The Silkworm by Robert Galbraith

The Silkworm is J. K. Rowling’s second mystery novel written under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith, and featuring the curmudgeonly detective Cormoran Strike and his clever assistant Robin Ellacott. Strike is hired to find Owen Quine, a missing novelist, and find him he does. Quine is dead--murdered, it turns out, by a grisly method described in Quine's latest (and not yet released) book. The initial list of suspects includes anyone who may have read the manuscript, and this list contains more folks than you might imagine: family members, his agent, his publisher and the office staff, fellow authors, lawyers, etc., many of whom had good reasons to hate Quine, whose capacity to offend was outmatched only by his ego.

Who knew there was so much vitriol in the staid world of publishing? Rowling apparently knows. As her characters offer observations on the state of modern literature, book marketing, and fame, it’s hard not to interpret them through this lens. The world that Rowling/Galbraith describes is a hotbed of jealousy, spitefulness, incompetence, greed, and decades-old grudges, all of which seethe under a thin veneer of respectability.

While it’s interesting that Rowling brings all this publishing world angst to the novel’s backstory, the real question I’m thinking about is, what makes this book better than the hundreds of other mysteries out there? Or more precisely, why did I like this book (and the first one in the series, The Cuckoo’s Calling) better than many other mysteries I’ve read? Here are my reasons, in no particular order:

1. Rowling hews to some classic mystery character tropes (an outsider detective and a clever assistant who have some unresolved sexual tension between them) but her skill and experience as a writer elevate them beyond the cliche. Hence Strike and Robin are well-developed, sympathetic characters--Strike is not very good looking or overly macho, and he makes mistakes. Robin is smart and self-motivated, but still learning. She and Strike treat each other like colleagues, despite whatever might be simmering underneath.

2. The crime, while gruesome, is not titillating or exploitative. I’m really tired of mysteries that include sexual violence, and The Silkworm is blessedly free of that.

3. The book is just not as dark as a lot of current mysteries. Strike, despite his difficulties, remains essentially a hopeful man, and if he has a self-destructive streak, he’s working hard to get it under control. While the publishing industry takes some shots, Rowling avoids the tendency of a lot of modern mystery writers to engage in broad (and usually negative) social commentary. The death of Owen Quine is not viewed as a symptom of some larger social ill and we are not called upon to draw any such conclusions. (That said, this is certainly not a "cozy mystery" where all unpleasantness happens off screen and recipes are interspersed throughout. Not that there's anything wrong with those.)

Almost everyone I know is reading Robert Galbraith’s books. The library waiting list for The Silkworm has over 400 people on it, and a few hundred more are still waiting for The Cuckoo’s Calling. For some reason this fact brings me a lot of pleasure.

(Book 18, 2014)

The Cuckoo's Calling by Robert Galbraith

Attentive readers will know that Robert Galbraith is a pseudonym for J. K. Rowling. Rowling’s identity was outed by someone from her law firm, but not before she had gotten this book published, sold a decent number of copies, and had offers from television production companies for the rights. Rowling had planned to keep writing as Galbraith for as long as she could, but her anonymity only lasted for three months after the book’s release in the UK. She says she was “more disappointed than angry” about the revelation.

I only heard of the book in conjunction with the news that Galbraith was Rowling, though I like to think I would have found it anyway. It’s really an excellent detective story, featuring a hardboiled PI, his intrepid assistant, and a dead supermodel.

So much detective fiction coming out of the UK and northern Europe right now is really really dark, featuring isolated self-destructive detectives and horrifically violent crime. Galbraith draws on that tradition but avoids the extremes. In fact, I think he (she?) hits exactly the right tone. Cormoran Strike, the PI, is an Iraq war veteran, down on his luck, something of a drinker, but he maintains his sense of humor and a desire to turn things around; he hasn’t given in to his worst impulses (yet). And the crime Strike investigates, while sad, isn’t strange or sick, like some of the serial killer stuff that’s out there. Finally, Galbraith gives us Robin, a young woman who has always taken the safe, predictable path, but whose outwardly pragmatic demeanor hides a restless longing for something, anything, more exciting than a job in human resources and another evening with her stolid fiancé. When the temp agency sends her to Strike (by mistake, actually) she can finally let her true colors shine.

