Book Reviews

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Anthology #14

A Guide to Treehouse Living, by Elliot Reed

This clever & engaging book is unusual in that, rather than the diary form which is often used to notate events which happen over a specific time period, this is presented as an index, albeit as stated, not strictly alphabetical, but near enough. It presents the events in the life of a young teenage American boy and, whilst it isn’t specifically a coming-of-age story, he does learn a lot as the events unfold; in fact, because there is no introduction or prologue, we have no way of knowing how long after the events the index is written, but it feels like it could be some time, because some of the language & concepts therein have quite a mature feel to them. The boy, who doesn’t even know his real name until well into the book, decides upon the format of the index after finding them useful in books he reads to stave off boredom; he is given into the care of his uncle, who owns a mansion but likes to gamble, because his father went away and he can’t remember what happened to his mother. The most clever aspect of the book is how the events unfold more or less chronologically as one entry leads into the next. There is a whiff of Huckleberry Finn about the story, although I don’t think it is intended as a pastiche, but it didn’t take me long to sympathise with the lad and hope that his life would work out well for him. Probably a one-off story, but a later edition using the same artifice could work. An interesting slice of Americana. The paperback I read was published in 2020 by Melville House UK, London [2018, Tin House Books], ISBN 978-0-9115-4541-5.

The Winter Agent, by Gareth Rubin

This is the second novel by this author; the first being Liberation Square, which I have reviewed here previously. The first posited a fictional outcome to world war two, but this one sticks very closely to the facts about our espionage in that period as we know them; although, as he states in the final historical notes: “We will probably never know the truth…Some of the MI6 files will be opened in the 2040s…Perhaps they will contain a clue”. So this is the fictional account of an SOE agent’s work in occupied France, between February 1944 and D-Day, 6 June the same year, through which he worked with other local & infiltrated agents to prepare the way for a great invasion which was a precursor to defeating Germany the following year [given that this is a fact of true history]. Without wanting to spoil the dénouement, Rubin very cleverly conveys the permanent anxiety, and potential paranoia, associated with having to be constantly on the alert for discovery, which might or might not be a result of betrayal. Along the way, the agent, Marc Reece, a former Royal Navy officer, codename Maxime, has some very lucky [debatably, for me, too lucky] escapes, including after his situation has deteriorated significantly, but good luck shouldn’t be discounted, and Maxime was well trained back in Blighty before his essential mission, so that much is plausible. This is a well-told story, so I can recommend it. The paperback I read was published in 2020 by Penguin Books, [2020, Michael Joseph], ISBN 978-0-4059-3063–5.

The Frayed Atlantic Edge, by David Gange

This book is a real eye-opener; or perhaps more relevantly, a real mind-opener. In simple terms, it is the recounting, over the period of a year, of the author’s traversing by kayak of the Atlantic coastlines of, in compass bearing order, Scotland, Ireland, Wales and Cornwall. It goes without saying that he must, of necessity, be reasonably young, fit, intrepid and, depending on your viewpoint, fearless or foolhardy. What emerges is not just a travelogue; it is that, yes, in a very specific form; but it is also, given his academic speciality of historian, a social history of the narrow peripheral band of these islands which he passes and, he asserts, which has been overlooked and even, deliberately & deleteriously ignored or, worse, ravaged of both human & material resources in the name of progress, rationalised as standardisation, which is inevitably metropolitan in its conception. Given the latter, it is unsurprising that much of the text deals with esoteric concepts of artistic, aesthetic and emotional feelings, encapsulated in the work of artists, musicians, and thinkers, both ancient & modern, who experienced the might, majesty, and occasional devastation wrought by the ocean, as it interacts with these multifaceted coastlines. Gange is especially sympathetic to the until recently drastically reduced quota of non-English language users; thankfully, this shortfall has latterly been redressed, and the future for Scottish & Irish Gaelic, Welsh, and Cornish is looking brighter, along with their associated coastal cultures. I very much enjoyed this book. The paperback I read was published in 2020 [2019] by William Collins, London, ISBN 978-0-0082-2514-8.

