Bruce Tierney

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Louise Penny has somehow outdone herself again with her latest Inspector Gamache mystery.

My Sweet Girl

Sri Lankan writer Amanda Jayatissa’s debut, My Sweet Girl, is a dark thriller of international deceit and murder, narrated in alternating chapters by 12-year-old Paloma, who is adopted from a Sri Lankan orphanage by a wealthy American couple, and her adult self 18 years later. The Paloma of the present day is estranged from her parents and haunted by hallucinations (or are they?) of a strange woman who eats the faces of beautiful young girls. One evening, Paloma returns to her apartment and finds her roommate brutally murdered, after which she flees the scene and gets blackout drunk. By the time the police arrive, the scene has been sanitized, leaving no trace of any such killing, but how can that be? Paloma doesn’t know, and neither do we. As the story unfolds, the reader begins to recognize incongruities between the younger and older Palomas, incongruities that are not easily reconcilable and are increasingly unsettling. I thought I had twigged to the ending before the Big Reveal, and I was quite proud of myself. But I was way wrong. I love it when that happens.

Road of Bones

September, 1944. As James R. Benn’s 16th Billy Boyle novel, Road of Bones, opens, the U.S. Army investigator is hitching a ride to Ukraine aboard a B-17 bomber. And then all hell breaks loose: German fighter planes drive the bombers into ground fire range, and one by one the American airplanes fall, including the one carrying Billy’s friend, Big Mike Miecznikowski. Some of those aboard the disabled bomber parachute to an unknown fate below, but it is not clear whether Big Mike is among them. Billy’s airplane makes it safely through to Poltava air base in Ukraine, where he has been tapped to investigate the murder of a pair of soldiers, one Russian, one American. If the Russians have their way, it will be an American taking the fall. Optics are everything, right? Billy must balance his investigation with his personal need to learn the fate of his friend and also somehow placate the Russians at every turn—no mean feat. A fascinating subplot has Billy encountering the Night Witches, an all-female band of Russian fighter pilots who took stealth bombing to a new level by turning off their engines as they approached their targets, silently gliding in to deliver their deadly payloads. As always, Benn covers all his bases with a taut narrative, relatable characters and crisp dialogue. Road of Bones is another superlative installment in the best World War II mystery series on offer.

The Darkness Knows

Thirty years ago, a Reykjavik businessman named Sigurvin disappeared. A suspect, Hjaltalín, was arrested at the time but later released for lack of evidence. Now, thanks to climate change, the melting of an Icelandic glacier has exposed Sigurvin’s frozen body (surely the textbook definition of a “cold case”). Arnaldur Indridason’s latest novel, The Darkness Knows, finds retired police detective Konrád, the original investigator on the case, at loose ends. He has never entirely recovered from the death of his wife, and truth be told, he is somewhat bored with life nowadays. Konrád’s initial mandate is simply to re-interview Hjaltalín, who is now incarcerated for a different crime, but he continues to maintain his innocence. Konrád has no official standing, but the case nagged at him when he first worked on it, and he finds it beginning to nag at him once again. So he launches what is essentially a private citizen’s investigation, stripped of most of the tools of his trade. It is slow going, as might be expected of a decades-old case, and Konrád is not as spry as he once was. So if you are looking for explosive action and edge-of-the-seat suspense, it would be best to look elsewhere. The Darkness Knows is slowly and deliberately plotted. No stone is left unturned; indeed, no stone is left undescribed. But Indridason is a consummate storyteller, one of the cream of the Nordic noir crop, and if methodical police procedurals are your thing, you have come to the right place.

