Thursday 27 July 2017

Blog-Tour: The Other Twin by L. V. Hay


Today is my stop on the Blog-Tour for The Other Twin by Lucy V. Hay. I've tried really hard to not let any major spoilers slip into my review of The Other Twin, mainly because it would give the whole damn plot away. However I would like to say kudos to the author for the Jenny storyline. It was done in a sensitive and yet very realistic way.


About the Author
Lucy V. Hay is a novelist, script editor and blogger who helps writers via her Bang2write consultancy. She is the associate producer of Brit Thrillers Deviation (2012) and Assassin (2015), both starring Danny Dyer. Lucy is also head reader for the London Screenwriters’ Festival and has written two non-fiction books, Writing & Selling Thriller Screenplays, plus its follow-up Drama Screenplays. She lives in Devon with her husband, three children, six cats and five African Land Snails.
Follow @LucyVHayAuthor  and @Orendabooks
Visit lucyvhayauthor.com
Buy The Other Twin


About the book
When India falls to her death from a bridge over a railway, her sister Poppy returns home to Brighton for the first time in years. Unconvinced by official explanations, Poppy begins her own investigation into India’s death. But the deeper she digs, the closer she comes to uncovering deeply buried secrets. Could Matthew Temple, the boyfriend she abandoned, be involved? And what of his powerful and wealthy parents, and his twin sister, Ana?

Enter the mysterious and ethereal Jenny: the girl Poppy discovers after hacking into India’s laptop. What exactly is she hiding, and what did India find out about her?
Taking the reader on a breathless ride through the winding lanes of Brighton, into its vibrant party scene and inside the homes of its well-heeled families, The Other Twin is a startling and up-to-the-minute thriller about the social-media world, where resentments and accusations are played out online, where identities are made and remade, and where there is no such thing as the truth…


Review
The Other Twin is a psychological thriller meets sensuous mystery combined with important social constructs of our era. Hay invites the reader along on a breadcrumb trail of clues and red herrings. Nothing is what it seems and everyone is hiding their own version of the truth.

Poppy returns home after the death of her sister India. Everyone says it was a suicide but Poppy knows that something isn't quite right. She starts digging into the details of her sister's death and starts uncovering quite a few things she wasn't expecting.

Her return isn't without complications though, she is plagued by feelings of guilt because she chose to walk away from her lover and her family. A lot of people haven't forgiven Poppy for walking away away from her boyfriend Matthew.

I think the discovery of who Jenny really is and her connection to Poppy is one of the more subtle and yet poignant sub-plots in this story. Her identity wasn't a surprise, however the storyline woven around the topic was. I really enjoyed the way Hay approached the difficulty and controversy of it without letting it overpower the crime element of the story.

The Other Twin is a whirlwind of secrets and emotional turmoil. Hay takes the reader on a 'Behind the Keyhole' tour of picture perfect families and a lifetime of lies. Of course even picture perfect families have dark secrets, abusive family members and closets full of skeletons.

It's an invigorating read and one with plenty of surprises lurking in the shadows.

Buy The Other Twin at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Read my review of Do No Harm and The Lynmouth Stories by L.V. Hay.

Follow @LucyVHayAuthor  and @Orendabooks


Wednesday 26 July 2017

The Lying Game by Ruth Ware

Isa, Kate, Thea and Fatima share an unusual bond. A friendship forged through the common denominator of being shoved off to boarding school.

During their time at school the four of them keep themselves amused with what they call the Lying Game. Nothing is too outrageous or cruel, which is probably why decades later their fellow school chums still believe a lot of lies or are still hurt by them.

When one of them calls for help the others come running straight away, like anyone in a really close friendship would...right? Hello, this is the real world. Dropping anything at the drop of a hat only happens in the movies or when there is a completely different reason. They share the kind of secret that destroys lives. That is the real reason.

The story wanders from past to present, giving the reader a glimpse of the girls as teens and in the present as women. They have families, careers and responsibilities. There is not much left of the foolish and carefree youngsters, who bathed in the warmth of the sun and skinny-dipped in the cool water near Kate's house. The truth is buried beneath the subconscious desires, the careless youth and lack of boundaries they all shared.

Ware always manages to capture the intimate emotional depths of each character without making them appear what they are, which is a figment of her imagination. It is what draws the reader in and keeps them wanting more. This is especially evident with Isa and Freya. The moments between the two of them are spot on, as are the descriptions of Isa and her bond with Freya, and her constant doubts.

Running simultaneously alongside the mystery is a breakdown and analysis of Isa's romantic relationship and the way it has changed since Freya appeared on the scene. Although the sub-plot was only a catalyst or platform for certain other scenes in connection with the main plot I felt the last chapter, indeed the last sentences, spoke the loudest and most poignant words about relationships in general.

