I'm posting this a little late, but it's time for the first of this year's blog posts with mini-reviews of the books I read for pleasure (so, not including the ones I read for review or research this month). I read six novels in January, almost all of which were library books. That became a bit of a trend in 2022, so let's see how long that carries on this year!
Here are the books I read in January...
White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi (2009)
Things got a bit jumbled at the beginning of the year. I started a book in December that I’d intended to finish in January, but then someone recalled a library book I’d borrowed so I had to set the first book to one side so I could return
White is for Witching on time! Oyeyemi’s novel is a slim but incredibly rich book that’s part ghost story, part coming-of-age tale, and part allegory (with political themes that are explicit in places, and unsettlingly implicit in others). Miranda Silver is a teenager who suffers from pica – an eating disorder that causes suffers to crave things that aren’t food (in Miranda’s case, it’s chalk). Miranda lives in a house (the ‘Silver House’) in Dover that’s open as a Bed and Breakfast, with her father and twin brother, Eliot. Miranda and Eliot’s mother died when they were sixteen, causing Miranda to have a breakdown and spend several months in a clinic. When she returns, she becomes inextricably linked to the Silver House, which – as we find out from the novel’s prologue, is sentient and, as we find out from subsequent events, vilely xenophobic. The novel has two parts – one set before Miranda goes away to university, and one that takes place after she gets a place at Cambridge – and the storytelling style switches perspectives and styles to create a fragmented, but captivating, narrative. It’s not the most subtle book you’ll read, but I read this in a single sitting and thoroughly enjoyed it.
Black Lake Manor by Guy Morpuss (2022)
After I finished
White is for Witching, I went back and finished the book I started in December. And I’m very glad I did! I got
Black Lake Manor in one of my Abominable Book Club parcels late last year. It promised to be a ‘time-bending murder mystery’ like ‘Agatha Christie on steroids’. I think I prefer the first description to the second. The book’s protagonist is Ella Manning, a part-time constable with the RCMP who has to solve the murder of her childhood friend, billionaire Lincoln Shan, who has been killed in a locked room after a storm has cut off his mansion. Wait – rewind. This isn’t
quite how the book pans out (although it sort of is). We don’t actually meet Ella Manning until a few chapters in. The first thing we read is a description of a shipwreck in 1804, off Vancouver Island. The next thing we read is a description of a party in 2025, at which a young Lincoln Shan exercises a peculiar power, the power to turn back time by several hours. And then we meet Ella! The murder mystery element of the novel is set in 2045, when Lincoln has grown rich as a result of his actions two decades earlier. He throws a party to show off a new innovation his company has created, but is found murdered in very strange circumstances that night. I can’t say much more without giving things away, so I’ll just say this is a
strong recommendation!
Eight Detectives by Alex Pavesi (2020)
Eight Detectives has an intriguing premise… Thirty years ago, Grant McAllister, a maths professor, wrote a collection of short stories to illustrate his thesis that there is a mathematical formula behind all mystery stories. Now living a reclusive life in the Mediterranean, he is tracked down by editor Julia Hart, whose publishing company is looking to release a new edition of McAllister’s stories. The book also has an intriguing format… the chapters alternate between scenes in which Grant and Julia discuss the stories and the stories themselves, so there’s seven detective stories (mostly in the Golden Age vein) and an eighth narrative that frames them. Before I started, I was expecting something like Italo Calvino’s
If on a winter’s night a traveller… crossed with Diane Setterfield’s
The Thirteenth Tale. Perhaps it’s because I really like those two books, but I felt that
Eight Detectives didn’t quite live up to its promise. The seven stories are definitely fun to read, and I enjoyed Grant’s elucidation of his ‘formula’ (it isn’t anything a mystery fan wouldn’t know, but it was fun to see it described in mathematical terms, and it does make you think about things a little differently). The disappointing bit, for me, was the framing narrative. Don’t get me wrong, the way the details are drip-fed is well done, but it was a little bit predictable in the end. Still, Pavesi’s writing style is very engaging and
Eight Detectives is a fun read, so I think it’s still a recommendation.
