Blog Tour! - One Law for the Rest of Us by Peter Murphy - Blog Tour!

This is a legal thriller set in the English legal system of the 1970’s. The author, Peter Murphy, spent his career in the legal system, as an advocate (barrister) and judge, and thus the novel has a strong basis in realism. Peter Murphy is the author of twin series, the barrister Ben Schroeder, of which this is number six, and the Judge Walden series. The Ben Schroeder series are serious legal thrillers, while the Judge Walden series is more light-hearted. One Law for the Rest of Us is the first of the Ben Schroeder novels that I’ve read, though I have previously read one of the Judge Walden series (my review of which, can be read here: https://bit.ly/2A40KgA).

While One Law for the Rest of Us is the sixth book in the Ben Schroeder series, it can easily be read as a standalone (as I indeed did) and there’s no need to have read the previous novels to enjoy this one. The story is of Audrey Marshall, a woman who sends her daughter Emily to the religious boarding school where she herself was once a pupil. Emily reports to her mother that she’s been abused, which awakens memories in Audrey of her own abuse when a pupil at the school. She reports the abuse and Ben Schroeder is appointed barrister for the prosecution. Quickly, however, it becomes apparent that the abuse has been perpetrated by seriously powerful members of the establishment who are determined not to be exposed.

Two things will be apparent from this brief description of the plot. The first is its timeliness, dealing as it does with abuse by powerful people. In recent years, with the revelations concerning Jimmy Saville, the MP Cyril Smith, and other powerful paedophiles who abused and whose abuse was either covered up or ignored, the full scale of how such things were swept under the carpet in the period this novel occurs has become known. The second thing to note is that this novel tackles the sensitive and upsetting issue of child abuse, and there are parts of this book where this is discussed, which can be quite hard to read.

Being a legal thriller set in the English legal system, this is very different from those legal thrillers, such as the novels of John Grisham, set in the US system. The English judiciary is much soberer than its American counterparts: there are no lawyers leaping to their feet to shout ‘Objection’; there are no gun-toting Mafiosi, shoot outs or car chases. That said, this novel lacks nothing in tension. In fact, this is an incredibly tense novel, as Schroeder and his colleagues use their analytical skill to probe the evidence and unearth the truth.

One Law for the Rest of Us is a novel that packs a punch and if I have one criticism it is that at times elements of the plot are unearthed in exposition. This was most apparent at the very beginning of the novel where Ben and his colleagues divulge some back story from a previous novel in dialogue that I found unconvincing. Ironically, this was superfluous to the plot, for as noted, this novel can be read as a standalone. That said, this is a small matter and did not detract from my enjoyment of what is otherwise an excellent legal thriller.

4 out of 5 stars

Fukushima Dreams by Zelda Rhiando

This is a meditative novel about the effect of the Fukushima disaster on one estranged family. Sachiko and Harry, a Japanese woman and her English husband, have moved to the fishing village of Taro in Fukushima Prefecture. They have a baby son, Tasha. Harry was an English teacher, with plans on writing a book based in Japanese folklore, ambitions that have been put aside due to the obligations and pressures of his new family. This is something he greatly resents. Sachiko suffers from post-natal depression, something for which she has received little help.

At the start of the novel the tsunami hits and Sachiko is nearly killed. She awakes in a shelter for survivors, the whereabouts of her husband and son unknown to her. Harry has also survived, though we learn that for months he has been hoarding supplies in a secret den in the hills, planning on abandoning his wife and child. He also doesn’t know whether his wife and son have survived, but nor does he care. A deeply selfish man, he sees his wife and sons a burden and one that he is simply happy to have escaped from.

Yet Harry, now alone in the wilderness is soon visited by visions of his son, Tashi. Submerged in Japanese folklore as he has been, are these visions signs of his losing his grip on sanity, or are they actually demons come to haunt him? As the novel progresses, both characters grip on reality is threatened and the story becomes progressively more surreal and dark.

Both Harry and Sachiko are estranged from their respective families. Harry sees nothing in left in Britain for him and indeed this is one of the reasons he came to Japan in the first place. Sachiko for her part separated from her family after meeting Harry. They wanted much for her and were disappointed by her life choices. Now in the aftermath of the disaster, and separated from each other as they are, they are both adrift with no kin to fall back on. 

Having never been to Japan, I can’t attest to how accurate the author portrays Japanese society and the tensions that underlie it, but it certainly accords to what I’ve read over the years. The novel is particularly strong on this and the author highlights both the strengths and limitations. For example, early on in the novel we learn that post-natal depression is not something Japanese society really grapples with, that due to ideas of family probity neighbours are reluctant to interfere if they see a mother struggling and doctors just proscribe drugs. On the other hand, Sachiko also reflects on the strengths of the Japanese system, how the unspoken rules that keep people in line ensure an ordered and peaceable society, and that she allowed Harry’s constant denigration of such facets of Japanese life to influence and drive a wedge between herself and the systems which might have helped her in her time of need.

Fukushima Dreams can be seen as a meditation on the disaster, Japanese society, and perhaps most of all, bonds of family. For it is precisely because Harry And Sachiko have cut their ties with relatives that they are so adrift and thus vulnerable to mental breakdown. This is a deeply unsettling novel and at times upsetting and challenging, but it’s well worth a read.

3 out of 5 stars

No Good Brother by Tyler Keevil

If this novel is ever made into a movie, it will be called a road movie of sorts. For that’s what No Good Brother is, a road movie of a novel. Tim Harding works as a deckhand on a fishing trawler. Come the end of the fishing season, the crew are washing down the ship and stowing away the equipment when Tim’s brother, Jake, shows up. Jake is an ex con, a drifter, and a dreamer, a man who tends to slide from trouble to trouble.