Buy The Lying Game at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Visit ruthware.com Follow @RuthWareWriter

Read The Woman in Cabin 10

Tuesday 25 July 2017

#CoverReveal House of Lies by E.V. Seymour

A new cover and title for the gripping thriller previously known as Vixenhead.
Follow @EveSeymour @Killerreads


About the Author
Eve Seymour is the author of nine novels and has had a number of short stories broadcast on BBC Radio Devon. Educated in Malvern at an girls’ boarding school, which she detested, she spectacularly underachieved. Sixth form in Cheltenham proved a lot more interesting, enjoyable and productive.
After a short and successful career in PR in London and Birmingham, she married and disappeared to Devon. Five children later, she returned and began to write seriously. In a bid to make her work as authentic as possible, she has bent the ears of numerous police officers, firearms officers, scenes of crime, the odd lawyer and United Nations personnel. She also works by day as a freelance editorial consultant, specialising in crime fiction.
Eve lives with her second husband and often has a houseful of offspring, sons-in-law, partners, and a growing tribe of little ones. Nomadic by nature, she is planning another move very soon.
Buy House of Lies by E.V. Seymour


About the book
A sudden disappearance…
When Roz Outlaw's partner Tom mysteriously vanishes, she knows his life is in danger. Tom has been distracted lately, afraid, as though he is being hunted…

A desperate search…
With the police showing little interest Roz knows it falls to her to find Tom. But as Tom's secrets are uncovered nothing can prepare Roz for the dark lies and twisted truths she finds. She thought she loved Tom, but quickly realises she has been living with a stranger – a man with murder in his past.

A house of evil.
The key to unlocking Tom's past lies in his childhood home – Vixenhead. A house of wickedness that keeps its secrets well hidden. Can Roz find Tom before it's too late or will the evil within Vixenhead claim her too

Read my review here

Buy House of Lies

Monday 24 July 2017

Blog-Tour: Give Me the Child by Mel McGrath

I am thrilled to be able to kick off the Blog-Tour for this incredible read by Mel McGrath. Give Me the Child is a spiderweb of paranoia, intrigue and betrayal. Nothing is quite as it seems in this captivating thriller.


About the Author
Melanie McGrath is an Essex girl, the author of the critically acclaimed and bestselling family memoir Silvertown. She won the John LlewellynRhys Mail on Sunday award for ‘Best Writer under 3’5 for her first book, Motel Nirvana. She has published three Arctic mysteries featuring the Inuit detective Edie Kiglatuk under the name MJ McGrath, the first of which, The Boy in the Snow, was shortlisted for a CWA Gold Dagger.
She is one of the founders of the writing collective, Killer Women, which has rapidly established itself as one of the key forums for crime writing in the UK. Give Me the Child marks a change in direction for her writing and is her first thriller published by HarperCollins.

Follow @mcgrathmj @HQStories @killerwomenorg Visit melaniemcgrath.com

Buy Give Me the Child


About the book
Dr Cat Lupo, expert in child personality disorders, aches for another child, despite the psychosis which marked her first pregnancy. When her husband’s eleven-year-old-love-child turns up in the middle of the night on her doorstep, she must decide whether to give her a home. But as the events behind Ruby’s arrival emerge – her mother has been found dead in their South London flat – Cat questions whether her decision to help Ruby has put her own daughter at risk.
Cat’s research tells her there’s no such thing as evil. Her history tells her she’s paranoid. But her instincts tell her different. And as the police fight to control a sudden spate of riots raging across the capital, Cat faces a race against time of her own.
Depicting a city and a family in meltdown, Give Me the Child is a dark psychological thriller that draws upon the latest research in adult and child mental health to ask uncomfortable but pressing questions about how much we know about our partners, our children and ourselves.