Bad Actors, by Mick Herron

Life goes on as what passes for normal at Slough House, including the occasional turnover of its unwilling denizens. River Cartwright is absent, and his currently empty desk has been requisitioned by a new occupant; merely because she prefers its position to the one assigned to her; Ashley Khan, like all of her predecessors, still harbours the romantic notion that her current discomfiture is only a temporary glitch in her career, and before very long, she will be back across the river under First Desk Diana Taverner’s notional roof. Most concerning, a personal adviser to the prime minister, the similarity of the former to Dominic Cummings which might be entirely coincidental, has started causing ructions, and is intent on bringing Herron’s version of MI5, Regent’s Park, under his control, thereby minimising, if not actually eliminating government oversight. Needless to say, Taverner is fighting this all the way. Meanwhile, an influential member of a Downing Street think tank has disappeared, and before long, the circumstances surrounding this become very murky: this murk doesn’t quickly become clearer when Jackson Lamb’s Slow Horses become involved. This story is full of almost up-to-the-minute political and espionage intrigue, and justifiably shows politicians and some civil servants displaying their worst attributes. It is accompanied by a short story focusing on Lamb, but that notwithstanding, its purpose is unclear, although a new SH story is due this autumn. The impression it leaves me with, unfortunately, is that it was rushed out to be included with this volume, because there are so many obvious typographical errors, and there is no addendum or postscript to clarify this: at 32 pages, it could have been the prologue to a new full length story: enjoyable nonetheless. The paperback I read was published in 2023 [2022], by Baskerville, [John Murray (Publishers)] London, ISBN 978-1-5293-7872-6.

Book Reviews

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Anthology #13

Little White Lies, by Ace Atkins

This is another story in the Spenser canon, originally written by Robert B. Parker; I have reviewed a book by the man himself, Trouble in Paradise, which features different characters, but this one is about a Boston private investigator, Spenser, who narrates the story. Like the aforementioned book, this one is relatively short, at 255 pages, but it is crisp & easy to read, with no padding. Spenser, possibly unusually for a PI, wasn’t previously a cop, but served time in a District Attorney’s office, so he is familiar with the law in his country, and has contacts in the police; he also served time in the military, so he is no shrinking violet. His latest client is a woman who has been cheated out of a lot of money by an older man, with whom she was having a relationship; the man deliberately creates an air of mystery, telling her that he was a CIA officer, among other things, so he has to be circumspect about how much of his past he can reveal. The woman was referred to Spenser by his current romantic partner, a psychotherapist. Spenser quickly discovers that the man, who calls himself M. Brooks Welles, is a very slippery character, with some potentially very dangerous associates, so Spenser has to call on some help from previous colleagues, to bring the man to justice and achieve restitution for Connie, his client. Needless to say, there is many a slip along the way, and a couple of murders for added jeopardy. Not demanding reading, but enjoyable nonetheless. The paperback I read was published in 2018 by No Exit Press, Harpenden, ISBN 978-0-8573-0191-8.

Adrian Mole: The Prostrate Years, by Sue Townsend

Yes, the book’s title is a Malapropism, but deliberate, of course. It is used by several different characters in the story, much to the annoyance of the grammar pedant [hooray!] and hero of these stories, the eponymous Adrian Mole, who is approaching 40 years of age. This, sadly, is the author’s final Mole story; she was working on a new one when she died in 2014, at the tragically early age of 68 [my own age, for a few more months]; so this story ends with our hero somewhat adrift in his own life. I want to avoid being too critical of the story, because I am at a significant disadvantage of never having read the earlier books in this series, so I only have a very sketchy awareness of Mole’s life arc. He is clearly one of life’s losers, but he appears not to have succumbed to self-pity or self-indulgence. He is on his second wife [but the family tree at the back of the book shows that he will have a third in the future], has a son from his first marriage, and a six-year old daughter at the time of writing [the diary], 2007-8; for some unknown reason [perhaps explained in earlier diaries] the narrative starts in June and ends in May. The humour is gentle, not laugh-out-loud funny, but there is some social comment woven in, betraying the author’s, presumably, socialist political leaning. An enjoyable, if lightweight read, and I will be quite happy to read more of Townsend’s now terminated output. The paperback I read was published in 2017 [2010] by Penguin Books, [2009, Michael Joseph], ISBN 978-0-2419-5949–7.

Meantime, by Frankie Boyle

This is actually quite a difficult book for me to review; I like the author as a standup comedian and presenter of topical, often controversial, satirical television shows, which usually last anything from half an hour [the latter] to an hour [the former, in edited versions]. Knowing that his performances will be viewed by a wide selection of British people [and possibly sold to other English-speaking countries] his language, in terms of his vocabulary, has to be intelligible; however, here, because the story is set in Scotland, predominantly Glasgow, he uses a fair amount of local slang, some of which takes some thinking about. He also expands his regular standup practice of describing people, and sometimes events, with colourful [and occasionally abstruse] similes: it does become tiresome eventually, suggesting to me that he is trying thus to establish his credentials as a fiction writer; perhaps he will moderate this in further efforts. The story concerns the murder of a woman the protagonist, Felix McAveety, considered his best friend, and his resolution, as the one positive thing he might have done his life recently, to find the culprit, and the motive. The investigation encompasses his regular acquaintances, plus strangers who prove helpful. Along the way, they all [very probably echoing Boyle’s own political views] muse on Scottish society, which gives a very bleak impression of a nation collectively struggling with its mental health, using a combination of legal & illegal stimulants to numb the pain of reality. Only a partial recommendation from me, I’m afraid.  The paperback I read was published in 2023 [2022] by Baskerville, an imprint of John Murray (Publishers), London, ISBN 978-1-3998-0117-1.