The Madness of Crowds

The Madness of Crowds is Louise Penny’s 17th novel featuring Sûreté du Québec Chief Inspector Armand Gamache. The chief inspector is well known among his compatriots and readers alike for staring down ethical dilemmas, and this time he is facing a real conundrum. In Gamache’s Canada, there is a growing (or festering, depending on your viewpoint) movement dedicated to the idea of withholding care or outright euthanizing older and disabled people in order to preserve valuable resources for those likely to have better outcomes. The de facto leader of the movement is professor Abigail Robinson, a statistician whose numbers are more on target than her morality. The argument has polarized Canadians to the point of violence, and it falls to Gamache to provide security for Professor Robinson as she speaks to an unruly crowd of both supporters and naysayers. Gunshots ring out, and Gamache secures his charge, preventing tragedy. But then the professor’s assistant is brutally bludgeoned to death shortly afterward, in what was perhaps a case of mistaken identity. Gamache has personal feelings about this ethical dilemma, as one of his grandchildren has Down syndrome and would be affected if the laws that Robinson advocates for were implemented. Gamache’s decision to afford protection to a constituent who, even theoretically, threatens a family member isn’t one he takes lightly. The Madness of Crowds is not an easy read by any means, but it’s easily one of the best mystery novels (or novels of any genre) in recent memory.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Robert Bathurst narrates the audiobook edition of The Madness of Crowds.

Louise Penny has somehow outdone herself again with her latest Inspector Gamache mystery.

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These masters of mystery prove they haven’t lost one ounce of their power to shock, thrill and enthrall.

Marked Man

I like Archer Mayor novels for much the same reason that I like Ed McBain novels: Both are populated by cops who are ever so slightly caricatures, with internecine feuds and barbed humor, but who come together as a unit when circumstances demand. In Vermont Bureau of Investigation agent Joe Gunther’s 32nd mystery, Marked Man, Joe and his team investigate the murder of a high-rolling restaurateur. The case comes to them in a most unusual way. Nine months back, the decedent passed away, seemingly due to natural causes, and donated his body to medical science. In the middle of a routine anatomical practice procedure, a medical student discovered that the corpse was likely a victim of a careful but very effective suffocation. One murder leads to another, and another, and the extended family of victim number one seems like the place to start looking for the killer or killers. If only it were that simple. Add a couple of bumbling, aging mobsters to the mix, and the fact that seemingly everyone has one deep dark secret worthy of extreme concealment measures, and it all gets very complicated very quickly. Marked Man is an excellent read, with a surprise ending and then one more surprise for good measure.

The Burning

I am not usually a fan of author duos, but I make exceptions for Charles Todd, Nicci French and the father/son team of Jonathan and Jesse Kellerman, all of whom have bottled the elusive genie of collaboration. This month, Kellerman père et fils return with The Burning, the latest installment in the saga of Bay Area coroner Clay Edison. In the midst of one of the worst Northern California wildfires in recent memory, Clay is summoned to the scene of a murder. The victim is a wealthy businessman, and among his many passions was caring for a garage full of automobile exotica, cars you might have heard of but have likely never seen in person. (Koenigsegg, anyone?) One rather pedestrian gherkin-green Camaro happens to catch Clay’s eye. It belongs to his ex-con brother, who, as it happens, has been AWOL for several days. Naturally, this makes Clay’s brother a person of interest (read: suspect) in the case. Major ethical dilemmas are posed for our hero, and let’s just say the dilemmas compound faster than loan shark interest. Beyond the mystery, the Kellermans touch on big themes here, from climate change and politics to the sometimes-tenuous yet surprisingly elastic bonds of family.

April in Spain

A criticism sometimes leveled at author John Banville is that his books can be a trifle on the slow side. There is some truth to this, but it is no bad thing. One does not, after all, gulp a fine Bordeaux or gorge on Godiva chocolate truffles. And so it is with April in Spain, a novel of slowly unfolding suspense. Banville rewards his readers with some of the finest prose in the mystery genre, a protagonist as cranky as Nero Wolfe and villains worthy of Agatha Christie’s poisoned pen. While on holiday in the Basque Country region of northern Spain, Dublin coroner Quirke runs into someone he recognizes, but he cannot remember where he knows her from. After some racking of the brain, Quirke arrives at an impossible conclusion: The woman is April Latimer, who was killed in Ireland several years earlier by her brother, who immediately afterward committed suicide by driving Quirke’s car over the edge of a high cliff. April’s body was never found. Complicating matters is the psychotic hit man sent to kill this woman in Spain. Whether or not she really is April is of little consequence to those who hired the hit man. And he’s not even the worst of the bad guys. . . . 

