I have several book reviews to write up, including the latest from the 100 Books to Read Poster and the Bedside Books project but I'm starting off with three of the six books I got in my crime pot luck library bag.
I naturally started with the one descried by a critic (from The Guardian, no less) as a 'zestful mix of criminous and domestic comedy' because that's the way I roll; and I have to wonder what the critic was on to find this either zestful or comedic. Possibly the fact that the protagonist, a female journalist on a local newspaper, went about doing a lot of stupid things and screaming and shouting at people confused him/her. So that you can avoid it I will tell you that it was called Bad Monday, and was written by someone called Annette Roome. According to the blurb she took up writing as a reaction to a mid-life crisis, and judging by her photograph this possibly had something to do with being a perfect 1950s female in a late 1990s world. That is a harsh criticism of someone I don't know, but I didn't enjoy her book at all so I'm not going to feel guilty. I don't like books with stupid narrators, whether they're male or female, it wasn't funny in the slightest, the 'characterisation' was laughable, although not, obviously, in a funny way, and the ending was totally non-credible. I shall not be looking out any of her other books.
Next up was Death Underfoot by Dennis Casley.I couldn't believe this was written as late as 1993 because it was so old-fashioned in its way of story telling, social attitudes etc etc. It was a standard murder mystery with a small group of suspects, an unlikeable victim and painstaking narration of detective work; Agatha Christi in Kenya in fact. I know people complain about Christie's prose, although I have no particular quarrel with it myself. It's not literary, but it does the job of telling a story in a clear way with no pretensions. I think possibly Mr Casley has pretensions somewhat beyond his actual ability, but that said this was a much better book than Bad Monday. The plot hung together, the motive and identity of the eventual killer were a surprise but totally plausible (always a plus) and the background of post colonial Kenya was interesting, especially with regard to the internal, and largely tribal, politics which were quite shocking at times.
Finally, my favourite of the three was the one I thought I would enjoy the least (ain't that so often the way?) It was The Good Friday Murder by Syrell Leahy. This had lots going against it before I even opened the cover. It was American. It was about a cold case. It involved autistic twins. It's lead investigator and narrator was a just-left-the-convent former nun. I would normally run away screaming from any one of these. But in fact it was very enjoyable; the plot trotted along, the heroine didn't do stupid things or shout at people all the time, the autistic twin thing, wasn't overdone and it had a satisfactory, if rather sad, ending. Much better than anticipated.
The other three are sitting somewhere waiting to be read - but more of that anon.
Meanwhile anyone looking for funny but realistic crime novels could do worse than check out the work of the late Robert Barnard.He spent many years of his life in Leeds and I met him a few times at library talks, and at Opera North, of which he was a great supporter. It is ironic that I learned of his death last year at the Scottish Literature Congress in Vancouver It's a long time since I gave away my paperbacks of his books, and I rather regret doing that now as I doubt they have a stock of them in Orkney Library. As a taster, here's a misprint he concocted for a concert program in his book Death on the High Cs
Slut, demeure, chaste et pure
It's a bit late, but RIP Robert.
Love Robert Barnard!
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