Book review: Eight Detectives by Alex Pavesi

Many years earlier, maths professor Grant McAllister published a research paper, The Permutations of Detective Fiction, which sought to give a mathematical definition of a murder mystery. It also served as the appendix to a book written by McAllister whereby his theories were distilled into seven short stories, self-published as a collection, which provide examples of the various permutations of suspects, detective and victim. 

Eight Detectives comprises those stories interspersed with conversations between Grant and Julia Hart, an editor interested in republishing the book, who has visited Grant on the Mediterranean island where he now lives in seclusion. Together, they go through the stories one by one, revealing in the process curious discrepancies which seem to refer to a “real-life” unsolved murder. Even the title of the book, The White Murders, references the case - the death of Elizabeth White - though Grant denies any knowledge.

I enjoyed reading the short stories, although some were a bit overly unpleasant at times. My favourite, like Julia’s, was Trouble on Blue Pearl Island, a faithful homage to Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. (It’s notable that Christie’s works contain various examples of McAllister’s permutations - the murder where all the suspects did it, the detective as murderer, etc.) The eventual truth about Grant is very Christie-esque. 

I’ll admit, I was a bit relieved that the research paper referred to wasn’t appended here as well. I’m not sure I could have got through that.

I’d never have picked up on the discrepancies which Julia spots - I’m just not that careful a reader. Hats off to anyone who did.

While I enjoyed the stories, I liked the last part of the book best, where we learn more about what has really been going on, and the rug was pulled from under the reader more than once.

There’ve been a few examples lately of the detective story within a story format (Anthony Horowitz’s Magpie Murders and Moonflower Murders spring to mind) and it makes for an intriguing and juicy framework (and fun to write, I imagine). Eight Detectives is very cleverly constructed and the short story framework worked well in avoiding taking the reader too far out of the overarching narrative. I enjoyed it a lot.

Book review: Cover Your Tracks by Claire Askew

Having really enjoyed the first one, I started this under the mistaken impression that it was the second in the Helen Birch series; turns out it’s actually the third, and I’ve missed one. Seems like I missed some pretty important stuff, too.  So, that needs sorting asap.

Anyway aside from some stuff in Helen’s personal life, it didn’t affect my ability to follow the plot. When a man walks into her Edinburgh police station to report his elderly parents missing and demand the police investigate, DI Birch doesn’t initially take it too seriously - after all, Robertson Bennet admits he’s been estranged from them for many years. But it soon becomes clear that there’s far more to the story than meets the eye, and a potential link to a number of unsolved cases, as well as serious concerns about the well-being of one individual...

I loved the plot, the Edinburgh setting, and the characters of Helen and her DC Amy Kato, who both go above and beyond in their quest to uncover the truth. The story is quite hard hitting and emotional at times, and the last few pages had me in tears.

(I knew as soon as I heard one person’s name who they were - but as it was near the end and revealed a page later, it wasn’t exactly a spoiler!)

Great read, and I’m now off to catch up with the one I missed.

Book review: Moon Dog by Jane Elson

I loved the cover and description of this children's book, but I'm a bit ashamed to say that I'm not sure I'd have opted to read it if I'd known exactly what it was about, as it's very distressing and indeed heartbreaking at times - suffice to say that the dog next door isn't the only dog who needs saving in this book.

That said, it has an important message and it wouldn't be possible to adequately convey that message without going in hard at times. Nevertheless, I think if I'd read it when I was the target age, I'd have been traumatised!

The story follows Marcus and Delilah, who are opposites in some ways - most obviously in that he's incredibly tall and she's extremely tiny - but they have far more in common than that which divides them. Both are brave, caring and resourceful, both have difficulties at home, and most of all, both adore dogs and long for a dog of their own. When a new dog appears in the garden of the house next door to Marcus - who he names "Moon Dog" and who doesn't appear to be particularly well cared for by the two men who seem to come and go - the children start to uncover some unpleasant truths...

A very readable story with a powerful message.

Book review: Moonflower Murders by Anthony Horowitz

I haven’t read Magpie Murders, the first in this series, which now seems like a shocking oversight and one I intend to remedy as soon as possible, because Moonflower Murders was tremendous fun. Also, I love the cover. Just look at that cover!

Susan Ryeland, formerly working in publishing, currently running a hotel in Crete with her partner Andreas, is approached by the owners of the Branlow Hotel to investigate a murder which happened there some years earlier, where the wrong man may have been convicted... and which appears to have a bearing on the very current disappearance of their daughter, Cecily. It’s all mixed up with a detective novel  by one of Susan’s former authors, Alan Conway, now deceased. And Alan’s book, Atticus Pünd Takes the Case, appears here in its entirety.

His detective, Atticus Pünd, very much resembles a German Poirot without the moustaches, complete with mansion flat and formidable secretary, though Madeline Cain plays a bigger role than Miss Lemon ever did. (Christie - or rather, her alter ego Mary Westmacott - gets a name check within Alan Conway’s text.)

The novel-within-a-novel was tremendously engaging - the only issue for me was that by the time I’d read the entire “Alan Conway “ novel (Atticus Pünd Takes the Case) I’d almost completely forgotten what was going on with Susan’s narrative.