Kingdomtide by Rye Curtis (2019)
I’ve built up quite the pile of library books, so I’m trying to make a dent in it this month. The next book I read was a book I borrowed ages ago, and I’m not sure I should keep renewing it! Like the last book I read,
Kingdomtide also has an intriguing premise (not a coincidence, of course, as I’m generally drawn to books that are a bit off-beat or unexpected). The book begins with an older couple, Cloris Waldrip and her husband, taking a small plane over the Montana mountains. The plane crashes, killing Mr Waldrip and the pilot, and seventy-two-year-old Cloris is left stranded in the wilderness. The story then alternates between chapters (told from Cloris’s first-person perspective) about the older woman’s survival, which includes help from an unlikely source, and third-person chapters about Debra Lewis, an alcoholic park ranger who becomes fixated on finding Mrs Waldrip.
Kingdomtide is incredibly readable and compelling – if a little strange and grim in places (I genuinely squirmed at the bits describing Lewis’s interactions with a search-and-rescue officer). Cloris’s narration is almost mesmerizing, and I really enjoyed the way we slowly learn about her pre-crash life, as well as her ‘present day’ tribulations in the wilderness. Lewis is somewhat less well-rounded, perhaps because we never get her narration of events, and so we never get to know her quite as intimately as we know Cloris, but she’s still a pretty memorable character. I was absolutely gripped from the start with this one.
The Searcher by Tana French (2021)
And it’s another library book now! I’m a huge fan of Tana French’s Dublin Murder Squad novels, a series that ran for six novels. Her two most recent books (
The Wych Elm and
The Searcher) are standalone novels that are, in many ways, quite different to the Dublin Murder Squad novels, in terms of both plot and style. They’re also quite different to one another, which seems to suggest that French is moving away from being a ‘series author’ and becoming a bit more eclectic in her output. That said,
The Searcher is still a mystery novel, and it does bear some comparison with her earlier work. The main character is Cal Hooper, an American ex-police officer who has moved to a remote Irish village to enjoy some rural seclusion in his retirement. As he’s working on renovating the old house he’s bought, he’s approached by a kid called Trey, whose brother has gone missing. Word has got round that Cal used to be a detective, and so he is reluctantly drawn into the mystery of Trey’s brother’s disappearance. The story unfolds at a slow pace, and the mystery here is quite as intricate as some the Dublin novels (particularly
In the Woods and
The Likeness), but – as in French’s other work – there’s a real focus on character and relationships. In many ways, the real draw of this book is the developing relationship between Cal and Trey, and how this fits with the claustrophobic village in which they both live.
Home by Amanda Berriman (2018)
And another library book (though this one’s from a different library for a bit of variety)!
Home has something of an unusual first-person narrator, in that Jesika is four years old.. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get through a whole book told by a four-year-old, and the first page had me doubting whether I could handle the style and vocabulary of Jesika’s narration. It’s amazing how quickly those doubts went away. I was sucked into Jesika’s story by about page 3! As you might imagine, Berriman tells the story by showing us how Jesika interprets events, relying on the adult reader to understand what is actually happening. And it’s not the most cheerful set of circumstances that we discern. Jesika lives in a rented flat with her mum and her baby brother. The landlord isn’t a very nice person, and the flat is in disrepair. Jesika’s mum and brother fall ill from breathing in mould, and the family is facing eviction. Jesika also makes a new friend, Paige, who is hiding an awful secret. It’s testament to Berriman’s writing that this isn’t trivialized or obscured by Jesika’s own concerns, like what games will be played at preschool and which of the local shopkeepers are her friend. Nevertheless, Jesika is the hero of the story, and the climactic events – in which she steps up to be a hero (within the limits of being four years old) – are incredibly moving and powerful.
