Feeds:
Posts
Comments

I often play detective when reading crime novels, puzzling over clues and sniffing out red herrings until I can spot whodunnit. But I don’t even try to guess with spy novels. I figure everybody is lying and playing a double — or triple — game, so I just sit back and enjoy the ride, the dizzying twists and turns. And so it goes with my old friend Dan Fesperman’s new novel, The Cover Wife (Knopf, digital galley), which is tense and timely even though it’s largely set in 1999 Germany. Paris-based CIA agent Claire Saylor isn’t too thrilled about playing the wife of a stodgy American academic with scandalous views of the Quran on a European book tour. She’s more intrigued by a mysterious secondary assignment in Hamburg, keeping an eye on a group of young Muslims gathering at a local mosque. Among them is an American expat trying to win the trust and approval of his new friends. To make matters more confusing, the FBI also has gotten wind of the operation without knowing the details. Perfectly plotted and neatly mixing fiction with fact, the book’s pages practically turn themselves. I had an idea where The Cover Wife might be going, but the ending was still a stunner. Brilliant.

When I first read Rebecca Starford’s An Unlikely Spy: A Novel (HarperCollins, digital galley), about a young British woman tapped by MI5 to infiltrate a group of German sympathizers in 1939 London, it seemed teasingly familiar. I finally figured out why. Starford was inspired by the wartime experiences of real MI5 agent Joan Miller, as was writer Kate Atkinson in her wonderful novel Transcription. But the two authors go in different directions in reimagining the story behind the story. An Unlikely Spy is the more conventional, as recent Oxford grad Evelyn Varley gets a job in the War Office. While a scholarship girl at boarding school, Evelyn made friends with wealthy Julia and her influential family; now, her innate cleverness and her acquired upper-class manner make Evelyn the perfect candidate to get close to members of the Lion Society. Still, the secrets Evelyn uncovers among the upper-classes thrust her into a conspiracy she doesn’t understand and test her loyalties.

There’s nothing like a good Gothic to put a chill in a sultry summer. Rachel Donohue’s atmospheric The Temple House Vanishing (Algonquin, digital galley) owes a lot to one of my favorite books and movies, Picnic at Hanging Rock, but stands on its own in its haunting depiction of obsession and desire.  In 1990 Ireland, scholarship student Louisa is a misfit at Temple House, a Catholic boarding school for girls on the dreary and craggy coast. Then she meets charismatic rebel Victoria, who seems to have a special relationship with the bohemian art teacher Mr. Lavelle, and is drawn into their orbit. On the eve of the Christmas holidays, Louisa and Mr. Lavelle vanish into the night, never to be seen again. Twenty-five years later, a journalist begins an investigation, and her present-day chronicle alternates with chapters written from Louisa’s point-of-view about her time at Temple House. Something Louisa learns early on at the school is that nothing is ever what it seems. You’ve been warned.

Megan Abbott is another writer who knows obsession and desire. Having written thrillingly about teenage cheerleaders (Dare Me) and rival gymnasts (You Will Know Me), she focuses on ballet dancers in The Turnout (Putnam/Penguin), a controlled burn of a book. The Durant sisters, Dara and Marie, are lifelong bunheads, schooled by their glamorous dance-teacher mother, whose popular studio they inherited. Dara’s husband Charlie, their mother’s former live-in student, can no longer dance because of chronic injuries and runs the business office while Marie and Dara teach. The annual run-up to a production of “The Nutcracker” is more fraught than usual after a fire destroys part of the school’s rehearsal space. Enter contractor Derek, who convinces the trio to up-renovate the school and bill the insurance company, even as he seduces vulnerable Marie. “Ballet is full of dark fairy tales,” Abbott observes in her mesmerizing narrative that sears the pretty off the pink. A little bit Gothic, a whole lot noir, The Turnout is fierce enchantment.

Several of my friends and I long ago dubbed a couple of manicured streets near downtown Orlando “Axe-killer neighborhood” because we never saw a living soul. We joked that something horrific could go on behind closed doors, and the neighbors would just say, “They were so quiet. We had no idea.” So I chuckled when I saw the title of Megan Miranda’s new domestic suspense tale, Such a Quiet Place (Simon and Schuster, digital galley). Hollow’s Edge was an idyllic enclave until Fiona and Brandon Truett were murdered in their home and neighbor Ruby Fletcher was found guilty of the crime. A year and a half later, the Truetts’ house is still empty, neighbors can’t sell their houses and Ruby, her conviction overturned, has moved back in with her astonished roommate Harper Nash. She has nowhere else to go, Ruby tells Harper, and immediately sets out to provoke the neighbors. Somebody lied at Ruby’s trial. But who?

 

 

Catch a crime wave

dreamyInjured in a fall, successful novelist Gerry Andersen is confined to a hospital bed in his new Baltimore penthouse, dependent on his colorless assistant and a stodgy night nurse. His drug-addled mind roams through his past and present like Marley’s ghost, but he is certain the woman calling on the phone at night saying she’s Aubrey is not Aubrey. Impossible. Aubrey is the main character in his best-selling novel “Dream Girl.” She’s fictional. Gerry made her up. She doesn’t exist. Or does she?

You’re not wrong if Laura Lippman’s entertaining new novel Dream Girl (William Morrow, digital galley) reminds you of Stephen King’s Misery. Lippman finds inspiration for her crime novels in  books, old movies, real-life crimes. But whatever the source, she has a way of turning the material upside-down and inside-out, making it her own. So, yes, her  Dream Girl (William Morrow, digital galley) pays homage to King,  but also to Hitchcock and her other literary and cinematic favorites. It’s a shout-out, too, to the process of writing and the writer’s life. Gerry’s mind may be playing tricks on him when it comes to phone calls from Aubrey, but the woman who turns up next to him one morning is very real — and very dead. Lippman’s novel is twisty and twisted, quite the nightmare for poor Gerry, who is an insufferable jerk. I didn’t like him at all, but I sure liked Dream Girl.

maidensI detested Alex Michaelides’ second novel The Maidens (Celadon, purchased hardcover). Let me count the ways: poor writing, uneven pacing, unbelievable characters, absurd plot, ludicrous ending. I did like the setting — Cambridge University with its historic, shadowed halls of academe. But the story of a widowed psychotherapist convinced that a classics professor is killing his female students is a slog from slow beginning to ridiculous conclusion, a true disappointment for those who liked Michaelides’ The Silent Witness. Sorry I wasted the time and money, bamboozled by the hype and comparisons to Donna Tartt’s The Secret History. If you want to read something else on the best-seller list (keeping in mind that “best” refers only to sales), try Laura Dave’s The Last Thing He Told Me (Simon & Schuster, digital galley), in which a woman’s husband disappears in the midst of a corporate scandal, and she and her teenage stepdaughter go looking for him. It’s a quick, suspenseful riff on the old “you never know really know somebody” plot. 