Jake tells Tim that he needs help repaying a debt. Tim senses that no good will come from him agreeing to go along with his brother, but Jake is nothing if not good at manipulating his older brother and tugging on his heart strings. This is especially true because their sister, Sandy, the anchor who held their family together, died in a hit and run a few years back. The loss of Sandy left the brother’s bereft and Tim believes Jake wouldn’t have gone so off the rails if it wasn’t for her death. 

So it isn’t long before Tim, against his better judgement, agrees to assist. Jake tells Tim the job is just a simple one, that to repay his debt they have to drop something off for the Delaney’s, a violent crime family. Tim reckons on the job being a drug drop or something similar and is alarmed to learn that it is in fact to steal and transport a race horse. What’s more, they have to transport the horse across the international border, from Canada to the United States. So begins a madcap journey across country, the brothers first trying to transport the horse by land, before stealing the boat Jake worked on and transporting it by sea. 

No Good Brother is a novel of many levels. On the surface, it is a crime novel: the brothers commit a crime, the stealing and transferring of a horse, and there is a gang of violent criminals pulling their strings. On a broader level it is a journey, a tale of two men travelling the ocean. I have zero nautical knowledge, but the author seems to know his stuff; the book is packed with information on how Tim sails the boat and navigates the open sea. This isn’t info dumped, but rather perfectly calculated to the tale, so that the author spins what feels to be an authentic story. There’s a real sense of the environment the brothers find themselves in, a sense of place if you will, the ocean brought to life. But so too is Canada. If like myself readers haven’t visited the country, it’s easy to imagine the picture postcard vision: forests, bears, Mounties and Maple syrup. Here is a grittier Canada of working class men scraping by, dive bars and violence.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, this is a story about relationships. Road movies and their novel counterparts are about personal growth, the characters’ internal journeys mirroring the external, as they learn something important about themselves. No Good Brother is no exception and the brothers, their relationship rocky at the outset, learn some hard truths and gain insights, some not too welcome, into each other and their shared histories. 

I thoroughly enjoyed No Good Brother and Tyler Keevil is an impressive and talented writer. One of the reasons I review books is for the opportunity to find new authors whose work I can enjoy and this is one such author. I will definitely be checking out his back catalogue.

4 out of 5 stars  

Homegrown Hero by Khurrum Rahman

Khurrum Rahman burst onto the crime fiction scene in 2017 with his brilliant debut East of Hounslow (which I reviewed here: https://bit.ly/2FyH7Cn). Homegrown Hero is his hotly anticipated sequel and once again we’re with Jay Qasim, a British born Muslim reluctantly recruited by MI5 as an agent (an informant in the police’s parlance). After the events of the first book he’s been dropped by MI5, much to his relief, and is trying to reestablish some sense of normality. But The Teacher, the head of the jihadi group Qasim infiltrated is still at large and some in MI5 want Jay to help them to finish what they’ve started. Meanwhile some within the jihadi group have learnt that Qasim was the one who betrayed them and set an assassin on his tail. While far right thugs and an assault on a Muslim girl leading to her suicide set in motion a powerful subplot.

All this is promising material and certainly current, but the question is, does Rahman pull it off with the aplomb of East of Hounslow? Or does Homegrown Hero suffer from the dreaded second book hurdle?

As with the first book, I firstly have to get my little bugbear out of the way and one which I alluded to at the start. An agent to the intelligence services is what an informant would be to the police, while those employed by the agencies, their staff, are intelligence officers. Many a writer gets such details wrong and the problem is exacerbated by the fact that some countries have agencies which straddle the law enforcement/intelligence divide and don’t obey this rule. A good example of this is the American FBI, both a law enforcement agency and one like MI5 that deals with domestic intelligence, which calls it’s employees agents (confusingly, the CIA which is solely engaged in intelligence, calls its staff officers and its informants agents). Rahman is to be applauded for getting such details right. 

The above might appear to be a small doctrinal issue, but it speaks to a wider realism in the narrative. Post-911 Western intelligence agencies were under enormous pressure to prevent further attacks and this was exacerbated after every successive outrage. As always their response was two pronged and both were controversial. The first is electronic surveillance and the Snowden revelations amongst others have demonstrated the controversy that comes with that. The second is human intelligence, the recruitment of agents. A number of revelations have come about in recent years of how intelligence officers have gone to great lengths to recruit agents - offering inducements and where that doesn’t work, engaging in coercion and even blackmail. MI5 has been accused of such behaviour on a number of occasions and there have been reports in the press, and human rights groups have lodged complaints, alleging their officers bullied and harassed Muslims in an attempt to recruit them as agents. 

Most spy novels are told from the perspective of the intelligence officer, very few are told from the perspective of the agent. This is similar to crime novels where the vast majority are told from the perspective of the police and very few are told from the perspective of the informant. Where agents or informants do feature in fiction, they’re all too often seen through the eyes of the police or intelligence officers. So they’re portrayed as perhaps shifty and untrustworthy, mercenary or licentious, certainly with motives that are questionable. This might well be understandable and certainly reflects how they’re seen. I’m lucky to know a number of police officers and once discussed the issue with an officer whose work entailed running multiple informants (for a large regional police force in England). I asked how he felt about them and he was blunt in his contempt. When meeting with them he had to pretend to be able to tolerate them, like them even, but his real feelings were clear. To be sure his informants were criminals, whereas some of the informants intelligence agencies recruit will be ordinary people with access, such as Muslim’s in the local community, but the fact remains that distrust can remain especially where the informant is coerced. Jay Qasim, the protagonist of East of Hounslow and Homegrown Hero is such a person, coerced into working for MI5 and then treated appallingly, and his story is told with real humanity and warmth.

