Thursday, 20 August 2020

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.

Monday, 17 August 2020

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.

Sunday, 16 August 2020

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.

Friday, 14 August 2020

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.

Monday, 20 July 2020

Book review: The Postscript Murders by Elly Griffiths

“Do you think ninety year olds can’t be murdered?”

When home carer Natalka finds Peggy Smith dead in her chair, it looks like death from natural causes, but Natalka has her doubts, particularly when she finds a business card describing Peggy as a “Murder Consultant”.

DS Harbinder Kaur, Best Gay Sikh Detective in West Sussex (it’s a small field, probably of one) finds herself involved in the case, along with ex-monk Benedict and retired BBC producer Edwin, as they investigate mysterious goings on in the world of crime writing.

I knew I was going to love this book from the first page - it was right up my street. It’s the second in a series featuring Harbinder Kaur, and I haven’t read the first, but I don’t think this was a hindrance. I’ll definitely need to read it, though.
(I live in Aberdeen, so it was also hard to resist a story partly set there - and I’ve attended events at the Granite Noir crime writing festival, too, which the one here resembles.)

Lovely read, thoroughly enjoyed it.

Tuesday, 21 April 2020

Book review: Invisible Girl by Lisa Jewell

Lisa Jewell is one of those writers whose books I will always snap up instantly, and with Invisible Girl she’s at the top of her game. It’s a hugely engaging and satisfying read.

The invisible girl of the title is seventeen-year-old Saffyre - a name which should have seemed awful, with its “creative” spelling, but I actually kind of liked it, maybe because I liked the character so much. She was magnificent.

Part of the story is told from Saffyre’s perspective. Then there’s Cate, who’s married to child psychologist Roan and mother of two teenagers, Georgia and Josh.

Thirty-three year old Owen lives with his aunt across the road from Cate and Roan, and has never had a sexual relationship. He’s seen as a bit of a weirdo and a loner. When complaints are made about him at work, Owen’s sense of anger and injustice begins to lead him down a dangerous path. When Saffyre disappears, he’s an obvious suspect.

Meanwhile, a string of sex attacks in the area strike fear into Cate’s heart in more ways than one.

I absolutely loved this book - largely, I think, because of Saffyre herself. All the characterisation is brilliant, though. It’s possible to like and sympathise with Owen even though some of his behaviour is, at best, deeply misguided - Lisa Jewell does an excellent job of sensitively depicting how he’s reached that place.

The toxic masculinity of certain characters is balanced by characters like Saffyre’s uncle, who show a very different image of what it means to be a man.

As I said at the top of the review, I found this a very enjoyable and satisfying read - highly recommended.

Wednesday, 4 March 2020

Book review: One Moment by Linda Green

Finishing One Moment, I really felt like I'd experienced something very special. Linda Green has woven an incredibly compelling and timely story which made me laugh, cry, fume with anger and nod in agreement so many times. By the end, I was in pieces.

The story is narrated alternately by ten-year-old Finn and fifty-nine-year old Kaz, and they are both incredibly endearing characters. Finn is different from most other boys (for one thing, he has a passion for gardening rather than football, and his hero is Alan Titchmarsh) and suffers at school accordingly - his mum, Hannah, is his most steadfast supporter and source of comfort. Kaz works in a café and cares for her brother Terry, who has schizophrenia (and an obsession with Matthew Kelly). Kaz's voice in particular, as an older working-class woman and informal carer, felt like one which is rarely heard in fiction (or elsewhere for that matter) and she was a brilliantly realised and entirely admirable character who shows great bravery and resilience.

My heart broke for both of them at times, but particularly for Finn, because how could it not? Kaz and Terry's situation too was incredibly well described and entirely believable. I very much appreciated the sympathetic and sensitive treatment of Terry's mental disorder, but the story also serves as a scathing indictment of an uncaring benefits system and the impacts of austerity.

Issues of bullying, poverty, marital breakdown, a mental health crisis and more are dealt with realistically and unflinchingly, but there is more than enough humour and humanity to ensure the tone is never too dark.

The story alternates between "before" and "after" segments (the turning point being an unspecified horrific event, the general nature though not the details of which is quickly apparent) and the structure did confuse me a little at times, particularly as "before" got closer to "after", but only a little. I suppose the suspense of Kaz and Terry's situation "before" was lessened slightly as we already know more or less what happens to them "after". But honestly, there was quite enough suspense elsewhere for this really not to matter.

Wonderful in so many ways, but most especially in the relationship between Finn and Kaz. An interesting end note from Linda Green remarks that "Finn needed a friend, and in Kaz, I like to think he found one of the best". Oh, he did.

Thursday, 13 February 2020

Book Review: The Magnificent Sons by Justin Myers

The Magnificent Sons is a coming out story, but with added layers and twists. Jake D’Arcy, regarded as the boring one by his boisterous family, has never really fitted in. Despite a lifelong lurking suspicion that he might not be entirely heterosexual, Jake has firmly repressed it, acquiring a long term girlfriend and a group of straight mates. His flamboyant young brother Trick (Patrick) is the gay one in the family, coming out on his seventeenth birthday to the surprise of literally nobody.