Extract of Give Me the Child
Chapter One
My first thought when the doorbell woke me was that someone had died. Most likely Michael Walsh. I turned onto my side, pulled at the outer corners of my eyes to rid them of the residue of sleep and blinked myself awake. It was impossible to tell if it was late or early, though the bedroom was as hot and muggy as it had been when Tom and I had gone to bed. Tom was no longer beside me. Now I was alone.
We’d started drinking not long after Freya had gone upstairs. The remains of a bottle of Pinot Grigio for me, a glass or two of red for Tom. (He always said white wine was for women.) Just before nine I called The Mandarin Hut. When the crispy duck arrived I laid out two trays in the living room, opened another bottle and called Tom in from the study. I hadn’t pulled the curtains and through the pink light of the London night sky a cat’s claw of moon appeared. The two of us ate, mostly in silence, in front of the TV. A ballroom dance show came on. Maybe it was just the booze but something about the tight-muscled men and the frou-frou’d women made me feel a little sad. The cosmic dance. The grand romantic gesture. At some point even the tight-muscled men and the frou-frou’d women would find themselves slumped together on a sofa with the remains of a takeaway and wine enough to sink their sorrows, wondering how they’d got there, wouldn’t they?
Not that Tom and I really had anything to complain about except, maybe, a little malaise, a kind of falling away. After all, weren’t we still able to laugh about stuff most of the time or, if we couldn’t laugh, at least have sex and change the mood?
‘Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you my cha-cha,’ I said, rising and holding out a hand.Tom chuckled and pretended I was joking, then, wiping his palms along his thighs as if he were ridding them of something unpleasant, he said, ‘It’s just if I don’t crack this bloody coding thing…’
I looked out at the moon for a moment. OK, so I knew how much making a success of Labyrinth meant to Tom, and I’d got used to him shutting himself away in the two or three hours either side of midnight. But this one time, with the men and women still twirling in our minds? Just this one time?
Stupidly, I said, ‘Won’t it wait till tomorrow?’ and in an instant
I saw Tom stiffen. He paused for a beat and, slapping his hands on his thighs in a gesture of busyness, he slugged down the last of his wine, rose from the sofa and went to the door. And so we left it there with the question still hanging.
I spent the rest of the evening flipping through the case notes of patients I was due to see that week. When I turned in for the night, the light was still burning in Tom’s study. I murmured ‘goodnight’ and went upstairs to check on Freya. Our daughter was suspended somewhere between dreaming and deep sleep. All children look miraculous when they’re asleep, even the frighten- ing, otherworldly ones I encounter every day. Their bodies soften, their small fists unfurl and dreams play behind their eyelids. But Freya looked miraculous all the time to me. Because she was. A miracle made at the boundary where human desire meets science. I stood and watched her for a while, then, retrieving her beloved Pippi Longstocking book from the floor and straightening her duvet, I crept from the room and went to bed.
Sometime later I felt Tom’s chest pressing against me and his breath on the nape of my neck. He was already aroused and for a minute I wondered what else he’d been doing on screen besides coding, then shrugged off the thought. A drowsy, half-hearted bout of lovemaking followed before we drifted into our respective oblivions. Next thing I knew the doorbell was ringing and I was alone.
Under the bathroom door a beam of light blazed. I threw off the sheet and swung from the bed.
‘Tom?’
No response. My mind was scrambled with sleep and an anxious pulse was rising to the surface. I called out again.
There was a crumpling sound followed by some noisy vomiting but it was identifiably my husband. The knot in my throat loosened. I went over to the bathroom door, knocked and let myself in. Tom was hunched over the toilet and there was a violent smell in the room.
‘Someone’s at the door.’ Tom’s head swung round.
I said, ‘You think it might be about Michael?’
Tom’s father, Michael Walsh, was a coronary waiting to happen, a lifelong bon vivant in the post-sixty-five-year-old death zone, who’d taken the recent demise of his appalling wife pretty badly.
Tom stood up, wiped his hand across his mouth and moved over to the sink. ‘Nah, probably just some pisshead.’ He turned on the tap and sucked at the water in his hand and, in an oddly casual tone, he added, ‘Ignore it.’
As I retreated into the bedroom, the bell rang again. Whoever it was, they weren’t about to go away. I went over to the window and eased open the curtain. The street was still and empty of people, and the first blank glimmer was in the sky. Directly below the house a patrol car was double parked, hazard lights still on but otherwise dark. For a second my mind filled with the terrible possibility that something had happened to Sally. Then I checked myself. More likely someone had reported a burglary or a prowler in the neighbourhood. Worst case it was Michael.
‘It’s the police,’ I said.
Tom appeared and, lifting the sash, craned out of the window. ‘I’ll go, you stay here.’
I watched him throw on his robe over his boxers and noticed his hands were trembling. Was that from having been sick or was he, too, thinking about Michael now? I listened to his footsteps disappearing down the stairs and took my summer cover-up from its hook. A moment later, the front door swung open and there came the low murmur of three voices, Tom’s and those of two women. I froze on the threshold of the landing and held my breath, waiting for Tom to call me down, and when, after a few minutes, he still hadn’t, I felt myself relax a little. My parents were dead. If this was about Sally, Tom would have fetched me by now. It was bound to be Michael. Poor Michael.
I went out onto the landing and tiptoed over to Freya’s room. Tom often said I was overprotective, and maybe I was, but I’d seen enough mayhem and weirdness at work to give me pause. I pushed open the door and peered in. A breeze stirred from the open window. The hamster Freya had brought back from school for the holidays was making the rounds on his wheel but in the aura cast by the Frozen-themed nightlight I could see my tender little girl’s face closed in sleep. Freya had been too young to remember my parents and Michael had always been sweet to her in a way that his wife, who called her ‘my little brown granddaughter’, never was, but it was better this happened now, in the summer holidays, so she’d have time to recover before the pressures of school started up again. We’d tell her in the morning once we’d had time to formulate the right words.

At the top of the landing I paused, leaning over the bannister. A woman in police uniform stood in the glare of the security light. Thirties, with fierce glasses and a military bearing. Beside her was another woman in jeans and a shapeless sweater, her features hidden from me. The policewoman’s face was brisk but unsmiling; the other woman was dishevelled, as though she had been called from her bed. Between them I glimpsed the auburn top of what I presumed was a child’s head – a girl, judging from the amount of hair. I held back, unsure what to do, hoping they’d realise they were at the wrong door and go away. I could see the police officer’s mouth moving without being able to hear what was being said. The conversation went on and after a few moments Tom stood to one side and the two women and the child stepped out of the shadows of the porch and into the light of the hallway.
The girl was about the same age as Freya, taller but small-boned, legs as spindly as a deer’s and with skin so white it gave her the look of some deep sea creature. She was wearing a grey trackie too big for her frame which bagged at the knees from wear and made her seem malnourished and unkempt. From the way she held herself, stiffly and at a distance from the dishevelled woman, it was obvious they didn’t know one another. A few ideas flipped through my mind. Had something happened in the street, a house fire perhaps, or a medical emergency, and a neighbour needed us to look after her for a few hours? Or was she a school friend of Freya’s who had run away and for some reason given our address to the police? Either way, the situation obviously didn’t have anything much to do with us.