There’s one particular revelation at the end which I can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner... but I didn’t. I wonder if any readers did? We can’t say Horowitz didn’t play fair!

Fantastic read and I’m now off to read Magpie Murders.

Book review: Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë

I've never read Anne Brontë's books - she only wrote two, Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall - but thought it was probably time I did, especially after learning how feminist they are now often considered to be. Agnes Grey is a lot shorter, and was also the first one chronologically, so I decided to start with that. It's clearly strongly autobiographical, drawing heavily on Anne's own experiences working as a governess for various families.

The first chapter is largely scene setting - Anne, I mean Agnes's father is a poor clergyman and due to difficult financial circumstances, Anne, I mean Agnes, decides to apply for a position as governess. She's quite enthusiastic about the prospect, in fact. But no sooner has she arrived at Wellwood Hall than it becomes apparent that governessing, for this family at least, is set to be considerably less fun than she'd anticipated. The children, especially eldest boy Thomas, are uncontrollable monsters; the adults both chilly and demanding, blaming Agnes for their offspring's diabolical behaviour. 

Her next job is less overtly unpleasant, though Agnes has little in common with her charges: selfish, coquettish teenager Rosalie, tomboyish Matilda and some random boys.

The story itself is fairly straightforward and down to earth, its great strength - unique at the time - being its accurate depiction of the governess's lot: "working as a hireling among strangers, despised and trampled upon by old and young".

Agnes observes - and silently condemns - the cruelties and petty snobberies of the families who employ her, contrasting sharply with the kindness she values in others, such as villager Nancy and the curate, Mr Weston. The unpleasant character of certain characters is illustrated through their cruelty to animals - Thomas seeks out birds to torture, with no objections raised by his family; Mr Hatfield kicks Nancy's cat and hits a dog with his cane. It's really all quite distressing.

I liked the way Agnes never "does herself down" - she has a realistic awareness of her own strengths, weaknesses and values, and considers herself the equal of the wealthier people around her, resenting - rightly - that she is not treated as such.

While "Agnes Grey" lacks the Gothic melodrama of Anne's sisters' better-known works, it's both enjoyable and important, sharply observed, and revealing of the social relations of the time and the very limited paths open to an intelligent, educated, yet impoverished young woman.

Book review: The Vanished Bride by Bella Ellis

The Brontë sisters (occasionally aided, not always helpfully, by Branwell) turn amateur sleuths in the first in a series by Rowan Coleman writing as “Bella Ellis” (I see what she did there).

When a young woman, wife of a local landowner, disappears - apparently murdered - amid a scene of terrifying violence, Charlotte, Emily and Anne feel compelled to become “detectors” in a bid to find out what has become of poor Elizabeth Chester. Limited as they are by their sex (nobody wants to talk of important matters to mere women) and financial resources, they nevertheless have the benefit of intelligence, determination and boundless imagination. The quest to unravel the mystery takes them in interesting and at times frightening directions.

It was an excellent read, with the distinct characters, as we know them, of the Brontë “girls” shining through, and strands of their known history woven throughout (I was drawn to look up “Miss Celia Amelia”, aka Reverend William Weightman, and he did indeed exist). Of course it would be unthinkable that disguised elements of such adventures, had they really occurred, hadn’t made their way into the Brontë sisters’ writings, and elements of the plot clearly echo, or foreshadow - whatever the right word is here - incidents in their novels.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from The Vanished Bride, but found I enjoyed it very much... a genuinely gripping plot, a very satisfying ending and some insightful observations regarding women’s lives in that era. Coleman is not the first to write about real writers turning detective (Nicola Upson’s excellent “Josephine Tey” series springs to mind), nor is she the first to write a fictionalised account of the lives of the Brontës, but she’s done a great job here of both telling a compelling story and rendering her famous protagonists sympathetic and believable.

Of course, there’s no evidence that Charlotte, Emily and Anne ever really investigated crimes in their spare time. But then - as the author points out in her epilogue - there’s also no evidence that they didn’t.

Book review: The Push by Ashley Audrain

“The women in this family, we’re different...”

The Push tells of a young woman named Blythe who falls in love with and marries a man named Fox, although we rarely actually read his name - Blythe's narrative is largely addressed, in the second person, to her husband. And then they have a baby, Violet. And that's where it all breaks down.

Blythe's never been confident in her own ability to be a mother. After all, her own mother, Cecilia, failed miserably in the role, and her grandmother, Etta, was even worse. (We see snippets of the lives of both of these earlier women.) Cliché though it's now become, its hard not to think of *that* Philip Larkin poem, as woman hands on misery to woman. Only lovely childhood neighbour Mrs Ellington provides an example of good mothering.

Frequent comparisons have been made with Lionel Shriver's We Need to Talk About Kevin, which I've never quite been able to bring myself to read, so I can't comment on that. The relationship between Blythe and Violet is disconnected, with the girl clearly preferring her father from early on. But is the threat and violence Blythe perceives in her daughter real, or does she see only what she subconsciously expects to? It's never quite established.

The Push is a fascinating and compulsive read, acutely observed and very well written. It's also hauntingly dark and disturbing at times, particularly the devastating event at its core.