nighthawksThank goodness for Elly Griffiths and Laurie R. King. Neither writer misses a beat in the latest entries in their long-running detective series. In Griffith’s The Night Hawks (Houghton Mifflin, digital galley), forensic archaeologist Ruth Galloway and her new colleague David Brown are called to a crime scene when metal detectorists discover Bronze Age artifacts, a new corpse and a skeleton on a Norfolk beach. Soon after, these same “Night Hawks” are at the scene of a presumed murder/suicide at an isolated farmhouse, and then one of their own turns up dead. DCI Harry Nelson, the father of Ruth’s 10-year-old daughter, doesn’t like coincidences, and he’s also suspicious of Ruth’s new colleague, who is a first-class meddler. The bits of history and folklore (there’s a gigantic hound) are fascinating, as is the mystery itself and the continuing relationship between Ruth and Nelson. History, mystery and myth also play into King’s lively Castle Shade (Bantam/Random House, digital galley), with Mary Russell and husband Sherlock Holmes helping Marie of Roumania — yes, the real Queen — figure out who is threatening her teenage daughter. Marie is ensconced in her beloved Castle Bran in the Carpathian mountains of Transylvania, once home to Vlad the Impaler. There are whispers of witchcraft and rumors of vampires among the villagers and castle servants, although Holmes’ brother Mycroft suspects Marie’s diplomatic enemies of trying to undermine her popularity. Russell and Holmes think someone inside or close to the castle wants Marie out of the way. King makes the most of the shivery atmosphere as her wily and witty detectives stalk things that go bump in the night.

boxwoodsHaving wrapped up the infamous Ellingham cold case in the “Truly Devious” trilogy,  teen detective Stevie Bell returns in Maureen Johnson’s nifty The Box in The Woods (HarperCollins, digital galley). The new owner of Camp Wonder Falls offers Stevie and her Ellingham friends Janelle and Nate jobs as counselors in return for Stevie’s help with a podcast investigating the 1978 Box in the Woods murders. Back then at what was Camp Sunny Pines, four counselors were killed and three of their bodies hidden in an old hunting blind. Johnson has a blast moving the story back and forth between past and present, and using every summer camp trope from from familiar books and horror movies. You practically expect Jason to jump out from behind a tree. It’s also fun seeing the friends trying to fit in at camp — engineer Janelle proves to be super at crafts, while Nate, who wrote a best-selling fantasy novel at 14, is plagued by a critical camper, and Stevie discovers previously unknown outdoor skills. It helps that boyfriend David is camping at a nearby lake and knows the way her mind works — and her anxiety grows — when confronted with a puzzle. The Box in the Woods may be even better than its predecessors, The Hand on the Wall, etc., because the various mysteries are satisfactorily resolved by book’s end. But one remains — what will Stevie Bell do next?

 

 

Spring into summer

I know you think I’ve been languishing, and maybe I have a little. But mostly I have been reading, because as a recent Facebook meme put it, “Sometimes you just need to lie on the couch and read for a couple of years.”  Or a couple of months in my case. So many new books, and a few so good I want to read them again.  Katherine Heiny’s novel Early Morning Riser (Knopf, digital galley) is bright and funny but also smart and serious, and Heiny’s writing reminds me a bit of Laurie Colwin, which is always a good thing. Schoolteacher Janey falls hard for woodworker-handyman Duncan, who is handsome, sexy and kind, and who apparently has slept with every woman in Boyne City, Michigan. And he’s still friends with them, including his ex-wife Aggie, who is now married to Glenn but has Duncan mow her yard.  A lot of folks are Duncan-dependent, Janey realizes, especially his intellectually challenged assistant Jimmy.  That and the fact Duncan doesn’t want to get married again leads Janey to sadly move on. But then a tragedy down the road unexpectedly entangles her life with Duncan, Aggie, Glenn and Jimmy. You just never know what’s going to happen when you greet a new day. 

Jessica Anya Blau’s coming-of-age novel Mary Jane (HarperCollins, library e-book) is like a nostalgic blast from the past on the radio. You can’t help but smile.  It’s summer of ’75 in Baltimore, and 14-year-old narrator Mary Jane Dillard, whose parents are conservative country-club types, gets a job as a nanny with the unconventional Cones — psychiatrist Richard (he has a beard), artistic Bonnie (she’s braless) and five-year-old daughter Izzie (precocious) . Mary Jane is enchanted by their casual manners and friendliness, and they welcome her housekeeping and cooking skills. Then Richard invites rock star client and heroin addict Jimmy and his movie star wife Sheba to move in for some intensive therapy, and Mary Jane gets a close-up look at sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Wearing cut-offs and singing harmony to Jimmy’s hits, Mary Jane knows she’s courting her parents’ disapproval and ignores rising tensions at the Cones. A day of reckoning is inevitable, and there will be consequences. Still, you readily understand why Mary Jane thinks it’s the best summer ever. A bit of a priss at first, Mary Jane turns out to be a real charmer. So is Mary Jane the book.

Heading to the beach? Take your favorite adult beverage and Mary Kay Andrews’ The Newcomer (St. Martin’s Press, digital galley), a heady mix of family drama and mystery, with a spritz of romance. Letty Carnahan is so sure her wealthy brother-in-law Evan Wingfield is behind her sister Tanya’s death that she goes on the run with her four-year-old niece Maya. Like previous Andrews heroines, Letty is smart, feisty and good with people and interior decorating. She and Maya end up hiding out at an old-timey mom-and-pop Florida motel, where the snowbirds eye her and Maya with suspicion. But Letty, who has more secrets than shells on the beach, manages to win over the motel’s owner, get a job and spark with the local deputy. Evan and his henchman are hot on her trail, though, as are some of Tanya’s old “friends.” There’s treasure to be had on Treasure Island. Cheers!