My heart went out to the kid but I can’t say I wasn’t relieved. Michael was safe, Sally was safe.
I moved down the stairs and into the hallway. The adults remained engrossed in their conversation but the girl looked up and stared. I tried to place the sharp features and the searching, amber eyes from among our neighbours or the children at Freya’s school but nothing came. She showed no sign of recognising me. I could see she was tired – though not so much from too little sleep as from a lifetime of watchfulness. It was an expression familiar to me from the kids I worked with at the clinic. I’d probably had it too, at her age. An angry, cornered look. She was clasping what looked like a white rabbit’s foot in her right hand. The cut end emerged from her fist, bound crudely with electrical wire which was attached to a key. It looked home-made and this lent it – and her – an air that was both outdated and macabre, as if she’d been beamed in from some other time and had found herself stranded here, in south London, in the second decade of the twenty-first century, in the middle of the night, with nothing but a rabbit’s foot and a key to remind her of her origins. ‘What’s up?’ I said, more out of curiosity than alarm. I smiled and waited for an answer.
The two women glanced awkwardly at Tom and from the way he was standing, stiffly with one hand slung on his hip in an attempt at relaxed cool, I understood they were waiting for him to respond and I instinctively knew that everything I’d been thinking was wrong. A dark firework burst inside my chest. The girl in the doorway was neither a neighbour’s kid nor a friend of our daughter.
She was trouble.
I took a step back. ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’ When no one spoke I crouched to the girl’s level and, summon-
ing as much friendliness as I could, said, ‘What’s your name? Why are you here?’
The girl’s eyes flickered to Tom, then, giving a tiny, contemptu- ous shake of the head, as if by her presence all my questions had already been answered and I was being obstructive or just plain dumb, she said, ‘I’m Ruby Winter.’
I felt Tom’s hands on my shoulder. They were no longer trem- bling so much as hot and spasmic.
‘Cat, please go and make some tea. I’ll come in a second.’
There was turmoil in his eyes. ‘Please,’ he repeated. And so, not knowing what else to do, I turned on my heels and made for the kitchen.
While the kettle wheezed into life, I sat at the table in a kind
of stupor; too shocked to gather my thoughts, I stared at the clock as the red second hand stuttered towards the upright. Tock, tock, tock. There were voices in the hallway, then I heard the living room door shut. Time trudged on. I began to feel agitated. What was taking all this time? Why hadn’t Tom come? Part of me felt I had left the room already but here I was still. Eventually, footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door moved and Tom appeared. I stood up and went over to the counter where, what now seemed like an age ago, I had laid out a tray with the teapot and some mugs.
‘Sit down, darling, we need to talk.’ Darling. When was the last time he’d called me that?
I heard myself saying, idiotically, ‘But I made tea!’ ‘It’ll wait.’ He pulled up a chair directly opposite me.
When he spoke, his voice came to me like the distant crackle of a broken radio in another room. ‘I’m so sorry, Cat, but however I say this it’s going to come as a terrible shock, so I’m just going to say what needs to be said, then we can talk. There’s no way round this. The girl, Ruby Winter, she’s my daughter.’


Review
It doesn't happen often, but occasionally a character will make me want to bash them around the head with a baseball bat for the duration of the story. Yeh, I'm looking straight at you Tom.  To be fair I might share some of the whacks with slippery Sal and downtrodden Cat.

McGrath slips in some interesting points without deviating from the plot. Once someone has been tarred with the mental health brush, you never really lose the stigma of it. I use the word tar intentionally, because unfortunately people still regard mental health issues as a taboo topic. There is a general ignorance surrounding the whole issue, the treatment and how it affects people.

Then there is the aspect of children with severe behavioural and mental health issues. The author paints a gloomy picture of parents looking for solutions, but being let down by the system and society. These children are often not given the support they need, and the consequences are dire.

Cat knows that every misstep, every over the top reaction and anything her friends and family find slightly out of the ordinary, is a possible cause for alarm. Is Cat just having a bad day or is Cat slipping into another psychosis? All the doubt and suspicion weighs heavily on her. It also tends to steer her decisions and make her less likely to stand up for herself. This element of the story infuriated me the most, well admittedly not as much as Tom did, the way this intelligent and educated woman kowtowed to those around her.

McGrath melds fiction with fact in this riveting psychological thriller. She lures the reader in with her ready made solution, only to let it implode further down the line. I would say trust your gut instincts with this read. If it looks like a killer and acts like a killer then chances are it probably is one.

Buy Give Me the Child at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Follow @mcgrathmj

Saturday 22 July 2017

A fantastic Q&A with Affinity Konar, author of Mischling

To celebrate the paperback release of of her novel Mischling Affinity Konar agreed to take part in a Q&A and answer some of my questions about her fantastic book. My review might be a tad long, but in my defence, this was such a good read I couldn't stop talking about it.


About the Author
Affinity Konar was raised in California. While writing Mischling, she worked as a tutor, proofreader, technical writer, and editor of children's educational workbooks. She studied fiction at SFSU and Columbia. She is of Polish-Jewish descent, and currently lives in Los Angeles.

She dearly misses writing about Pearl and Stasha, and is grateful to any reader who might find the company of the twins.
Visit affinitykonar.com Follow @affinity_konar @leeboudreauxbks @littlebrown
Buy Mischling


About the book
Pearl is in charge of: the sad, the good, the past. Stasha must care for: the funny, the future, the bad.

It's 1944 when the twin sisters arrive at Auschwitz with their mother and grandfather. In their benighted new world, Pearl and Stasha Zagorski take refuge in their identical natures, comforting themselves with the private language and shared games of their childhood.

As part of the experimental population of twins known as Mengele's Zoo, the girls experience privileges and horrors unknown to others, and they find themselves changed, stripped of the personalities they once shared, their identities altered by the burdens of guilt and pain.

That winter, at a concert orchestrated by Mengele, Pearl disappears. Stasha grieves for her twin, but clings to the possibility that Pearl remains alive. When the camp is liberated by the Red Army, she and her companion Feliks--a boy bent on vengeance for his own lost twin--travel through Poland's devastation. Undeterred by injury, starvation, or the chaos around them, motivated by equal parts danger and hope, they encounter hostile villagers, Jewish resistance fighters, and fellow refugees, their quest enabled by the notion that Mengele may be captured and brought to justice within the ruins of the Warsaw Zoo. As the young survivors discover what has become of the world, they must try to imagine a future within it.


