Books from June

 The sun is shining, the wind is blowing, the bookshelves are groaning ... Here's what I read in June, apparently!

Carmen Radtke, Funerals and Familiars: This, the first in a new series, is very much in the Radtke style and as usual very enjoyable – Bex, recently divorced and heading for middle age, finds herself the heiress to her aunt’s lending library, secret witchcraft den, and talking cat, as well as the necessity to investigate a murder on which the community is divided – will he be missed, or not at all? There are plenty of red herrings, of various kinds, and a gang of locals I look forward to getting to know better. I liked Bex and Cosmo very much, and rather envied the talking cat and a library lifestyle! 

Marsali Taylor, Death at a Shetland Festival: Set around the Shetland Folk Festival this starts with a mysterious diary and carries on with a death backstage at what sounds like a great gig. Cass and Gavin are finding their feet living with each other, but sailing is never very far away, of course, and nor are the wonderful cats. I’d been looking forward to this book since I read the first few lines a couple of years ago, and it didn’t disappoint – another tightly-woven plot with a clever historical (if the 1980s are historical) background. Very good indeed.

Simon McCleave, The Snowdonia Killings: We have the classic city cop heading for the wilderness to escape city pressure and a personal tragedy here, but I did like the cop in question, and found she was neither too idealistic nor too dismissive of her new situation. I also liked the growing relationship between her and her alcoholic sidekick, which I found interesting and realistic.

Val McDermid, Blue Genes: A very amusing start, if frustrating, as Kate Brannigan tries to trap a dodgy seller of headstones and is in turn trapped into trying to find out who is destroying the reputation of a Glasgow neo-punk band in Manchester. This is my first Kate Brannigan book, but I know I’m in safe hands with McDermid, as she explores the murky world of ‘test tube babies’. I think a similar theme appeared in a Taggart episode about a decade before this book was written, but it’s taken in a different direction and, of course, written very well.

Eva St. John, Flint in the Bones: A crime novel, I suppose, set in an alternative England where magic is practised and Norwich has a very bad reputation for temporal earthquakes. Our heroine, a native of Norwich, is sent back in pursuit of a renegade magician. She’s an uncomfortable sort of person but appealing, up to a point. The Norwich setting is intriguing, with people from various periods of history trying to co-exist and work together, while the town basks in the wealth from selling all kinds of historical goods. This is a fascinating book, with excellent world-building and entertaining characters, and I look forward very much to the next in the series. And yes, bring Harry along with you! N.B. This is another pen name for the author who writes the Golden series of crime fiction, Anna Penrose.

Cecilia Peartree, Heiress in Exile: Lord George, a lazy pleasure-seeker, has been sent off to Cornwall to find out what’s happening at a friend’s long-abandoned house, ‘Goose Chase’, and discovers a new sense of responsibility. Next door, a distant acquaintance, Susan, has been sent to live with a great aunt to get her out from under the feet of a new stepmother, and to help with three unappealing children. Between them they discover a cache of weapons and gunpowder, and attempt to unravel the mystery of their appearance, as well as some suspicious goings-on in Susan’s family. Lovely, satisfying romantic mystery.

Jane Smith, Three Times Buried: This is based on a real murder story in 19^th century Aberdeenshire, imagined as a novel. Apart from a strange fixation on one particular piece of furniture it’s a very compelling tale, well set in its historical context and fascinating in its account. Smith gets inside Widow Lovie’s head beautifully, while also portraying the other characters, even the minor ones, with telling detail. Much better than some well-known novelisations of old crimes.

Alex Howard, The Ghost Cat: Rather a nice little book, this, recounting the tale of a cat and his tenement flat in Edinburgh over the course of 120 years. In some ways it’s too short, and I’d have liked a bit more about the earlier years and less focus on the last thirty or forty, but it’s charming. However, it does need some more work – there are inaccuracies, quite anachronistic uses of language, and plenty of places where the wrong word is used, and it comes over at the end as a little self-indulgent bit of poor self-publishing. Still, it portrayed the setting with great affection and I did feel I knew the flat by the end.