With these elements in place, Galbraith sets us up for a series of books (we hope) that will draw on Strike’s gruff, methodical methods and Robin’s flashes of insight to create a team that will keep delivering the goods. The second in this series (The Silkworm) is coming June 19, 2014 and Rowling says she’s looking forward to writing more books as Galbraith.

(Book 8, 2014)

One Step Behind by Henning Mankell

This was good as an audiobook but only meh as a traditional read. I didn't have time to finish listening before this disappeared from my phone* so I  was forced to check out the hardback to read the last 50 pages or so. While I enjoyed listening to this book on my daily walks, I kind of had to force myself to finish reading it. And the end is a letdown -- by the time they catch the killer I didn't really care why he did it, which was a good thing, since Mankell never really bothers to explain his motivation beyond that of being a psychopath, which I think is a cop-out.

One Step Behind is a traditional police procedural, and if you are a fan of that type of thing than you have either already read it or know what to expect. Dick Hill is the audiobook reader; he was engaging to listen to and pronounced the Swedish names with panache. I think I might have even enjoyed the last bit of the book better if I could have listened to him read it to me.

Earlier this year (or some time last year?) I said I was off mysteries. I still am, but not as audiobooks. I have different criteria for audiobooks and one of them is that there be a certain amount of suspense, which mysteries provide. Another requirement is a traditional narrative structure, with no jumping around in time, and a limited POV. Standard police procedurals usually adhere to these rules too. Everything happens in order, and it's usually only the cop's point of view, or maybe in some cases, the cop and the criminal, who are easy to tell apart. Given these constraints, I've started listening to Mission to Paris by Alan Furst and am really liking it. (While not a mystery, it is a traditionally organized spy thriller.) That reader, Daniel Gerroll, is also excellent. And because I ripped the CDs into my iTunes I can hang on to this until I finish listening, so there's that.

*It was one of those downloadable audiobooks you get from the library and I listened using the Overdrive app on my smartphone. I highly recommend the Overdrive app, though my library's implementation of the Overdrive platform is pretty bad. Audiobook/library technology is still fairly rudimentary and there still aren't a lot of good titles available for checkout, either.

(Book 22, 2013)

Exit Music by Ian Rankin

Have I gone off mysteries? I have read very few in the last few years, not so much by design as by oversight. But I thought I would try again with a classic author/detective combination: Ian Rankin’s John Rebus, in his most-recent-but-one offering Exit Music. Appropriately titled, Rebus is days away from retirement but can’t keep himself from going rogue yet again and getting suspended in the process. As usual, his colleague Siobhan Clarke tries to keep him in check while getting herself into position for her long-awaited promotion.

In the end I was just kind of “meh” about this book. There’s nothing wrong with it. Rankin is a good writer and Rebus is an interesting guy and a bit easier to take now that he’s sobered up somewhat. Clarke still has a bit of a chip on her shoulder but that’s to be expected. I just couldn’t get very invested in them and what they were up to. And so then what’s the point? I guess I am breaking up with mysteries. This must be the part where I say “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Here’s something: All the Rebus novels are set in Edinburgh. Rankin’s website has lots of good stuff about Edinburgh, about Rebus and his origins, and about Scottish literature. It also includes an interactive map where you can follow Rebus around the city and a Rebus playlist for Spotify (Rebus is a huge music fan).

(Book 10, 2013)

The City and the City by China Mieville

In keeping with my quest to read mysteries set in exotic locations, I read The City and The City, by China Mieville. Mieville is a purveyor of urban speculative fiction that incorporates elements of fantasy, reality, and science fiction. In this book two cities, Beszel (a rundown Eastern European backwater) and Ul Qoma (flush with money from a booming high-tech industry) exist in the same physical space; the streets, buildings, and residents wrap around one another like strands of spaghetti but it’s impossible to be in both cities at the same time. The book’s fantasy device allows the overlapping territories to appear different to the residents of each city. Residents of both cities can see one another but must avoid interacting through a technique known as “unseeing,” lest they attract the attention of a malevolent force known as Breach, which keeps everyone apart. The mystery concerns a resident of Ul Qoma who is found dead in Beszel; how she got there is as much a question as who killed her. The man who must investigate is Inspector Tyador Borlu of Beszel, a jaded cop of the type familiar to readers of noir mysteries everywhere. As Tyador gets pulled deeper into the mystery he explores the relationship between the two cities and the forces that keep them apart.