If this wasn’t all, the second character the author introduces into Homeland Hero, the assassin, is equally well drawn. He’s a sleeper jihadi, one sent decades before to inculcate himself into British life until one day he’s activated. While this character's predicament isn’t as firmly based in reality as Qasim’s treatment at the hands of MI5 (as far as I know at least) there have been sleeper agents in service to the KGB and its successors and much discussion has been had as to the psychology that must go into that. Only a few years ago a whole host of sleeper agents were discovered in the US and then deported back to Russia, some having adult children who had grown up in America with no idea of what their parents were doing. Rahman gives his sleeper assassin real personality. He’s a man who’s fallen in love with a non-Muslim woman and her child and is reluctant to embrace his calling once he’s activated. I ended up liking this character as much as Qasim and the novel is nail biting at the finale when both characters lives are on the line

One final aspect of this book which I must not overlook, and one which might not be guessed from this review, is the humour. For despite dealing with serious and weighty issues, there are comedic elements to both Homegrown Hero and the previous title, East of Hounslow. Qasim with his quick wit and street smarts is a character with real charisma and his internal monologue can bring on more than the odd chuckle. This not only makes one warm to his predicament but also counteracts some of the darker scenes, thus bringing the narrative a little light.

So conclusions? Homegrown Hero is a worthy book 2 and one which is well worth a read. With both titles the author has managed a remarkable feat, penning popular fiction that tackles weighty topics while not being afraid to pack a punch and broach controversy. With a splash of humour, a likeable protagonist, and a sympathetic antagonist you can’t help but root for too, there really is little not to like.

5 out of 5 stars  

The Shepherd's Hut by Tim Winton

Jaxie Clackton is an abused teenager, the product of a dysfunctional family upbringing. His father is a violent drunk, while his mother who’s spirit was long ago broken by the man she married, has died after a protracted battle with cancer. Now it’s just Jaxie alone with his father who’s beatings show no sign of relenting. Jaxie has fantasised about killing his father, but is far too intimidated to try. The family live in a small rural town in Australia where everyone knows everyone else’s business. Mr Clackton’s overbearing nature is not a secret. Due to his circumstances, Jaxie has been in a lot of trouble in his life. He’s not shy of using his fists himself and has been expelled from school. So when Jaxie arrives home one evening to find his father crushed to death by a car he was fixing up, he reckons he will get the blame, that people will conclude he brought the car down on his father’s head.

So Jaxie runs.

There’s one person in Jaxie’s life that he cares for, his cousin Lee, with whom he’s fallen in love. Lee is the daughter of his mother’s sister and lives quite far away. Jaxie and Lee were also found together by Mr Clackton who told Jaxie’s mother and aunt (Lee’s mother). So his welcome at his aunt’s is uncertain. Instead, he hopes to elope with Lee. 

But first he has to get there.

So begins an oddysey into the bush and across the Australian outback. Jaxie is well used to hunting, having done so with his father, so he’s equipped to survive. Even so, he soon runs into challenges. Food is not a problem, shooting kangaroos and dressing them for their meat is something he’s done many times before. But how to keep the meat from spoiling, or attracting wild dogs? Then there’s water, which in such an arid landscape is always in desperate short supply. While searching for solutions, he stumbles upon Fintan MacGillis, a recluse living alone in a hut. At first he’s suspicious of the man, especially when he discovers he used to be a priest; Jaxie fears Fintan might be a peadophile, that this might explain why the old man is living alone in the middle of nowhere. Soon though they reluctantly and hesitantly become friends.

The Shepherd’s Hut is a sparse book written in terse sentences. It’s a book about Jaxie, yes, but it’s also about Fintan, and more than that, the landscape they make their home. This is a book as much about the Australian bush, the outback, as it is about the human characters. In an age where much of the world’s population resides in cities and urban sprawl, where modern telecommunications mean we can communicate with people across the globe, and where air travel has not just enabled international travel, but ensured there are few places untouched by tourism, it is easy to forget that any wilderness remain. This novel reminds us that not only do such places still exist, but that they do precisely because of their inhospitality. The outback here is an unforgiving and brutal place, one where few people could survive for long.

The sense of place that the author imbues The Shepherd’s Hut with is complemented by its characters, for it takes a certain robust resilience to survive in such a landscape, a toughness that few possess. Fintan has been dumped there, regularly supplied by his mysterious benefactors, though he kills and dresses goats who wander onto his grounds. Jaxie is more than that, a born survivor, and one with a purpose. He’s determined to be reunited with Lee and this gives him the motivation to surmount the odds.

The Shepherd’s Hut is a brilliant novel and one penned by a clearly talented author. I have never read anything by Tim Winton before but am already looking to purchase titles from his back catalogue. A paean to people's ability to survive the odds and to a brutal yet beautiful Australian wilderness, this is not a book to miss.

5 out of 5 stars  

Angel in the Shadows by Walter Lucius

This is the second novel in the author’s Heartland trilogy, the first title in the series being Butterfly on the Storm, which I reviewed here: https://bit.ly/2PocTGL. The Dutch author has been compared with Stieg Larsson, and certainly there’s similarities between this series and Larsson’s Millennium series.

Angel in the Shadows starts precisely where the previous title closed and continues with that title’s labyrinthine plot of international corruption. At heart, the story is of a Russian oligarch, Valentin Lavrov, who uses his power and wealth to corrupt people around the world in pursuit of greater riches and power. 

While the protagonist of the series is investigative journalist Farah Hafez, there’s a strong supporting cast, including her friend and fellow journalist Paul Chapelle, and Dutch Detective Radjen Tomasoa. Each of these lead their own investigations, Paul Chapelle’s linked to that of Hafez,  that of Radjen Tomasoa a separate strand.  There’s an equally large cast of villain’s.

In the previous novel, an Afghan boy dressed in girls’ clothing, makeup and jewellery was the victim of a hit and run on a deserted street on the outskirts of Amsterdam. Hafez starts to investigate, immediately guessing that the boy is a victim of Bacha Bazi, an afghan tradition of dancing boys who often fall prey to paedophiles. This leads her to uncover a paedophile ring, at the centre of which is a powerful Dutch politician, finance Minister Ewald Lombard. This in turn leads her to uncovering the wider corruption of Valentin Lavrov. In Angel in the Shadows, Hafez continues her work, which takes her to Indonesia.

