Book Review: Katherine Mansfield’s Europe: Station to Station by Redmer Yska – a gorgeous book that brings KM’s travels to life

I don’t read a lot of non-fiction, but being a bit of a Katherine Mansfield fan was drawn to this book. Before reading a sentence however, it was the pictures that won me over. This is such a beautiful piece of publishing. There are multiple double-page spreads showing the places that KM journeyed to in search of better health. Even before her illness, she’d always been a happy traveller, hopping on a train and popping over to Europe. What London-based New Zealander isn’t?

Katherine Mansfield’s Europe describes those journeys, beginning at the end where KM died at Avon, a short journey from Paris. 2023 marks 100 years since her death and there have been a few new books about KM, the Bloomsbury Group author from New Zealand who mesmerised so many with her stories. Yska then takes us around Europe following in her footsteps, visiting the places where she stayed, the parks and gardens, and the memorials. Along with Yska’s own impressions, which are sensitive and insightful, are snippets from KM’s own writing, helping the reader to see things through her own eyes.

The book takes us back to Germany, inspiration for the story collection In a German Pension, where KM was whisked off in a hurry by her mother when discovered pregnant by a man not her husband. There is also Paris during WWI and a flat belonging to a lover. But much of the book is KM’s search for kinder climates and better health as tuberculosis set in. So we have Menton and the Côte d’Azur, San Remo and Ospedaletti as well as the clearer air of alpine Switzerland, and Paris again where she endured an experimental new treatment.

Yska is very interesting on KM’s problematic relationships, firstly with her mother, then her husband, John Middleton Murray, and Ida, the devoted friend who put her own life on hold to act as both companion and nurse. We know KM can’t have been easy to get along with and TB isn’t kind on anyone. There are a few interesting revelations that might shock or surprise – Yska chats to many people as he goes and there always seems to be something new about KM to consider. And it seems everywhere she stayed, KM left behind a following of people determined to remember her fondly, in spite of the caustic observations that pop up in some of her stories.

Katherine Mansfield’s Europe is a lovely book, beautifully illustrated with old photographs, postcards and maps. as well as modern-day views of the places Yska visited. It’s a fascinating dive into the life of an intriguing woman, and a different era – the pre-war ebullience; the horrific war and the restraint that followed. It’s a nice book to have on hand when you revisit the stories – which I did as I read – or even just to flip through for the pictures. It’s an easy five out of five stars from me.

Book Review: The Missing Years by Lexie Elliott – a superbly atmospheric psychological thriller

I was drawn to this novel by by the setting. Not only the rural Scottish village but the creepy old house, a large manse that dates back centuries and a history including blood-thirsty reprisals during the Jacobite rebellion. It’s bound to be haunted, and yes the opening sentence of Chapter One is ‘The Manse is watching me.’

The narrator of the story is Aisla Calder who has taken a break from her high-powered job based in London as a television news producer, following the death of her mother. She’s been left an old house in her mother’s will, but she is unable to sell it because the Manse is co-owned by Martin Calder, her father, who walked out on his family when Aisla was a child. He hasn’t been seen since and nobody knows if he is dead or alive. Also missing is the packet of diamonds he was carrying for the company he worked for. It’s all very suspicious.

Each chapter begins with an imaginary account of where he might have got to, while Aisla sets in motion the legal proceedings to prove that he’s dead. After living in the Manse a short time, she’s somewhat reluctant to stay. Thank goodness her sister Carrie has agreed to come to keep her company while she sorts things out. Carrie is a bright young actress in a play a commuter train’s ride away in Edinburgh, but there is a strain between them. Carrie can’t quite forgive Aisla for not being around as she grew up, not coming to see her on stage.

It’s bad enough having to deal with all the family stuff, the loss of a mother who was a terrific artist, but not at all loving, of an unsupportive relationship with a top TV news reporter, and having to negotiate the tricky waters of living with her sister. But there’s creepy stuff happening at the Manse too. Her neighbour, friendly Jamie drops in unannounced to explain about his weird sister, Fiona, who has a fascination with the place. It’s best she has her locks changed.