Susie Fleming, Blood Ties: When anything is described in the subtitle as ‘utterly addictive’, it immediately makes me feel unaddicted. This is interesting enough but not at all addictive – in fact, I kept forgetting I was reading it. The main character is a kind of Vera by Anne Cleeves, though with some sympathy-inducing family issues and a lovely ex-husband. The Yorkshire tea thing is a bit ridiculous. When Viv doesn’t like a witness, I find myself siding with the witness, which might not be what the author intends. There’s the occasional bit of head-jumping which is off-putting, and as many people will no doubt say, British police should not be addressed as ‘Detective’. There are also a few typos and grammatical errors (whose/who’s, etc.), but I think my favourite bit was a character called Campbell Baxter whose nickname was ‘Two Soups’.

Jodi Taylor, Bad Moon: Though I love the St. Mary’s and Time Police series, not to mention several other books (does this woman not let up? Thank goodness she doesn’t!) this is my favourite of Taylor’s series, and I’ve been waiting for this one with bated breath. And it did not disappoint. Action, emotion, humour, a troll in the cellar and a really big snake – brilliant.

Martin Edwards, Sepulchre Street: I started to read this in the A.K. Bell Library in Perth when I had an hour or two before a train. I liked it so much I went back and read another chunk the next time I was waiting for a train in Perth, and at last bought my own copy. It’s a very enjoyable take on a Golden Age crime novel, though there were a few points when I thought it felt much less 1930s than it was supposed to. The main detective is the intriguing, wealthy but damaged Rachel Savernake, and the book is told from the point of view, mostly, of a bewitched young reporter who is a not-very-bright Watson to her Holmes. I believe there are others in the series and I might well dig them out – or look for them next time I’m in Perth.

Kathy Reichs, Monday Mourning: Quite a disturbing one in the Tempe Brennan series, with the discovery of three skeletons who turn out to be young female abductees, victims of a serial killer or killers. With the additional challenges of her on/off boyfriend Ryan’s odd behaviour, the disappearance of her old friend Anne, and the Montreal winter, this is another tough case for Brennan. I was a bit surprised that Carbon 14 and isotope analysis were news in this one but perhaps my memory is playing tricks, and this was published twenty years ago.

Andrew Rudd, The Quiet Path: Illustrated with simple little pen-and-ink drawings, this is a book where the author invites you to dip in as you feel like it, but there is advantage to reading it in sequence, and slowly – pausing for thought, ideally, at the end of each page. It’s divided into three sections, walking, seeing, and writing, and each section offers passages of prose and poetry that look more closely at ordinary things, leading you into quiet contemplation whether of birds, or of the landscape. In fact, he suggests the possibility of treating all these encounters through the practice of Lectio Divina, close study, uninterrupted by the demands of the modern world for a few moments. The book was written post-pandemic, and includes reflections on some of the quiet times lockdown offered. It’s a book that makes you think more about the world around you, but also about using that enhanced thought to come to a greater understanding of God in ourselves and in the world. Though in fact, whether you were religious or not, I think you'd find a good deal of calming thought and gentleness in here. Don't know why the link has spread over the whole review, though! (I need to think more calm thoughts).

Jerry Dye, Island Wars: Well, it hits the ground running with a brisk and savage murder and then a kidnapping. There are a few wrongly used words, quite an issue with apostrophes and commas, ‘text’ instead of ‘texted’, which sounds American to me if anything, and there are some other unnecessary Americanisms. Some of the conversations don’t sound entirely natural, and a bit more characterisation outside the central few characters would be helpful – there are plenty of cardboard cutouts. I wasn’t keen on the sudden switch to first person narrative by the murderer late in the book. But as far as pacing is concerned, this is very good, and I like both the main protagonist and his wife. Room for improvement!

Lots of room for improvement for me, too - I started the next Hippolyta last week, wrote a thousand words, and have done nothing since. In my defence, I've been quite busy with some terribly exciting paperwork that had to be done, not to mention the case of Covid, the broken rib, the dented car door, the cat's trip to the vet ... Ah, the glamorous life of the writer! Anyway, I'd better get on with a plot or there'll be no Hippolyta 8. Happy reading!

May's reading - just a bit late!

 Quite a few books last month, some good, some less so! We'll start with a couple of good ones, though:

Ross Greenwood, Death in Bacton Wood: Another outing for Ashley who has to deal with some nasty people trafficking and an Italian family with difficulties in this episode of the Norfolk series. This one is particularly gory, but for me gory works when it’s paired with very good character development and real people, which is what happens here. Keep going, Ross – and I’ll keep reading!