I gave Butterfly on the Storm four out of five stars and I do recall really liking that novel, but for some reason Angel in the Shadows did not impress me so much. To be sure there’s a lot to like about this book. It’s settings are vividly described and brought to life, it’s characters well drawn, and its tale of corruption, oligarchs, and Russian undermining of foreign powers is nothing if not current. But unlike the last novel, there’s something more formulaic about the sequel. High octane thrillers which have their characters trotting the globe are nothing new, and when done well, are an exciting read. Butterfly on the Storm achieved this, but I felt Angel in the Shadows was not so successful and that the author was trying to hard to have his characters travel to locations new.  Also, things which didn’t bother me in the last book did this time around.  Farah Hafez is an adherent of Pencak Silat, the Indonesian martial art, and while in the previous book it was an interesting feature of her character, in this novel the sections where she met a Pencak Silat master in Indonesia just felt like filling.  In fact, weirdly this novel felt too long, despite it being shorter than the last (the paperback of Butterfly on the Storm is 528 pages, while Angel in the Shadows is 464).

I think the main reason I liked Butterfly on the Storm so much in comparison to Angel in the Shadows is because in the first novel there were some bold set pieces which really blew the reader away. The initial set up of the child victim of Bacha Bazi was striking and deeply disturbing, while later there are some explosive moments, quite literally. Towards the end of the novel, there is a massive set piece on a motorway, which results in a huge pile up. This is a scene that needs to be read to be believed and really makes the novel soar. Angel in the Shadows has none of this and while there are some moments of great drama, even some surprising and shocking moments, the novel just seemed pedestrian by comparison.

In conclusion, to me Angel in the Shadows suffers from second book syndrome. There is a silver lining however. Unlike Butterfly on the Storm, which ended on a cliff hanger, from where Angel in the Shadows started, this second novel ties up all loose ends. This means the third and final instalment in the series can start from a fresh page. No doubt the characters will find that the conspiracy and corruption continues (and there are hints of this in Angel in the Shadows) and that they still have much work to do. Hopefully then, in crafting a novel that doesn’t have to continue so directly from what’s gone before, the author can produce something that meets the expectations left from the first in the series.

Northern Heist by Richard O’Rawe

On 20^thDecember 2004, a gang of robbers ripped off the Donegal Square West Headquarters of Northern Bank in Belfast, netting approximately £26.5 million in Sterling and other currencies. This was the largest bank robbery in Irish history. While a small amount of the money has been recovered, and one person convicted of money laundering offences, the vast majority of the cash has never been found. Neither have the perpetrators been identified, though the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) believe it to have been committed by the IRA. Richard O’Rawe’s new novel, Northern Heist, is inspired by this robbery.  Reading it, I was reminded of another novel, which coincidentally was published in 2004, the year of the Northern Bank heist.

Judas Pig was published by the now defunct publishers The Do-Not Press and was penned by a man writing under the pseudonym Horace Silver (taken from the acclaimed jazz artist). It has nothing to do with the 2004 robbery or even Northern Ireland. Instead, Judas Pig is an East End Gangland roman à clef. The novel tells the story of Billy Abrahams, gangster and right-hand man to violent psychopath, Danny. Judas Pig has since become something of a cult sensation; a number of leading journalists made no secret of the fact that they knew who the author really was, that his tale was authentic; the author went into hiding fearing repercussions; online members of the reading public, turned amateur detective, tried to guess his identity. After being accused in the pages of the Sunday Times of being a gangland boss, David Hunt, an East End businessman, sued the newspaper for libel. During the trial it emerged that Horace Silver was in fact a man named Jimmy Holmes, and the character Danny, was modelled on Hunt. David Hunt lost his legal action against the Sunday Times and was forced to pay substantial damages. 

The reason for recapping this history for this review, is that the buzz surrounding the publication of Northern Heist is very reminiscent to that which surrounded Judas Pig. While Richard O’Rawe is no gangster and there is no suggestion that any of the characters in Northern Heist are based on him or real people, his pedigree does grant the book more than a hint of authenticity. O’Rawe grew up in Belfast at the height of The Troubles, was politicised and joined the IRA. Imprisoned in Long Kesh, he became the press officer for the IRA inmates there. In later years, he’s published three authoritative non-fiction titles on The Troubles, including an acclaimed biography of Gerry Conlon, one of the Guildford Four.

Northern Heist tells the story of James “Ructions” O’Hare, a major criminal and experienced armed robber. Ructions uncle, Panzer, heads up the family firm and Ructions is his right-hand man. This is something Panzer’s son, Finbar, resents. At the beginning of the novel, Ructions is in the final stages of planning a huge robbery, an act which they believe will net them more money than all their previous jobs combined. It’s to be a tiger heist: their gang will kidnap the families of two of The National Bank’s managers, then force the managers to empty the bank’s vault for them, under the threat of doing their families harm. Alongside the logistical challenges of such a robbery, they need to avoid detection from the police, but also the predatory advances of the IRA, who tax criminals and are sure to want a hefty slice of any proceeds. 

Like Judas Pig, Northern Heist is an oddly amoral novel. Most crime novels, even those written from the point of view of criminals, attempt to give their protagonists at least a veneer of morality, even if it is somewhat skewed. Northern Heist does no such thing, but rather tells the story of the planning, execution, and aftermath of the heist with almost clinical detachment. With military-esque precision, Ructions puts his plan into action and pulls off the heist. So, the family of the two bank managers are kidnapped and traumatised, Ructions and his men hardly shedding a tear. Without divulging too many spoilers, there is one scene at the end of the book which tries to soften this somewhat, but only goes someway to doing so.

