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.

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The Christie Affair, by Nina de Gramont

This author is American, and is a newcomer to speculation about the Agatha Christie ‘disappearance’ mythology: it “began in 2015 when she first learned about the famous author’s eleven-day disappearance. Christie’s refusal to ever speak about this episode particularly intrigued Nina, who loves the fact that someone who unravelled mysteries for a living managed to keep her own intact. The Christie Affair is her fourth novel.” I’m not sure if saying Christie “unravelled mysteries” is entirely accurate, because since she created them in the first place, and required them to be plausible, they wouldn’t have required unravelling by her, would they? That could safely be left to her readers. It’s possible that the author didn’t write her own bio, of course. This story is loosely based upon the facts as we know them, according to Christie’s Wikipedia page; some names have been changed, for obvious reasons; but this narrative falls into the ‘what if’ category, rather than a parallel universe scenario: the author describes it as “an imaginative history of sorts”.

As the narrative progressed, I was wondering why so much space was being given over to the backstory of the narrator, Nan O’Dea, who is this story’s substitute for Archie Christie’s real mistress, Nancy Neele, but the reason for that eventually became clear, and that is the subtext of this narrative: forced adoption of babies by the Catholic church in Ireland. I can’t reveal the reason for that, because the plot revolves around it, but it is a major element of this story. In fact, very little more of the plot can be revealed, but the major aspects of it conform to the real story, whereby Agatha Christie left her home in Sunningdale after a disagreement with her husband, in early December 1926, and after eleven days she was located at the Swan Hydropathic Hotel in Harrogate; although a different name for the hotel is used in the story. The period atmosphere is quite nicely realised so, apart from a few unfortunate Americanisms, which is understandable, given the author’s nationality, the story is a pleasant, undemanding read, even is some of the events do seem a touch implausible: given that this is fiction, I suppose that is forgivable.

It is difficult to speculate as to this book’s target readership, but Christie connoisseurs might enjoy it; as a thriller, it is very lightweight; it probably falls more comfortably into the romantic fiction category; but as stated above, it is undemanding, so it should be possible for different categories of reader to enjoy it. The paperback I read was published in 2022 by Pan Books [Mantle], an imprint of Pan Macmillan, London, ISBN 978-1-5290-5419-4.

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Cragside, by L.J. Ross

What attracted me to this book initially was the very tangential connection I have with the place, which actually exists, although I have never visited it or worked there myself; the latter is more relevant, because some of my acting colleagues have worked there in a rôle-playing capacity, responding directly with members of the public who visit this property, which is managed by the National Trust, although in the story, it has continued in private ownership from its earlier owner in the 1800s, William [later Lord] Armstrong. The description in the book slightly exaggerates the gothic eccentricity of the building, although the book’s cover does show an accurate pictorial rendering, and it does indeed possess a variety of features not present in most large manor houses: it was first built as a shooting lodge for Armstrong in 1862-4, but it was enlarged until assuming its present form in 1882, and it was the first house in the world to be lit using hydroelectric power. The detailed Wikipedia page about it can be found here.

All of Louise Ross’s DCI Ryan stories are set in, or near, glorious Northumberland, where she was born and, again, now lives. Detective Chief Inspector Maxwell Finley-Ryan; generally known just as Ryan, partly to distance himself from his privileged background; is renting a cottage in the grounds of the eponymous stately pile, because his apartment was contaminated by his previous case, when he fought a murderous criminal known as the Hacker, so he has decided to sell the apartment. Ryan’s fiancée, Doctor Anna Taylor, lost more in the way of property in the course of the case than he did, because her Durham riverside cottage was destroyed in a fire, so she is sharing the longterm holiday cottage with Ryan for the summer while they recuperate and think about wedding plans, as well as working: Anna is finalising her latest historical textbook, on Viking Northumberland, before the start of a new academic term. After residing peacefully on the estate for almost four months, they are invited to a murder-mystery-themed party [actually the staff summer party], which is an indication that they have been accepted into “Cragside’s select community”. Very predictably, this is where the story really starts!

During the course of the evening, the current owners’ valet, Victor Swann, a well-preserved man in his seventies, is found dead; initially, the circumstances are interpreted as non-suspicious, and ostensibly & tragically accidental, given that he appeared to have hit his head as a result of a fall down some stone cellar steps, but Ryan—no doubt using his detective’s well-honed sixth sense [something most of them seem to possess: the good ones, anyway]—has indefinable suspicions. He then has to assert his authority to lead the enquiries, and before long, another death occurs: although it could also have been accidental, it would seem much less likely than the previous one. Up to this point, the reader is left to wonder how the event described in the prologue, which occurred forty-one years previously, in the summer of 1975, connects with the current scenario: a ship under construction on Tyneside explodes in a fireball, killing many shipbuilding workers, and consequently leaving many children fatherless; but it should not be too difficult, as the narrative progresses, to arrive at the conclusion that the deaths are somehow connected with someone’s obsessive quest for revenge, although this does not become clear until quite late in the story.

Overall, this is a well-constructed story, and the perpetrator was not at all obvious: it could have been easy to be misled, which is the mark of a good writer. Ross has written fifteen DCI Ryan stories, including this one, so there is plenty of opportunity to become familiar with the main characters; she has also written three novels featuring the character of forensic psychologist Doctor Alexander Gregory, who is based in Ireland. Criminal profilers is another popular crime genre, these days. Despite Northumberland famously being Vera territory, there is surely room for another senior detective based in the same area, and Ryan is, necessarily of course, a horse of a different feather than the rumpled & overweight beloved detective creation of Ann Cleeves. The paperback I read was published in 2020 [2017, LJ Ross] by Dark Skies Publishing, ISBN 978-1-9123-1006-7.