Despite its evocative title and cover, Jennifer Weiner’s That Summer (Atria, digital galley) isn’t a breezy beach book. Rather, Weiner crafts an involving, non-linear saga of female friendship and empowerment hinging on a devastating “Me Too” incident. A misdirected e-mail initially connects Philadelphia cooking teacher Diana “Daisy” Shoemaker with successful business consultant Diana Starling. But as Weiner explores Daisy’s present life with her wealthy husband and restless teenage daughter — the memorable Beatrice — she also excavates Diana’s patchwork past. Turns out both women have history with Cape Cod and share more than a first name.  Weiner has a light hand with some heavy subject matter for the most part, although men generally do not come off well. Still, she’s preaching to the choir, and her many fans will appreciate the affecting story.

 

How about a few thrills and chills? Have I got the books for you. Both Alexander Andrews’ Who is Maude Dixon? (Little, Brown, digital galley) and Jean Hanff Korelitz’s The Plot (Celadon Books, library e-book) are clever takes on the perils of literary impersonation and plagiarism. Andrews’ inventive tale is more of a caper as writer-wannabe Florence Darrow becomes the assistant to best-selling, reclusive author Maude Dixon. Maude is the pseudonym of hard-drinking Helen Wilcox, who decides a trip to Morocco will cure her writers’ block. And it’s in Morocco that Maude/Helen disappears and Florence wakes up in the hospital and decides she will become Maude. Delicious, devious complications ensue. The Plot also entertains, but it’s a more serious exploration of ambition and identity as once-promising novelist Jacob Finch Bonner decides to steal the sure-fire plot of a dead writing student’s unfinished manuscript. Devilish consequences snowball when Bonner’s book becomes a best-seller. So good. 

So is Flynn Barry’s tense Northern Spy (Penguin, library e-book), in which Tessa, a single mother and BBC news producer in peacetime Belfast is shocked to discover her sister is working for the IRA. Tessa, who grew up in the city’s Catholic neighborhoods, doesn’t know who to trust — family friends she’s known her whole life, or the British intelligence officer who wants her to inform on the IRA sympathizers. Desperate to keep her young son safe, Tessa becomes a double agent, knowing that she could be betrayed in a heartbeat. Errant sisters also figure in Carole Johnstone’s twisty and twisted Mirrorland (Scribner, digital galley). After a dozen years in California, Cat Morgan returns home to Edinburgh when her brother-in-law Ross lets her know that her estranged twin, El, is missing, presumed drowned in the Firth of Forth. The mystery of El’s disappearance lies in the twins’ dark childhood, during which they escaped into a fanciful world called Mirrorland. The twins’ blurrng reality and imagination spills over into Johnstone’s gripping but confusing narrative.

The real-life kidnapping of  Polli Klaas in 1993 California plays in the background of Paula McClain’s first suspense novel When the Stars Go Dark (Random House, digital galley). Missing persons detective Anna Hart takes a break from work after a personal tragedy, returning to her late foster father’s house near Mendocino. When the 15-year-old daughter of a well-known actress and her husband goes missing, Anna is brought into the case, even though it calls up traumatic memories of her childhood and the later disappearance of a teenage friend. It’s a well-written if unevenly paced story, and the villain is easy to spot. Be sure to read the author’s note at book’s end.

 

If you’ve ever spent the day rafting on a river, then you know you carry the river’s rhythms back on land, the sensation of gently rocking to an unseen current. I felt something similar when I finished reading Jamie Harrison’s deep and lovely novel The Center of Everything (Counterpoint, purchased e-book). Maybe it’s because the Yellowstone River is such a part of the story, or because memory moves like water through the pages, but I didn’t want to leave the world of the book.

At its center is Polly Schuster, living in 2002 Livingston, Mont., with her husband Ned and their two small children, planning a party for Great-Aunt Maude’s 90th birthday. Her retired schoolteacher parents are helping out, and Polly is trying desperately to act like her usual self even while recovering from the concussion sustained in a recent bike accident. She forgets things, her attention span is erratic, she lapses into momentary waking dreams. “Lately, Polly thought her mind was a river, constantly scouring and pooling, constantly disappearing, filling with details that glinted and vanished.”

A helicopter buzzing overhead is an unwelcome distraction, a reminder of the ongoing search for a beloved local babysitter apparently drowned in the rushing snow melt of the Yellowstone. Polly thinks accidents are like arrows, and this one pierces her mind in unexpected ways. She imagines the drowned girl floating underwater, her face turned to the moon. But she also remembers past drownings observed when she was a child, although her mother asserts she’s confusing memory with reality. Maybe not. In sequences set largely in the summer of 1968, when Polly was living with her great-grandparents on the Long Island shore, family secrets and tragedies are revealed that echo down generations. But Polly’s eighth year is largely idyllic as she and family friend Edmund swing on the tire, ramble through the woods and on the beach, ignore the adults. It is only years later that childhood perceptions will give way to adult recognition. Harrison moves easily between Polly’s past and present, writing beautifully of the wonders of nature, the mystery of family, the kaleidoscope of memory. I can’t say enough good things about The Center of Everything. I’m reading it again.

Imagine two teenage girls walking together, obviously best friends. The thin, pale one is 14-year-old Josie. The one with dark hair and kind eyes is Klara, an almost state-of-the art AF — artificial friend. A robot created to be a companion and who once stood in a storefront window waiting to be chosen, Klara is also the narrator of Kazuo Ishiguro’s beguiling and bittersweet new novel, Klara and the Sun (Knopf Doubleday, digital galley). Reminiscent of Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, it also wrestles with questions of memory, identity, love and what it means to be human in a near-future dystopian world. There’s the subdued, subtle prose that hints at darkness to come, the wistful, melancholy tone. Klara and Kathy H., the narrator of the earlier novel, are cousins of a sort, both characters whose fate is determined by science. (So is Josie, as it it turns out.) But Klara and the Sun is a kinder, gentler Never Let Me Go. It touches the heart but doesn’t quite break it.

Josie’s mother at first hesitates to buy solar-powered Klara, thinking a brand-new model might be better. But Josie is insistent, and her divorced mother gives in, because Josie is suffering from an unnamed illness for which her mother feels guilty. More of Josie’s circumstances are revealed as the story progresses and Klara gets to know the boy next door who Josie’s longtime friend but one with a different future chosen for him. There’s also Josie’s father, met on a visit to the city, where Josie goes to see a mysterious portrait painter. Everyone wants the best for ailing Josie, and Klara is no exception, making a bargain with the life-nourishing sun that sets her on an unusual adventure.

What am I talking about — the whole book is unusual, and the more so because of the deliberate ambiguity of the setting, familiar in many ordinary details but remarkably strange as perceived by Klara. When she encounters the unknown, her vision fractures into a series of boxes until her programming adapts. Don’t be surprised if Klara and the Sun rocks your world.