I want to feel that I am me, created from pure air, my genes unsullied by ancestry. I want to feel that my thoughts and reactions and decisions are mine and mine alone. But being here, in Scotland, in the Manse of all places, has me feeling the weight of my DNA, of the history and memories and behavioural patterns it carries. Of the impact it has had, or might yet have, on what I think of as me.

Aisla finds in the attic some old photos from before Aisla was born showing Jamie’s parents and her own – obviously friends. But what are those aerial maps all about? And then there are hostile locals to deal with – openly abusive old Morag – and nasty things left on the doorstep. The house doesn’t seem to like Aisla much either – the heating turns itself off, the smoke alarm goes in the middle of the night and the bathroom door keeps banging. Aisla was sure she’d closed the window.

An intelligent woman in her thirties, Aisla should be able to deal with a lot of this stuff rationally. But she’s always so tired and the emotional events of recent weeks have taken a toll. This all adds to the tension as things get more and more worrisome. She’s made friends with other locals, the handsome Ben who’s a bit of a player among them, and talks to Jamie’s father who was the policeman who investigated Martin Calder’s disappearance. If only Carrie hadn’t become so chummy with weird Fiona. It’s as if there’s no one she can really trust and as a reader you can’t help wondering which if them is plotting against Aisla. Elliott instills a nice undercurrent of menace.

It all builds to a dramatic, nail-biting showdown with the malefactor, the house creating an eerie backdrop, to say nothing of the Scottish weather. The Missing Years is a satisfying story, a brilliant psychological thriller, a breezy, engaging read that’s also nicely written. It’s sure to please fans of Ruth Ware and Clare Mackintosh. I’m keen to read more by Lexie Elliott – it’s hard to resist a title like How to Kill Your Best Friend. This novel gets four out of five stars from me.

Book Review: The War Pianist by Mandy Robotham – wartime danger across the airwaves

This is one of those wartime novels featuring a heroine who is just an ordinary girl toughing it out against Hitler. She probably never wanted to get involved in the Resistance or working as a spy for SOE, but something has triggered her desire to get involved. There will be a couple of military aircraft from the era on the front cover, discretely in a corner so you know it’s a war story. A ton of books like this have been written lately, and they can be a fun read, but how do you tell which are the good ones?

I’d really enjoyed the audiobook version of The Resistance Girl by Mandy Robotham, which took me to the war in Norway. It had engaging characters, a really nasty malefactor, a bit of romance, plenty of suspenseful dodging of the enemy, and the promise of a happy ending. But I learned a lot about the war in Norway and how it affected people, the heroic ways they fought back. The story didn’t shy away from some of the horrific events of the war but describes them off-stage so nothing’s ever too harrowing for the reader.

And it’s much the same here with The War Pianist. Marnie works at the BBC in London helping to prepare radio scripts for airing. Her parents have decamped to Scotland and apart from cousin Susie who is wondering about leaving London too, her only family is Gilbert, her adored grandfather, still running his tailoring business near Trafalgar Square. But after a bombing raid by the Luftwaffe, Marnie is horrified to discover the shop has been levelled and her grandfather is dead.

Reeling with grief, Marnie goes back to the shop one day in search of a memento of her beloved relative only to find hidden away in a basement cupboard, a radio set for transmitting. Gilbert was a man with a secret, and Marnie worries that he might have been a spy. As she carries the radio away with her she is brought to a halt by an ARP warden who turns out to be someone else keeping a secret. Willem is a Dutch Resistance fighter in London to help shore up support from Britain on the behest of Queen Wilhelmina.

Willem persuades Marnie to take over from Gilbert, sending coded messages to Corrie, Willem’s fellow Resistance fighter in Amsterdam. Marnie knows all about radios from her work at the BBC, and she and her grandfather used to play games in Morse Code when she was young. So Marnie, fired up with rage against Hitler because of the Blitz and her grief, is the perfect recruit to step into Gilbert’s shoes. But she has to be careful, as there are reports of fifth columnists supporting the enemy at large, who are watching and listening. Who can she trust?