We Know You Remember

In the fall of 2020, Tove Alsterdal’s We Know You Remember was named Best Swedish Crime Novel of the Year by the Svenska Deckarakademin (the Swedish Academy of Crime Fiction). Previous winners of this award include Camilla Grebe, Henning Mankell and Stieg Larsson, and the runner-up list reads like a Who’s Who of Nordic Noir, so to say it is a big deal is something of an understatement. This month, the English translation hits stateside bookstores, and I don’t have to go very far out on a limb to predict that it will be one of the most talked-about suspense novels of the year. Twenty-some years ago, 14-year-old Olof Hagström was found guilty of raping and murdering a teenage girl; the circumstantial evidence was damning, but the body was never found. The incident forever changed the character of his small village, and when Olof returns to his familial home in the present day, there is no welcome mat awaiting him. Quite the opposite, actually: just a frantic dog and the dead body of Olof’s father, apparently a stabbing victim left to bleed out in the bathroom shower. Initially, of course, all fingers point toward Olof, but he provides what seems to be an ironclad alibi. Lead investigator Eira Sjödin was only 9 years old at the time of Olof’s consignment to a youthful offenders’ facility, but she soon begins to realize there are more connections between the cold case and the latest murder than immediately meet the eye. There are a lot of characters to keep track of, and non-Swedes will be thankful they do not have to read the place names aloud, but don’t let that put you off. This is in every respect a world-class Scandinavian mystery, one that will be mentioned in the same breath with Smilla’s Sense of Snow, The Redbreast or the Millennium trilogy.

These masters of mystery prove they haven’t lost one ounce of their power to shock, thrill and enthrall.

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Jack Higgins has long been regarded as the alpha dog of the thriller genre. Ian Fleming is long gone, Trevanian has turned his hand to westerns, and Tom Clancy has been co-creating Op-Center books for the last several years, generally regarded less favorably than his outstanding Jack Ryan series. Day of Reckoning, the new Jack Higgins novel, brings together all of the elements that have long been staples in thrillers: the IRA, the Mossad, the British crime underworld, the Mafia, the FBI, and conspiracies within conspiracies.

When the journalist ex-wife of a prominent FBI agent is murdered while doing an expose on a Mafia don, the agent musters forces on both sides of the Atlantic to wreak his revenge. It seems that the don is hurting for liquid assets and has engaged in some nefarious dealings with Irish and Middle Eastern terrorists. It is left to reformed IRA assassin Sean Dillon to throw a monkey wrench into the works, first to discredit the mafioso and then to bring him to the Halls of Justice or the Gates of Hell. Dillon rather favors the latter.

Halfway 'round the world, one of New York's finest gets drafted as an unwilling security aide to a presidential hopeful in Les Standiford's latest, Black Mountain. The candidate, long an advocate (so he says) of environmental issues, is headed to the Rocky Mountains with his entourage of hangers-on and security personnel for a week of soul searching, relaxation, and communing with nature.

The friendly seaplane pilot drops the party at a remote mountain lake, then taxies across the smooth water, lifting off like Sky King into the blue of the Western sky. Moments later, the party is horrified to hear the sounds of failing engines, the whine of an airplane falling from the sky; they watch helplessly as the small plane crashes into a mountainside. Stranded, and with no choice but to backpack their way home to civilization, the somber trekkers set out. A series of accidents ensues, taking the lives of several of the group, and leaving the survivors convinced that they are the targets of a force more sinister than even Murphy's Law.

Black Mountain is a thoroughly modern novel of corruption, intrigue, and murder at the highest levels. As is often the case with the new wave of thrillers, the hero is a character with complex motivations, a common man in an uncommon situation certainly not the urbane, unruffled James Bondian superhero of thrillers past.

Day of Reckoning and Black Mountain provide a fascinating counterpoint to one another, as well as great back-to-back reading.

Jack Higgins has long been regarded as the alpha dog of the thriller genre. Ian Fleming is long gone, Trevanian has turned his hand to westerns, and Tom Clancy has been co-creating Op-Center books for the last several years, generally regarded less favorably than his outstanding Jack Ryan series. Day of Reckoning, the new Jack […]
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In 1995, America witnessed the most publicized real estate transaction since the Oklahoma land rush. Buyers queued up, $1000 checks in hand, to enter a lottery. A low number guaranteed them the opportunity to buy a piece of a dream: a home in Disney's Utopian new community, Celebration.