Abigail Dean’s harrowing debut Girl A (Viking, purchased hardcover) is one of those books that is as hard to put down as it is to read. It needs to come with trigger warnings — child abuse, imprisonment, psychosis, suicide. But while the subject matter is the stuff of tabloids, Dean’s story avoids sensationalism because events are filtered through the understated voice of Alexandra, a sucessful 30-year-old lawyer. Fifteen years ago, she was “Girl A,”  the one who escaped from her parents’ “House of Horrors” in a suburban English town and told authorities about the brothers and sisters left behind. Now their mother has died in prison, naming Lex executor of her will and leaving the house to her and her siblings, who were adopted separately. Lex and younger sister Evie would like to turn the house into a community center so something good can come out of their disastrous childhood, but Lex will need each sibling to sign off on the plan.  Getting in touch with the others, though, is a journey into a past they would rather forget.

This is how Dean structures the book, splicing present days scenes with glimpses of the past that begin with Lex struggling out of chains and breaking a second-story window to get away from years of starvation, neglect and her father’s cult of control and failed zealotry. A meeting with older brother Ethan who is planning his wedding leads to Alex’s memory of days when her family was still relatively normal but how her father first slapped 7-year-old Ethan at Sunday dinner when he thought his authority was being challenged. Things go downhill in increments — the children are teased at school because of dirty clothes and empty lunchboxes, then comes the isolation of homeschooling and rote learning, no baths, rationed food, the first bindings. Delilah lies to their  aunt that all is well just as Lex starts to say otherwise. Gabriel is always bruised. Evie whimpers in her sleep. The siblings are individually and collectively damaged as children, and they remain broken in various ways as adults.

So Girl A is not a happy story but it is a fascinating one as Dean artfully explores how memory both helps and hurts trauma survivors. You can hardly see Lex’s physical scars anymore, and she believes her psychic wounds are well hidden. But they are there. Memory bleeds.

I love a mystery

Let’s hear it for the old guys. No, not Brady and Gronk, although that was pretty super. I’m talking about venerable detectives Arthur Bryant and John May, the stalwarts of London’s Peculiar Crimes Unit in Christopher Fowler’s long-running series. May is the younger, more sauve one. Bryant looks like a tortoise and is brilliant. At the beginning of Bryant and May: Oranges and Lemons (Ballantine, digital galley), it appears  the long-threatened PCU has met its demise. The Kings Cross office has closed, the team disassembled. May is in hospital recovering from a bullet wound, while Bryant has gone walkabout. But then a government official is crushed by a delivery of fruit falling from a produce van, and the incident is bizarre enough to reunite everyone under the watchful eye of a Home Office spy. Also new on the scene is young Sydney, who wants to be the next Bryant. The original cannily connects the crime to the death of a bookseller and a familiar nursery rhyme about London church bells. More murders bear him out, but figuring out the identity of the killer is another thing altogether. Along with droll writing and endearingly eccentric characters, the series is known for the arcane bits of London history that Fowler enfolds in his convoluted plots. In Oranges and Lemons, excerpts of Bryant’s walking tours of the city provide entertaining and essential asides. 

Australian author Jane Harper whisks readers to Tasmania in her new stand-alone The Survivors (Flatiron Books, digital galley/purchased hardcover). When Kieran and his partner Mia return to their childhome home on Evelyn Bay to help his mother move house, they bring with them their baby daughter and conflicted memories of a decade-old family tragedy The discovery of the body of a young waitress on the beach also revives the town’s memory of the storm in which two men drowned and a local girl disappeared. The police soon discover that Kieran’s father, a former teacher now sliding into dementia, was the last person to see both girls. As in her last book, The Lost Man, Harper excels at detailing the complicated dynamics of family ties and friendships, of guilt and grief. Treacherous seaside cliffs and caves, as well as a submerged shipwreck,  provide the atmospheric backdrop for the involving story. 

A narrator with a head injury is about as unreliable as they come. Aarav Rai is that guy in Nalini Singh’s noirish Unquiet in Her Bones (Berkley, digital galley). At 26, the first-time mystery writer has just seen his book turned into a hit film when a car crash sends him back to live with his wealthy father in a New Zealand cul-de-sac. His beautiful mother Nina vanished 10 years ago with a suitcase of her husband’s cash, but even as Aarav nurses a broken foot and migraines with prescription drugs, her bones are discovered in a nearby forest. She’s still in her sleek Jaguar, now buried by lush undergrowth. But the money is missing. Aarav’s quest to discover who killed his mother — the suspects range from his domineering father to neighbors who may have been her lovers or rivals — is hindered both by his fragmented memories of the night she disappeared and his current messed-up mind and paranoia.  He remembers a scream in the night, a slamming door, chilling rain, tail lights. Or does he? 

On a snowy night in 1893 London, a seamstress carries out a mysterious task in an upstairs room and then steps out the high window, falling to her death. Reading this eerie prologue encouraged me to buy The House on Vesper Sands by Paraic O’Donnell (Tin House Books, purchased e-book). I got the Gothic I was expecting, but was surprised by the amusing entertainment that ensued, as if Edward Gorey and Charles Dickens invited Sherlock Holmes for drinks and war stories. The plot is a Victorian mash-up of missing girls and sinister secrets, eccentric aristocrats and unsettling seances. The memorable characters include smart, brusque Inspector Cutter of Scotland Yard; his self-appointed sidekick, university student Gideon Bliss; plucky society reporter and reluctant heiress Octavia Hillingdon, who turns to a marquess nicknamed Elf for the latest gossip; and the elusive Lord Strythe, head of the Spiriters, who supposedly steal the souls of young working women. All in all, a clever winter’s tale that begs for a sequel.

Kelley Armstrong’s Rockton novels are an annual winter pleasure. The sixth in the series, A Stranger in Town (St. Martin’s Press, digital galley) finds detective Casey Duncan and her sheriff boyfriend Eric Dalton rescuing a gravely wounded hiker in the Canadian Yukon. But bringing the stranger inside the borders of the off-the-grid settlement threatens Rockton’s existence as a sanctuary for people needing to escape from the outside world. Armstrong further explores the history of the nomadic “hostiles” who live in the nearby wilderness, their connection to Rockton’s past — and its future.