Notice how much work it was to explain this book’s setting. It was actually less annoying to just read the book itself; in fact, I enjoyed it and Mieville does a good job of helping you understand the bits you need to understand and redirecting you away from what doesn’t make as much sense. I did keep wondering if the story was a metaphor for modern cities segregated between haves and have-nots, though Mieville says he discourages reading too much into his choices.

Apparently this was the first (and only) mystery I read all year. I’m shocked. Must remedy that in 2013.

(Book 33, 2012)

Midnight Riot by Ben Aaronovitch

A salient feature of fantasy novels is world building. Doing it well is tricky and it’s often where a good idea turns into a not-so-good book. It’s also been the weak link in the fantasy novels I’ve read recently (Kraken by China Mieville and Shades of Grey by Jaspar Fforde). Here is the dilemma: if an author concentrates too hard on world building, he or she can end up with too much explication and not enough action. Not enough world building and readers are baffled by the mysterious rules of an unknown universe. I have found that authors usually err on the side of too much rather than not enough but in the case of Midnight Riot the opposite is true.

However, given the choice, I’d go with not enough. Reading always includes some element of suspension of disbelief; if the world building is a tad incomplete it’s just one more thing to not think too hard about. Aaronovitch’s enthusiastic foray into a magical London is just delightful, even if I didn’t always follow the action, exactly.

His protagonist Peter is a newly minted London constable who, to his great surprise, finds himself assigned to assist Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale in his investigations of crimes involving magic: ghostly witnesses, brawls among minor dieties, riots caused by long-dead provocateurs. It turns out Peter exhibits some aptitude for magic and throws himself eagerly into his new job. He’s a funny, warm-hearted, totally modern protagonist who cheerfully suspends his own initial disbelief, so is it too much to ask that we do likewise?

Aaronovitch’s sly references to contemporary vampire fiction and Harry Potter only enhanced my enjoyment of this book. I didn’t actually, in the end, understand the whole plotline concerning a lethal reenactment of Punch and Judy, but so what? It was still a really good read and I am thrilled to find another book featuring Peter and DIC Nightingale is already available (Moon Over Soho) and a third is coming in May 2012.

(Book 36, 2011)

Faithful Place by Tana French

I'm finally admitting defeat. I cannot finish this. I so wanted to, having loved loved loved French's earlier novel The Likeness, which I blogged about here. I stuck with this one way longer than I would have otherwise, but still, I can't make it through.

French is notoriously long-winded. That was a big complaint about The Likeness, and I even referred to it in my own post: "French often uses three sentences when one would do." But while I enjoyed her style in that book, in Faithful Place her excess verbiage did me in. Usually it took the form of maudlin multipage conversations among a dysfunctional family of alcoholics and layabouts who pass their days accusing one another of historic betrayals and acts of violence, or convoluted theories about whodunit put forth by hostile law enforcement officers with competing agendas. Did I mention that this is a mystery? Who actually killed Rose is about 47th on the list of French's interests, it seems, well behind Dublin in the 1980's and the Irish economy, to name just two.

(Book 26, 2011)

Started Early, Took My Dog by Kate Atkinson

Last time I looked at Kate Atkinson’s web site I got the impression she was done with Jackson Brodie, at least for a while. That was back when I read When Will There Be Good News, which I blogged about here. But apparently I was wrong! What a pleasure to discover a new mystery featuring this complicated man (ex-cop, ex-soldier, private investigator, denizen of Edinburgh and other northern cities).