Located adjacent to Disneyworld in Orlando, Florida, Celebration promised a return to the ideal of the American small town, and who better to serve up that dream than kindly old Uncle Walt?

It had been an idea a long time in the making. Disney's original idea for EPCOT (Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow) was very similar to Celebration, so similar in fact that an EPCOT promotional video made shortly before Disney's death in 1966 was expertly edited and used in the promotion of Celebration. Remarked one viewer, He hasn't changed a bit. EPCOT was to be a town of skyscrapers and monorails, a postmodern community of 20,000 with an eye to the future; Celebration, by contrast, found its muse in the past. Celebration promised state-of-the-art infrastructure, progressive schools, and high-tech shopping convenience, together with a sense of community unknown since the 1950s. Houses were to be spaced more tightly together than in the typical suburb to foster a feeling of togetherness. Front porches were to be located close to the street (and to one another) so that neighbors could be, well, neighborly. It was a dream that was to go horribly awry, a place where badly built homes sank into the swamp, where alligators were regular visitors to the family swimming pools. Encephalitis-bearing mosquitoes bred in the backyards, and people complained endlessly about the unfulfilled promises.

Two new books address the phenomenon of Celebration: The Celebration Chronicles by Andrew Ross and Celebration, USA by Douglas Frantz and Catherine Collins. Although they touch on many of the same issues, their perspectives could scarcely be more different. Ross chose a rental apartment as his domicile, Frantz and Collins a $300,000 house. Ross moved from Manhattan, Frantz and Collins from suburban Connecticut. Ross is divorced, a rare solo denizen of Celebration; Frantz and Collins are married with school-age children.

Ross tells us of his humorous experiences with interior design consultants who helped in the decoration of his apartment:

"She warned me that she was itching to be let loose to redesign my 'little space.' Protocol demanded that she consult my tastes, however, and she promised that when the time came we would go shopping together in the showrooms. Passing on each of the national traditions on offer, I expressed my preference for Mediterranean colors and local decorative elements. This was a frank provocation, because it did not cater directly to the expertise of my guests . . . But they were undeterred by my lack of imagination. What colors interested me? Turquoise and jasmine. Both were 'in' at the moment. Everything I mentioned happened to be 'in.' We agreed on leopard-skin prints . . . "

Frantz and Collins on new neighbors:

"In Celebration, friendships, like the town itself, were instant, popping up as fast as the moving trucks unloaded new lives. The natural instinct was to resist these new relationships even as we went on forming them. On the surface, they sometimes seemed too easy. Yet what was this community itself except common interests and a shared outlook on life? The same dreams brought most of us to Celebration, just as the earliest city dwellers sought safety and better lives through group living five thousand years ago."

Both books, though quite different in nature, are insightful and thought-provoking. Each offers good humor, excellent research, compelling anecdotes. Celebration was (and is) a town of contradictions: modern vs. traditional, individuality vs. conformity, nature vs. mankind. A microcosm of America, with a uniquely Disneyesque twist.

Bruce Tierney is a writer and songwriter.

In 1995, America witnessed the most publicized real estate transaction since the Oklahoma land rush. Buyers queued up, $1000 checks in hand, to enter a lottery. A low number guaranteed them the opportunity to buy a piece of a dream: a home in Disney's Utopian new community, Celebration. Located adjacent to Disneyworld in Orlando, Florida, […]
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A favorite spring-fever fantasy of mine goes something like this: What if I just walked out of my life and assumed a completely new identity? What if I simply created a new persona, complete with birth certificate, driver's license, credit cards? What if . . . ?

The logistics may seem daunting at first, but certainly not impossible. Track down a birth certificate of someone born around the same time as you, pay a few dollars to the registrar for a certified copy. Obtain a driver's license using the birth certificate as ID. With a driver's license, it is a simple matter to get a credit card or two, then a passport, and you're off and running. Literally.