Former pro snowboarder Allie Reynolds brings her ski cred to her first novel, Shiver (Putnam, digital galley), which will appeal to fans of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, and by extension, Ruth Ware’s excellent One by One and Lucy Foley’s The Hunting Party. Milla accepts an invitation to a remote ski resort in the French Alps, but the expected reunion with four former snowboarder pals turns out to be rigged. No one will admit to stranding them atop the icy mountain where one of their gang was injured 10 years ago and another disappeared. Reynolds alternates the tense present-day narrative with flashbacks to the time when the frenemies were competing on the circuit, trading lovers and indulging in sabotaging pranks. Milla’s chief rival was the beautiful Saskia, whose body has never been found. Shiver…

In December of 1926, Agatha Christie, just beginning to make her name as a mystery writer, disappeared from her country house and was thought to be a suicide or victim of foul play. A nationwide search failed to find the missing woman until she reappeared 11 days later at a spa under an assumed name, alive and well and claiming amnesia. Author Marie Benedict uses this real-life incident as the springboard for her new novel The Mystery of Mrs. Christie (Sourcebooks, library e-book) and proposes an intriguing and plausible scenario. Benedict shifts between the voices of Agatha and her husband Archie to chronicle their lives leading up to the disappearance and during Agatha’s absence. The two marry quickly on the eve of World War I, but Archie is changed by his battlefield experiences. Agatha does her best to keep her selfish husband happy but is hurt by their young daughter’s preference for her father and Archie’s caddish behavior. Archie is having a secret weekend with a girlfriend he plans to marry when his wife disappears. No wonder he’s the chief suspect in the case. It’s satisfying watching Archie protest his innocence, and even more satisfying when he gets his comeuppance. Agatha always was a masterful plotter.

 

 

Making spirits bright

Hi. Remember me? Constant reader, infrequent blogger. When I took a break the end of August to pack up and move house, I didn’t think I’d be gone so long. But, y’know, this year. Days are slow motion, but weeks fast forward. All of a sudden — or so it seems — literary prizes are being awarded, lists of the years’ best books are being announced. Charles Yu won the National Book Award for Interior Chinatown. Haven’t read it yet. Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart won the Booker Award. It broke my heart, which was already cracked from reading Maggie O’Farrell’s Hamnet, winner of the UK’s Women’s Prize for Fiction. Both belong on my year-end list of favorites; I don’t do “bests” because I haven’t read that widely. Still, it’s nice to see books I liked show up on others’ lists: James McBride’s Deacon King Kong, Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half, Carl Hiaasen’s Squeeze Me, Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic and, especially, Lily King’s Writers and Lovers.

King’s Writers and Lovers is my favorite of favorites, but I can’t give a lot of copies away for Christmas because I gave away many for birthdays. My go-to gift for the holidays is Fannie Flagg’s The Wonder Boy of Whistle Stop (Random House, digital galley), the literary equivalent of a warm hug. A follow-up to Flagg’s beloved Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, it returns to that Alabama sweet spot in a series of loosely connected vignettes interspersed with chatty missives from former resident Dot Weems. The title character is the one-armed Buddy Theadgoode, whose mother Ruth ran the cafe with her partner Idgie. Buddy always thought he had a lucky childhood, and when he closes his veterinarian practice and moves to Atlanta to be near his grown daughter Ruthie, he revisits the past in memory. But when he actually seeks out Whistle Stop, he finds the old railroad town is abandoned and falling apart. Flagg’s finely honed comic set pieces jump around in time, much like talking to an old friend whose backtracking is an essential part of the conversation. The novel made me hungry for home — and for fried green tomatoes.

KJ Dell’Antonia’s fun first novel The Chicken Sisters (Putnam/Penguin, digital galley) made me hungry for fried chicken. In small-town Kansas, residents are loyal to either Chicken Mimi’s or Chicken Frannie’s, competing restaurants founded by feuding sisters a century ago. The feud heats up when two contemporary sisters — Mae and Amanda Moore — enter a reality TV show competition with a $100,000 first prize. But proving who has the best fried chicken exposes family secrets that threaten to permanently divide the sisters. I’m giving this excellent takeaway on sibling rivalry and family dynamics to my cousins, sisters Meg and Gail, along with Rachel Joyce’s captivating Miss Benson’s Beetle (Dial Press, purchased paperback). In dreary 1950 London, eccentric spinster teacher Margery Brown decides to fulfill a lifelong ambition by searching for the elusive golden beetle of New Caledonia. She needs an assistant, but Enid Pretty isn’t what she had in mind — a flirtatious young bottle-blonde with a secret or two. Still, the unlikely pair set off an ocean voyage that turns into an extraordinary adventure half-way around the globe. Joyce’s witty story of their unexpected friendship is itself full of unexpected turns. Put on your pith helmet and follow along.

I was delighted to find out that the equine protagonist of Jane Smiley’s engaging Perestroika in Paris: A Novel (Knopf Doubleday, digital galley) is based on one of Smiley’s own horses, also named Perestroika, aka Paras. The novel’s Paras is a curious racehorse who wanders away from her stable and ends up in central Paris, where she meets a street-smart German shorthair pointer Frida.  But it’s not easy being a runaway horse in the city, and Paras  will need the help of not only Frida, but also a wise raven, a pair of mallards and a lonely 8-year-old boy.  Smiley’s sophisticated fable offers plenty of whimsy and just the right amount of commentary on the human (and animal) condition. So it’s been awhile since you read a story with talking animals that wasn’t a kid’s book. This one will lift your spirits.

Nora, the main character in Matt Haig’s fanciful The Midnight Library (Viking, digital galley), is so depressed she’s ready to check out. Instead, the 35-year-old Englishwoman finds herself in a library where every book offers an alternative world, a road not taken. Nora samples a number of lives she might have lived if she had made other choices: rock star, wife and mother, professor, Arctic researcher. Still, something’s not quite right, and Nora keeps returning to the Midnight Library. Most of us had those “what might have been” daydreams, and it’s no surprise that Haig’s tale is a best-seller, scooping up several readers’ choice awards. It’s got all the feels.

That’s a wrap for now. May the holidays bring you comfort and joy and many good books.

 

Turning the page

Any other August, I’d have spent the last few weeks finishing up summer reading and maybe getting a head start on fall.  But 2020 continues to be a year like no other, and I haven’t been reading much, or writing at all, because who doesn’t want to move during a pandemic? Yes, after 21 years in the same place, I’m downsizing and moving to a downtown apartment. It’s only two miles away, but that makes no difference when packing up and clearing out clutter — and books. I’m going to have to leave behind my beautiful floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bookshelves that my friend and former colleague Don Hey built in my den. I may cry.