Q&A
Before we get started on the Q&A I would just like to say how much I enjoyed Mischling. At times I felt as if I was with those children in the camp and could feel their despair, which is truly the mark of a great storyteller.

It must have been incredibly difficult to immerse yourself into the subject matter of the Holocaust, and perhaps even more difficult, the medical experimentation.
Thank you so much Cheryl—it’s always very rewarding to hear such things, but to know that the emotions were very present for you is deeply meaningful to me with respect to this particular book, and its many challenges. So thank you, and thank you for the opportunity to be interviewed, and the lovely, thoughtful questions!—AK

What was it that made you want to write about this particular heinous part of 20th century history?
My family was able to leave Poland in 1932,  and one of my grandfathers served in WWII so I always felt naturally drawn to the period as a child. It was a fixation that was unhealthy in many ways, but couldn’t be helped. In the course of touring, I’ve been fortunate to meet many scholars who have devoted their entire lives to the preservation of this history; they often describe this as a choiceless pursuit, one often informed by a personal sense of crisis. While my engagement has been less intense, that description is something I can relate to. All I really know is that when I found the story of the twins in “Children of the Flames” by Lucette Lagnado, I started hearing an imagined echo, a kind of conversation between a pair of twins who were determined to survive. But I didn’t imagine that it would be a book, and I didn’t consciously set out to write it for years.

Do you believe that despite great outcries of 'We shall never forget, always remember and let's not make the same mistakes again' that the world needs books like Mischling to remind people of those sentiments?
I very much believe that this is so; I think fiction’s great gift to us is its ability to collapse distance. The testimonies of survivors and witnesses, the art that came from the camps, all the nonfictional accounts—these will always be the most vital warnings. But I like to think that fiction can serve a purpose in this attempt, that it can effectively trail behind history as a kind of shadow, because it can provoke empathy on a level that can force one to imagine this suffering differently, and with a nod to the fact that genocide is not limited to a certain time, people, or place. Such work can remind us to check our language, our actions, and encourage a kind of vigilance; it’s easy for remembrance to become a passive act, even while “never forget” is something that remains a fixture of our consciousness.

You have researched and written extensively in great detail about the Holocaust and Mengele's atrocities, has it taken its toll on you in any way?
I was uncomfortable speaking about this for some time, because I felt that the personal effects of this research had no place in this conversation. But while touring, I’ve been approached by generous people who express concern after hearing me speak. So I guess I don’t hide it very well, especially when Mengele’s crimes are addressed. I suspect that I’ve begun to block certain facts and images, but there are those that will always remain, and should remain. I went into this process with an immense respect for survivors and their descendants--they carry an unimaginable burden--and when my immersion was complete, that respect enlarged to include journalists, social workers, therapists, criminal investigators—anyone whose work requires a relentless attention to trauma, because it forces you to live a double-life, mentally, in order to remain functional.

In a lot of the scenes the reader feels the strange intimacy and bond between the children in the Zoo and the twins. You also described the way each twin dealt with the emotional and physical torture in their own way, which makes their individual status more evident in the story. Was it important to you to show readers the effect on their bonds as twins, and also on the girls as individuals?
I love this question, because the portrayal of these bonds, and the individual natures of Pearl and Stasha, was one of the significant challenges of the book. Twins are so symbolic, a built-in cheat—I worried that I might end up fetishizing them in a super-literary way that felt unacceptable within the novel’s aims. My big fear was that one would end up serving as a kind of foil to the other; I was most concerned about Stasha’s very elaborate voice overwhelming Pearl’s. But strangely, this began to fall away as I explored Pearl’s burden to bear witness to these events in a precise fashion. Her personality arose from that need, and met, rather naturally, Stasha’s own posture of lament. I wanted two distinct personalities that joined each other in the need for remembrance, their resistance against Mengele, and their love of family. It’s funny because I often hear from readers that they wished that they had a twin growing up—I always felt that way too. But there’s also a complexity to this bond that we often overlook. So I wanted to allow it all the beauty that such a relationship deserves, while being careful to explore how painful it might be too.

On a lighter note, were and are you surprised by the success of Mischling?
I was surprised that I even finished the book at all! It was an intensely private thing for years, so to have it find anyone, much less my agent Jim and my editor Lee—that was hugely disorienting. And I’m disoriented all over whenever I see a translation venture out. “Success” is a hard word for me to relate to, especially with respect to this novel—I tend to think of it just as this object that I started writing when I was really lost and had dropped out of high school. But I find it deeply gratifying to receive letters from people about their families and their histories, and it’s probably the sweetest thing to hear readers refer to Stasha and Pearl with the same affection I’ve had for them for so long. I never expected the book to be real, much less for it to receive such a kind welcome, and I’ll always be shocked by that.  

Review
Mischling is a fictional story based on, or rather Konar took inspiration from, the true experiences of Holocaust survivors.

In particular on those of the twins, who made up the majority of the 3000 children unfortunate enough to end up in the hands of the sadistic Dr. Mengele, also known as the Angel of Death.

He was known to pick twins, triplets and any other people with specific abnormalities, because of his interest in genetics. He shared his findings with his mentor and the Kaiser Wilhelm Society, the predecessor of the Max Planck Institute.

Only a small number of those children survived the experiments and the concentration camp. Many of those have suffered from numerous medical problems, were mutilated and have subsequently succumbed to the repercussions of the experiments inflicted upon them, including eyewitness and survivor Miriam Mozes.

