Laura Lippman, I’d Know You Anywhere

I can’t quite remember where I first read about Laura Lippman or even what I read … All I remember is that it sounded interesting – and interesting it was!

This book raised quite a few questions for me. On one level it is a straight forward thriller about Eliza Benedict who is abducted at age 15 and forms a strange bond with her kidnapper. The basic plot line is captivating enough and Lippman’s characters are well developed and intriguing enough to hold the reader’s attention.

What is more intriguing, though, about this novel, is that it about so much more than an abduction. What is really explores is how people deal with their pasts, and what they choose to make of themselves in light of the experiences that they endure. Eliza Benedict had, in many ways, run away from what happened to her, tried to avoid the stigma that came with being a survivor when all the other victims were killed. She was so successful in recreating herself that she really though that she had escaped her past. Where the novel becomes interesting is when her past, in the form of her abductor on death row, catches up with her and confronts her, forcing her to come to terms with the central role that this kidnapping played in her life and in who she is now.

I found Eliza Benedict to be a surprisingly staunch character. On the outside she seems meek and mild, allowing her husband to speak for her and dictate their lives. But, beneath the meekness she is a tower of strength and this shows itself most in her final confrontation toward the end of the book – I won’t say more as it will spoil the story for you!

I loved the way that Eliza’s moral compass so clearly steered her actions – the Washington Post calls her “decent”. I loved the way she devoted herself to her family, that she refused to be swayed by what other people thought, that she was able to reconstruct herself in the face of this intense adversity. And I loved the gumption of Eliza’s daughter, the tenderness of her son and the unusualness of her parents.

I will definitely be looking for other Lippman books to read!

Karen Rose

Ah, the bliss of indulgence that comes from falling into a tried and true thriller formula. Karen Rose, you know exactly what you are doing!

I Can See You and Have You Seen Her? – I read them  both over 3 days. I didn’t sleep much and I couldn’t tell you what the books were about, but they served their purpose.

Thank you Karen Rose. Again.

Confessions …

I confess, I have drowned in Lisa  Gardner. I think I’m addicted … I don’t know what to do?? I have Margaret Atwood waiting patiently on my iPad for me to resume her Handmaid’s Tale which reminds me cringingly of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter (those wings … not sure what it is about them!).

Anyway, I read The Killing Hour and last night I devoured Lived to Tell and I JUST WANT MORE!!

So, this is my formal apology to Atwood and to all those other high end fiction books which I probably should be reading … sorry, but I really can’t help myself and I just have to choose Gardner.

Be back soon!

The Snowman, Jo Nesbo

I don’t know quite what happened between me and this book, but I didn’t get it. I didn’t get it and it bothered me so much that I kept reading and reading and reading and reading in the hope that I would get it, that I would be suddenly struck down by what the hell was going on. There were moments when I really found myself feeling as though I had missed something – and not something small and insignificant, mind you, but something central to the narrative, a key part of the story – and then there was this nagging feeling that plagued me: is this book written in a language that I don’t understand? Am I losing my mind??

But, I’m getting carried away. Let me start at the beginning – I loved (and I mean, really L.O.V.E.D) the opening of this book:

“It was the day the snow came. At eleven o’clock in the morning, large flakes appeared from a colourless sky and invaded the fields, gardens and lawns of Romerike like an armada from outer space. At two, the snowploughs were in action in Lillestrom, and when, at half past two, Sara Kvinesland slowly and carefully steered her Toyota Corolla SR5 between the detached houses in Kolloveien, the November snow was lying like a down duvet over the rolling countryside.”

This is the setting for the eerie (read: absolutely terrifying) action which follows with the appearance of a mystery snowman described by a little boy, Jonas: “It was, as his mother had said, big. Its eyes and mouth were made with pebbles and the nose was a carrot. The snowman had no hat, cap or scarf, and only one arm, a thin twig Jonas guessed had been taken from the hedge. However, there was something odd about the snowman. It was facing the wrong way. He didn’t know why, but it ought to have been looking out onto the road, towards the open space.”

Later that night, after Jonas’ father has left town on business, the little boy wakes up from a nightmare to find his mother has disappeared and the snowman is still outside, its “pebble-eyes … gleaming”. On searching, Jonas finds that the house is empty and on the stairs he feels something wet under his feet – “as if someone had been walking with wet shoes. Or wet feet.” It is at this point that I was gripped by the intensity of this narrative and perhaps this is what caused my disappointment, I felt as though I was going to be sucked in by the whirlwind of this narrative but instead, after this magnificent snippet of action, I was left hanging loosely, having come unstuck.

“In the porch he stuffed his feet into a pair of his father’s large shoes, put on a padded jacket over his pyjamas and went outside. Mum had said the snow would be gone by tomorrow, but it was still cold, and a light wind whispered and mumbled in the oak tree by the gate. It was no more than a hundred metres to the Bendiksens’ house, and fortunately there were two street lamps on the way. She had to be there. He glanced to the left and to the right to make sure there was no one who could stop him. Then he caught sight of the snowman. It stood there as before, immovable, facing the house, bathed in the cold moonlight. Yet there was something different about it, something almost human, something familiar. Jonas looked at the Bendiksens’ house. He decided to run. But he didn’t. Instead he stood feeling the tentative, ice-cold wind go right through him. He turned slowly back to the snowman. Now he realised what it was that had made the snowman so familiar. It was wearing a scarf. A pink scarf. The scarf Jonas had given his mother for Christmas.”

I was left with goosebumps.

Unfortunately, they never returned and this book has left me feeling quite bereft. Others seem to have loved this book – see here, here and here. What have I missed?

I Kill, Georgio Faletti

Out of sheer desperation to reignite my reading frenzy I picked up this book that someone once gave me and which I had abandoned on the bookshelf with a sour taste in my mouth.