Alex Scarrow, A Burning Truth: Lots of team development here, particularly at a barbecue at Boyd’s house! The plot is interesting, too, with a politician intent on spilling some beans and others determined to stop him. My impression is that it ended a bit abruptly, but that may have been me in a hurry. I’m a bit behind on this series so I’m able to carry on soon.

Tormod Cockburn, This Jagged Way: The weird italicisation and bad Latin still annoy me, as well as the odd capitalising of birds’ names – Stormy Petrel, Bonxie, and so on. There’s so much of this that it grates constantly. I mean, if you were using phrases in French you’d check them, wouldn’t you? But this Latin doesn’t even get through Google Translate. Yet I’m enjoying the overall premise, and some of the ways he weaves Scottish legend into Scottish current affairs (and I love the new Perth Museum, so I have an interest there, too). I’ll see if I can contemplate the next one.

Courtney Smyth, The Undetectables: This book is set in a kind of England, I think, where Apparents and Occults (normal humans and the magic world) live side by side. The chance to investigate the magic murder of an Apparent brings together three friends who had drifted apart, and perhaps to resolve the death of their ghostly friend, Theodore. I think I may be too old for this book – on an emotional level it feels quite adolescent. I’m not quite connecting with it and find it hard to distinguish many of the characters (except Theodore, who’s quite distinctive, having died wearing fake cats’ ears that can’t now be removed) and to follow some of the world-building. Still, the writing is good and in the end I enjoyed it, though I might not rush to read the next one.

Rachel Abbott, Whatever it Takes: Our hero Tom is still on ‘leave’ from the police, which is just as well as his brother goes missing and he is determined to find him and his family. The trail leads far from home, and there is plenty of danger for all as they tangle with the Mafia. Much more of a thriller than a whodunit or police procedural, but the usual team is there in the background.

Rhys Dylan, Lines of Inquiry: There are a few thoroughly unlikeable characters in this but our team battles on as ever, while Evan also struggles with some problems in his family life. A thoroughly satisfying read, in the end.

Elly Griffiths, The Frozen People: I was really looking forward to this. I may be spoiled by reading too much Jodi Taylor, but I found this quite a struggle. There’s a hopeless quality to much of it, though of course it’s very well written and the characters are real, and the feeling of how a twenty-first century woman might struggle to fit in in 1850, however well prepared, was very persuasive. I love her Ruth series and her Harbinder one, but I’m not sure I’m going to love this one quite so much. But I’m prepared to try!

Val McDermid, The Grave Tattoo: Of course the writing is excellent and at once you’re drawn into the worlds of a London lecturer, trying to solve a mystery concerning Wordsworth and Fletcher Christian, and her less likeable brother still at home in the Lake District where a body from Wordsworth’s era has just been discovered. Superb.

Val McDermid, A Place of Execution: Set against the context of the Moors Murders, still unsolved as this plays out, this is a deeply atmospheric story of child abuse and abduction in a secluded site in Derbyshire. McDermid portrays a fascinating picture of a village half cut off from the rest of the world, half connected, and the way the police of the time deal with the investigation.

Orjan Karlsson, Into Thin Air: This is a fairly dark one but still enjoyable. The police officer main character is recently widowed, and his sidekick has moved to Bodo in northern Norway for unpleasant personal reasons, but it’s not a miserable read. The plot is not wholly resolved in the end, leaving the way open for an interesting sequel.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby: Though I knew roughly what this was about, I had neither read it nor seen a film version and decided, on the enthusiastic recommendation of a family member who’s not a great reader, to give it a go. I thoroughly enjoyed it, though like the narrator I was glad enough to be out of their superficial, doomed world by the end. I was amused and appalled in equal measure by the drunk driving - good heavens! – and not really surprised by the tragic outcome – as inevitable as Hamlet.

As for my own progress, well, it's not great just now. I've taken a couple of weeks off to get my ducks in a row (or at least in the same duckpond), and when I feel things are a bit better I'll start the next book. Or that's the plan, anyway!

April's reading

For some reason I don't seem to have finished very many books in April, though I'm sure I've been reading more than just these! Anyway, here they are, including two new authors to me:

Tim Sullivan, TheBookseller: I’ve jumped a few volumes in this series, can’t remember why, but I hope to go back and fill in the missing ones as the background, Cross’s family life, is fascinating. This episode takes us into the surprisingly murky world (or should I be surprised?) of second-hand book dealers, with some intriguing and well-layered characters.