This will be my last post for awhile while I actually move and settle in the new digs. But before I go, some thoughts on what I did read this summer and what you might want to read, too.

Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill published a trifecta of winning novels by several of my favorite authors. Jill McCorkle’s affecting Hieroglyphics focuses on an elderly couple who have moved south from New England after many years and whose lives intersect with a hard-working single mother and her quirky son. All of these characters have been shaped by loss and grief, and McCorkle gracefully weaves in backstories and memories of how each has coped. It’s reflective rather than sad, and I found myself smiling in recognition. Some years ago, author Caroline Leavitt lapsed into a long coma after the birth of her son, and she reimagines that experience in her new novel With or Without You. Stella, a nurse, and Simon, a sessions musician, have been together for 20 years when Stella accidentally mixes up some meds and falls into a coma just as Simon is getting ready to tour with his band. Now he sits beside Stella’s hospital bed, stuck out of time, wondering if he’s missing his big break and finding support from Libby, a doctor and Stella’s best friend. When Stella finally wakes up, she’s unaware of Simon and Libby’s relationship, but she feels like a different person. Her old life and job no longer fit, and she has an amazing new talent for drawing and painting. Like Leavitt’s other novels, including Cruel Beautiful World and Pictures of You, this book is wonderfully written and psychologically astute. In The Lives of Edie Pritchard, Larry Watson is at his storytelling best as he depicts the title character at three points in her life. It’s set mostly in Montana, where readers first meet Edie, an unhappily married bank teller who wonders if she should have chosen her husband’s twin brother. Men are so caught up by Edie’s good looks that they discount her smarts and strength of character. Edie’s possessive second husband makes that mistake, too, and her teenage daughter resents her. Skip forward another 20 years, and it’s 2007. Edie is 64, dealing with a rebellious granddaughter who also has boy trouble, and also with a younger man who wants to control her. No way.

In crime fiction, James Lee Burke’s A Private Cathedral (Simon & Schuster, digital galley) adds to the Dave Robicheaux mythos as the detective and his buddy Clete Purcel step into the past with warring Louisiana crime familes, star-crossed lovers and an evil assassin with paranormal abilities. This is Burke’s 40th book, the 23rd in the Robicheaux series, and Burke’s lyricism makes for a fevered dream of a book as Dave confronts new loves and old demons. Newcomer Alex Paresi goes metafictional with The Eighth Detective (Henry Holt, digital galley), a clever homage to Golden Age mysteries that is intellectually engaging but emotionally flat. Years ago, Grant McCallister came up with a mathematical formula for detective stories and wrote seven short stories to prove his point. Now, book editor Julia Hart seeks out McCallister on a secluded Mediterranean island as her company prepares to republish the collection. As she goes over the stories with the writer, she notices some inconsistencies that need explaining — and thereby hangs the tale. In Denise Mina’s standalone, The Less Dead (Little, Brown, digital galley), Glasgow doctor Margo Dunlop, in search for her biological mother, connects instead with her aunt. A former drug addict and sex worker, Nikki tells Margo that her mother Susan was murdered shortly after Margo’s birth 30 years ago. But Nikki swears she knows the killer and wants Margo to help her get the goods on the former cop. Poor Margo — she’s mourning the recent death of her biological mother, is secretly pregnant and has an erratic best friend in an abusive relationship. Then she starts getting threatening letters.  Carl Hiaasen’s hilarious Squeeze Me (Knopf Doubleday, digital galley) made me forget all about the misery of moving because I was too busy turning pages. Granted, fans of the current president might not like this particular mix of mystery and political satire, but the character known as Mastadon fits right in with Hiaasen’s merry band of misfits. There’s petite Palm Beach socialite Kiki Pew Fitzsimmons who goes missing during a fundraiser at Lipid House. There’s critter removal expert Angie Armstrong who gets the call to take out the 18-foot-Burmese python with a large lump in its stomach. There are a couple of feckless thieves that steal the frozen snake from Angie’s storage locker. There’s asylum-seeker Diego Beltran who picks up a pink pebble and then is accused of killing Kiki.  There’s the first lady called Mockingbird who is very close to a certain Secret Service agent. And there’s the weirdness that is Florida, Hiaasen-style. Winner winner, python dinner.

See you in September, or maybe October. There’s an avalanche of autumn books about to fall, including new titles from Bobbie Ann Mason, Alice Hoffman, Matt Haig, Anthony Horowitz, Sue Miller and Tana French. I can already tell you to keep a lookout for One by One by Ruth Ware and The Darkest Evening by Ann Cleeves. Such good books; they kept me from packing.

 

Chilling

Creep me out. Silvia Moreno-Garcia sure does in her new novel Mexican Gothic, (Ballantine, purchased e-book), lacing classic gothic tropes by way of Bronte with a little Lovecraftian horror. In 1950s Mexico City, chic socialite Noemi reluctantly travels to the remote mountain villa of High Place after her newlywed cousin Catalina sends a mysterious missive that her husband Virgil Doyle’s ancestral home “is sick with rot, stinks with decay, brims with every single evil and cruel sentiment.”  Noemi, who hopes to pursue a graduate degree in anthropology, is skeptical, but High Place, built next to an old silver mine by British aristocrats, is decidedly unwelcoming. Steely Aunt Florence and handsome Virgil supervise her limited visits with sickly Catalina; the dead-eyed servants don’t speak; windows won’t open; and the whole moldering mansion is presided over by ancient family patriarch Howard, a corpse-like figure fond of discussing eugenics. Noemi’s one possible ally is Virgil’s wan cousin Francis, who picks mushrooms in the cemetery and makes detailed botanical drawings of the abundant fungi. Then the hallacinatory nightmares begin, and the dread escalates as a woman’s voice whispers, “Open your eyes.” Who or what is terrorizing Noemi? Turn the page…

In Eve Chase’s atmospheric The Daughters of Foxcote Manor (Putnam, review copy), the titular house is tucked away in the Forest of Dene, covered with vines and shadowed by trees. After the Harrington family home in London goes up in flames in 1971, young nanny Rita Murphy nervously drives mom Jeannie Harrington and her two children, 13-year-old Hera and six-year-old Teddy, to Foxcote while dad Walter remains in town. Still recovering from a breakdown after losing a baby in childbirth, Jeannie retreats to bed, leaving “Big Rita” to contend with the kids, Foxcote and local busybody Maggie. Then Walter’s macho best friend Don shows up at Foxcote and Hera discovers a baby in the woods. Gunshots ring out. Forty years later in London, middle-aged Sylvie deals with her soon-to-be ex-husband, her 18-year-old daughter and her beloved mother, comatose after a fall. Then unexpected news from her daughter sends her down the rabbit hole of old family secrets to Foxcote Manor in 1971. Chase shifts between the two time periods as she pieces together an intriguing puzzle. If some pieces click into place a little too neatly, the overall is as complicated as a Kate Morton tale and just as satisfying.