When the inevitable sirens stir the BBC’s populace into the basement that evening, something in her – she doesn’t know what – is drawn in the opposite direction, up onto the roof of Broadcasting House. Climbing out into a sky already glowing orange and a wind warmed by fiery destruction, she stands aghast. It’s as if Hitler has taken a match to a box of fireworks and simply sprinkled the contents across London – the red tracer fire of ack-ack guns meeting mandarin sparks from a fresh explosion, tiny pockets of green-blue glow like fireflies amid the rubble as the gas mains are hit below. A rainbow of destruction that’s both vivid and grotesque.

The story weaves Marnie’s story in with Corrie’s in Amsterdam, where things are a lot more desperate under the Nazi Occupation. It’s only 1940 and the resistance is in its early stages while reprisals and food shortages are the order of the day. There are reports of devastation in other cities like Rotterdam and fear is widespread. But Corrie continues with her radio, messages kept as brief as possible to avoid her site of transmission being pinpointed by the enemy.

The story takes Marnie across to Amsterdam where the plot ramps up a lot. Here the evil Nazi officer, Lothar Selig, is keen to make his mark – he also turns up in The Resistance Girl – when one of the Willem’s team disappears. There’s an emotional connection, so this gives the story a bit more punch. Marnie is also torn emotionally, but will do anything to help and her radio skills become crucial. The story builds to a taut ending and it’s a satisfying read, without ever being too grim centre stage.

I confess I didn’t enjoy this quite as much as The Resistance Girl, although it’s still a pacy read and interesting for the most part. The romantic element seemed a bit forced, maybe because the character of Willem is not particularly well developed. I might give Robotham another go, or if I’m in the mood for a good wartime story, I’ll head back to Pam Jenoff or Kate Quinn, who are pretty solid in this genre. The War Pianist gets three out of four stars from me.

Book Review: Tom Lake by Ann Patchett – a quiet novel about fame, marriage and finding your family

I confess it took me a fair while to get into Tom Lake, Ann Patchett’s new novel. And it may be that had I not already loved several of her previous books, I may have put it down and gone in search for a livelier, more compelling read. But no, I persevered. And yes, it’s another Covid novel.

The story is about Lara, who with her husband Joe, runs an orchard in Michigan. It’s cherry harvest season, and normally they’d have a load of hired help for fruit picking. But because there’s a lockdown the couple have to rely on their family instead – daughters Emily, Maisie and Nell. Maisie and Nell are taking a forced break from their classes – Maisie, studying to be a vet, helps out neighbours when their livestock and pets are sick, while Nell with ambitions to be an actress, is anxious about her loss of in-person lectures. Emily with her horticulture study behind her is all set to take over the orchard.

And while the girls are among the trees with their mother, they beg her to talk about her own early acting career and the summer she dated a famous actor. At first I thought the actor must have been called Tom Lake, but that is the name of the location of a summer theatre, where Lara, waiting for her first movie to be released, steps in at the last minute to play Emily in Our Town.

“Did you ever think that you were going to marry Duke?” Emily asks, bringing the story back to me.
Given that marriage is Topic A, I try to remember. Did I ever look at Duke in my bed asleep, the cigarettes on the nightstand, his arm thrown across my chest, and think, yes, you, every morning, forever?
“No,” I say.
“But you loved him,” Emily says.
“I was twenty-four.”
“That’s a yes,” Maisie says.

There’s a charming story before that about how Lara, then Laura, was just helping out with the auditions for a local amateur production and somehow ended up playing Emily. She’d no plans to act, was studying to be a teacher, but became Emily again for a student production. Things just serendipitously fall into place and Lara becomes a promising young actress, praised for her naturalness.

Then at Tom Lake, Lara meets Peter Duke, and he sweeps her off her feet, the two in the same production of Our Town, which, if you didn’t know before, is an iconic American play by Thornton Wilder. And this is where I felt the plot sagged a little. There is just such a lot of detail about rehearsals and the characters in the play and lots of names to remember, not only the characters of the play but also the actors playing them.