David Gatward, Stone Cold: This one begins with someone rashly kidnapping Grimm and holding him prisoner in a mine, while the rest of the team have to tackle a couple of murders without him. There is the usual terrific teamwork and good humour, mostly fuelled by excellent food, but the conclusion is very sad. I still miss Gordy from these books, and I haven’t really successfully got into her spin-off series in quite the same way. I’ll persist.

Tendai Huchu, The Library of the Dead: Set in a somewhat dysfunctional future Edinburgh and environs, this book follows Ropa, a ghost-talker, as she discovers a hidden library under Calton Hill and tries to investigate the disappearance of a small boy whose mother’s ghost is concerned for his safety. Ropa is an energetic narrator, with a forthright teenage view of the world, and reminded me of the narrator in the Rivers of London series. Exciting and amusing by turns, this was a book that makes me want to read on in the series.

S.J. Richards, Fog of Silence: I think I’ve had enough of this series for a bit, though I might well come back to it. I found the characters weren’t really talking to me, somehow, but there’s the odd flash of interest or depth (does depth flash?) that makes them appeal. This one wasn't awfully exciting, despite the subject matter, and perhaps because I kept picking it up and putting it down again I couldn't remember which boy was which.

Janice Hallett, The Twyford Code: I haven’t read her first book and was not sure what to expect, but found this series of audio clips surprisingly readable and the whole plot very intriguing. As for the puzzles, some I got, some I didn’t, some I saw coming and some were surprises, a good mixture. However, looking back on it it’s a puzzle without characters – any character you think you might understand or sympathise with turns out … well, I’ll try not to spoil the ending! More like doing a crossword than reading a novel, in the end.

The first draft of Murder on the King's Jaunt is complete, so it's time for a heavy edit! Then, all being well, and if three other projects don't distract me too much, it's on to Hippolyta 8. Unfortunately I had what I thought was a great plot idea for it which, on inspection the other day, turned out to be mostly dud, so it's back to the drawing board for that one. Hoping for inspiration!

March books

Here's March's reading - quite a varied bunch, for me! See if there's something you fancy (and excuse my rattiness some evenings).

C.S.E. Cooney, Saint Death’s Daughter: (my copy is bright pink) Two sisters, one with magical skills but personal problems, the other full of misplaced confidence and a dangerous ambition, face the financial problems of their family when both parents die in short order. This is a particularly brutal world but full of strange comedy, too, and some really lovely use of language. The footnotes, which often tell stories from the bloody past of the Stones family (25: Devoured by undead squirrels), are a delight. But the characters, particularly the heroine, Lanie, are very well drawn. When faced with disaster and danger, she has to respond cleverly, as she has a strange sympathetic reaction to others’ injuries – she suffers them herself, too. As a necromancer she has considerable powers and great responsibility, and must learn not to act without thinking as she tries to protect her beloved niece from those who would punish the girl to take revenge on her mother. An intriguing story in a strange world.

S.J. Richards, Black Money: A very enjoyable romp trying to catch a dodgy gang of money-launderers/drug-dealers/people-traffickers. The team is coming into its own nicely. But I don’t like numbers used (e.g. ‘2’) under at least a hundred – the words (i.e. ‘two’) look better in a story. And some of the team are pointlessly dim – why go on a date with a suspect, and not tell your colleagues? Or break the Official Secrets Act just to have a chat with your student daughter? It all seemed a little unlikely, but quite an entertaining read.

Tormod Cockburn, The Stone Cypher: What is this new trend for putting Scottish place names in italics? I don’t remember it in this series before, though I’ve seen it in another one where it was equally annoying. It’s not even as if they’re restricting themselves to Gaelic place names, as if they’re in a foreign language. It makes the text look like a comic book, or perhaps they’re expecting to insert hyperlinks. But setting that aside (or trying to – I’m in a ratty mood this evening). Okay, getting picky now – 4by4? ‘Peddles’ on a car? What is ‘semi-rectangular’? And rex gladii would be ‘the king’s sword’ not gladio (all the worse because I could see the mistake coming) – which is to, by, with or from a sword. Don’t try to give me all this St. Andrews graduate rubbish and get that wrong. HOWEVER, I loved the plot! A good mixture of science and mystery and emotion, and though I hope the editing is tidied up I do intend to read on in this series.