Night Soldiers, by Alan Furst

I feel sure that I have already read at least one book by this master storyteller before this one, but an exhaustive search of this blog’s archive [and a filterable search facility, which the dashboard doesn’t appear to have, would be a distinct advantage] didn’t locate one. This is a long book; 511 pages in the compact paperback format; but rather than a daunting prospect, it allows the author to take the time to develop in relevant detail the main character, a Bulgarian young man by the name of Khristo Stoianev and, to a lesser extent, the subsidiary characters. The narrative begins in 1934, and progresses to the end of the second world war, so quite a long period of time; it is also something of a travelogue, of the Balkan countries, but also extending as far west as France. Khristo is recruited into Russia’s NKVD, the forerunner of the KGB, after a family tragedy, but he quickly learns how brutal & murderous the ground-level politics of communism could be; however, he is an intelligent lad, and quickly assimilates, whilst not losing sight completely of his moral compass. Soon he is entangled in Germany’s war, and is able to survive thanks to a combination of cunning, colleagues, and a life-saving amount of good luck. I was slightly disappointed that the ending, whilst it was satisfactory in one respect, was rather rushed, omitting some significant details, which was something of a shame, given the time the author devoted to the relating of the main story, but that is only a minor quibble: overall I very much enjoyed this book. The paperback I read was published in 2018 [2005], by Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London, [1989, Mandarin; 1988, The Bodley Head] ISBN 978-1-4746-1162-6.

Book Reviews

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Anthology #12

The Candy House, by Jennifer Egan

I am guessing that the name of this book is a reference to the Hänsl & Gretel fairy tale, where the candy [aka gingerbread] house is used as a lure, but here the lure is a piece of equipment connected to a supercharged version of our current internet, by which memories & subjective experience can be shared to the collective consciousness. I found the way this book was structured rather confusing: there is so much detail [a lot of which I would consider superfluous], in different voices, and a variety of presentational styles—narrative; memo/notes; and emails, for whole chapters, that it was difficult to keep track of characters in different time periods, how they all meshed together, so in the end, I struggled to care about them, which is a shame, because the book’s premise is good, IMO. The memory upload facility invented by one of the characters; but clearly not the primary one; is very interesting whilst simultaneously very worrying—think Facebook times 10, with immersive involvement. Unfortunately, I found myself having to wade through acres of biography which skirt around the book’s theme, which is a shame, and it meant I couldn’t share the enthusiastic soundbite back-cover reviews [there are many more inside] of authorities such as Vogue, Guardian, The Irish Times [Best Books of 2022], and the [British] Telegraph. For me, this was a good opportunity fumbled. The paperback I read was published in 2023 by Corsair, London [2022, Corsair UK; 2022, Scribner USA] ISBN 978-1-4721-5094-3.

Project Hail Mary, by Andy Weir

Dr Ryland Grace is a man on a mission; this mission is very simple: save humanity. So: no pressure, then…. This is the only rationale I can perceive for the book’s title, the mission’s name, because there is no religious content anywhere in it. I can only detail the beginning of the narrative, because to reveal any more would spoil an excellent plot; the back story is revealed piecemeal as the first-person narrative progresses, but for a very good, and plausible reason: Grace wakes up in an unfamiliar environment, which he soon determines is a space vehicle, and he assumes that he has been in some sort of suspended animation, or a coma. There are two other people in this area but they are, unfortunately, both dead: one more degraded than the other. When his memory starts returning, he realises that he is on his way to a nearby [twelve light years, actually—space: it’s relative] star called Tau Ceti. Why? Because the heat/light radiation output of Sol, earth’s sun, is being significantly reduced by a band of red light, arcing from there to Venus, with drastic, quite short-term consequences for humanity. Astronomers have determined that whilst Tau Ceti is also being similarly affected, its radiation output has not diminished: how come? Hence Grace’s mission; and that of his dead fellow passengers. I have enjoyed Weir’s other two books—The Martian, and Artemis, and whilst the premise here is similar to that of the first book: lone astronaut, having to use his ingenuity to survive; this one is cleverly, and engagingly written [not that the other wasn’t!], and I have no hesitation in recommending it, if you like sci-fi that isn’t completely implausible; although the protagonist’s Ned Flanders-style language did make me chuckle. The paperback I read was published in 2022 by Penguin Books, London [2021, Del Rey, UK; 2021, Penguin Random House, USA],  ISBN 978-1-5291-5746-8.