Does this matter? To some extent it does. While Ructions in particular, but other characters also, are well drawn and well imagined, it is difficult to warm to any of them. Quite simply, it’s difficult to cheer for, and be in the corner of, someone willing to traumatise innocent families. I read a lot of crime novels and am no fan of cozy mysteries, rather my particular favourite sub-genre is noir. So, I’m used to reading novels populated by flawed and not particularly nice individuals. The trick for an author is to invest them with just enough qualities that the reader can take to them. A good example of this is James Ellroy’s novel White Jazz, the protagonist of which is a corrupt police officer and slum landlord, a man who performs hits for the mob and is in a sexual relationship with his own sister. Yet somehow, Ellroy manages to make this loathsome individual, if not loveable, at least likeable, and one can’t help but cheer him on. O’Rawe doesn’t do any of that here, and even Ructions, his novel’s main protagonist, is not someone I took to in any way.

That said, Northern Heist is not a normal novel in the same way that Judas Pig wasn’t. Certainly, it’s met with a similar reaction. The Northern Irish newspapers have been full of speculation as to what O’Rawe knows about the real robbery, that of the Northern Bank. His past in the IRA has led many to wonder whether he has inside information, perhaps having been told by people still involved in that life. But if he does, was the robbery perpetrated by a criminal gang as described in the novel, with the IRA having no involvement? Or might O’Rawe’s novel be a cunning ploy to throw those still looking for the money off the scent of the real robbers, i.e. the IRA? 

In interviews O’Rawe has dismissed such speculation, asserting that he has no inside information. He states that he has absolutely no idea who committed the infamous Northern Bank robbery, that his novel is pure fiction; yes, it is inspired by a true story, but one that he’s only read about in the newspapers and watched on television. 

I have no reason to doubt the author’s integrity, but it’s undoubtedly true that in his past life he met the kind of people - IRA members and criminals - who would commit such an act. And it is this insight which gives the novel its frisson. Arguably, the characters that populate Northern Heist are truer to the real-life criminal underworld than those which populate other crime novels, for who would traumatise innocent families but these people? In the same way the characters that populated Judas Pig were curiously despicable and loathsome, so too are those that stalk the pages of Northern Heist.

Northern Heist is O’Rawe’s first novel and I wonder whether he will write another. If so, will any of the characters of Northern Heist return? I hope so, in the same way I hoped the author of Judas Pig would write a sequel (he did, though Amazon forced its withdrawal after threats of legal action). Just like Judas Pig before it, Northern Heist is a fascinating insight into a world most of us will happily never encounter. And just like Judas Pig, despite its unsympathetic and loathsome characters, it’s a strangely compelling and enjoyable read. Perhaps then both Judas Pig and Northern Heist should be judged not like other crime novels, but in a special category all of their own.

4 out of 5 stars

I Always Find You by John Ajvide Lindqvist

This is the second novel in a proposed trilogy by the Swedish horror writer (the third and final instalment forthcoming) and is a sequel to I Am Behind You, which I reviewed here: https://bit.ly/2SVDh97

Whereas I Am Behind You was just surreal, I Always find you is really a very odd book. In fact, I would almost go as far as to describe it as experimental. For a start, the protagonist is called John Ajvide Lindqvist, and if that name sounds familiar, it’s because it is, it’s the name of the author. Secondly, the protagonist informs the reader that at the time of the events of this novel, he was an aspiring magician who often performed street magic in Stockholm, but that these events contributed to him becoming a horror writer. And yes, the real John Ajvide Lindqvist, the author of this novel, used to perform street magic in Stockholm and before writing horror was a magician. Is this novel autobiographical in any way? Certainly some reviewers on Amazon have asked this very question, what with the protagonist’s biographical similarities to the author. It’s undoubted the author has based his character on himself, but what of the events in the book? Well, whether the reader believes them to be based on true events will depend how much they give credence to the supernatural.

The story itself is straightforward enough. A young man (John Ajvide Lindqvist), trying to make it as a magician in the big city, moves into a crummy apartment. His neighbours are a diverse lot, albeit not the most charming of people. He’s lonely and struggling financially. There’s something very strange in the shower block, a black substance dripping from the ceiling and into the bathtub. It calls out to them all psychically. They have the urge to cut themselves and plunge their arms into it’s depths. When they do, it transports them to another world, an endless field of grass, where they take on the forms of their inner natures. Soon obsession builds as they each become preoccupied with this other world, to the extent that this world seems dull and lacklustre. What this obsession makes them do becomes more horrific over time.

I won’t say anymore for fear of divulging spoilers, but what I will say is that the plot of this novel could have been told in a more conventional way. Indeed, many of the author’s earlier works, such as his highly regarded vampire novel, Let The Right One In, were more conventional and yet extremely good. This time the author has opted for a much more experimental style and I have to say that for me it does not work.  Quite apart from the protagonist’s similarities to the author, the writing itself is experimental. The narrator regularly talks to the reader. While this is normal to a certain extent in first person narratives, the author takes this further in I Always Find You, to the extent that I would categorise the writing as at times breaking the fourth wall. The fourth wall is a performance convention in television and theatre whereby actors don’t address the audience and thus break the illusion that they are unaware of being watched. One of the best examples from recent years of this rule being successfully broken is when Frank Underwood speaks to the viewer in Netflix’s House of Cards.

The fourth rules applies to novels as well and while all first person narratives break it to a certain degree, the John Ajvide Lindqvist of this novel (the character not the novelist) breaks it enough to be noteworthy. Whether in theatre, television, or the written page, when the fourth wall is broken well, such as in House of Cards, it is a very effective and compelling technique. Unfortunately, I felt it did not work in I Always Find You. Perhaps it was because the novel is just so weird generally, or perhaps it’s just the writing didn’t translate well from Swedish into English, but I found myself really noticing this as an issue. Personally, I think that when a reader finds themselves noticing how a novel is written, rather than what is written, there’s a problem. I found myself noticing, really noticing, how this novel was written, to the extent that it distracted me from the narrative. 