Jason Vail, Prince Edward’s Ride: Unfortunately, Vail still refers to Simon de Montfort as ‘Montfort’ in this book too, and Gilbert de Clare as ‘Clare’, but apart from that this is more gripping than some of the others in this series that have veered more towards political history. The ending feels more historical than, um, novelistic, but I’ll wait and see what happens in the next one.

Tim Sullivan, The Cyclist: The second in this interesting series with an autistic police detective. It’s very instructive watching his sergeant, Ottey, trying to train Cross into more ‘acceptable’ behaviour, torn between wanting the team to work and wanting them to be successful. In the end it’s a rather sad story, but a good plot with plausible motives.

Teresa Solana, A Shortcut to Paradise: The death of a woman who has just won a literary prize is enmeshed with an amateur mugger’s first job in this intriguing and light-hearted book set in Catalonia. The author is a translator, but in this case her book has been translated by her English husband who is also a translator. There are a lot of lines to follow in this plot, and a bit of head-switching, but on the whole it moves smartly along and I enjoyed what is to me a relatively unfamiliar setting.

Kate Atkinson, Death at the Sign of the Rook: At last I have my mitts on this, by one of my very favourite authors. As always this is brilliantly plotted, weaving in all kinds of threads in a witty, complicated, well-observed narrative with sideways glances at the strange father-daughter relationship between Reggie and Brodie, while also toying with Brodie’s own complex past and the committee of critical women who invisibly watch his every move and decision. I want to be Kate Atkinson when I grow up (and Granny Island from the Katie Morag books, but that’s another story).

Jodi Taylor, The Ballad of Smallhope and Pennyroyal: This explains how the strangely mismatched lady and butler (as it were) came together to be … well, whatever kind of criminals they are. Lovely plotting, letting us know what’s been going on in the background of many of Max’s adventures.

Alex Walters, The Low Road: One of the few series where I will pre-order as soon as I see the next book is available. I like the main character, grumpy Mackay, and his sensible boss Helena Grant, and Ginny, too, who has a good deal to face in this book. An intriguing plot involving a series of fatal car crashes on the A9 comes to a violent conclusion – a really good read.

Jean Gill, Hunting the Sun: Skarfr and Hlif are still in Sicily and seem to be trapped there in a gilded cage, but soon they are on their travels again, torn apart and trying to get back to each other. In the mean time their two Irish servants are also in two different parts of Orkney, trying to find each other and avoid the powerful men to whose advantage it would be to kill them. Skarfr and Hilf have much to contend with in their marriage and with their adopted son, and it’s interesting to see them deal with foreign customs and the threats they face, but I always enjoy returning to the Orkney side of things where politics and personal lives collide, too, and we’re praying for innocent Fergus to be spared and restored to his poor wife. The settings are beautifully done and the characterisation is well handled over a large and disparate cast. An atmospheric and enjoyable read.

And where am I? Well, I'm about three quarters of the way through Murray 14, Murder on the King's Jaunt. It started fast but has slowed down a bit as I try to disentangle all the threads, and try not to be distracted by a short story and the next book, too. Must focus and finish!

A few books from February

Not so many books finished last month, though I seem to be halfway through reading quite a few. Still, here we are!

E.S. Thomson, The Blood: I'm slightly out of order on this series. As dark as ever, this episode takes us to London’s filthy docklands with some of the worst and most downtrodden of its inhabitants and a naval hospital ship where Jem has to stand in as apothecary when a friend dies. Poor Will continues to be embroiled in Jem’s investigations as their friendship grows stronger and potentially more ambiguous, and the plot revolves around one of the greatest challenges to medical expertise. Fascinating as always.

Jodi Taylor, Santa Grint: This is a bit of an excursion, a day at the seaside as Grint takes unexpected pity on a young lad in a children’s home waiting for his mother. Since the mother is said to be building an illicit time-travel pod, the Time Police take an interest, putting Grint and Jane in danger with hilarious consequences. I do enjoy the voices in Jane’s head!

Alex Gray, Questions for a Dead Man: And completely out of order on this series - this is only the second one I have read. A car bomb kills an MSP – or does it? The plot involves the drug trade from several different angles as Lorimer’s friend Daniel finds to his cost. Unusual for the genre, Gray’s team are all nice, normal people who live fairly ordinary lives and care for each other in uncomplicated ways. It’s a pleasant place to be, despite the murders and drug dealers. One question, though: why would a woman wear fishnets over a corset and skirt?