Confidence, by Denise Mina

Having enjoyed this author’s pootling about on television with Frank Skinner [aka Christopher Collins] in various locations, celebrating the lives of various literary figures, some better known than others, and found her personality engaging [and her choice of clothing refreshingly eccentric], I very much wanted to enjoy this first example of her writing which I had hitherto discovered. I sort of did, but I also found the plot a bit confusing. Anna, the narrator, whose given name is not revealed to us until some pages in, is a podcast co-creator; so, very contemporary. She runs out on an unenjoyable holiday in Scotland, reprehensibly leaving behind her two young daughters, in the care of her ex-husband and his new partner, and accompanied by Fin, who loves her, but is too timid to either tell her or stand up to his younger & volatile Italian girlfriend. They have heard about a young woman who is part of a group who practise urbex; urban exploration, usually abandoned & neglected old properties, and post films about it on YouTube. She has gone missing, but discovered a possibly priceless silver artefact in an abandoned Château. After that, the artefact, and those who want to possess it for their own various reasons, become the focus of the story. I suppose the premise is plausible, but in the end, I couldn’t raise a lot of enthusiasm about the characters; not a bad read, otherwise. The paperback I read was published in 2023 by Vintage (2022, Harvill Secker), ISBN 978-1-5291-1181-1.

Here Goes Nothing, by Steve Toltz

There aren’t many books, thankfully, which make me want to throw them across the room in disgust, when I finish them but this, sadly, is one. I would have expected some sort of resolution for the protagonists after a reasonably good setup, but the reader is left in limbo; no pun intended; and that’s not where I like to be at the end of a story. It starts in Australia [the author’s nationality] and Angus Mooney is dead, but his unexpected afterlife is rather different from the version described in The Purgatory Poisoning, by Rebecca Rogers, reviewed recently. Here, it is very similar to earthbound existence, but in a different landscape. As is often the case, Mooney’s backstory intersperses the current timeline, and we learn how he was murdered by a deceitful ‘cuckoo in the nest’ in the form of Dr. Owen Fogel, who disingenuously inveigles his way into the house of Mooney [while he is out] and his wife, Gracie, by spinning the yarn that he grew up in that house, and his father died in the garden, after falling and hitting his head. He tells the current occupants that he is dying, from an aggressive  brain disease, and he would love to spend his final days in his childhood house; Gracie is empathetically taken in, but Mooney is sceptical, and ends up being murdered for it. Unfortunately, there is far too much existential musing for my liking, and a lot of it is just nonsense, which spoils what could have been a good premise. Plenty of critics [the ones quoted, of course] loved it, but I beg to differ. The paperback I read was published in 2023 [2022], by Sceptre, an imprint of Hodder & Stoughton, London , ISBN 978-1-5293-7160-4.

Book Reviews

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Anthology #7

Three Debts Paid, by Anne Perry

This is a decent enough story, but in my humble opinion, the author takes an excruciatingly long time to reach the dénouement, sending two of the main characters round in unnecessary circles, and asking the same questions more than once, both of themselves, and others whom they need to or want to question. There are two main threads happening: the first, a series of brutal & violent murders, in which the victims are stabbed & slashed, then an index finger segment removed post mortem; apart from the latter detail, the only other common aspect is that they all occur in pouring rain on the streets of London in the February of 1912. The second is a legal case of plagiarism, which is complicated by a charge of assault against the defendant. The main characters all know each other: Inspector Ian Frobisher is investigating the murders, and he was at Cambridge with Daniel Pitt, the barrister who is recommended by Frobisher to the defendant, Professor Nicholas Wolford, who taught Pitt, whose father just happens to be head of Special Branch. There is also a potential love interest, between Daniel and Miriam fford Croft, who has recently qualified as a pathologist, but she had to do this in Amsterdam, as the facility was not available in Britain; she also happens to be somewhat older than Daniel. The murderer is not too difficult to identify, but this takes around 300 pages! The court case near the end is rather messily terminated, and I didn’t think clients were able to instruct barristers directly, as is the case here. The paperback I read was published in 2022 [2021] by HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP, London, ISBN 978-1-4722-7527-1.

This is the Night They Come for You, by Robert Goddard

At first, I wasn’t sure if I was going to enjoy this story, but it didn’t take me long to decide that I definitely would! Also, the author’s name seems familiar, but if I have read another of his books, I can’t find a review for it; he has written twenty-nine other books, according to the flyleaf of this one. The story revolves around the politics of Algeria, a country about which I know very little; there are also associated threads in England & France. It is set in the present day, and Covid has left its mark on Algiers, but lurking in the background, there is the spectre of the revolutions and tragic bloodshed which have riven the country since the War of Independence, whose true horror was exemplified in the massacre of Algerian protestors by the Paris police on the night of 17 October 1961. An Algiers police superintendent is charged with bringing a high-level embezzler to justice, and he is obliged to work with a rare female security service operative. A French woman has been offered a written confession made by her English father, who ran a bookshop in Algiers, before he was murdered, apparently by moslem extremists. An English man is also interested in the Algerian embezzler, because he is convinced that the latter murdered his sister, who was the bookshop owner’s girlfriend in Paris. The threads are very cleverly woven together, and they build to a dramatic climax, so I can recommend this book. The paperback I read was published in 2022 by Penguin [Bantam Press], London, ISBN 978-0-5521-7847-1.