Lara meets Pallace, the gorgeous black dancer who is her understudy and they become friends. When Duke’s brother Sebastian visits he is smitten by Pallace and the four hang out together on their days off. Then around halfway into the story, things pick up. There’s a surprise that makes you think, Oh! and it’s a nice surprise really and I became quite immersed.

The more I think about the book now, I realise there’s a lot going on here. It’s a book that is about both the past and the future, while time hangs in the present, a cherry harvest to bring in and the ongoing anxiety about Covid. The past history of a mother and her abrupt change of career, her discovery of the man she will marry, so different from Duke, whom everyone is so obsessed with.

The cloud hanging over the orchard’s future in the shape of climate change. Without reliable frosts, you can’t grow cherries. You might not think the world a suitable place to bring up children. That certainly seems to be the feeling among Lara’s daughters, so it’s no wonder they beg to hear a story from long ago. A story with a hint of glamour and a summer season at a playhouse. But is the past all it’s cracked up to be? For while there’s a cloud hanging over the future, you can’t help but wonder, why did Lara throw in the towel on a promising acting career?

So in the end I did appreciate the craft that is here in Tom Lake. It’s a perfectly pitched, finely written and original novel. I realise I’ll have to see Our Town – there’s a film of the play starring Paul Newman as Stage Manager on Youtube which looks promising. I’ll probably watch it and go, ‘Oh, yes’ a few times as I think back to the book. In the meantime Tom Lake gets four out of five stars from me.

Book Review: Lucy by the Sea by Elizabeth Strout – a memoir-like novel that relives those dark early days of Covid

If you’re an Elizabeth Strout fan like I am, you’ll have come across Lucy Barton before. She’s an easier character to like than Olive Kitteridge, the character of the eponymous novel which earned Strout a Pullitzer Prize. Lucy is a novelist who has come from a very humble beginning in a small town. So she tends to turn her author’s eye on the world – watching people’s interactions and thinking.

Lucy’s upbringing and her relationship with her mother are the subject of the first book, My Name Is Lucy Barton. Her hometown, Amgash is the subject of the stories in Anything Is Possible, and is where Lucy returns to visit her siblings who are still there, after her long absence in the city. Oh, William is Lucy’s story again, and concerns her relationship with William, her first husband. And this continues in Lucy by the Sea, which is also what some people might call a “Covid novel”.

And I found this a bit difficult to start with. William is a scientist, and as he watches the news about the virus decides it’s time to leave New York. He wants Lucy to leave too and persuades her to pack a suitcase and go with him to the small seaside town of Crosby in Maine. They’re only going for a few weeks. He also insists their two daughters, Becka and Chrissy to move out of the city too – although Becka resists. William’s the only one who can see what’s coming.

The novel takes you back to those terrible early days – the deaths, and the lockdowns, the personal distancing and the fear. We see it all through Lucy’s eyes and being a writer, she’s observant and sensitive. New York was hard hit and news footage on TV is must-see viewing for William. When they venture out to go shopping the locals give them the cold shoulder and one day they find an angry sign on their car telling them to go back to New York.

A strange compatibility was taking place gradually between William and me. I had even forgotten about how I used to have to go down to the water and swear because he wasn’t listening to me when we had supper. I mean, we were essentially stuck together, and we sort of adapted to it.

Thank heavens for Bob Burgess, the genial lawyer (and also a main character in The Burgess Boys, which I also highly recommend). Bob makes them welcome, finds them some Maine licence plates and becomes a good friend of Lucy’s. The story takes us through the months that follow, the couple’s fears for their daughters, William’s attempt to reconnect with his lost sister, their settling in at Crosby as well as shifts in their own relationship. There is more sadness than joy, but there is still hope by the last pages.

For quite a way through this novel I felt a lot more uncomfortable as I read than I usually do with Strout’s fiction. And this is because she brings to life that terrible time as Covid first took hold and also the political events that followed – the divisions in society shown on the TV, and so on. But somewhere towards the end, I felt the wisdom of the book and I went from wanting to rush through the book to get it finished to taking my time and enjoying it.