Kelly Oliver, Mystery in Manhattan: Also  known as Chaos at Carnegie Hall, and either No.1 or  No.4 in the series depending on what series you might think you're reading. I wasn’t really convinced by this. There has been some good research but still plenty of oddities – for one thing, hobble skirts were going out by this time and anyway the things she does manage to do in a hobble skirt would mean they were hardly worthy of the name. Fiona is self-obsessed and thick as mince, and I would not employ her as an office junior, let alone a spy. The book feels much more American than British (probably written for the American market – ‘classified’, for example, is still an American term), and the author seems to be obsessed by the word ‘lav’, using it when she actually means the British term ‘bathroom’ and not just the W.C. She calls the police station ‘the nick’ which is not a term someone of her class would have used, or not consistently, at that time (never mind ‘mate’ and ‘knackered’ – most unseemly, even if she does use the word ‘blimey’). The heroine says her gloves were ruined by ‘fingerprints’ at the police station and is then slightly baffled when her ward mentions fingerprinting. And why are they always tugging at the hems of their jackets?

Ragnar Johansson, Black Out: The three-man police force in northern Siglafjordur has to deal with a murder, which is simultaneously being investigated by a journalist from Reykjavik escaping from the cloud of volcanic ash and with issues of her own to deal with. This is a very good, serious series, translated into English by the inestimable Quentin Bates who writes his own Icelandic crime fiction.

Now, then, updates. The Gowden Wifie, Cattanach 2, is all ready to go except for the cover which has been delayed, as you'll know if you're on the mailing list, by the unpredictable drying time of air-drying clay in a cold house. Once the cover is ready, we're off! In the mean time I am now one day behind schedule on Murray 14, Murder on the King's Jaunt, but it's still going strong and I'm now 2/5 through the first draft. Often by this stage I would have ordered the cover for this one from my cover illustrator (she is not responsible, by the way, for the air-drying clay issues) but I've hit the ground running so quickly on this one that I haven't spoken to her about it yet. I'd better get on with it!

What I read in January

 I thought I'd already done this, then realised I hadn't! It doesn't seem that long since the December list. Again, this is a bit of a mixture with fact and fiction thrown in - something for everyone!

Cecilia Peartree, The Great Calamity: The calamity referred to is the death of almost the entire Royal Family at Osborne House due to one of Prince Albert’s experiments going wrong. The alternative history proposed here, therefore, outlaws steam power and has the throne pass to the Prussians, though the scope of the book is much more domestic. Two families who were involved in the Calamity have parted but are now drawn together again, initially through the deaths of family members. Though I love this author’s Pitkirtly series and have very much enjoyed her other books, I can’t help feeling that this is her best book yet – and there are hints at a sequel.

David Howarth The Shetland Bus: This is the story of the organisation of fishing boats that worked the winters of the Second World War between Shetland and Norway, rescuing refugees and helping the resistance. Their ingenuity and bravery is extraordinary. This is written by one of the Royal Navy officers who worked with them and though it veers into technical realms of which I know little, it’s still an excellent read with some good photographs, telling with deep affection and admiration of work that I know I could never have done.

Jodi Taylor, Saving Time: Team Weird are now fully qualified (terrifying thought) and Luke is determined to find his father guilty of involvement in all kinds of illegal time business. Jane, meanwhile, is enjoying an unexpected romantic interlude, and someone is going round destroying witnesses to various time misdemeanours. Really entertaining, and you find yourself caring deeply for the characters.

Jodi Taylor, About Time: I really didn’t expect to enjoy the Time Police series anywhere near this much!  The mystery of Jane’s past is mostly resolved, and Luke’s relationship with his father takes an unexpected turn as the team tries to bring the worst illegal time traveller to justice.

S.J. Richards, Change of Direction and Taken to the Hills: A prequel to this series which is in the box set, which explains Luke Sackville’s joining the police, and then the first in the series. By the beginning of the book, Luke is no longer in the police but despite a disrupted home life he is starting a new job related to security in a large financial firm. Several women have disappeared, apparently after issues at work, and as Luke and his new, inexperienced team begin to draw the cases together they realise that there is more peril to come. I look forward to getting to know the team better in the next book.