Until the Last of Me, by Sylvain Neuvel

This author, as his name suggests, has French ancestry, but is a native of Québec. The book being reviewed is [again!] the second of a prospective trilogy, classified under the title of Take them to the Stars, and it is a type of alternative history science fiction; it is also, for me anyway, an allegory of the seemingly eternal, sadly, struggle of the female gender to overcome the at best dismissal, and at worst outright violence of the patriarchy. This should not spoil the plot, but the theme is only barely disguised. The plot is that a race of humanoid extraterrestrials, known as Kibsu, have lived among us for 3000 years, and for only vaguely explained reasons have “shaped Earth’s history to push humanity to the stars”, by using their skill with mathematics & astronomy to assist our technological development. Somewhat implausibly, they are all female, only using indigenous males for procreation; to complicate matters, however, the women are hunted, and regularly eliminated [but not enough for the race to die out completely] by the Tracker, a lineage of males, whose purpose seems to be simply to prevent the Kibsu from achieving their goal. The dénouement of this story is climactic, but not sufficiently to prevent the plausibility of a conclusionary sequel; I did enjoy it in the end, but it took a while before I was sure. The hardback I read was published in 2022, by Michael Joseph [Tom Doherty Associates], ISBN 978-0-2414-4514-3.

The Locked Room, by Elly Griffiths

It is now February 2020, and Covid is starting to bite; although, not as hard as it would, as we now know with hindsight. Dr. Ruth Galloway, the head of the Archaeology Department at the University of North Norfolk, is enjoying some quality time with her illicit, and only barely concealed lover, Detective Chief Inspector Harry Nelson, because his wife, Michelle, is isolating in Blackpool with their son and Harry’s mother. Harry and his team are investigating a series of apparent suicides of elderly people, but they are having to operate a skeleton staff in the office because of safety requirements. Ruth has just cleared her recently deceased mother’s house in London, and discovered a photograph which shows her cottage taken before she moved in, with the caption “Dawn, 1963” on the back; meanwhile, she has a new neighbour, a nurse by the name of Zoe, but she seems strangely familiar… Two students at the university go missing, then Ruth’s neighbour also does. There is also a significant scare [including for regular readers of this series] when one of the least likely main characters is struck down by Covid. At the end of the book [but not the end of the series: the next instalment is previewed here] Ruth has two very significant decisions to make: both of which have been forced upon her, and neither of which she is enthusiastic about having to make. Another very enjoyable instalment! The paperback I read was published in 2022 by Quercus Editions Ltd., London, ISBN 978-1-5294-0967-3.

Book Review

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The Night Gate, by Peter May

Once again, Peter May has produced a layered and tense thriller which delivers in spades. The book’s title could be considered a distraction, given that it takes a while for its significance to be realised, but this is a very minor concern: overall, the narrative is well constructed, and it is bang up to date, embracing, rather than avoiding or ignoring the inexorable tide of infectious illness which has swept the world over two years, and is only now showing signs of abating. The protagonist, Enzo Macleod, is slightly unusual, in that he is a Scot by birth, with an Italian given name, but living & working in Cahors, south west France for enough years to allow him to become established, but without necessarily considering himself entrenched, in his chosen profession, forensic criminal investigation. His past personal life is somewhat complicated, and doesn’t really require exposition here, but suffice to say that he is now happily married to the significantly younger Dominique, who worked as an investigating officer in the Gendarmerie, and he has, in addition to a Scottish adult daughter, Kirsty, an adolescent son, Laurent, and another adult daughter, Sophie, who is currently in the late stages of pregnancy, hoping for a safe delivery after two previous miscarriages.

While on tenterhooks about the forthcoming birth, Enzo is invited, via an erstwhile almost-lover, a Gendarme named Hélène, by an old acquaintance, a forensic archaeologist named Professor Magali Blanc, to assist in investigating a very ‘cold’ case: a recently unearthed unsolved murder in a village, Carennac, situated on a bend of the Dordogne river, roughly an hour north of his home in the Lot valley. Enzo is initially reluctant to get back ‘in harness’, given that he is “retired from all that these days…Five years since I packed in my position at Paul Sabatier.” His former position is unspecified, but Paul Sabatier is a prestigious university in Toulouse, and he is revered as having “forensic talents”, so it is likely that he would have specialised, and probably lectured in one of the Life Sciences. When he learns that the seventy-five years old, or possibly more, remains are those of “a ranking officer of the Luftwaffe with a bullet hole in his skull, shallow-buried in a tiny medieval village…[which] wouldn’t exactly fit a conventional wartime scenario”, he is sufficiently intrigued to make the trip. When he & Dominique get there, they are informed by the local Gendarmerie Capitaine Arnaud, who happens to be a fan of Enzo’s skill, that the reason he is there is because there was a murder in the vicinity the previous day and, given his reverence for Enzo, persuades him to also take a look at this crime while it is still fresh.