Of course, you need a plausible disposal method for the old you, preferably something that will not be questioned too strenuously. Say, a drowning death in which the body is not discovered. This is particularly effective if you are in some far-off country where the forensics team is inept, unconcerned or buyable.

Francesca Woodbridge is in just such a place, a small island off the coast of Greece. Her marriage is unraveling, her teenage son is about to leave the nest, her Russian lover (who is also her gardener) has disappeared without a Dos Vedanya, leaving her love life and her shrubbery in disarray. Packing her passport and wallet into a knapsack, she clambers down a steep trail to a deserted beach. All she needs to do is plant the evidence, then wait for the inevitable discovery of her sad demise.

Francesca decides to embark on a trial run before taking the final plunge (so to speak), so, as freshly dyed redhead Jeanne Thompson, she makes the journey back to her Washington hometown. Taking up residence at a small (and cheesy) hotel, Francesca takes a week-long time lapse snapshot of her life and comes up with some insights very different from the ones she left with.

In the course of her tale, Francesca weaves in the mysterious shooting of her lawyer husband, the untimely and grotesque death of his father, the comforts and constraints of a midwestern upbringing, and an unsettling vignette about Chernobyl and its aftermath. For Francesca, the spectre of Russia has exerted a tug ever since she can remember, from the wheatfield missile silos of Cold War mid-America to the shy refugees of the post-Communist years, from whom she chose a gardener, a confidante, and a lover.

My Russian is a brilliantly crafted story of a woman whose life has somehow gotten away from her, who has slid down a slippery slope into dissatisfaction, and the extraordinary choices she makes in coping.

Bruce Tierney lives in Nashville, Tennessee.

A favorite spring-fever fantasy of mine goes something like this: What if I just walked out of my life and assumed a completely new identity? What if I simply created a new persona, complete with birth certificate, driver's license, credit cards? What if . . . ? The logistics may seem daunting at first, but […]
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On a warm midsummer's night, on the long drive home through rural New England countryside, young Emma Learner tugs urgently at her mother. I have to go to the bathroom. We're almost home, her mother replies. I can't hold it, the child complains. Resignedly, her father pulls into the lone gas station on Reservation Road, where the mother and child make a beeline for the rest room. The father heads for the cashier to purchase a bottle of windshield washer fluid, and the last family member, ten-year-old Josh, meanders out to the quiet roadside to play.

A couple of miles up the road, weekend dad Dwight Arno drives his several year old Ford Taurus a little too fast for prevailing conditions. One of its headlights is broken, and Dwight can't see as well as he should. His son Sam sleeps in the passenger seat. Dwight is late in returning his son to his ex-wife, and he knows she will be upset with him. His reason is valid: the major league baseball game to which he had taken the boy had gone into extra innings, but Dwight has long since used up his quota of excuses. Up ahead, around a corner, shine the lights of a country service station. Dwight clips the corner a bit too closely and one of his tires goes off into the soft shoulder. The car begins to fishtail. He over-corrects, then over-corrects in the opposite direction. Nightmarishly, the frightened face of young Josh Learner is illuminated by Dwight's one working headlight, then there is the sharp impact. Sam is tossed to the floor and lets out a scream. What happened?, he asks groggily. We hit a dog, his father replies, and he accelerates away from the scene.

Fast forward several months: the authorities have back-burnered the investigation. It seems unlikely that the driver will be apprehended, at least through conventional police work. Meanwhile, the sorrowful and frustrated Learner family is quietly falling apart. The parents scarcely talk; a latticework of guilt and misplaced blame casts a mottled shadow over their household. Across town, Dwight Arno has taken to drinking; his relationships disintegrate one by one. For Dwight, it seems there will be no redemption without confession. For the Learners, there will be no peace without revenge. And so, inexorably, they begin their terrible race back to Reservation Road.

Part forensic mystery (think Patricia Cornwell), part chronicle of families in the wake of disaster (think Anne Tyler), Reservation Road is a virtually perfect book. John Burnham Schwartz can turn a phrase with the best of them, but his real talent lies in his characterizations. By turns, the reader feels empathy and compassion for each of the book's main characters, even, inexplicably, Dwight.

