worked for Thomas Cromwell (we all know who he was, of course), but now is in business on his own account. In this novel, he is seeking to solve a series of appalling murders, which he quickly realises are the work of a religious fanatic, since they are based on the horrific prophecies of the Biblical Book of Revelation. All very exciting, in the way of any crime novel. But of course what sets this apart is the historical background, which I did find really fascinating. A helpful map of Tudor London is included, and -- especially if, like me, you know London really well -- it is a great eye-opener to read of Shardlake riding through the muddy fields of Westminster, for example. The religious conflicts of the era, which really form the heart of the story, come vividly to life -- the problems that have arisen from Henry's dissolution of the monasteries, the expelled monks unable to know what to do with their lives, the dangers of the new strict protestant sects who preach eternal damnation with no possibility of being saved. There's so much of interest here, including 16th century legal and medical practices, attitudes to insanity, and just the minutiae of everyday life. And of course there's Henry VIII, who doesn't put in an appearance but who nevertheless hangs over the story -- having disposed of his fifth wife he is seeking to marry Catherine Parr, who is not very willing, perhaps because the king is in failing health, or perhaps because her reformist beliefs are in conflict with his wavering allegiance to the Catholicism he has supposedly thrown out.

So what didn't I like? I think my quibble was the way the dialogue seemed to swing between Tudor-ish English and very modern usage. Of course this is always going to be a problem when you set a book in the distant past, and one which one of my favourite authors, Ariana Franklin, managed to deal with superbly. I found some of Sansom's way of doing it grated with me a bit. But I think in the overall picture this isn't really such a problem. Certainly I'm finding myself curious to read the rest of the series, and to get to know Shardlake and his companions better. So no doubt you'll be hearing more from me on all this in the future. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ghost Fields by Elly Griffiths

I know there are lots of fans of Elly Griffiths out there, so here is a review of her latest Ruth Galloway novel. 

I was delighted to be able to read and review it, as I'm a great fan myself. In fact I think this is one of the best in the series -- an exciting plot and of course the added pleasure of being updated on the rather complicated personal lives of Ruth, Nelson, and their friends and colleagues. Check it out!

Girl Watering Plants

Here's a seasonal activity, something many of us will be doing at the moment. This one's by the great American artist Winslow Homer (1836-1910).

Harm Done by Ruth Rendell

I'm having my own small Ruth Rendell fest at the moment -- see my recent review of The Veiled One and the thing I wrote for Shiny Extra. I got interested in Harm Done when I was writing that, as it shows Rendell in her most socially concerned mode. Of course the novel has its fair share of mysteries and murders, but there's much food for thought here too, and overall the novel is very critical of society, or society as it was when the novel was written in 1999. It would be great to say that things have changed since then, but I'm afraid if we did say that, to would probably be to say they have changed for the worse.

The chief theme that runs through the novel is that of what we now call spousal abuse. Wexford's older daughter is working as a volunteer in a safe house for abused women, something which she finds extremely upsetting, as most of her time is spent on the phone, listening to stories of unimaginable horror. By chance, though, Wexford and his team are brought into contact with a woman whose husband regularly subjects her to horrific physical punishment. At first he finds this hard to believe -- the family is wealthy, the husband is extremely pleasant and charming and appears to adore his wife. But when the facts emerge, they are truly terrifying. The reason the police get called in is that the youngest child, a three-year-old, disappears, and they have to investigate what seems at first to be an insoluble mystery.

Added to this, the local estate -- an unpleasant and deprived area -- is in an uproar after a convicted paedophile has been released into the community. Having 'paid his debt to society', he has moved in with his daughter. Old, shrunken, completely bemused by life on the outside, he sits silently all day long and never goes out. But the rebellious elements on the estate are up in arms about his presence, and some very ugly riots take place, one of which results in the death of a police officer. But, as Wexford reflects, how would we feel if a convicted paedophile moved in next door to our children or grandchildren?

It must be said that Rendell takes a very dim view of the estate and its inhabitants. Often drunk, quarrelsome, adulterous, and completely lacking in morals except of a very superficial kind, these people really show a picture of Britain at its worst. Many of them are weak and ill-informed rather than bad, but they are easily led, and the ringleaders have no problem in whipping up a mob mentality.

As for the wife-beating husband, this raises shocking issues too. Wexford's initial disbelief is more than mirrored in the parents of the abused wife, who take the view that she must be doing something to deserve it, and reprimand their grandchildren for lying when they reveal some of the things he has been doing to their mother.

So this is a painful but rewarding book to read. I did find myself ahead of Wexford several times as he seemed a bit slow to guess what was going on, but of course I had more information than he did. A dark novel, but an excellent one. 