Tragically the medical manipulations have possibly also been passed down to future generations. A few of the very small number of these particular survivors, who are still alive, and their offspring have willingly participated in research to try and understand the future consequences of those experiments and the possible genetic changes caused by the them and the trauma (epigenetics).

The survivors have had to live with the nightmares of being part of Mengele's sadistic human zoo. They have beaten the odds to survive and tell their tales only to be struck down by the same man at a later date, and the fact his actions may also be making their offspring ill, is truly diabolical. Luckily he isn't here to pat himself on the back.

Mengele managed to evade any form of punishment for his actions. He lived in comfort with his family for many years in Argentina, as did many war criminals from the Nazi regime.
Mengele used the platform of the concentration camp to live out his cruel, sadistic tendencies all in the hypothetical name of science and research. Fact of the matter is he enjoyed and took pride in the pain he inflicted on others. His victims were nothing more than subjects in his mind. Aside from the horrific and inhumane experimentation, he also often abused, tortured and killed for pleasure, during his reign in Auschwitz.

Pearl and Stasha are the main characters in Mischling. They are Jews with fair hair, hence why Mengele thinks they are Mischlinge (of mixed race). Each twin tells their own story, switching from chapter to chapter. Stasha believes that Mengele views her as special, which is why he makes her immune from death. This belief and her retreat into a world of imagination and denial, is how she deals with the trauma. Whereas Pearl is a realist and remains resourceful throughout her time with Mengele. Stasha seems oblivious to the abuse and experimentation both she, but especially her sister has to endure. The disappearance of Pearl is pivotal in the change in her behaviour. The fact she doesn't want to accept the death of her twin is ultimately what saves Stasha from giving up. Denial is her coping mechanism.

Stasha connects with a young boy, who has lost his own twin. The loss of the twin was very important to the survival of any the remaining twin in Auschwitz. When one died the other would soon be killed, so Mengele could compare and autopsy the corpses.
Some of the children who survived the experiments
Pearl finds herself drawn to the Jewish doctor who assists Mengele, albeit unwillingly, and the Czech soldier in charge of the admin. Both of them struggle with the guilt of their actions. One of elements of the Holocaust that Konar alludes to in Mischling is the culpability of those people forced to become part of the systematic extermination. In a life or death situation you make a choice, and in this instance those choices weren't always about self-preservation. There were family members and fellow victims to consider and the majority wanted to make sure the world knew what the Nazi regime had done.

So, imagine you are faced with death or collaboration. The type of collaboration that kills you inside bit by bit, forced to commit abominations under duress. How guilty does that make you? There is a huge difference between those that collaborated with the regime and helped willingly, and those that had no other choice but death. They tried in their own way to help fellow prisoners. Many children, often not even related, were passed off as twins, in an attempt to give them a greater chance of survival.

To be completely frank it isn't an easy read, if you look at it on a purely emotional level. Even after all these years, having read, watched and listened to many survivor's relate their stories, I can still can't fathom the depth and range of the inhumanity of the Holocaust.

Although I loved the read, despite the horrific nature of the topic and the fact it is based on true events, I did feel as if the last few chapters didn't do the rest justice. I can imagine that even as an author both the writing and the research of not only the Holocaust, but specifically the atrocities committed by Mengele, would take a toll on anyone. Suck the heart and soul right out of you. It felt as if Konar had been weighted down and burdened by all of it towards the end. As a reader and as a Mensch I can completely understand that. Kudos to the author for this powerful, insightful and extremely poignant read.

It is not only a read I highly recommend, it is also one I will be gifting to others.

Buy Mischling at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Remembering the Mengele Twins at the CANDLES Holocaust Museum
United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

Thursday 20 July 2017

Blog-Tour: An Almond for a Parrot by Wray Delaney

I have some wicked treats for you today! Included in my stop on the Blog-Tour for An Almond for a Parrot by Wray Delaney is a superb extract from An Almond for a Parrot, my review and a truly revealing and extraordinarily engrossing Q&A with Wray Delaney! Believe me you don't want to miss her candid answers and intriguing insights.


About the Author
Wray Delaney is the pseudonym of the award winning novelist Sally Gardner. She has sold over 2 million books in the UK and her work has been translated in to more than 22 languages. She has won both the Costa Children’s Book Prize and the Carnegie Medal 2013 for Maggot Moon. She also won the 2005 Nestle Children’s Book Prize for her debut novel I, Coriander. She writes books for children aged seven and upwards.

An Almond for a Parrot is her debut adult fiction novel, and what a great debut it is. It is a fascinating combination of historical fiction with a cheeky touch of soft erotica. Writing as Delaney, Gardner has made her mark on the adult fiction genre with this captivating book.

Visit sallygardner.net Follow @TheSallyGardner @fictionpubteam @HQStories
Buy An Almond for a Parrot


Q&A
Before we get down to business (i.e. talking about your book) I would like to ask a set of questions I call 'Breaking the Ice.' (readers love to get to know all about their favourite and new authors)

The last book you read? (Inquisitive bookworms would like to know) The Tryst by Monique Roffe

Books or authors who have inspired you to put pen to paper? Angela Carter, F Scott Fitzgerald, Brothers Grimm, Charles Dickens, Raymond Carver

The last book you read, that left a mark (in your heart, soul, wallet...you name it) Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch. I was blown away by that.