Ironically, it proved to be a perfect antidote.

Meet FBI agent Frank Ottobre. He is defeated by personal tragedy and literally immobilised, trying to escape from the challenges of his reality by languishing in Monte Carlo – as you do. As far as characters go, Faletti has managed to do a reasonably convincing job of depicting him. At times I found myself wanting more from him, but on the whole he kept me captivated. As far as the other characters go, they were all reasonably well rounded. I particularly liked the way that Faletti managed to make some of them so intensely evil.

The plot was intriguing and I am not sure whether that was because it seemed so contrary to the setting or whether it was actually a good plot … you will have to decide that for yourself. I certainly enjoyed the journey and was gripped enough to keep reading.

Not mind blowing, but definitely entertaining.

Snow Falling on Cedars, David Guterson

I revisited this book recently for a student, just to refresh myself. I had forgotten about its austerity and I was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying it, despite the fact that I knew what was unfolding. I think that at the time of my first reading I must have been less intune to the subtle racial under-currents which litter this book – although I’m not sure how this was possible. I don’t recall being so struck by the situation of the Japanese in America during the Second World War. Perhaps I was more taken by Guterson’s beautiful prose. In any event, I was enthralled by the way that Guterson managed to so clearly convey the complexity of this dynamic and the depth of emotion which built up, over time, in both the Japanese and the white American communities.

I was thrilled to be able to relate my reading with the photographs taken by Dorothea Lange depicting some of the traumatic events which became a part of life for Japanese people during this time.

I think that perhaps it was Lange’s haunting imagery which accompanied me through this second reading and made this book come alive for me.

One of the striking elements of this book is how Guterson manages to utilise a crime scene and trial to actually deal with these issues which are so central to American identity and history. Guterson’s characters are vividly dispersed and unfolded throughout their encounters with the victim and the protagonist, Kabuo. It is through their testimony at Kabuo’s trial that we come to know them each intimately. Whereas most crime fiction novels place the plot at the centre of their structure, for Guterson, it sits contentedly in the background, allowing him to flesh out the more subtle issues which are clearly so central to his understanding of America’s small town history.

I am intrigued to read more of Guterson’s work. Any suggestions?

Lee Child

OK, I confess, I’ve been on a mindless thriller spree. Somewhere over the winter my brain cells were washed out and I reverted to numbing narratives that quickly resolved and required little expenditure in terms of commitment of an intellectual type.

Lee Child was my drug of choice this time and I fully immersed myself in the trials and travails of Jack Reacher: tall, dark and clearly mysterious. To satisfy my desire for order, I decided to start with the first in the Reacher series – although one can just dive in anywhere. Killing Floor introduces Reacher and provides some basic background. It sets him up as a wonderfully complex character with a need for anonymity and a desire to avoid all sorts of commitment and responsibility. Reacher is a wanderer, aimlessly traversing the American continent and experiencing life on the fly. I found this aspect of his character fascinating and quite enjoyed how Child dealt with it as I read more of the books.

Die Trying and Tripwire were equally intriguing and wonderfully different. Reacher maintains his homelessness and finds himself in all sorts of strange situations, meeting a wide range of people. He is a problem solver, a military genius and despite his distaste for anything that involves long term commitment, he is, ironically, committed to the truth and to justice.

Running Blind introduced a gender issue into Child’s writing and this made for some interesting observations in the context of military life. The same theme was continued in Echo Burning, although this time in a non-military paradigm. I didn’t find Child’s females particularly stereotyped and this made for pleasant reading.

Without Fail was a good enough read, but I thought that Persuader was excellent. It is the 7th of the Reacher books and although I found some details repetitive, this novel certainly picked up the pace when it came to the plot and the unfolding of the ‘thriller’ aspect of the story.

Other books that I read as a part of this brainless exercise were The Enemy, One Shot, and The Hard Way. I still have 6 Reacher books to read, but my brain seems to have rejoined the land of the living, so I will leave them until I next need a vacation!

The Pawn

This was one of those free books that I downloaded from Amazon for Kindle’s website. It’s a thriller and the first in a series about Dr Patrick Bowers. The simple fact that the book was free made it already a winner in my book!

Rather than spoil it for you all, I’ll simply say that this was a fantastic thriller. I was gripped, hooked, captured by the plot and the characters. When I thought I had it all figured out, there was a fabulous twist that I didn’t expect.

A great thriller for those who like this genre!

Conspiracy Theories

Well, in the wake of my spinning experience with Collum McCann, I felt that I needed something a bit lighter to whet my literary palette. And, what better to do this than a free ebook from Amazon?

Anyway, Don Brown was just the man I needed. His book, The Malacca Conspiracy, was fast paced in an action packed kind of way. I won’t share too much about this book as it will spoil your fun, but suffice to say, there’s drama, romance, guns, helicopters and nuclear weapons – oh, and don’t forget the necessary Islamic fundamentalist meets US Navy Seals!! All vital components of a good trashy thriller.

If you are looking for distraction and a bit of excitement, Don Brown is just the man for you — not to be confused, of course, with Dan Brown of Da Vinci Code fame. Don’s books are far more easily digested, with much less thinking required.

Think of a Numb3r

This was a surprisingly good read. I am not sure whether that’s a reflection of the fact that I was expecting very little or an indication of the actual quality of the book! But, whatever the explanation, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and was thrilled to have stumbled upon a new writer in the thriller genre!

Think of a Numb3r is Verdon’s first book and I am suitably impressed. His characters were intriguing and there was enough meat in the plot to leave me asking for more … What happened to the protagonist’s sons? What was his relationship with his father, with his wife? All fascinating questions and I would be thrilled to read a prequel and sequel featuring this retired detective.