As usual in Atkinson’s books, multiple plot strands (from both the past and the present) intertwine to create a twisted web of crime, corruption, moral ambiguity, and emotional wreckage. This story also features a new character, ex-detective Tracy Waterhouse, who seems to have a lot in common with Brodie: On the same day that Brodie kidnaps a dog from his abusive owner, Tracy kidnaps a little girl from her abusive mother. Meanwhile, Brodie wants to talk to Tracy about her memories of a case from 40 years ago, another kidnapping of a child. Tracy is as tightly wound as Brodie, and just as respectful of the rules (sarcasm). I liked her.

So can you follow it? Yes, because Atkinson is always up to the task: no loose ends, nothing left to coincidence. She is an expert at this form. If you haven’t read these books, you should start with the first one, Case Histories (blogged about here). They are really really good.

And here is another treat: when I visited Atkinson’s web site I discovered that the BBC has made a TV series of the first few Jackson Brodie titles, starring Jason Isaacs, who is skinnier than I imagine Brodie to be, but who otherwise looks perfect for the part. I don’t think Netflix is carrying this yet in the U.S. but I’m sure it will arrive soon enough.

(Book 22, 2011)

Bangkok 8 by John Burdett, Do Over

Here is a more nuanced discussion than the one I posted yesterday.

In recent years, many mystery novels have become platforms for social analysis. There is something about the form that lends itself to the task, whether it's the requirement that all mysteries contain some form of good vs. evil, or the close character studies afforded by the tradition. While some mystery writers have always done this on a micro level (think Patricia Highsmith’s ongoing fascination with the role of the outsider in her work), only recently have we seen such a spate of books that use the mystery novel framework to reflect on a society as a whole. I’ve talked about this before here and here. But Bangkok 8 is like a supercharged example of the phenomenon.

In yesterday’s post I complained that this book was too long. Part of that length involves Burdett’s continual examination of the differences between Asian and Western culture. He illustrates some of these differences with his two protagonists, Sonchai Jitpleecheep, a Thai detective, and Kimberley Jones, an American FBI agent, who are assigned to work together to discover the killer of a U.S. Marine in Bangkok. But Burdett goes much further than just showing us their different approaches (Jones’s reliance on hard facts; Sonchai’s reliance on his intuition). In Sonchai, Burdett has given us a character who thinks really hard about these differences. As a man of mixed race (he has a Thai mother and an unknown U.S. Vietnam-era serviceman father), Sonchai is uniquely situated to provide ongoing analysis and commentary. And Burdett doesn’t hesitate to pull the puppeteer’s strings; towards the end of the book he even has Sonchai reading a book about how the West doesn’t understand Thailand. He even treats us to quotes from that book, in case we haven’t gotten his point.

Another theme of the book is the sex trade in Thailand (which Sonchai, as the son of a former prostitute, has a unique perspective on) and more specifically, the booming Thai industry in gender reassignment surgery, which is much cheaper and less regulated than what is available in Western nations. Burdett again provides an east vs. west analysis of people’s attitudes toward sex and gender that (of course) ends up relating back to the original murder.

This book is a lot of work – it’s not a mindless escapist sort of mystery, but one you can sink your teeth into, if you like this kind of thing. I do, sometimes, and felt (despite my complaints about its length) that it was a really good read.

(Book 12, 2011)

Bangkok 8 by John Burdett

A conversation among Me, Myself, and I.

Me: Ugh, I thought this book would never end.

Myself: You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Me: I mean it that way. It was just endless. I kept on reading and reading, but I never seemed to finish.

Myself: But it was really interesting! And it had so much cool information about Bangkok! And the detective, Sonchai, was so likable, wise, and funny. Didn’t you love him?

Me: Well yes, he was great, and so was Jones, the American FBI agent. She was smart and intrepid, yes. But what about the snakes? Yuck. And that sleazy guy Warren? Eeeeeeeeeewwwww. What he did was awful!

Myself, Yes but Sonchai and Jones were on him! They figured him out!

Me: I know, but still….and what about all the stuff about the sex trade? Wasn’t it a little bit Too Much Information?

Myself: Well maybe, but didn’t you love the ex-prostitute Nong, who was busy taking finance and management courses over the web in anticipation of opening her own sex club? And she was Sonchai’s mother! What a smart cookie!