I’m not sure I would have enjoyed this novel much anyway, it really didn’t do it for me as a story, but I have to say I nearly gave up at points with this book. It’s only because I quite enjoyed the first book in the series that I persevered. Some people laud experimental novels and criticise convention. But there’s a reason most novels are more conventional and it’s because, with a few honourable exceptions, more experimental writing just doesn’t work very well. And conventional doesn’t have to mean unoriginal or boring, John Ajvide Lindqvist’s own work proves that. Few horror readers would accuse Let The Right One In of being unoriginal or boring. It was a brilliant novel which met with well-deserved success, both with the critics and the reading public, and leading to not one, but two movie adaptations.

Personally, I hope the author writes a more traditional horror narrative for the third title of this trilogy.

2 out of 5 stars

The Skripal Files: The life and near death of a Russian spy by Mark Urban

I have to confess to having been a little dubious of a book published on the Skripals this soon after the events surrounding their near death. At the time of publication, the online investigators of Bellingcat had only just unearthed the identities of their alleged GRU poisoners and I doubted this would make it into the narrative (I was correct on that). But the author, Mark Urban, is a highly respected journalist and author, a number of his books on the SAS in particular being essential reading. 

Once I started The Skripal Files, any concerns I had were allayed. It turns out the author had been in conversation with Sergei Skripal long before the attack on him, having been speaking to him for a book project on post-Cold War spying. So, much of this book consists of information the author had already researched, and thus this is far from a tabloid tome rushed out to cash in on a headline news story.

The Skripal Files is in many ways a biography of Sergei Skripal himself, a biography that helps illuminate the history of the post-Cold War Russian intelligence apparatus, with a particular focus on the GRU, Russia’s military intelligence agency. Skripal, a military engineer by training, had joined the army airborne corp, from which many members of the elite Spetznaz are drawn (while the Spetznaz have often been compared to the SAS or US Navy Seals, the author Mark Galeotti argues that they are not actually comparable). Skripal was then taken on by the GRU and was posted abroad to Malta, then later Madrid. Perhaps ironically given what was to come, his job was to recruit agents to spy for Russia, though he does not appear to have achieved much success. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, Skripal suffered the same crisis of purpose as many Russian intelligence officers and was ripe for recruitment by MI6.

Mark Urban outlines all this in fascinating detail, before going on to explain how Skripal’s cover was finally blown to the FSB, the Russian internal intelligence service; how he was arrested, interrogated and sent to the gulag; how he was eventually traded in a spy swap; his life in the UK; and what might have led the Russian state to target him. Apart from being interesting in itself, this all gives a good insight into the decline of Russia’s intelligence agencies in the early 90’s, how MI6 and other western agencies targeted officers within those agencies for recruitment, and how post-Putin’s rise, Russia has tried, often brutally, to stop the rot.

What I found most interesting about this title however, was the insight it gave into Skripal himself. Pictures of him from his life in retirement in Salisbury prior to the poisoning give the impression of a rather harmless, slightly overweight, elderly man. This is misleading. Skripal was tough, indeed in other circumstances he might well have been the one doing the poisoning. Prior to the Russian invasion of Afghanistan, when Skripal was with the airborne forces, he was sent into the country on an assassination mission. While not spelt out, it’s clear they did what they were asked. Other anecdotes scattered throughout the book make it clear that on occasion Skripal was more than happy to rely on his fists. None of this of course means we should have any less sympathy for Skripal, his attempted poisoning was without a doubt a serious crime, but again it gives an insight into the kind of people that make up the GRU.

Alongside the Bellingcat revelations, which this book was completed prior to, and so does not feature in the narrative, Mark Urban’s writing leaves little doubt as to the GRU’s complicity in Skripal’s poisoning, and thus that of the Russian state. This is a fascinating account of both Skripal’s near assassination, the GRU organisation he was once a part of, and the ongoing war Russia is engaged in with the West. 

4 out of 5 stars

I Am Behind You by John Ajvide Lindqvist

While much of what I read is crime and thrillers, I am partial to a little horror. I came across the writing of John Ajvide Lindqvist with his debut novel, Let The Right One In. This vampire tale went on to be a bestseller and inspired two films, a Swedish language version and an American remake. Until now I had not read anything of his work since, though I was aware he had written a number of books after his debut success. 

I Am Behind You is a very different tale to Let The Right One In and might best be described as a surreal supernatural chiller. Four families, strangers to each other, staying at the same campsite, wake up one morning to find that the campsite is gone, that they’re all alone in an endless field of grass. There’s nothing else as far as the eye can see; the grass is all of uniform length; the sky is a pure and featureless blue - not a cloud, not the moon, not the sun.

The four families are from starkly different backgrounds and the reader can guess that they provide fertile ground for conflict. There’s Peter and Isabelle, he a former footballer and now a successful personal trainer, she a catwalk model. They have a six-year-old daughter, Molly. A camping holiday is something Isabelle in particular is unused to, preferring a villa or a five-star hotel, but their marriage is in difficulty and Peter has insisted. Then there’s Stefan, his wife, Carina, and their nine-year old son Emil. Stefan and Carina run a small-town store and Stefan in particular might be seen as boring and a bit of a geek. Lennart and Olof, two farmers, are camping together having co-habited in a non-sexual, companionable relationship, since both their wives ran off. Finally, there is retired couple Majvor and her overbearing husband Donald. Like Lenart and Olof, their children have all grown up and are not with them on the camping trip. Donald and Majvor have brought their dog, Benny, while Lennart and Olof have brought their cat.

There is no main character in I Am Behind You, rather the novel is told from alternating viewpoints, including those of the dog and cat. The story begins with the characters waking up on the morning their lives have changed, discovering their surreal and unsettling new reality. At first, apart from the sheer disconcerting weirdness of their situation, the characters main concerns are practical: where are we? How can we get back to civilisation? Where can we get food and water, for they only have limited supplies. It’s not long though before things start to happen and as the story pans out this environment they’ve been transported to becomes more threatening. Along the way we learn of the characters’ back stories, the emotional and psychological issues they have feeding into the narrative and how they respond to their ever-creepier circumstances.