Much is made of Lucy having come from poverty. Strout has made this an asset, even if it troubles Lucy, as it means she can talk to just about anybody. I love her openness and truthfulness. Her attempts to understand people from other walks of life and across the political spectrum. I wish more authors did this. And William is forced in this book to confront again the terrible way he treated Lucy years before. It seems the Covid crisis makes everyone focus on what really matters in their lives.

Lucy by the Sea is well worth the read, even if you wonder what else can be written about this character. It is a thoughtful novel, and makes you think. And the writing is so natural, it really seems like your inside someone’s head. But if you’re not ready to relive that awful time, give it another year or two. It’s a four-star read from me.

Book Review: Old God’s Time by Sebastian Barry – a deceptively gentle novel that will tear at your heart

For a novel on the Booker long-list, this is a very easy book to slip into. The story is set in the mid 1990s and is told from the point of view of Tom Kettle, a recently retired Dublin policeman. As a character he suffers more from aloneness than loneliness, as Tom’s family of ghosts are ever present, in his thoughts and more.

Tom lives simply, recently taking a flat that’s an annex to a castle, also divided into flats, by the sea. It sounds idyllic, and indeed his first visitors comment on it. It’s a February evening when two policeman from his old station knock on his door. They bring with them documents about an old case that Tom had handled, in fact had put his heart and soul into, only for the commissioner to call an end to taking it further.

Tom can’t bare to look inside the folder, but instead insists his visitors, Detectives Wilson and O’Casey stay to eat with him. All he can offer is rarebit made from cheese singles, and hauls out his daughter’s air-bed and blankets. It is too dreadful a night to send them out to catch the bus back to the town. It’s a fairly light scene with pockets of humour, O’Casey’s digestion not best pleased by the rarebit and Tom can only imagine how uncomfortable his visitors must be bedding down in his living room

But underneath is a storm of feeling that will gnaw at Tom and slowly his story and that of his late wife June and their children will emerge. And what a sad tale it is. Tom and June were both brought up in church run orphanages where predatory priests made use of small children. And it is just such a case that Tom has to relive for his old colleagues. He can never reveal how personal the case it is and so it festers.

There’s literally a Chekov’s gun in the story too. Tom was a sniper in Malaya before his stint in the police, which gives you a hint at what he’s capable of. So while the story seems to have a gentle flow about it, and a very Irish narrative style which is descriptive, lyrical and ambling, there’s a spring-loaded tension and a kind of inevitability here as the story draws to its conclusion.

And all soundlessly, with an almost comic fall, the poor creature would go down, hardly bothering the earth, Tom’s aim so good they called him Beady-Eye as a happy nickname. Beady-Eye Kettle. A talent that rescued him in his own country, the mercy of being allowed into the police. Oh yes. Killing rebels gave him his Irish life, away from the shame and shambles of his childhood.

What I particularly liked about the book was the character of Tom, who seems just so ordinary, with his little routines. His trips to the shops, his buying an ice cream cone, his carting home a bag of sausages and potatoes. But simmering beneath, we can’t help wonder, as Tom does, about the state of his mind, haunted as he is by the past and those he’s lost. It’s difficult to tell what is real at times as we are so much inside Tom’s head.

For such a tragic story, and there really is no other word for it, Old God’s Time is immensely readable, the writing is exquisite and then there’s that sympathy you have for Tom. As a character, Tom is so well understood by the author, his narrative voice seems so true. The pacing is perfect – as I said at the beginning, you are so easily drawn into the story, and Barry doesn’t put a foot wrong. Though it’s not the sort of book you should read if you need cheering up. But I can see why it’s on the Booker long-list, so it’s an easy five out of five stars from me.

Book Review: The Night She Disappeared by Lisa Jewell – another stylish psychological thriller from an always-reliable author

I often pick up a Lisa Jewell novel when I want a light, engrossing read. The Night She Disappeared is one of those books where the rich girl from a loveless family makes friends with the much loved poor girl with problems – and disaster ensues.