Are you more of a movie night or series-binger kind of person? (Combinations are possible) Series binger

Which famous person (dead, alive, barely kicking) would you most like to meet? Charles Dickens

All of the above questions are actually a pretty elaborate pysch evaluation disguised as random questions. Have no fear here come the real ones. Let’s talk about An Almond for a Parrot!

I have to say I loved the overall feel of his book. It felt as if the universe had conspired to create a perfect book moment. The cover art (even on the review copies), the characters and the plot. It just felt as if all the jigsaw pieces had come together perfectly.
Thank you so much for saying that. I had great fun in writing this book and it was something I wanted to do for a long time, and let’s hope the universe conspires to make it sell many copies. To put a bit more magic into sex, a bit more 18th-Century into the setting, a few recipes, cook it all up and see what happens. It was an idea I had for a long time and thought I should have a go, and thoroughly enjoyed writing it. I have been so lucky with my cover designs, both the paperback and hardback have been so outstandingly beautiful. I do think a cover has to be both immediate and grabbing and Almond has that ‘I want to own you’ quality.

I know there is a cheeky wink at your inspirations for the story in your book, and the whole essence of the book certainly reminded me of Hill and Flanders. How much inspiration did you take from Fanny Hill and Moll Flanders and if not where did the inspiration for An Almond for a Parrot come from?
I can’t remember what age I was when I first read Fanny Hill. I think I read it after I had read Forever Amber. But I fell instantly in love with Fanny. It was so delicious to meet a character who thoroughly enjoyed sex and was intelligent about its consequences. It is a romance held together by some classly sexual pieces. John Cleveland wrote this book while in prison. And not unlike Daniel Defoe he took a lot of inspiration from his mistress and there’s even a suggestion part was written by her. I have to say I have a preference for Fanny Hill more than I do for Moll Flanders. I was also fascinated to discover the last time they tried to sue Fanny Hill for indecency was in 1963. The only problem being they could not find one rude word in it. Just a collection of images that made your mind do all
the dancing.
There is a wonderful story about a musical singer Marie Lloyd. She was brought to trial for indecency for singing a song that went,
Do you think my skirt is a little bit
Well not too much of it
Just a little bit
It’s the little bit the boys admire 

She was referring to her pussy and made that perfectly clear in her performance. Quite a crowd followed this beloved star to court. When asked by the judge what the song referred to Marie Lloyd replied ‘My skirt! I don’t know what was in your dirty little mind.’ The case was thrown out of court. That is the genius of suggestion without being explicit. I also thought I would embrace 18th century language of erotica which was full of vegetables, Maypoles and purses.

I really enjoyed the way you mixed your genres, although admittedly it was done in such subtle and flawless way it seems as if it wasn't the case at all. Was intentional or did the idea of magic just flow with the characters?
Magic realism fascinates me. I think if I'm honest I'm basically a fairytale writer. That is the pot from which I get my best dishes. Magic if used, has to be grounded, earthed like electricity. By that I mean it has to be believable, an essential part of the character not just added on for good measure. I few of the characters in my book have magical or supernatural abilities. But I didn't want to make it the main feature of the story. And the rest of the characters don’t. I'm not keen on using it just to make everything all right. I'm always very careful when I use magic to make it as believable as possible. I'm not a girl with a magic wand, and no magic can’t make everything better also it often comes at quite a high price.

At the beginning of some of the chapters there are 18th century recipes, such as Hasty Pudding, Hodgepodge or Sheep's Tongue in Paper. Personally I found them fascinating, although it's fair to say I won't be trying tongue in the near future. Are they a subconscious or even a conscious nod to the surrogate mother figure in Tully's life, the cook?
I love the character of Cook she is a drunk, never had children and can’t read, and still hopes there might be a recipe for the bringing up of children . I found a wonderful book from the 18th century with a lot of these recipes in it. They just made me giggle. I definitely didn’t mean them to be tried, I think nearly all of them sound pretty revolting. But their names were just to delicious words ‘Pike in the shape of a Dolphin’ ‘Virgin Eggs’, ‘Tarts, the common or country fashion’- they always refer to something that has happened to Tully. I’m not sure how many people will actually read them I bet they get skipped most of the time. Hopefully they make you laugh. 

An Almond for a Parrot is often a wee bit risquĂ©, but it is also witty and light-hearted, despite that you have also included more serious topics in the tale. Was it important to you to show the lack of power women had in that era, and how vulnerable they were to being exploited and abused because of that imbalance of power?
What history teaches us if we bother to look at it is how far women have come and the battle it has taken to get here. Still I believe too many women are imprisoned by the lack of finances by abusive partners and by poverty, By the lack of education. In many parts of the world women are still subjected to the tyranny of their fathers’ and husbands’ rule. I believe we in the West musn’t become complacent about the role of women. There is still a long way to go before women and men play an equal role. 

So it’s quite useful to look back and see what life was like for women of a different time. It was not all gorgeous clothes and handsome men. In the 18th century the hope of a woman earning her own money, being independent from a man was near impossible. Even if she was born with wealth the minute she married it vanished into her spouse’s account. Women were totally subjected to their fathers’ and then to their husbands’ rule . Domestic violence was considered acceptable. Women were bargaining tools in marriage. Marriage at the age 12 was not unheard of. One means of escaping poverty was prostitution.

I wanted to illustrate this with hopefully a cracking good story. We had in London at that time the highest population of prostitutes in the whole of Europe. Those who have watched the series Harlots will know the Harris list became vitally important for anyone wishing to visit a brothel. Most brothels specialised in various things from Molly houses onwards. Every sexual delight was catered for. For a lot of women prostitution was the only way to achieve any independence.