Me: I guess. But it sure didn’t make me want to visit Bangkok. I’d be afraid I’d get caught in one of their traffic jams.

Myself: So what I hear you saying is that you loved this book’s characters, but maybe didn’t enjoy the action or the setting so much.

Me: That’s kind of an over-simplification. I liked a lot of that, especially the Bangkok setting. There was just a bit too much; Burdett could have left some of it out, saved it for his next book. Then he would have gotten to the finish more quickly and efficiently. And I could have started to read all these other books that are piling up next to my bed.

I: Shhhhhhh. Would you girls stop talking? I’m trying to read.

(Book 12, 2011)

A Darker Domain by Val McDermid

Here’s a useful new term: Tartan Noir. It describes a form of Scottish crime fiction characterized by troubled protagonists and plots that deal with questions of redemption. It turns out there’s also Scandinavian Noir (troubled protagonists and changing society; authors include Henning Mankell, Karin Fossum and Arnaldur Indridison), and Mediterranean Noir (troubled protagonists and governmental corruption; authors include Andrea Camilleri and Michael Dibdin). Most of the crime novels I’ve read in the last few years fall into one of these genres, it turns out, including A Darker Domain.

I liked this one a lot. It’s a standard police procedural with POVs from several different characters. I liked the two female protagonists (a cop and a journalist, both investigating the same crime). So many of these “noir-ish” books have a dearth of female characters. McDermid’s two female leads are not as tortured as some of their male counterparts (Kurt Wallander's depression, and Erlendur’s troubled family come to mind) but they still have their demons. McDermid’s writing is excellent and her plotting is complicated but accessible. I also liked the relative lack of blood and gore, though I hear some of her other titles feature more violence.

Hey, what about Stalin’s Ghost, by Martin Cruz Smith? Arkady Renko is certainly a detective with issues, and all those books dwell on corruption and moral ambiguity in both the old and the new Russia. But a quick Google search for “Russian Noir” yields only links to articles about Russian photographers, film makers, and Pinot Noir from California’s Russian River Valley; no one has yet used the term to refer to this type of fiction. Folks, you heard it here first!

(Book 9, 2011)

Stalin's Ghost by Martin Cruz Smith

This book’s mystery was not as satisfying as some of Smith’s earlier work, but the writing was just excellent. In Maps and Legends: Reading and Writing Along the Borderlands, Michael Chabon argues for blurring the lines between genre fiction and mainstream literary fiction when we talk about writing. Stalin’s Ghost is a perfect book to further Chabon’s argument that some of the best modern writing is happening in genre fiction (mystery, science fiction, fantasy) rather than in traditional literary fiction. When I think about how Smith’s writing in Stalin’s Ghost compares to some of the sloppy slapdash crap that passes for literary fiction these days I get all worked up (can you tell?). Smith’s prose is just gorgeous, both poetic and precise at the same time; it’s always exactly right.

The mystery is a little muddier – what, exactly, is Renko investigating? The reported appearance of the ghost of Joseph Stalin at a Moscow subway station? Potential corruption in the OMON (the Russian Special Police)? The origins and victims of a World War II-era mass grave in the Russian city of Tver? Pretty much all of it, it seems; Renko is not one to shy away from a challenge. Smith also presents us with an extremely unflattering portrait of modern Russia, complete with its enormous income gap, and peopled by gamblers, alcoholics, motorcycle gangs, runaways and knife-wielding thugs. It’s endlessly fascinating, though occasionally a little over the top for me.

I have been following Arkady Renko’s career since his earliest days as a homicide investigator in Soviet-era Moscow, in Smith’s first book Gorky Park. He’s one of my all time favorite detectives. He’s getting older now, and smokes too many cigarettes and drinks too much vodka, which seems to be the fate of everyone else in Russia, too, if you believe Smith’s portrayal.

(Book 4, 2011)

Hypothermia by Arnaldur Indriðason

I’ve noticed that when it comes to mysteries, I am all about location, the more exotic the better. In the past year or so I’ve read mysteries that take place in India, Norway, the Shetland Islands, China, Ireland, Italy, and Saudi Arabia. And now with this most recent book, Iceland. Though I’ve been to Iceland before (in real life, too!), as this is the fifth book I’ve read about Reykjavik detective Erlandur. Like Arnaldur's earlier books, this is one dark and laconic. He doesn’t waste words or emotions and neither does Erlandur as he slowly and doggedly tries to get to the bottom of an apparent suicide that just doesn’t seem right to him.