On a warm midsummer's night, on the long drive home through rural New England countryside, young Emma Learner tugs urgently at her mother. I have to go to the bathroom. We're almost home, her mother replies. I can't hold it, the child complains. Resignedly, her father pulls into the lone gas station on Reservation Road, […]
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Gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson, revered by many as the voice of his generation, is on a roll. A book of his letters (The Proud Highway) was published last year to critical acclaim; a movie based on one of his earlier works, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, hit theaters nationwide this past summer; and now an early novel has been resurrected, the first (and to date, only) work of fiction from the iconoclastic icon.

Set in San Juan, Puerto Rico, in the late fifties and early sixties, The Rum Diary is vintage Thompson. The protagonist, one Paul Kemp, bears a marked resemblance to the Hunter Thompson we know and love: the hard-drinking, outspoken (some might say loudmouthed), and bitingly funny itinerant journalist.

Kemp's problems begin upon boarding the plane to Puerto Rico. He sees a lovely young girl with whom he would like to share the flight, but an elderly man takes the vacant adjacent seat instead. First verbally, then physically, Kemp tries to dissuade the intruder from taking his seat. In the process, a ruckus ensues, and Kemp very nearly finds himself thrown off the plane. (As you might imagine, the girl will show up again in the very near future.) Quickly Kemp finds himself in the midst of chaos, Caribbean style: the paper he has gone to work for is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, besieged by labor and circulation problems; the weather is unceasingly hot and sticky; and the girl from the plane is trotting around half-dressed on the arm of Kemp's sole friend on the island.

It quickly goes from bad to worse. Kemp and a couple of his drinking buddies get thrown into jail, then bailed out by what may well be a bad check; the girl gets kidnapped by a seductive stranger at Carnival, the tropical equivalent of Mardi Gras; Kemp and the rest of the newspaper staff get stiffed on their paychecks, prompting them to lay waste to the head office; the list goes on.

Hunter S. Thompson is not always likable, sometimes bordering on mean-spirited, but there's no denying that the man is funny. He spins a tale of the tropics as deftly as Alec Waugh, or for that matter, Jimmy Buffett. That this story was originally penned in the '60s (then hidden away in a basement for the intervening years) speaks volumes about the abundant talents of Hunter S. Thompson.

Bruce Tierney is a writer based in Nashville, Tennessee.

Gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson, revered by many as the voice of his generation, is on a roll. A book of his letters (The Proud Highway) was published last year to critical acclaim; a movie based on one of his earlier works, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, hit theaters nationwide this past summer; and […]
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Pity poor Butner Fluck, improbably named and somewhat inept nemesis of law and order in his hometown of Richmond, Virginia. Butner, aka Bubba (one of his few nicknames suitable for a family audience), was not born into the tribe of Bubbas, as author Cornwell puts it, but he has camouflaged himself pretty well among their number. He has a Jeep, a coon dog, a huge power tool and handgun collection, and a best friend named Smudge. Bubba also has a strong belief in the presence of aliens (as in extraterrestrials) among us. Bubba is, as they say, not the sharpest pencil in the box.

Meanwhile, across town, Niles, a feisty feline belonging to Deputy Police Chief Virginia West, lolls about on the keyboard of his owner's computer and wonders why Ms. West no longer keeps company with Officer Andy Brazil, aka the Piano Man. Niles is not going to wonder for long, however, because Virginia West is about to enter the room and accuse him of somehow causing little blue fish to appear on the screen of her computer. The fish are not Niles's fault; they are part of a nationwide computer virus which will bring police computers to a standstill.

Officer Andy Brazil also wonders why he no longer keeps company with Deputy Police Chief Virginia West. He knows he'd certainly like to, but she seems to want no part of him. Andy can't figure out just why that might be; he's cute, sensitive, funny, and he drives a BMW Z3.

Off in the Confederate Cemetery, Weed Gardener (I am not making these names up), a talented young artist, applies poster paint to the statue of Jefferson Davis, deftly transforming the southern leader into a black college basketball player, to the dismay of old-line Richmondites.

At a suburban ATM, Smoke, a hardened juvenile delinquent and incipient gang leader, sits in his Ford Escort with his girlfriend, Divinity, awaiting unsuspecting prey. Anyone using the teller machine to get some cash is a likely target, but the smaller and weaker, the better.