Tallulah lives in a village with her divorced mother and brother and is doing fine until an unplanned pregnancy has her reconsidering her options. She’s barely out of school so enrols at the nearest polytechnic, a bus ride away and organises her life around her baby. She didn’t plan on living with her boyfriend, Zach, but he is insistent he wants to get back together and she unbends and lets him move in with her at her Mum’s home. Mother, Kim is delighted as she sees in Zach someone who adores her daughter and will be a good father.

But Tallulah meets Scarlett at the bus stop – glamorous, dangerous looking Scarlett, who is at the same college, doing art to Tallulah’s social work course and the two become unlikely friends. Scarlett lives at Dark Place, a large house across the woods that has a dark history, but has had lavish amounts spent on it. As the weeks and months roll by, Tallulah compartmentalises her life between college, home life with her family and Zach, and secret meetings with Scarlett.

The story flips between Tallulah’s story and a year or so later when Sophie moves into the village with her partner Shaun. He’s the new head teacher at Maypole, a private school a mere woodland stroll from Dark Place, where Tallulah and Zach were at a party they night they disappeared. Sophie is an author of cosy mysteries, but here she’s suddenly aware of an unsolved mystery right on her doorstep.

When Sophie finds a sign saying “Dig here” and an arrow, she can’t help herself. What she finds soon draws her into Tallulah’s story, as well as meeting Kim working the bar at the local pub, a woman she wants to help. But in the background there’s her own relationship to consider. Shaun is obviously stressed. He has only chosen the job at Maypole to help fund the expensive schooling his ex-wife has insisted on for their daughters. And he and Sophie have never lived together before. They used to enjoy London so much too. Raking up what happened on the school’s doorstep isn’t going to help Shaun settle in to his new job.

Meanwhile Kim is battling away, trying to manage the baby as well as keeping alive her hope for Tallulah’s return. There are a bunch of minor characters who have a role in what happened and who could be suspects in the case. There’s a nice policeman who listens and does what he can. The story moves to an astonishing and gripping ending and I’d be amazed if you manage to put it all together before it’s all revealed. It might even give you goosebumps.

I am happy to say that The Night She Disappeared did its job; it’s a stylish, engaging, relaxing read. The main characters who tell their story are easy to empathise with, even if they do silly things or fail to stick up for themselves. And the plot is nicely measured out between them to keep you hooked. I’m not sure I enjoyed it as much as others I’ve read by Jewell, but it’s still an easy four out of five stars from me.

Book Review: The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels by Janice Hallett – another twisty mystery that will have you hoodwinked

I’m beginning to know what to expect every time I pick up a novel by Janice Hallett. First of all it will be told in an unusual format – often in emails and texts or transcriptions from recorded conversations. The other thing is that the story will have me totally hoodwinked. Normally, with mystery novels, I have a go at trying to solve the mystery from the clues presented, considering the characters and their motives, their histories. But for this novel, I didn’t bother trying, just went along for the ride.

The story begins with documents from a safe deposit box relating to the publication of a book. We follow Amanda Bailey, a journalist and writer of true-crime books, when she is commissioned to write a book on Alperton Angels. This was a cult lead by the self-titled Gabriel Angelis, now residing in prison for the murder of a waiter. Eighteen years ago, the cult ended in the deaths of several of its members, and the miraculous rescue of a baby, which the cult believed to be the Antichrist.

There is no doubt that Gabriel Angelis is an evil man, and that prison is the best place for him, in spite of his pleas that he did not kill anyone. But what he did do was lure vulnerable teenagers into his orbit, in this case Holly and Jonah, who survived the ritual bloodbath eighteen years ago, Holly saving the baby from sacrifice when the stars were apparently in alignment.

Eighteen years later, where is that baby now? That is going to be the main focus of Amanda’s book along with the whereabouts of Holly and Jonah and what they’ve made of their lives since. But a rival publishing company is also interested in the Angels, and have chosen Oliver Menzies to write another book on the case.