Several scenes in this book are set at the Thingvellir National Park, one of the most amazing places I’ve ever been in my life, where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates come together to form a rift valley. You can walk on the valley floor between the two plates, North America on your left side, Europe on your right. It’s also a Unesco World Heritage site, the original site of the Althing, the world’s oldest parliament, established in 930 CE. Of course none of this matters to Erlandur, who just spends a lot of time wondering how long it would take for someone to freeze to death in the icy waters of Lake Thingvallavatn (answer: not very long).

Above is a picture I took of the trail through the rift valley at Thingvellir. You can see more (and better) photos of this place on Flickr or by doing an image search in Google.

(Book 58, 2010)

A Dead Hand by Paul Theroux

Doesn’t this sound like it’s a mystery novel? Look at the cover: scary! But no, bait and switch. It’s really about a washed up travel writer who becomes obsessed with a mysterious American woman living in Calcutta. On and on he goes about how beautiful she is, how fascinating, how unique. He can’t get enough of her. When she asks him to look into a teeny problem she is having, of course he agrees; how could he not? Sucker.

He does eventually catch on to her nefarious business, but not until long after we have figured it out. Meanwhile, he’s developed a bad case of writer’s block (he has a “dead hand”) and we have to listen to him go on and on about that, too.

The weird thing is that Paul Theroux is himself kind of a crabby old travel writer (though I wouldn’t describe him as “washed up”). What was Theroux trying to accomplish with this book? The mystery is dull and the characters are sketchy. The descriptions of India are good, though. Was Theroux really just writing another travel book with a half-baked mystery plastered on top for marketing purposes?

(Book 49, 2010)

Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde

I imagine if you are fan of Jasper Fforde, creator of oddball alternate-universe mysteries like the Thursday Next series, you might like this book. Several years ago I tried to read The Eyre Affair and abandoned it in exhaustion. In the intervening years Fforde has cranked out five more Thursday Next books and a couple of Nursery Crime novels, and now he’s begun a third series, the first of which is this one, Shades of Grey.

Shades of Grey is part dystopian tale, part social satire, and total fantasy. The world has undergone some unspecified disaster, destroying civilization as we know it, and damaging people’s ability to perceive color. The society that has evolved organizes people into castes by what colors they can see, and (as you can imagine), some colors confer more status than others. The Purples are at the top of the heap; the Greys are at the bottom. The world is controlled by the Colortocracy, complete with rigid rules and arcane traditions that combine the worst of North Korea with English public schools. (Prefects are in charge, everyone must play a sport, there is much singing in praise of someone called Munsell.)

This book is very funny (a la Douglas Adam), but it’s also very complicated and difficult to follow. Fforde’s world is so enormously complex that huge portions of the book are just explication. The story (about Eddie, a naïve Red, and Jane, a subversive Grey) is constantly interrupted in its forward progress by whimsical asides about the black market value of lingonberry jam and the abuse of the color green, for example. Fforde’s total infatuation with his own cleverness is his undoing. In the end I was overwhelmed by detail and lost track of who was who and why it mattered.

(Book 46, 2010)

Black Seconds by Karin Fossum

I’ve said this before about mysteries by Karin Fossum: they are good to read, but hard to write about. So much of the story is inside the heads of the characters, in how they think about their actions and the consequences of those actions (in the case of the perpetrators) or in how they reason out the solution of the crime (in the case of the detectives).

This book is about a child disappearance, but it isn’t typical. There are no evil serial killers, only a few troubled young men and some bad decisions. Like an earlier Fossum book I read, Don’t Look Back, it’s set in rural/suburban Norway, among typical Norwegian characters, such as oil workers, housewives, and students. This is worth mentioning, I think, because so many Scandinavian writers are focusing these days on issues of immigration and urban crime. While I enjoy those books, too, if you are looking for that angle, Fossum won’t provide it. Instead you will get a restrained and measured analysis of a series of events and their aftermath.