In a manner more reminiscent of Carl Hiaasen than of her earlier self, author Cornwell weaves these disparate loose ends into an intricate pattern, a strange one to be sure, but nonetheless intricate. Readers used to the matter-of-fact tone of the Scarpetta novels may find Southern Cross a bit quirky and irreverent, but that will not stop them from turning the pages guaranteed.

Bruce Tierney lives in Nashville, Tennessee.

Pity poor Butner Fluck, improbably named and somewhat inept nemesis of law and order in his hometown of Richmond, Virginia. Butner, aka Bubba (one of his few nicknames suitable for a family audience), was not born into the tribe of Bubbas, as author Cornwell puts it, but he has camouflaged himself pretty well among their […]
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Part suspense tale, part Joy Luck Club and part Sophie’s ChoiceThe Devil of Nanking is a lyrical novel in which secrets foreshadow the undoing of their bearers, and exposure of the secrets offers redemption. History, folklore and ancient taboos are interwoven seamlessly with the modern-day mystery, which begins when Grey, a young Englishwoman, arrives penniless in Tokyo, nursing a major obsession. Grey, of course, is not her real name. She acquired it from a bedmate at a hospital some years before: “I was grey. Thin and white and a little bit see-through. Nothing at all left alive in me. A ghost.” A ghost with an obsession, however: a scholar’s urge to acquire a rare bit of film footage from the 1937 Nanking massacre.

Before the beginning of World War II, the Imperial Japanese Army had invaded China. By winter of 1937, the army had reached Nanking. The atrocities were unspeakable; by some accounts more than 400,000 Chinese were murdered, piled in a mountain of corpses at the city’s edge. More than five decades have passed, but Grey feels that the key to her search lies with Dr. Shi Chongming, a guest lecturer at Todai University in Tokyo, who had been a resident of Nanking at the time of the massacre. In between meetings with the standoffish professor, Grey must find a way to make some quick money, so she accepts a job as a hostess at a trendy Tokyo nightspot. Here she meets an elderly yakuza, a man with a terrible secret. Grey is no stranger to terrible secrets herself, and she is about to uncover yet another with the help of the inscrutable Dr. Chongming.

By way of warning, this is a disturbing book, and there are scenes of graphic (but in no way gratuitous) violence which are necessary to portray such horrific events. By any measure, The Devil of Nanking is a novel that resonates long after the last page has been turned.

Part suspense tale, part Joy Luck Club and part Sophie’s Choice, The Devil of Nanking is a lyrical novel in which secrets foreshadow the undoing of their bearers, and exposure of the secrets offers redemption. History, folklore and ancient taboos are interwoven seamlessly with the modern-day mystery, which begins when Grey, a young Englishwoman, arrives penniless in Tokyo, nursing a […]
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Nevada Barr, bestselling author of the Anna Pigeon series, pens a superlative standalone chiller with What Rose Forgot. Right from the outset, it appears that Rose has forgotten quite a lot. First, she awakens in a forest, clueless about how she got there. The next time she wakes up, she is in a home for elderly dementia patients, still somewhat clueless although with the nagging suspicion that she does not belong there. So she secretly stops taking her meds. This is not immediately life-changing in and of itself, but it does serve to solidify Rose’s belief that she does not belong in a dementia ward. After making good on her escape, Rose joins forces with her late husband’s 13-year-old granddaughter, who possesses remarkable skills that help cover her step-grandma’s tracks. The longer Rose stays off the medications, the more she becomes convinced that someone (or ones) are out to get her. But is Rose just paranoid? What if she’s not? What Rose Forgot capitalizes on the resourcefulness of a pair of quite clever women and an equally clever pair of teens, all dedicated to stymieing some particularly unpleasant members of the opposing team. When a mystery features a 68-year-old protagonist, one could be forgiven for assuming that said mystery will fall into the cozy subgenre. What Rose Forgot is anything but.