There is a suspect for the new murder, but he has absconded, and thereafter, when Enzo starts investigating, the narrative broadens out to encompass events which took place in the early years of world war two, contemporary participants in these events, and how it becomes clear that these two murders are inextricably connected. The narrative alternates between the present, and wartime France, with the earlier events partly narrated by a current resident of the house where the latest murder occurred, and partly in third-person exposition; this could be a recipe for confusion, but May holds these temporally distanced threads together well. The main premise of the story is a proposition which is plausible, given the circumstances of the war in question, but which is impossible to prove, given its audacious nature; more cannot be revealed here! There is also added jeopardy as the hunt for the perpetrator intensifies, because a new lockdown was imposed in France at the end of October 2020, so Enzo only had a limited time in which to resolve the case, before his freedom of movement was curtailed. The description of the landscape in which the case unfolds is quite enticing, and I found it helpful to have a good map of the country to follow the characters’ movements. I can happily recommend this book, and the paperback I read was published in 2021 by riverrun, an imprint of Quercus Editions Ltd., London, ISBN 978-1-78429-508-0.

Book Review

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The Chaplin Conspiracy, by Stewart Ferris

This is the third book in the Ballashiels Mysteries series; the previous one, The Dalí Diaries, was reviewed here; and to clarify the confusion expressed in the earlier review, the first book in this series was The Sphinx Scrolls. The latest story continues seamlessly, without a moment’s pause, from its predecessor, so there has to be a minimal amount of biographical information about the characters given for the benefit of readers who have come to this entrant in the series unprepared. The presentation of this book is very similar to that of the earlier one, apart from the page numbers looking more elegant, but that is as far as I will go here; other than to commend the change of printing to a British firm. The core characters are the same, apart from one somewhat bizarre, and rather random [using the modern definition] addition: Rat Scabies, the erstwhile drummer in The Damned, who is in this book as the greatest expert in Britain on the subject of a late nineteenth century French priest, by the name of Bérenger Saunière, who was reputed to have died a millionaire in 1917, without revealing the location of his fabulous wealth—hence the adventurers’ fanatical interest.

One has to assume that the author must have more than merely a fan’s devotion to inspire him to use this plot device; perhaps, given that he is a relatively young man, he might know the musician personally through some circumstance, other than being a devotee of the music; unfortunately the explanation for this is non-existent: there is only a very brief expression of gratitude on the front flyleaf “for agreeing to take part in this book”, with his website URL. I know very little about the musician, despite being aware of some of the group’s output in its heyday, so whether this is a plausible career/lifestyle choice for him is impossible to know: musicians do progress to other, perhaps more rewarding activities, subsequent to their fleeting appearance in the limelight, but this one is undoubtedly esoteric! This knowledge is called upon, because the priest is fleetingly seen to have appeared in a short, amateur film found by Lord ‘Ratty’ Ballashiels in an attic room, featuring the eponymous Chaplin, but in a year when the priest was reputed to have been dead for some time: naturally, this intrigues the treasure-seekers, seeing this as some sort of clue, so they set off to France and, of course, this is where their troubles start. These troubles include two new characters: American treasure-hunters, and one of them is coldly murderous.

Unfortunately, Ratty has a deadline: his beloved, but ancient & crumbling mansion is scheduled to be demolished in under a week’s time, to make way for a new motorway; this is not the only circumstance in which Ratty feels his life bears an uncomfortable similarity to the plot of The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy; he is also wanted for questioning by the British police about the discovery of a dead body, after the wing of the mansion in which the film was viewed was consumed by fire, because the old & dangerously flammable film stock burst into flames during a repeat viewing. Perhaps it was simply familiarity with the characters which made this instalment a somewhat more enjoyable read; there is humour, as before, but it is leavened by the jeopardy of the situations in which the protagonists find themselves, which are probably only very slightly contrived. The plot does stray into Dan Brown territory, but that is not necessarily a bad thing in itself. I don’t think revealing that this narrative ends on a clear indication of a further instalment should spoil the plot in any way: as for when this further publication might become available to an eager readership, there is no way of knowing—there is no helpful “coming soon” synopsis, or introductory chapter taster, at the end of the book to inform us. The paperback version I read was published, as previously, by Accent Press Ltd., Cardiff, in 2018, ISBN 978-1-786-15185-8.