Oliver and Amanda were on the same journalism course twenty odd years ago, a course that Amanda left abruptly without qualifying. And when her publisher suggests that she and Oliver work together to begin with so that they can ensure their books cover different territory, Amanda is not a happy camper.

It’s not easy getting people to talk about what happened, but one thing that does come across is that Amanda is a consummate professional and slowly the facts slot into place. Oliver just bumbles along and the What’sApp banter between them adds plenty of entertainment. This is just as well as a book of emails and texts would soon pall if Hallett didn’t manage to make them lively. So too are the transcriptions typed up by Ellie Cooper for Amanda. Ellie is a kind of sounding board for Amanda’s discoveries and offers lots of good thoughts, plus her asides as she transcribes Amanda’s phone-recorded interviews are a hoot.

But it’s the plot that really has you hooked, packed with twists and turns, and beguiling little details that had the police stumped. What was the deal with that Mini Clubman that ran off the road and disappeared? And those weird newspaper adverts – what did they mean? Hallett really knows how to use red herrings. Towards the end of the book, you suddenly begin to realise what really happened, and start to join the dots and see connections. Suddenly the unbelieveable all begins to make perfect sense.

The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels is another diverting read from Hallett but it works best if, as a reader, you enjoy puzzles. We only get to know characters as they reveal themselves in their emails and texts – we don’t even know where they live, or even a lot about what they look like. But perhaps Hallett deliberately impedes the reader’s empathy for them because of how untrustworthy many of them are.

I think Agatha Christie would approve of Hallett’s style. How many times have I read Poirot remind Hastings not to take too much at face value. How you can never be sure that a witness isn’t lying. And it’s the same here. The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels is a modern take on the classic detective novel. I can only gaze on and admire its cleverness. But cleverness isn’t everything in a book and I like a bit more from my crime fiction; I like to feel something too. So its a three-and-a-half star read from me.

Book Review: The Murder of Mr Wickham by Claudia Gray – a cosy mystery that brings back the characters of Jane Austen

You may have noticed there’s quite a collection of novels based on one or other of the six completed novels of Jane Austen. I have read a few and enjoyed them greatly. But Claudia Gray takes this genre to a new level with her delightful mystery, The Murder of Mr. Wickham.

Honestly, if anyone in Jane Austen’s ouevre deserved to be bumped off it is surely George Wickham. He’s that rascal that threatened to ruin Lydia Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, as well as spoiling the marriage prospects of her sisters. He’d almost ruined Darcy’s sister as well. In Claudia Gray’s novel, we catch up with Wickham at a house party, not at Pemberley, the seat of the Darcies, but at Donwell Abbey, the home of Mr Knightly and his wife, Emma, from that other Jane Austen novel.

Guests at the house party include Mr Knightly’s old friend Fitzwilliam Darcy, his wife Elizabeth and their son Jonathan, a handsome but socially awkward young man of around twenty. Then there’s cousin Edmund Bertram and his wife Fanny (from Mansfield Park) as well as the Wentworths, Frederick and Anne (from Persuasion) who were renting Emma’s childhood home when a staircase collapsed and urgent repairs required.

Also joining the guest-list are the Brandons, Colonel Brandon that is and his young wife Marianne (from Sense and Sensibility). That just leaves Northanger Abbey, which is represented by seventeen-year-old Juliet Tilney, the daughter of Henry Tilney and Catherine, now a novelist who Emma admires. Emma has taken a shine to Juliet and invited her so that the girl can see new people and a change of scenery. With Jonathan Darcy staying, here’s also a hint of Emma’s propensity to match-make.

So you can see that Claudia Gray has really pushed the boat at to draw on all six novels for inspiration and does a terrific job, throwing Austen’s characters together and seeing what happens.

There’s already a tense atmosphere as Mr Knightly is troubled by the financial losses his younger brother has incurred due to a venture masterminded by none other than George Wickham. The same venture has also caught out Captain Wentworth, losing him a chunk of the money that he won as prizes as a naval officer in the war with Napoleon. It was this money that enabled him to hold his head high against the snobbery of Anne’s family. But without it, he fears he’s let Anne down and they may need to return to sea.