While everybody’s cool with Trick’s sexuality, nobody has ever considered that Jake might not be 100% straight, and his dawning acceptance - and announcement - of his bisexuality is a shock to those around him.

Jake’s parents’ struggles with him being bisexual feel real, though Amelia’s asking him if that meant he fancied everybody didn’t necessarily seem like something she would say. Though maybe it’s forgivable in the circumstances. Justin Myers does a really good job of rendering Jake’s feelings of slight disconnection from both the straight and gay worlds, and other people’s discriminatory or simply uncomprehending attitudes - still a thing, even in these days of pansexuality and sexual fluidity. Likewise, the effects on other people - notably Jake’s girlfriend and brother- are not minimised. The tense relationship between the two brothers is a key element of the plot.

It’s often hilariously well-observed (colleague Harry’s predilection for compound-noun insults was spot on) and the characters are really believable, I found I could visualise them all so clearly - Jake’s family, friends, and the people he meets on his journey of self discovery... (which sounds far more dull and worthy than it actually is). Trick and his pals Kia and Hot Will are particularly memorable.

A really enjoyable read - thanks!

Friday, 10 January 2020

Book review: My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell

"If it isn’t a love story, then what is it?”

At fifteen, Vanessa Wye had a sexual relationship with her forty-five year old teacher, Jacob Strane - a relationship that has been the defining element of her life. Now, years later, other girls have come forward to say they were abused by Strane and to urge Vanessa, too, to speak out. But Vanessa can’t relate at all to those other girls. She was different; she was special. She was the one he truly loved.

She never identifies herself as a victim, reframing the experience as a great love affair. Nevertheless, it’s clear to the reader from early on that Strane is a textbook abuser, preying on Vanessa’s vulnerability and naïveté and constantly testing how far he can safely go, skilfully grooming and manipulating her to ensure her compliance and her silence.

In one of their earliest interactions, he says “I will ruin you” - it’s one of the only true things he ever says to her.

Vanessa as an adult of thirty-two is clearly deeply damaged, her potential unrealised, numbing her feelings with drugs, alcohol and sex with men she despises yet in some twisted way needs for validation.

We follow both Vanessa’s life in the present day - as further allegations about Strane come to light - and her memories of the past. As we follow the development of her “relationship” with him, it becomes very hard to read at times, as Vanessa narrates her story with unflinching and at times brutal honesty. And when rumours inevitably begin to fly around the school, the response of the authorities is appalling, compounding the harm.

Throughout, the reader can see what Vanessa, unable to face the reality of what Strane did to her, cannot. Instead she insists unconvincingly on her own power, her instigation, her willing participation... though on some level she knows full well how wrong it is, how wrong it has always been, and how badly it has damaged her. Even then she cannot attach the blame where it truly belongs, blaming her own darkness, her eagerness to “hurl herself into a swamp”, to become Lolita to Strane’s Humbert Humbert. (Nabokov’s work is a theme throughout.)

My Dark Vanessa is a dazzling, devastating exploration of the damage caused by abuse. The subject matter makes it a hard read at times, but it’s an important and powerful one.

Friday, 22 November 2019

Blog tour review: The Mother I Could Have Been by Kerry Fisher

The book.... Why would you walk away from the one person you can’t live without?

As a child, Vicky Hall never had the sort of family she wanted. The least important person in her new step-family, ignored by her mother in favour of her two younger half-siblings, Vicky was always an afterthought. Sitting alone at her graduation ceremony at the age of twenty-one, she vows to create her own family and her own life, one which is full of the love and attention she has always craved.

When Vicky meets William and falls pregnant in Greece that summer, it isn’t planned. But the two of them believe they can make it work, showering their child with the love which they believe should be enough.

But when her son Theo is two, Vicky leaves him in the care of her mother-in-law, walks out of her front door and drives to a hotel where she takes a room for the night. She doesn’t return.

It’s unthinkable.

What kind of mother does that?

The kind who is hiding a story you can never imagine.

The Mother I Could Have Been is a heartbreaking story of impossible decisions and second chances, from the bestselling author of The Silent Wife and The Woman I Was Before. Perfect for fans of Jodi Picoult, Liane Moriarty and Diane Chamberlain.
The review... I've loved all the Kerry Fisher books I've read - she's really good at shining a light on family relationships - and in The Mother I Could Have Been, she seems to be going from strength to strength. It's a story which takes a piercing look at the mother/child relationship - from various angles - and the all too easy ways in which apparently unbridgeable rifts can develop. The reality of how the same events within a family can perceived in devastatingly different ways, unintended hurts festering for years, is portrayed to great effect.

