I’m going to say that Thing We Have In Common is a mystery, since it contains a crime, and a serious one, the disappearance of a teenager, but the focus is on one of her classmates, a fat, friendless, and bullied classmate who is fascinated by the popular girl and convinced that a mysterious man is watching her and may bring her harm. The action is mostly in the girl’s mind, with short interactions with her mother and stepfather — and eventually the police. The peculiar logic of teenagers is perfectly captured, all the way to the disturbing, unsettled ending.
Tag Archives: United Kingdom
Original Sin takes us inside a family owned book publisher where lots of people are dying, some suspicisouly enough to demand an investigation from Adam Dalgliesh and team. The setting, an incongruous Venetian palace on the banks of the Thames, lends mystery and gloominess to the mounting corpse count and in the end it will be a very complex personal revenge story that will tie together the murders. Prepare to be deliciously afraid.
Alert to you packrats: it may be a good idea to dispose of old correspondence before leaving this earth. Otherwise, your bereaved widow may plow through it to write the story of your life before you met her. (Of course, this presumes that (1) you wrote and received actual letters, you know, the kind with stamps on it, which few people do these days and (2) your widow writes biographies for a living.) The Life-Writer delves into her husband’s lost first love in exquisite, painful, and obsessive detail, culminating in a meeting with the French woman he loved and lost. A perfect book for ruminators. For me, not so much but I was carried through the first half, and maybe farther, by the beautiful examination of the woman’s grief.
Flavia de Luce returns to the UK after a disastrous stay in Canada and finds another body on her first day back, the identity and manner of death of which will occupy her for the rest of the book, while her father lies very ill. She is older now so can take the train to London to pursue her investigations, and her sisters barely appear in the story. There’s less chemistry than in earlier books and more traditional deductive powers. I thoroughly enjoyed the book but I’m not sure it has the same power of surprise that others in the series have had.
The Wicked Boy: The Mystery of a Victorian Child Murderer starts with a brutal matricide, which the author meticulously reconstructs from archives, followed by the dispatch of the murderer, aged 13, to an insane asylum, and eventually his immigration to Australia, proud service during WW1, and life as a peaceful and kind man. The detailed reconstruction of events can get a little tedious, but the book nicely recreates transatlantic voyages (with live cattle imported from the US), the uproar at how cheap crime novels may have fostered the crime (which sounds exactly like today’s apocalyptic descriptions of the internet), and the primitive state of psychiatry, pre-drugs of any kind. It also show how important it is to be able to recreate oneself. In those days, moving to Australia seemed to do it. Today, not so easy…
Weathering is a carefully told story of a down on her luck single mother who moves back into her childhood home, intending to spruce it up and sell it, but finds that progress is slow and she needs to reintegrate herself into the village, reexperience life in the country, and especially relive her childhood memories from an adult’s perspective, understanding her mother’s decisions much better that way.
I loved the perspective of her young daughter, who delights in the treasures she finds in the house and the new friends, cat, child, and adult, she finds. I could have done without the ghostlike reappearances of the mother (grandmother).