Book Review

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An Officer and a Spy, by Robert Harris

This is a weighty tome, running to 608 pages and, ordinarily, I might be deterred by this, but seeing the name of Robert Harris on the cover was all the incentive I needed to convince me to read it, having read a few of his books before now. Also, I was curious to discover how well he would handle a real historical situation, although he is no stranger to setting fiction in different time periods; this book concerns l’Affaire Dreyfus, or The Dreyfus Case, and I had vague recollections of having to apply myself to it in History lessons at school but hitherto, I wouldn’t have been able to present a cogent synopsis of the events that transpired. Given that these events actually happened, Harris’s freedom to create a fictional narrative was necessarily somewhat constrained, but he tells the story from the point of view of a fellow army officer, Marie-Georges Picquart, previously professor of topography at the École Militaire, now deputy to the head of the Third Department of the War Ministry (Operations & Training), who soon after Dreyfus’s conviction becomes promoted to Head of the Second Department, the Statistical Section, otherwise known as Intelligence; this arrangement had been in operation since Napoleon’s time.

Before his public military degradation (an essential part of his punishment, involving the removal of all his regimental uniform decorations & the ceremonial breaking of his sabre, in front of the first military parade of the Paris garrison) Dreyfus allegedly confessed to the captain guarding him that he did indeed pass documents to the Germans, but Picquart decides this is unreliable, which is helpful for him, as he had just given a verbal report to the Minister of War that Dreyfus continued to protest his innocence at the parade, in contravention of normal custom. Alfred Dreyfus, captain of the 14th Artillery Regiment, certified General Staff Officer & probationer of the army’s General Staff, was found guilty of delivering to a foreign power or to its agents in Paris in 1894 a certain number of secret and confidential documents concerning national defence; he was a Jew from Mulhouse, which was in the disputed Alsace Lorraine territory, now part of Germany, following the humiliating defeat by Germany in the 1870 Franco-German war; he also spoke with a slight, but discernible German accent, which was another thing, in addition to being identifiably Jewish, which counted against him. Unfortunately, at that time, institutional anti-Semitism was casually accepted as an attitude by the majority of the population, including Picquart himself.

In addition to the humiliation of the military degradation, Dreyfus’s penalty also included discharge from the army and deportation to a fortified enclosure for life: this was Devil’s Island, 15km from the coast of the penal colony at Cayenne (French Guiana, on the north east coast of South America); the island was reopened especially for Dreyfus, although there were many who called for the death penalty for what they considered to be a heinous crime, particularly in that time of heightened tension between France & Germany. It was once Picquart became established in his position as head of the Second Department that his suspicion begins to grow that Dreyfus has, indeed, been falsely accused, and that a despicable miscarriage of justice has occurred, especially when he learns that secrets are still being passed to the Germans so, albeit somewhat unwillingly at first, he makes it his mission to discover the truth, even if that means that Dreyfus is innocent; unfortunately, in the course of his investigations, he encounters obfuscation, opposition, and outright hostility from his superiors, but also, which proves to be more dangerous, for his career and even, potentially, his life, from his own close colleagues. He suffers many tribulations, threats, and even murder attempts during the course of the narrative, but he proves to be strong enough to survive them all, and the help he receives from a few valued friends, and later associates, a few of whom are as illustrious as the author Victor Hugo, whose publication J’Accuse eventually proves to be powerfully influential, contributes to his eventual success.

This is not to spoil the plot: the story is known, and can easily be researched, but where Harris succeeds is in weaving a plausible narrative for the character of Picquart. Harris himself says at the beginning of the book:

None of the characters in the pages that follow, not even the most minor, is wholly fictional, and almost all of what occurs, at least in some form, actually happened in real life. Naturally, however, in order to turn history into a novel, I have been obliged to simplify, to cut out some figures entirely, to dramatise, and to invent many personal details. In particular, Georges Picquart never wrote a secret account of the Dreyfus affair; nor did he place it in a bank vault in Geneva with instructions that it should remain sealed until a century after his death. But a novelist can imagine otherwise.

Robert Harris

I can highly recommend this book, and I don’t think you need to be an aficionado of history to be able to appreciate it: it’s a thumping good story, including a criminal conspiracy (which never seem to go out of fashion!) and it’s always good to be able to read a story which has any sort of resolution, especially a positive one. The paperback I read was published in 2014 by Arrow Books, London [part of the Penguin Random House Group], ISBN 978-0-09958-088-1.

Chris Dolley

Wilfred Books is very pleased to showcase the prolific and highly successful author, Chris Dolley, in the first of an occasional series of blogs from established authors, at whatever stage in their writing careers. Chris’s background is in technology, but this post is something of a privileged exclusive, because it is, in visual terms, an ‘out-take’ from one of his books, which details a rather traumatic episode in his life; so read on and share vicariously in his adventure!