The story focuses on two characters - Vicky and Caro, and I loved both of them - at least, once Vicky had grown into herself a bit. Some of her earlier decisions were hard to stomach, yet it was possible to understand how as a young person she'd taken actions which she would later come to profoundly regret. I was rooting for both of them - and for young Theo perhaps most of all - in their fractured family situations, although it was clear there could be no easy answers. And there aren't, but nevertheless the story is satisfying and ultimately hopeful. And just a cracking good read too. Loved it.
The author...
Kerry Fisher is the bestselling author of five novels, including The Silent Wife and The Secret Child. She was born in Peterborough, studied French and Italian at the University of Bath and spent several years living in Spain, Italy and Corsica. After returning to England to work as a journalist, she eventually abandoned real life stories for the secrets of fictional families. She now lives in Surrey with her husband, two teenage children and a naughty Lab/Schnauzer called Poppy. 




Friday, 20 September 2019

The Dark and Cloudy Skies by Jenny Maxwell: Review

I first read this a number of years ago, and it made quite an impression on me, to the point where I spent some years trying unsuccessfully to remember the title and author. (The closest I got for a while was "It was a dark and stormy night", which was obviously incorrect.) Anyway I finally figured it out, found it was on Kindle (hurrah!) and settled down for a re-read. Turned out I didn't remember much about it at all, but I enjoyed it just as much second time round.

It was published in 2001, apparently, but feels a bit earlier, perhaps only because the main character and her sister are called Joan and Sheila - not names I would usually associate with young women in 2001. Even in the 80s and 90s when I grew up, I didn't know anyone of my own age called Joan and Sheila, although no doubt some existed.

Joan Ferguson, known to her supermarket workmates as “Dozey Joan”, isn’t too good at reading and writing, or at standing up for herself. She’s good at thinking, though, and trying to make sense of the often confusing world around her.

When Joan is kidnapped at knifepoint by a mentally ill young man, who has incorporated her into his delusion of the “Dark Universe”, the experience is hugely and lastingly traumatic, but the world created by Nicholas Parry is also strangely compelling. In his disordered mind, Joan is not Dozey Joan, but the Empress of the Dark Universe, a figure to be worshipped. (Unfortunately, he wanted to kill her to get her back there.)

Joan’s ordeal is awful, but it’s a small part of the book. The really important part is what happens in her life afterwards.

We see everything through Joan’s eyes and it’s enthralling. Her voice is distinctive, engaging and believable. Joan doesn’t understand some things - sometimes that makes her angry - but other things she understands very well indeed. Joan’s always been told, and believed, that she’s stupid. As a result, people have written her off. But it becomes apparent that there’s much more to Joan than meets the eye.

An excellent read with an unusual and likeable protagonist. A book which deserves a wider readership than it has probably had.

Friday, 12 July 2019

Blog tour review! The Dead Wife by Sue Fortin

The book....
SINCLAIR WIFE DEAD!  HUSBAND CLEARED! Police have ruled out suspicious circumstances in the investigation into the death of Elizabeth Sinclair, wife of charismatic entrepreneur Harry Sinclair, found drowned in the lake of the family’s holiday park.
It’s been two years since the Sinclair case closed but when reporter Steph Durham receives a tipoff that could give her the scoop of the year, she’s drawn deeper and deeper into the secretive Sinclair family.
Elizabeth’s death wasn’t a tragic accident. And the truth will come at a deadly price…


The review...

I've read and enjoyed previous books by Sue Fortin (The Birthday Girl stands out as one I particularly relished), so I jumped at the chance to read and review her latest.

In The Dead Wife (the title does feel a bit blunt), main protagonist Steph writes for a travel company but hankers after a more exciting and challenging kind of journalism. Sent by her employer to cover the reopening of a Lake District resort, she certainly doesn't expect to be approached beforehand by the mother of a woman who tragically drowned there two years earlier. Sonia Lomas is convinced her daughter Elizabeth, the wife of one of the brothers who run the resort, was murdered..... but nobody believes her, the police included. And she wants Steph to investigate.

At the resort we're swiftly introduced to Harry, Elizabeth's grieving widower; eldest brother Dominic, quickly established as the sort of person who kicks dogs; and Owen, the alcoholic youngest brother. Then there's Pru, the matriarch.

The story is told largely from Steph's perspective, but also follows the brothers and incorporates flashbacks to events leading up to Elizabeth's death two years earlier. Elizabeth, it seems, had something of a talent for trouble...

Although I did have a good idea who the "baddie" was prior to the reveal, it was a very enjoyable read, with a likeable heroine in Steph and an evocative setting in the Lakes... and a sense of genuine jeopardy at times. 

Many thanks to the author and Rachel's Random Resources for the opportunity to participate in the blog tour!



The author...
Sue Fortin is an award-winning USA Today and an Amazon best-selling author, an international bestseller and has reached #1 in the Amazon UK Kindle chart. Sue writes mystery, suspense and romance, sometimes combining all three. 

Sue was born in Hertfordshire but had a nomadic childhood, moving often with her family, before eventually settling in West Sussex where she now lives with her husband, children and grandchildren.

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