I Am Behind You is not a particularly gory book, rather this is a tale of psychological and supernatural suspense. Some reviewers on Amazon have complained the book is just too odd and that they weren’t able to get into it, but I didn’t find this an issue. The author is often compared to Stephen King and I can see that here. This is like a much more unsettling version of King’s novel The Dome. I Am Behind You is the first in a trilogy, the second of which has just been translated into English. In fact, I bought and read this book precisely because I have received a review copy of the next in the series, titled I Always Find You. Needless to say, I will read and post a review of that title shortly.

4 out of 5 stars

An Isolated Incident by Emily Maguire

This is a novel that is tangentially about the brutal murder of a twenty-five year old woman. In life, Bella Michaels was beautiful and vivacious, the kind of woman who’s killing dominates the news media. Some people reading this description might be tempted to sigh, for crime fiction is full of beautiful young women - often blonde with blue eyes - butchered by violent serial killers. The treatment of women in crime fiction has come in for a lot of criticism over the years, some complaining their portrayal is tittilation, others like the crime writer Val McDermid, arguing it reflects the violence women all too often face. Regardless of where one sits on this argument, reading An Isolated Incident one quickly comes to realise that Bella Michael’s death isn’t actually the novel’s focus at all. Instead, this book can best be seen as a meditation on grief.

An Isolated Incident is told from the perspective of two women: Bella’s sister, Chris, and May Norman, an aspiring crime reporter. Chris is a barmaid at the local pub who’s still deeply in love with her ex-husband, Nate. May works for a website and has persuaded the editor to let her work the Bella Michaels’ story, hoping it will be her big break. As the novel unveils we learn much about both women - that Chris drinks too much and takes men home with her, many of whom leave money on the dresser the morning after; that May has been having an affair with a married man who she’s only just realised will never leave his wife, that she’s bulimic. As May tries to investigate the crime, we also learn that Nate has a conviction for beating up a former partner and is a prime suspect for Bella’s murder.

As indicated, all this is in many ways beside the point. The real power of An Isolated Incident comes from seeing events pan out from Chris’s perspective. Chris and her sister were extremely close and she is devastated by her sister’s death. Through deeply moving and beautifully poetic prose we see this etched out painfully. This is not a depressing tale, though at times it is difficult to read, the sheer emotion of someone so bereft by loss speaking from the page. 

May Norman is a more ambiguous character than Chris. In some way she is sympathetic, but her journalistic ambitions make her prey on Chris’s vulnerability. She’s not the bloodsucking journalist of cliché, the author is too accomplished a writer to opt for easy stereotypes, but it’s true to say that the media are invasive into the lives of those who suffer tragedy and May, while not as cynical as some of her colleagues, is determined to get the story.

There are other elements to the novel; a light touch of the supernatural, Chris convinced she is hearing from Bella’s spirit, but whether she is or suffering the madness of grief, the reader is left to decide; the small town of Strathdee where the murder takes place is blue collar, the kind of place that in the US might be dismissed as redneck by suburbanites. The misogyny and male chauvinism that both Chris and May face is vividly portrayed. 

This is a poignant novel, more an examination of the consequence of violent death, rather than the death itself and subsequent investigation. Indeed, when the killer is revealed it is almost irrelevant, Chris making clear herself that it won’t bring her beloved sister back. Regardless of how one views the violence portrayed in crime fiction, it’s undoubtedly true to say that too few examine the aftermath, the effect such events have on those left behind. An Isolated Incident does this and is well worth a read.

4 out of 5 stars

Trust No One by Anthony Mosawi

If one looks at the Amazon listing for this title, it get’s surprisingly ambiguous reviews. At last glance it had 15% 5 Star reviews, 35% 4 Star, 39% 3 Star, and 11% 2 Star. I point this out because I don’t understand it, having considered gripping and great fun.

Trust No One can best be described as a sci-fi conspiracy thriller. The book blurb describes it as I Am Pilgrim meets Orphan X. I’m yet too read Orphan X but it’s bit more in the sci-fi camp than I Am Pilgrim which was straight up espionage thriller.  The protagonist of Trust No One is Sara Eden a woman who can remember nothing of her past. The book flips between timelines, Sara as a young girl where we see her in a dilapidated house in a sensory deprivation tank guarded by a drug addict, and as an adult where she tries to discover why her memories were wiped.

Throughout both timelines she’s chased by forces she doesn’t not understand, men who want to do her harm. As the narrative plays out we discover Sara has almost supernatural powers, speed, strength and combat abilities that make her a match for almost anyone, intuition that is almost psychic in it’s foresight.

A lot of people reviewing this title have argued that it’s chronology is confusing, the twin timelines are disjointed and that seemingly unconnected events take a while to fit in to the wider plot and the whole thing come together. Personally I didn’t find any of this a problem and felt it was incredibly well written. Some scenes, such as one with feral dogs (I’ll resist divulging spoilers) are jaw-dropping in their intensity and extremely cleverly put together.

Personally I found this a gripping read, a real rollercoaster of a ride. My only concern is that it is clearly meant as the start of a series and I’m not sure whether the concept can carry it. The ending of Trust No One in particular felt like a cop out and I fear as the series continues my ability to sustain disbelief will be stretched. That said, I enjoyed this so much I will certainly pick up any sequel with eagerness.