Trust me, this is good, even though it sounds like not so much. Fans of Scandinavian crime novels will immediately get what I’m driving at (I hope).

(Book 39, 2010)

Red Bones by Ann Cleeves

I love this mystery series, set in the Shetland Isles. I love the cold wet climate, the isolation, the sheep. Weird, I know. But even if this setting sounds awful to you, if you are mystery fan, you will enjoy this. Some archeologists find some old bones. But wait, are they really old? Then one archaeologist turns up dead. What’s going on? Turns out, even in a place as peaceful and remote as this, there are people who are hungry for money and power, and who don’t want their secrets revealed.

Cleeves is the author of two previous Shetland mysteries, Raven Black and White Nights, both of which (like this one) feature detective Jimmy Perez. A fourth book, Blue Lightning, is due out in September. Her books are a kind of cross between standard British police procedurals and the darker, more detached style favored by the Scandinavian mystery writers. I’ll be really disappointed if she ends the series with Blue Lightning (which I think is likely, given the fact that Amazon bills them as the “Shetland Quartet”). Darn it.

Red Bones is set on the Shetland island of Whalsay. Here’s a link to a lovely batch of photos of Whalsay.

(Book 37, 2010)

Some Books and a Recipe

Okay, this is ridiculous. That list on the right sidebar of unblogged books just gets longer and longer and I’m getting more and more stressed about it. So I’ve decided to sit here in my kitchen and write short little pieces about all of those books while I make potato salad. As a bonus for sticking with me I will also give you my potato salad recipe which I adapted from one at epicurious.com (to omit the bacon and make it vegetarian-friendly).

1. Boil 3 lbs. small new potatoes for about 15 minutes, until tender.

Servants of the Map by Andrea Barrett

Good. Old fashioned writing, stories about explorers and scientists from the 19th century through the present. Develops themes of science and exploration, and how the two overlap. Also raises questions about the conflict between science and religion. Sounds dull but isn’t. Grade: A

2. Drain, cool, and peel potatoes. Slice and place in a bowl, preferably an old yellow bowl that belonged to your grandmother.

The Map Thief by Heather Terrell

A mystery about an ancient map which has been stolen from a Chinese archaeological dig. The main mystery features a modern-day woman who specializes in recovering stolen art, but we also get chapters from the POV of the map’s 17th century creator, and various characters throughout history who have stolen or made use of the map for their own purposes. I was kind of in the mood for this after reading Servants of the Map but this wasn’t as good. The writing was a little pedestrian and I’ve forgotten a lot of the story already. Grade B.

3. Finely dice one small onion and two cloves garlic and sauté in ¼ cup vegetable oil. Allow to cool.

Remarkable Creatures by Tracy Chevalier

Really really good. This is a fictionalized story of Mary Anning, a 19th century working class woman who was a skilled fossil hunter in Lyme Regis, in England. Anning found the first ichthyosaurus skeleton, among many other important fossils, in the chalk cliffs on the beach in Lyme Regis. Chevalier writes beautifully from the POV of Anning’s friend Elizabeth Philpot (also a real person and a fossil hunter). Anning’s struggles for recognition by the male scientific establishment are infuriating; frequently her discoveries were appropriated by others (men) and only in the last few decades has she gotten the notice she deserves. Like Servants of the Map, this book also raises questions about the relationship between science and religious faith. Chevalier has a nice web site about the book and about Anning. Grade A.

4. To the saucepan containing the onions, garlic, and oil, add: 2 ½ cups vegetable stock, ¼ cup cider vinegar, 2 tablespoons brown mustard, and 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce. Bring to boil, boil 1 minute, then cool.

A Proper Education for Girls by Elaine DiRollo

Very funny, very original. Two sisters in Victorian England are raised by their father (who is a collector of scientific and natural miscellany), their eccentric aunts, and an odd assortment of hangers on, including a mysterious man who is building a flying machine on the roof. One sister, after a youthful indiscretion, has been forced to marry a missionary and is banished to India; the other sister works as her father’s curator, spending her days documenting the depth and breadth of his collection. The bulk of the story is the sisters’ efforts to reunite while their father conspires to keep them apart. This book has a high level of whimsy. It reminded me a lot of Daniel Handler’s Series of Unfortunate Events, but for grownups. Grade A.