Nevada Barr, bestselling author of the Anna Pigeon series, pens a superlative standalone chiller with What Rose Forgot. Right from the outset, it appears that Rose has forgotten quite a lot. First, she awakens in a forest, clueless about how she got there. The next time she wakes up, she is in a home for […]
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Many of you will be familiar with Wyoming sheriff Walt Longmire via television rather than books, but as is often the case, the books have nuance and detail that are difficult to replicate on screen. In Craig Johnson’s latest Longmire novel, Land of Wolves, the stalwart lawman is back in Wyoming after a south-of-the-border hunting expedition. In the nearby Bighorn Mountains, a wolf has apparently killed a sheep, which doesn’t seem especially unusual in the Wild West. However, tensions ratchet up considerably when the shepherd is found hanged, his dangling feet savaged by a wild animal, most likely the aforementioned wolf. Johnson uses this as a jumping-off point for broad-ranging discussions about wolves, the history of sheep ranching, the use of open rangelands and other social and ecological issues of the contemporary West. But there is no hint of a textbook in Johnson’s voice. Instead, it’s rather like hearing a modern Old West story told by a favorite uncle, one who fills in the little details that bring immediacy and life to a suspenseful narrative.

Many of you will be familiar with Wyoming sheriff Walt Longmire via television rather than books, but as is often the case, the books have nuance and detail that are difficult to replicate on screen. In Craig Johnson’s latest Longmire novel, Land of Wolves, the stalwart lawman is back in Wyoming after a south-of-the-border hunting […]
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Although Archer Mayor’s latest novel, Bomber’s Moon, is considered part of the Joe Gunther series, Gunther himself plays a comparatively minor role. The serious investigative work is left to two of the Vermont-based cop’s well-regarded acquaintances: private investigator Sally Kravitz and photographer/reporter Rachel Reiling. The crime is most unusual. A thief has been breaking into the homes of people who are away but stealing nothing. Instead, he adds spyware to his victims’ communication devices and then waits to see how he can profit from it. But he is not the first person to pursue such an endeavor in this small Vermont town. Kravitz’s own father followed a similar path back in the day (and perhaps still does). He is well aware of this new interloper into the “family trade” and displays more than a little admiration for his successor’s skills—until the new guy gets murdered. The leads, scant though they are, seem to center on a high-priced private school, and before things resolve, there will be significant financial improprieties, more than a bit of class warfare and an increasing body count. The nicely paced Bomber’s Moon is replete with well-developed characters and relationships, with the unusual bonus of oddly likable villains.

Although Archer Mayor’s latest novel, Bomber’s Moon, is considered part of the Joe Gunther series, Gunther himself plays a comparatively minor role. The serious investigative work is left to two of the Vermont-based cop’s well-regarded acquaintances: private investigator Sally Kravitz and photographer/reporter Rachel Reiling. The crime is most unusual. A thief has been breaking into […]
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Attica Locke’s atmospheric thriller Heaven, My Home takes place in the northeastern Texas town of Jefferson, a once-prosperous trading center fallen on hard times (“the city square was like a courtesan who’d found Jesus”). Texas Ranger Darren Matthews investigates the disappearance of a 9-year-old boy who didn’t return from a solo boating adventure on nearby Caddo Lake. The missing boy is the son of Aryan Brotherhood leader Bill King, a convicted and incarcerated murderer. Jefferson was one of the first settlements composed primarily of freed slaves, in addition to a band of Native Americans who successfully dodged the wholesale relocation of tribes to Oklahoma during the U.S. westward expansion. The town is now home to their descendants. Add those aforementioned white supremacists into the mix, and the town becomes a veritable powder keg awaiting a spark—such as a black land­owner whose animosity toward his bigoted tenants is well documented, and who is the last person to have seen the missing boy. Few suspense novelists display a better grip of political and racial divides than Attica Locke, and she spins a hell of a good story as well, introducing characters and locales you will want to visit again and again.

Attica Locke’s atmospheric thriller Heaven, My Home takes place in the northeastern Texas town of Jefferson, a once-prosperous trading center fallen on hard times (“the city square was like a courtesan who’d found Jesus”). Texas Ranger Darren Matthews investigates the disappearance of a 9-year-old boy who didn’t return from a solo boating adventure on nearby […]

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