Something weird is going on at Catherine House (HarperCollins/Charter House, digital galley), a literary gothic from Elisabeth Thomas with shades of The Secret History and Never Let Me Go. For starters, Catherine House is not a house but an elite liberal arts and research college in rural Pennsylvania. Graduates go on to positions of power and influence, but students must first agree to three years of seclusion on the campus. Troubled Ines at first revels in hedonistic pleasures and pays little attention to her studies, the opposite of her roommate Baby, who threatens to crack under the academic pressure. An enforced stint at the “Restoration Center” may be the cure for both of them. Or not. Thomas is great with world-building, the strange hothouse atmosphere in which secrets thrive. She could do more with  character development. Teachers and students blur together, with the exception of outsider Ines, who eventually dares to challenge the establishment.

Riley Sager puts his trademark spin on the haunted house tale while paying homage to The Amityville Horror in Home Before Dark (Dutton/Penguin, digital galley). Maggie Holt is surprised when her father dies and leaves her Baneberry Hall, a dilapidated Victorian in small-town Vermont where she briefly lived with her parents when she was a child. Ewan Holt later wrote a best-selling book, House of Horrors, about how the family fled Baneberry in the wake of supernatural events. He always claimed the book was nonfiction, but Maggie thinks it’s a hoax, that her father took advantage of the house’s reputation as the scene of a gruesome crime. Chapters of Ewan’s book are interspersed with Maggie’s suspenseful present-day account of returning to Baneberry to restore the house and lay to rest its ghosts. Best read this one with the lights on.

Past events also play into the present in Megan Miranda’s involving The Girl from Widow Hills (Simon and Schuster, digital galley). When hospital administrator Olivia Meyer moves to North Carolina from Kentucky, she’s hoping no one will recognize her as Arden Maynor, the six-year-old who was swept away in a storm 20 years ago and miraculously rescued from a drainpipe three days later. Liv remembers little of what happened, but she is still haunted by bad dreams and occasionally sleepwalks. That’s what she’s doing when she stumbles across a dead body between her rental house and her reclusive landlord’s home. Soon, police detective Nina Rigby is asking Liv probing questions even as Liv is investigating on her own. Is she really being stalked, or is it her overactive imagination? Miranda offers up a number of suspects in her twisty guessing-game story.

Megan Goldin uses the popularity of true-crime podcasts to good effect in The Night Swim (St. Martin’s Press, digital galley). Rachel Krall is known for her podcast Guilty or Not Guilty, but she maintains a low personal profile. So she’s surprised to keep finding anonymous letters left for her in Neapolis, N.C., where she’s covering the controversial trial of champion swimmer Ryan Blair, accused of raping teen Kelly Moore. Excerpts of Rachel’s authentic-sounding podcast about the trial alternate with the revealing letters, in which a girl who calls herself Hannah begs Rachel to investigate the long-ago murder of her older sister. Rachel’s intrigued enough to look into the alleged crime but soon discovers that it was closed as an accidental drowning. Hannah herself proves maddeningly elusive, and the trial heats up as the town takes sides. Rachel claims her podcast puts listeners “in the jury box,” and readers will feel they are there, too, even as they wonder about possible connections with the cold case. Tense and timely.

 

Books binge

Put down the remote. Take a break from streaming Hamilton. Don’t you want to read books where stuff happens? We have you covered.

Boy, does stuff happen in Lake Life (Simon and Schuster, digital galley), the impressive first novel from UCF writing prof David James Poissant, following his story collection The Heaven of Animals. The Starling family’s annual summer vacation at their old North Carolina lake house is shadowed by parents Richard and Lisa’s plans to sell the house and retire from academia to Florida. But before grown sons Michael and Thad can recover from the news, a drowning gives rise to revelations and recriminations that rock the family, which includes Michael’s wife Diane and Thad’s partner Jake. Poissant fluently rotates perspectives among the six main characters, each with at least one secret: Alcoholism, infidelity, unexpected pregnancy, suicide attempts, grief that won’t let go. Emotions run deep before roiling to the surface. There’s heartbreak, humor, suspense. Yes, it slips into melodrama — the deer incident — and Poissant sometimes overwrites, as in the drawn-out ending. But excess can be forgiven in a book this good. I’ll read it again.

“Bananas.” That’s what I like best about Elisabeth, the new mother in J. Courtney Sullivan’s novel Friends and Strangers (Knopf Doubleday, digital galley). Whenever Elizabeth catches herself being judgmental, she says “Bananas” before she can blurt out what she really thinks. And Elisabeth is judgy — about the upstate New York College town where she recently moved with her husband; about the members of her new book club, not as cool as her Brooklyn friends; about her nearby in-laws, so different from her own unhappy, withholding parents; about her younger sister, an Instagram star who borrows money; about the women who apply to be part-time nanny to baby Gil. But then Elisabeth meets Sam, a senior scholarship student at the college with babysitting experience who is good with Gil. No doubt Sam is a find. Trouble is, Elisabeth sees her as a friend. Sullivan’s novel is about the complicated relationship between the two women, about good intentions and privilege and boundaries. Elisabeth and Sam share the narrative, and Sam, with her youthful enthusiasms, her hot sleazy London boyfriend, her consideration for others, is a character to care about. As for Elisabeth, “bananas.” I can’t help it. I wanted more Sam and less Elisabeth. Still, I’ll take them both during lockdown.

In Kevin Kwan’s frothy Sex and Vanity (Knopf Doubleday, digital galley), lovely Lucie has suitors named George and Cecil, a brother Freddy and a cousin Charlotte. There’s also a room with a view, which is your final clue that Kwan is putting his “Crazy Rich Asians” spin on E.M. Forster’s 1908 novel.  Kwan subs Capri and the Hamptons for Florence and England, the better to satirize the decadent privilege of his 21st-century characters. Chinese-American Lucie sparks with Chinese-Australian George at a lavish destination wedding, but once back home in New York, she becomes engaged to WASP Cecil. Then George reappears. Kwan has fun with fashion, food and footnotes, and takes name-dropping to new levels — the D’Arcys plus Charles and Camilla.  And lest you forget the wonderful Merchant-Ivory film, where Maggie Smith played Charlotte, there’s a passing reference to the Dowager Countess of Grantham.  Tres amusant.