5. Pour liquid from saucepan over the cooled, sliced potatoes. Toss. Add freshly ground pepper. Serve at room temperature.

Haunted Ground by Erin Hart

Wow, what was this about? I can’t remember even one thing. Oh, wait, now I remember. This was pretty good. It’s another archeological mystery (clearly I am on some kind of roll with these), about some Irish farmers who discover a preserved body in the peat bog. Is this a modern murder or is it an ancient body that has been mummified, like the other bog people found around northern Europe. My one complaint is that the author wasn’t satisfied just pursuing the identity and story of the red-haired bog woman, but had to throw in another complicated mystery as well, which I thought was just a big distraction. Grade B.

That's all for now. I still have a few more to write about but I think I can get to them in the normal course of events.

(Books 29-33, 2010)

Arctic Chill by Arnaldur Indriðason

These Icelandic mysteries continue to be my favorites. As usual, Arnaldur Indriðason delivers a simple mystery with a straight-forward solution, but it’s the accompanying journey through Iceland’s modern social issues that makes his books so interesting. And of course, Iceland’s issues are Europe’s issues; in this case the impact of immigration on a formerly homogeneous culture.

Elias, a boy with an Icelandic father and a Thai mother, is murdered on his way home from school. Was his murder racially motivated? Was it just a consequence of living in an impoverished neighborhood in Reykjavik? Suspects abound: local drug dealers and pedophiles, professed racists, schoolyard bullies. Detectives Erlendur, Sigurdur Oli, and Elinborg must contend with all this and more, including Elias’s mother Sunee, who speaks only Thai, her estranged husband who has engaged in a series of “marriages” to Asian women whom he brings to Iceland, then abandons, and Elias’s older half brother who is fully Thai and whose adjustment to Icelandic society has been marred by depression and violence.

This is a bleak story set in a rapidly changing society. Why do I read these kinds of things? I think I love them because they help me see that every society struggles with similar issues and that human traits are universal: the racist Icelandic teacher who rails against the Asian immigrants could be someone from the U.S. talking about Mexicans; the single mother trying to hold her family together despite her lack of money and her long working hours could be from anywhere. Trouble is everywhere and we just have to sort it out as best we can, clue by clue, as Erlendur does.

(Book 40, 2009)

A Long Finish by Michael Dibdin

When I heard in 2007 that Michael Dibdin had died, I remember thinking "Oh darn, I never got around to reading any of his books." What a weird thought, as if the Head Librarian would now be taking all his books off the shelves. It is true that I prefer to read books by living authors but that's mostly because I am trying to stay current, not because I've got anything against the dearly departed.

Dibdin's Aurelio Zen mysteries (of which this is an early one) always show up on the must-read lists, including this one, the Times Online's list of the 50 greatest crime writers, where he is #37. (How many of these authors have you read? I've read 26.) Dibdin is often discussed in the same context as Nicholas Freeling (also dead) and H. R. F. Keating (not yet dead) because all three are British mystery novelists who write in English about non-British detectives. Freeling created Amsterdam detective Piet Van der Valk and French Inspector Henri Castang, while Keating is the creator of Inspector Ghote of the Mumbai police. Aurelio Zen is Italian. Being British distinguishes these authors from mystery novelists such as George Simenon (#2 on the Times list, dead) who wrote in French and Andrea Camilleri (#43 on the Times list, not dead) who writes in Italian. Why the sudden interest in authors’ nationalities (and state of animation)? I am just wondering what it is about the British psyche that gives certain writers the confidence to imagine up these non-British scenarios with such confidence and panache. Are there books written in Chinese about London detectives, do you think?

Oh, did I like the book? I guess so. It had a lot in it about food and wine, which is always fun. It also had a wonderfully ironic ending. Zen is not terribly interested in following any sort of policeman-type rules, which makes for some good tricks.

(Book 38, 2009)