Woman Reading

I love it when people send me suggestions of paintings to put up in this regular slot. Here's one that's just arrived. This is La Liseuse (the Reader), painted in about 1877 by Robert James Gordon (1835-1932). That sofa doesn't look terribly comfortable and the book is very tiny (she must have better eyes than me) but I love the fan and the decoration of the room!

Many thanks to Dark Puss for this one.

Shiny Tribute to Ruth Rendell

As Ruth Rendell's death was announced just as we were getting our Extra Shiny ready, I decided to put together a brief tribute to this great writer. Take a look to see Five Fascinating Facts of her brilliant and productive life.

Shiny Extra is Live!

We've been working away behind the scenes to bring you our mid-season Extra Shiny. It's live today, with lots of new reviews (helpfully marked *NEW*) in all sections. 

Here's a review of a book I really enjoyed -- Effi Briest by the 19th century German novelist Theodor Fontane. Described as  ‘one of the great novels of marital relations together with Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina’, this is the highly readable, thought-provoking story of Effi, married at just seventeen to a man of forty-four. She is a completely delightful creation -- as I wrote in the review, ' it’s hard to think of a more attractive and loveable heroine'.

Pop over and have a browse!

Barbara Pym: A Passionate Force by Ann Allestree

Harriet chose a chocolate biscuit. 'I do believe the Archdeacon has been asking you to elope with him!" she declared triumphantly.

'Oh Harriet, how dreadful you are!' said Belinda, unable to help laughing at this monstrous suggestion. 'As if a clergyman, let alone an archdeacon, would do a thing like that!'

'Then he's been telling you that he's very fond of you, and wishes he'd married you instead of Agatha', went on Harriet, gallantly persevering.

'Well hardly that', ventured Belinda, growing a little more confidential, for the Ovaltine had loosened her tongue. 'I mean its a bit late for anything like that, isn't it'.

 A good friend introduced me to Barbara Pym's novels in the 1980s, and I fell in love at once. I have come back to them from time to time since then, and they never cease to delight me. Indeed Pym is one of the few novelists I almost don't dare to read in public places, as I'm liable to start chuckling loudly at passages like the one above, from her first novel,  Some Tame Gazelle (1950).

So I was delighted to see that a new biography had come out, especially as I'd always intended but never managed to read the 1990 one by her friend and colleague Hazel Holt. I galloped through its 148 pages, and certainly l learned a few things about Pym that I hadn't been properly conscious of before -- her close and loving relationship with her sister Hilary, her long years editing the scholarly journal Africa, and her many passionate attachments to various men throughout her life. She never married, but was evidently very attractive and had many admirers as well as male friends both straight and gay. I also knew that, after the six very successful novels she published between 1950 and 1961, she was unable to get any publisher to take anything on for 18 years. It was an article in the TLS with warm praise for her writing by David Cecil and Philip Larkin that revived her career and she had several years of well deserved success, including a Booker nomination, before her death in 1980 at the age of 67.

Not having read the earlier biography, I'm not able to comment on what, if anything, has been added by Ann Allestree. But in any case I was interested by the way she pointed out the frequently close relationship between Pym's life and her fiction, and to meet the originals of some of the more egregious male characters -- usually archdeacons or academics -- who populate her books. Her love for Jane Austen and for Ivy Compton Burnett, from whom she said she learned a lot about dialogue, come over well here. There are some interesting quotations from her diaries, and from letters to and from her friend Philip Larkin. I liked the accounts of her visits to churches and of the various houses she lived in, both of which were duly visited and described by Allestree. I would have loved to see some photos, many of which are described but not shown.

But I'm afraid I can't praise this book unconditionally. I think it could have been a good book if someone had taken the trouble to copy edit and proof read it. But as it stands, it is in desperate need of some work. The organisation of the material is a little odd and sometimes repetitive, but the most bothersome thing is the problems with the punctuation. This may seem a minor thing to some people, but punctuation (commas etc) are there for a reason -- properly placed, they make sense of what is being said, but if they are badly placed or missing it's hard to understand the argument, and I sometimes found myself having to re-read sentences. Then there's the question of the quotations. These are done very oddly indeed. Sometimes they start with a double quotation mark and end with a single, or fail to end at all. And far too often you can't actually tell if a passage is a quotation or not -- some certainly are, though not marked as such in any way --  or where it begins and ends. There's a curious habit of enclosing the names of characters with either single or double quotation marks, though this tends to come and go. And though there's a Select Bibliography, none of the items listed have any dates. So I was left with the impression of having read a promising first draft, but one that had me itching to get out the red pencil. 

I'm really sorry to have to say this. I'm not generally in the habit of writing on here about books I haven't enjoyed, but however this happened (author or publisher) it seemed such a shame. I wish Ann Allestree the best with it, and perhaps there will be readers less fussy than myself. And I'm grateful to The Book Guild for sending me a review copy.