 

Even if Connie Schultz hadn’t used a quote from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn as an epigraph to her first novel, The Daughters of Erietown (Random House, purchased hardcover), I would still recognize the influence of Betty Smith’s well-loved book. Smith wrote about working-class life in Depression-era Brooklyn. Schultz’s family saga takes place in a blue-collar town in northeast Ohio in the decades following World War II. In a prologue set in 1974, Samantha “Sam” McGinty sets off for college at Kent State. The car ride with her parents, Brick and Ellie, and younger brother Reilly hints at past trauma in the family and life in Erietown, which Schultz then relates in flashback. Ellie, raised by her grandparents, falls in love with high school sports star Brick, and a hurry-up marriage derails plans for college. Brick becomes a union man at the local power plant; Ellie stays home with the kids. It’s the ’50s and then the ’60s, and Schultz writes movingly of the changing times and the McGintys’ struggle to adjust, not always successfully. The period details and cultural commentary, combined with Schultz’s compassion for her flawed characters, makes for a moving and involving story.

 

I binged more books, but I’m having computer problems. Once I get the technical issues resolved, I’ll post about Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas, The Mountains Wild by Sarah Stewart Taylor, The Lantern Men by Elly Griffiths, Home Before Dark by Riley Sager, The Girl from Widow Hills by Megan Miranda, Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, The Lives of Edie Pritchard by Larry Watson and Hieroglyphs by Jill McCorkle. I liked them all.

 

 

 

 

Open all the books

Summertime, and the reading’s whatever you want it to be. Now that bookstores and libraries are reopening, it’s time to open all the books we missed.

It wasn’t until this past week when Oprah named James McBride’s Deacon King Kong (Riverhead Penguin/library e-book) her latest book club pick that I realized I forgot to write about it back in March. That was early stay-home days, and all I did was read, read, read.  McBride’s lively novel transported me to a housing project in south Brooklyn in September 1969, where in front of God and everybody, a crotchety, inebriated church deacon known as Sportcoat shoots the ear off Deems Clemens, former baseball prodigy turned drug dealer. What has led Sportcoat to this moment and the repercussions that follow affects the entire community of churchgoers, cleaning ladies, transit workers, shopkeepers, mobsters and police. It involves moonshine, free cheese, marching ants, hidden treasure and a missing Christmas Club fund, and it includes characters as colorful as their names: Pudgy Fingers, Hot Sausage, Sister Gee, Elephant, Lightbulb, cousins Nanette and Sweet Corn. It’s a lot of fun and full of heart.

Other spring books of note are Gail Godwin’s Old Lovegood Girls (Bloomsbury USA, digital galley) and Richard Ford’s Sorry for Your Trouble (Ecco/HarperCollins, digital galley). The latter collection of short stories features older men pondering the past and contending with the present, the death of old friends, the loss of wives and lovers. Some memories are tinged with regret, while others are more rueful about choices made long ago. In the novella-length, “The Run of Yourself, “ a widower has a surprising encounter with a much-younger woman, while in “Nothing to Declare,” a married attorney recognizes his first love in a New Orleans hotel. Godwin’s pensive novel unfolds elliptically as a successful writer looks back at the complicated, 40-year friendship with her college roommate and how it has influenced her career. Feron Hood, secretive about her alcoholic mother and abusive stepfather, first meets Merry Jellicoe, a confident tobacco heiress, in 1958 at a Southern college for women. They bond over a shared writing class, but Merry has to leave Lovegood when her parents die in an accident. Letters and sporadic meetings over the years keep them connected, and Merry’s first published short story spurs competitive Feron to finish her novel. There are secrets and envy on both sides, though, and questions of appropriation arise. Secondary characters such as Feron’s gentlemanly uncle and Merry’s farm manager play significant roles.

Highlighting issues of race, gender and identity, Britt Bennett’s The Vanishing Half (Riverhead, purchased hardcover) could hardly be more timely, but it’s also a timeless story of sisters, mothers, daughters and how the past shapes the present. Identical twins Desiree and Stella Vignes grow up in a small Louisiana community of light-skinned blacks, but run away to New Orleans at 16. Townspeople thought they’d soon return. “Instead after a year, the twins scattered, their lives splitting as evenly as their shared egg. Stella became white and Desiree married the darkest man she could find.” Bennett follows the twins’ separate lives, focusing first on Desiree, who does return home in 1968 with her dark-skinned daughter Jude. Meanwhile, Stella lives as a white woman in California, raising a blonde daughter Kennedy who is unaware of her mother’s past. Jude and Kennedy improbably intersect as young women, thus reconnecting the twins. The narrative’s drama owes a lot to coincidence, but Bennett writes beautifully about self-discovery and reinvention, secrets and choices, twinship and kinship.

Is every day starting to seem the same? Time to inject some suspense. I started with Lucy Foley’s twisty The Guest List (Morrow, purchased hardcover), which features a fancy celebrity wedding on a storm-tossed Island off the coast of Ireland. The closed circle of suspects gives off Agatha Christie-vibes, but while the identity of the eventual victim is obvious, that of the killer may catch you off guard. There’s no doubt a devious serial killer known as the Shrike is stalking women in the pages of Michael Connelly’s Fair Warning (Little, Brown, library e-book), but it takes the dogged determination of investigative reporter Jack McEvoy to figure out the scary motive behind the murders. McEvoy has come down in the world since he starred in The Poet and The Scarecrow; he now works for an online consumer web site because newspapers are expiring right and left, which is more than sad. Heather Young’s atmospheric thriller The Distant Dead (HarperCollins, digatal galley) is set in a sad desert town, where an orphaned schoolboy discovers the charred corpse of his middle-school math teacher in the desolate hills. The book is layered with mysteries, past and present, as history teacher Nora Wheaton soon discovers. For a more upbeat tale, turn to Riviera Gold (Ballantine, digital galley) as Laurie R. King continues the adventures of Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes. We last saw them in Venice in Island of the Mad, socializing with Cole Porter and his crowd; now Mary’s off to the Riviera and Monaco, where she is surprised to find former housekeeper Mrs. Hudson filling in for Gerald and Sara Murphy’s regular nanny. Still, glimpses of the rich and famous are of little interest when Mrs. Hudson’s checkered past catches up with her and she’s accused of murder. Russell and Holmes to the rescue!