Chris Dolley is a New York Times bestselling author. French Fried is about his move to France – which culminated in his identity being stolen and life savings disappearing. Abandoned by the police forces of four countries who all insisted the crime belonged in someone else’s jurisdiction, he had to solve the case himself. Which he did, but unlike fictional detectives, he had an 80 year-old mother-in-law and an excitable puppy who insisted they came along if he was going anywhere interesting – like a stakeout. Here’s Chris:

When writing a book you often have difficult decisions to make when it comes to the final edits. So it was when I wrote French Fried: One man’s move to France with too many animals and an identity thief. Reading though the book, I felt that it took too long to get to the identity theft part of the book and decided to cut one of the chapters – which was a shame as it contained some of my favourite scenes. Here’s one of them: The Optician, the Receptionist, and the Skirting Board.

“

In the month before we moved to France we decided to have a thorough check up – opticians, dentists, doctors, the lot. It seemed a sensible course of action when exchanging a largely free health service for something entirely unknown.

Unfortunately we caught the optician on a bad day.

I thought the receptionist’s behaviour somewhat strange. Asking the customer if they really wanted to go through with their appointment is not normal front desk procedure.

“He is a locum,” the receptionist pressed. “Not the usual optician. You can re-book if you want.”

She did everything but beg us to run for our lives. But we were not to be swayed, our eyes needed checking and God knows when we’d be able to master enough of the French alphabet to risk an examination in France.

Shelagh went in first – half expecting to see a Transylvanian hunchback – but instead was met by a perfectly normal optician in his mid-thirties. A perception that persisted for several minutes – that is until she let slip the reason for her appointment – our imminent emigration to France.

“France!” he spluttered. “Don’t talk to me about France!”

There then followed a potted life history of an optician’s sorry slip down life’s ladder. And very sorry it was. He’d had his own practice – a thriving one – and then exchanged it all for an even larger one in France. He’d had several shops, a new life, boundless possibilities.

And then lost it all.

Cheated by banks and business partners and I think half of the French population during the final stages, he’d sunk into a morass of debt and had to sell up and come home. Not that there’d been much left to sell. He’d even lost money on his house. His purchasers and the notaire added to the long list of French nationals who’d cheated, connived and generally done him wrong.

This was not a happy optician.

And now he was home again trying to rebuild a shattered life. Filling in for opticians who could afford to go off on holiday – probably to France.

Shelagh thought it best to steer the conversation as far away from France as possible at that point. Having your eyes probed by a man muttering to himself about Gallic conspiracies is not generally seen as a good thing.

Neither it appeared was asking for a sight test for glasses while wearing contact lenses.

“Don’t you want a test for contact lenses?” he asked.

“Well, I did. But the receptionist said you only did glasses.”

“She what!”

And then he was off again. Half of Devon added to the Gallic conspiracy.

“I can do contact lenses!” he exclaimed in a mixture of disbelief and rising indignation. Was the whole world against him? “I do contacts! I do glasses. I do the lot! I’m an optician!”

And then a lot of muttering. Luckily he hadn’t been in France long enough to pick up the spitting and ritual grinding of the spittle into the carpet.

But he wasn’t far off.

“Why did she say that?” he continued to no-one in particular, walking off into the far corner of the consulting room, pushing his hands through his hair and looking one step away from curling up into a ball against the skirting board.

Never a good sign for an optician.

It was about at this point that the phone rang in reception. I was sitting nearby and the caller had a loud voice, so I heard most of what followed.

“Is he all right?” a woman’s voice began worriedly.

“I think so. So far, anyway,” came the reply in hushed conspiratorial tones and nervous looks towards the consulting room door.

“He hasn’t…” The voice hung in an open question mark, unable to frame the terrible conclusion to the question. What hadn’t he? I inclined an ear closer to the conversation, shuffled to the edge of the chair. What was happening behind that door?

“No,” said the receptionist, shaking her head. “Well, not yet anyway.”

We both cast anxious looks towards the door.

“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” continued the receptionist in a voice that underlined the fact that she was convinced of the exact opposite.

Back inside the consulting room a depressed locum fought his way back from the siren call of the skirting board and cast a veneer of professionalism over his sinking spirits. He would continue with the sight test. He was a professional. Whatever anyone else said.

When it was my turn, I walked in, settled down in the chair, smiled a lot and cast beams of well being and general bonhomie in all directions. I was taking no chances.

“And what can I do for you?” he started brightly.

“Well, I’m about to move to France…”

”

French Fried is available from Amazon at the following link:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/French-Fried-France-animals-identity-ebook/dp/B003UBTVSI/.