4 out of 5 stars

An Inconvenient Death by Miles Goslett

 

In 2003 I was working as a researcher on the now defunct Jonathan Dimbleby Programme, produced by Granada and broadcast on ITV on Sunday, the programme was a Question Time type format (indeed, Question Time was hosted by Jonathan’s brother David) with a panel of political figures taking questions from a live audience. 2003 was an eventful year, the war in Afghanistan still ongoing after the US invasion of 2001 and the drumbeats of a new war on the horizon, with the administration of George W Bush set on a controversial invasion of Iraq. In July of that year, Dr David Kelly died, setting the scene for the Hutton Inquiry and all the fall out that came after, an event that was the focus of many an edition of the Jonathan Dimbleby Programme.

One thing I well remember is the drama of waiting outside the Royal Courts of Justice on 28^thJanuary 2004 for the Hutton Inquiry report to be officially published, collecting multiple copies for the office and carrying them back, the team then proceeding to pour over the 750-page volume. So, perhaps then I can be forgiven for being fascinated with the case ever since.

Others are equally fascinated, for Miles Goslett’s An Inconvenient Death is in fact the third book to be published on the death of Dr David Kelly. The first, titled The Strange Death of David Kelly, was written by then-Liberal Democrat MP Norman Baker, and hit the bookshelves in 2007. The second, Dark Actors by the novelist Robert Lewis, was published in 2013. Finally, there’s An Inconvenient Death by Miles Goslett, a respected journalist who’s written for the Evening Standard, Sunday Telegraph and Mail on Sunday.

Apart from their subject, all these titles share one overarching theme: a scepticism of the official narrative. Indeed, as yet, there is no book published that supports that narrative. Of course, critics might explain this by arguing that conspiracy theories sell, which might well be true. One can fill bookcases with tomes suggesting JFK was killed by the CIA, the Cubans, the Russians, the mafia; just a shelf with those that lay the blame at the door of a lone, deranged gunman. But while this point has some justification, it also reflects something wider: a widespread concern in both cases that the official story just doesn’t stand up.

Dr David Kelly was a scientist and leading authority on biological warfare. He had been a weapons inspector in Russia and Iraq (indeed, the book Dark Actors by Robert Lewis goes into some depth on his work as a weapons inspector) and was due to return to Iraq with an inspection team. Most recently, he had been advising on the dossier being drawn up by the Joint Intelligence Committee regarding the threat of Iraq’s WMD programme and it was this work that was to seal his fate.

Kelly regularly met with journalists and he briefed the journalist Andrew Gilligan on the dossier. Gilligan, in a radio broadcast for the BBC Today Programme, went onto claim that a source had said that Alastair Campbell, Tony Blair’s spin doctor, had “sexed up” the dossier. Campbell took this badly and in the ensuing protracted showdown between the government and the BBC, Kelly was outed as Gilligan’s source. Interestingly, Dr Kelly always denied being Gilligan’s source, something which Goslett examines and gives credence to. I have to admit to having never seriously considered the prospect that Gilligan might have had a second, more authoritative source, and the author makes a good case that this might in fact have been so

In the following weeks, Kelly’s home was besieged by journalists, he was compelled to give evidence before two select committees - one of which was televised - and if one believes the official narrative, finding the pressure too much to bear, coupled with a belief that he would never again be allowed to continue work as a weapons inspector, he made his way to nearby Harrowdown Hill, where he took an overdose of Co-Proxamol tablets and slashed the ulnar artery of his left wrist.

Goslett’s book outlines all this in fair detail before going onto discuss the problems with this story. First and foremost, he takes issue with the Hutton Inquiry itself, which stopped an inquest from ever being held into Kelly’s death. Inquests in UK law are supremely independent bodies with the power to summon witnesses and have them give evidence on oath, conversely the Hutton Inquiry was entirely voluntary, with no actual legal powers. I have to confess to not having realised that at the time, so this was a revelation. Goslett implies that this was why the inquiry was set up in the first place, to ensure a less than adequate examination of Kelly’s death.

Goslett also discusses all the inconsistencies with the evidence, the fact that many medical experts’ query whether slashing the ulnar artery would be sufficient to bleed to death (it’s very thin, like a fine thread, and might well clot) and whether he had enough Co-Proxamol in his system to cause a fatal overdose. Combined with the evidence that he had difficulty swallowing pills and that due to an arm injury he had such weakness in the right arm that he found it difficult to cut a steak, let alone cut through the flesh, muscle and tendons of his left wrist (Kelly was right handed), it is not difficult to understand why Goslett and others have doubts.

A book review doesn’t give one enough space to go through all the evidence that Goslett marshals to support his case, for that one needs to read the book, but needless to say there is much more. But does it all mean that Kelly did not in fact take his own life? And if not, how did he come to die? Frustratingly, the author does not reveal his beliefs on the matter, preferring to argue that there is a need now for a proper inquest to discover the truth. This feels unsatisfactory in the extreme. Bearing in mind that most people who read this title will have followed the case to a greater or lesser extent, will have an opinion either way, the least Goslett can do is put his forward.

While his arguments for the need for an inquest are sound (would it not put the matter to rest, at least? Surely, regardless of whether one believes Kelly committed suicide, all can agree the Hutton Report was flawed) I personally feel he overstates his argument that the Hutton Inquiry was an effective means of silencing the matter. For surely coroners and inquests can be got at? The Hutton Inquiry became an international televisual spectacle, something that came to define Blair’s legacy, and it was obvious this was going to be the case at the time. Would it not have been easier to have the inquest and try and fix the result, perhaps by influencing what witnesses would say? That said, as he points out, Blair ordered the inquiry the very night Kelly’s body was discovered, and the Hutton Inquiry - both its commission and process - were curious to say the least. 

For the record, I’m personally in two minds as to whether Dr David Kelly committed suicide or was murdered, and if the latter, by who. I do agree with the author that there should be an inquest and that the Hutton Inquiry was a whitewash, but equally I am both doubtful that this will ever come to pass or that we will ever definitively have the truth, not least due to the fact that Lord Hutton ordered much of the evidence - including Dr Kelly’s post-mortem report - be sealed for seventy years.

4 out of 5 stars