Takashi Hiraide, The Guest Cat: there’s a bit too much geography at the beginning of this, but there is some charm to it. The author is really writing about himself most of the time, and it’s hard to see how the cat fits in much. It’s not a long book, but there was only so much I could stomach at a time, as I found it not so much meditative as self-absorbed and unoriginal. Thank goodness I finished it at last. The author refers to it as a novel, but I couldn’t discern much in the way of plot – no doubt others love it but it was not for me.

Denzil Meyrick, The Death of Remembrance: Brian must at last confront his demons, but I preferred the bits set on the west coast and not the standard Glasgow mob violence of some of the scenes. There are a surprising number of typos in this, and in some places I found Brian intensely annoying – maybe I just wasn’t so much in the mood, but this wasn’t my favourite of this series. Still, it’s a good deal better than some of the stuff around just now, and in essence I enjoyed it. The ending was a bit odd but it was better than the rest of the book.

Ambrose Parry, Voices of the Dead: Here I am, back with one of these, despite the fact that I don’t really like either of the main characters. I think it’s for the plots, really, and the views of Edinburgh. One little note, however, pleased me: a reference not to the well-worn contrast between Old Town and New, or rich and poor Edinburgh, but the links between them that are so much part of the city. There are some concepts which don’t sit easily in the historical context, though I understand the authors have done some very careful research – still, there are plenty of uses of language that jar. And why couldn’t Raven have shopped the dentist to McLevy?

Ernest Bramah, The Complete Works: particularly the Max Carrados short stories. I enjoyed these short stories featuring a blind detective – clever deductions and quite witty. To be honest, I didn’t read much of the rest of this book. It’s well-written, but it was very political and just at the moment I wanted a bit of a break from that in my fiction reading. I think I might well come back to it, though.

Camilla Lackberg, The Cuckoo: I haven’t read much of this series but quite enjoyed this, the latest. The main character and those around him are pleasant company, which can’t be said for almost anyone else in the plot (there are about four exceptions). There’s an unbelievable level of come-uppance at the end – in fact, an awful lot of it is unbelievable, but an entertaining read, nonetheless.

S.G. McLean, The Winter List: For some reason this is the first of this series I have read, but I hope it won’t be the last (I should probably go back and read the first, in fact!). This is not my favourite historical period but in McLean’s hands it is of course wonderful – her writing is so accomplished, vivid and real, the characters rounded and interesting. And the plot – well, who could want for anything more?

Celia Norman Smith, The Tales of Harry Also: Harry Also is a rather philosophical scarecrow in a lovely vegetable garden. This is technically a children’s book – probably better as one to be read to a child than one for the child to read, as some of the words are a little advanced (though some are explained as we go along). The writing and description are beautiful and of real attraction to any child with an interest in the natural world, but themes of birth, death and indeed torture and redemption might call for some adult support. On the whole a rewarding read, but very hard to place.

Hans Rosling, Factfulness: Not my usual kind of read, but an interesting one. The subtitle is ‘Ten reasons we’re wrong about the world – and why things are better than you think’. Rosling analyses, with some frightening anecdotes, the ten instincts that cause us to believe the world is an increasingly terrifying place: gap (believing there is a gulf between the worst and the best, while actually most people are in the middle), negativity, straight lines (in projected graphs), fear, size (getting things in proportion), generalisation, destiny (forgetting that slow improvement is still improvement), single (use more than one tool to tackle a problem), blame, and urgency. It is a sort of reassuring book, though it’s harder to apply its principles when the world now does actually look worse than it did when Rosling died in 2017. I found myself trying to decide if he had been proved wrong and things really are in a decline, or if he was being proved right by my struggle to think otherwise.

Georgette Heyer, Death in the Stocks: I have only, and years ago, read one of Heyer’s murder mysteries, and had thought for a long time that it had been a one-off. I was delighted to find there were more. The Vereker siblings are fairly repulsive and both are fully deserving of being charged with the murder of their loathed half-brother Arnold. I didn’t care for either of them, nor for their prospective spouses, but their solicitor, their cousin Giles, saves the day as far as the book is concerned, being both sensible and charming.

The Gowden Wifie, Alec Cattanach 2, is gradually edging towards publication - the beta readers have it just now! I've started plotting Murray 14 (14, good heavens), which is set in Edinburgh in 1822 and is just now provisionally entitled Murder on the King's Jaunt. If I can dig myself out of knitting and some delectable research, I might start writing it soon.