Since Pride and Prejudice George Wickham has had a further twenty plus years to cause misery to the Darcies, and more crimes come out of the woodwork when the bounder turns up at Donwell Abbey to call in some debts. It’s the middle of a stormy night when the murder takes place, the guests all restless and anxious for various reasons.

The only two characters who don’t make the suspects list are young Juliet, who had never met the victim before her visit, and Jonathan Darcy, who spent the night calming his horse in the stables when the storm was at its most severe. They never would have thought of investigating the crime themselves if it hadn’t been for the magistrate of the district, Frank Churchill (remember him from Emma?), who assumes the killer must be among the Donwell staff, or passing “gypsies”. Juliet, in particular, is appalled at the idea of someone going to the gallows unjustly.

The two team up, secretly sharing their findings at midnight in the billiard room, and Jonathan finds it so much easier to talk to Juliet than he might have otherwise, now there’s something practical to talk about. The story has plenty of pace and builds to an unexpected resolution as more and more secrets are revealed. In the crucible of a murder investigation, relationships are tested and new understandings emerge.

I enjoyed The Murder of Mr. Wickham immensely, which has all the wit of an Austen novel, Claudia Gray bringing the characters to life beautifully. The good news is this is the first in what looks like a new series featuring Juliet and Jonathan as unlikely but very appealing sleuths. I’m giving it four and a half stars – the audiobook version is narrated with aplomb by Billie Fulford-Brown – and am keen to see what happens in The Late Mrs Willoughby, which is Book No. 2.

Book Review: The White Hare by Jane Johnson – a haunting country house mystery with a touch of magic

We’re back in Cornwall for another novel set in the 1950s and I was in my happy place listening to this as an audiobook. I often hunt out these evocative country house stories.

The White Hare begins with a family of three arriving to take on a run-down country house with the aim of turning it into a guest-house. Somewhere comfortably-off urbanites might sojourn for a change of pace and some gentle pampering. This is Magda’s idea. In her fifties, Magda is an imperious, demanding and determined woman who won’t take no for an answer.

Her daughter, Mila, passively just does what her mother tells her, hoping to build a home for her and young Janey. But although she has strong feelings, she keeps them in check, because she owes her mother her salvation. A chance for a new start, having been duped by a bigamous husband and left with a five-year-old daughter. Remember, it’s the mid 1950s, when a woman’s reputation was everything.

The house is of course a mess, but in the barn they also discover an unwelcome guest. Jack, the interloper, says he hadn’t meant to trespass; he was just exploring the nearby countryside and would soon be on his way. But Janey has warmed to Jack, and when Jack reveals he can fix their car, and is handy with a hammer and nails, he becomes the women’s saviour when they face one crisis after another.

The locals don’t take kindly to strangers. It is said the house is haunted and when Mila mentions seeing a white hare on the road the day they arrived, all sorts of strange legends start to emerge. Then there’s Jack. He and Mila soon warm to each other, but Jack seems to be harbouring secrets. There’s also a creepy vicar, but fortunately for Mila, friendship and support are on hand from a local healer and her artist girlfriend.

The story follows Magda and Mila’s rocky relationship as they struggle to bring the house into a reasonable state of repair ahead of a lavish New Year’s Eve party Magda hopes will entice acceptance from the locals. The folklore of the area won’t leave Mila alone, and there are odd discoveries that hint at a tragedy involving the previous owners of the house.

To make things even more creepy, Janey seems to have discovered a way of communicating with an otherworldly presence through her toy rabbit. The story builds to a dramatic ending where the real and unreal converge and the present reveals, and can finally bury, past wrongs. The characters of Magda, Mila and Janey are interestingly developed – there’s nothing like adversity to bring people together.

I loved the story – the perfect sort of audiobook, narrated brilliantly by Danielle Cohen – intriguing and full of mystery with a bit Cornish history thrown in. Listening to a book like this takes me back to those old fireside tales that begin with, ‘let me tell you a story’. If you like books by Katherine Webb and Kate Morton, you’re sure to enjoy The White Hare, a four star read from me.