Yes many tragic and awful stories have emerged and we know about the abuse et cetera. But at least the tragedy of the abuse so many young women and children suffered is out in the open. Which is more than can be said for many brutal marriages that took place behind 18th Century closed doors. Things have changed but I still believe there is a long way to go to make that equal for all women around the world. 

I can imagine writing under a pseudonym has been quite an experience for you. Writing as Wray Delaney, has it given you any insights you think you can and will use when writing as Sally Gardner?
I very much love my children’s audience and for them I am a gate keeper. By that I mean I am careful of what I give them and how much information. I never patronise, I always think my audience are far smarter than I am. In fact, I’d say the YA audience can accept some very complicated ideas that wouldn’t on the whole appeal to an adult audience as much. The great thing about a book is you can always close it if you do not like it. You do not need to carry on reading it. When I write for adults, there is a freedom because whether you like it or not, the PC police are very much out in children’s literature, and have been for a number of years.

Writing for adults, there’s nothing you have to hold back on, though it’s interesting to see people’s reactions to Tully, who didn’t realise there was going to be so much explicit sex in it.

I was asked by a Sun journalist, wasn't I a bit naughty to be writing an erotic book for adults now? And I said to him, ‘Where do you think children come from’ Hopefully, joyous and good sex.

I know the book has a pretty tight and well-packed ending, but will we be hearing from Tully Truegood again or perhaps one of the other memorable characters? Perhaps the early life of Mr Crease?
I don’t think so. I’d never say never but on the whole I like stand-alones and I really love to idea that maybe you might dream on the characters a bit, and take them further in our head I did a book years ago called I, Coriander which was very successful and I am asked all the time would I write another one. The answer to that is definitely no. I think it’s great if a story inspires someone to tell themselves their own stories. That’s fantastic. Thank you so much for asking me a lovely bunch of intelligent questions. I'm really enjoying my blog tour.

Thank you for answering all of my questions, even some of the odder ones!



Extract
Fleet Marriages
One of the most disgraceful customs observed in the Fleet Prison in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was the performance of the marriage ceremony by disreputable and dissolute clergymen. These functionaries, mostly prisoners for debt, insulted the dignity of their holy profession by marrying in the precincts of the Fleet Prison at a minute’s notice, any persons who might present themselves for that purpose. No questions were asked, no stipulations made, except as to the amount of the fee for the service, or the quantity of liquor to be drunk on the occasion. It not unfrequently happened, indeed, that the clergyman, the clerk, the bridegroom and the bride were drunk at the very time the ceremony was performed.
Chapter One
Newgate Prison, London
I lie on this hard bed counting the bricks in the ceiling of this miserable cell. I have been sick every morning for a week and thought I might have jail fever. If it had killed me it would at
least have saved me the inconvenience of a trial and a public hanging. Already the best seats at Newgate Prison have been sold in anticipation of my being found guilty – and I have yet to be sent to trial. Murder, attempted murder – either way the great metropolis seems to know the verdict before the judge has placed the black square on his grey wig. This whore is gallows-bound. 
‘Is he dead?’ I asked. 
My jailer wouldn’t say.
 I pass my days remembering recipes and reciting them to the damp walls. They don’t remind me of food; they are bookmarks from this short life of mine. They remain tasteless. I prefer them that way. 
A doctor was called for. Who sent for or paid for him I don’t know, and uncharacteristically I do not care. He was very matter of fact and said the reason for my malady was simple: I was with child. I haven’t laughed for a long time but forgive me,
the thought struck me as ridiculous. In all that has happened I have never once found myself in this predicament. I can hardly believe it is true. The doctor looked relieved – he had at least found a reason for my life to be extended – pregnant women are not hanged. Even if I’m found guilty of murder, the gallows will wait until the child is born. What a comforting thought.
Hope came shortly afterwards. Dear Hope. She looked worried, thinner.
‘How is Mercy?’ I asked. 
She avoided answering me and busied herself about my cell. 
‘What does this mean?’ she asked, running her fingers over the words scratched on a small table, the only piece of furniture this stinking cell has to offer. I had spent some time etching them into its worm-eaten surface. An Almond for a Parrot.
‘It’s a title for a memoir, the unanswered love song of a soon to- be dead bird. Except I have no paper, no pen and without ink the thing won’t write at all.’
Just as well, Tully.’
‘I want to tell the truth of my life.’
‘Better to leave it,’ she said.
‘It’s for Avery – not that he will ever read it.’ I felt myself on the brink of tears but I refused to give in to them. ‘I will write it for myself. Afterwards, it can be your bedtime entertainment, the novelty of my days in recipes and tittle-tattle.’
‘Oh, my sweet ninny-not. You must be brave, Tully. This is a dreadful place and…’
‘And it is not my first prison. My life has come full circle. You haven’t answered my question.’
‘Mercy is still very ill. Mofty is with her.’
‘Will she live?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘And is he alive?’
 ‘Tully, he is dead. You are to be tried for murder.’
‘My, oh my. At least my aim was true.’
I sank back on the bed, too tired to ask more. Even if Hope was in the mood for answering questions, I didn’t think I would want to know the answers.
‘You are a celebrity in London. Everyone wants to know what you do, what you wear. The papers are full of it.’
There seemed nothing to say to that. Hope sat quietly on the edge of the bed, holding my hand.
Finally, I found the courage to ask the question I’d wanted to ask since Hope arrived.
‘Is there any news of Avery?’
‘No, Tully, there’s not.’
I shook my head. Regret. I am full of it. A stone to worry one’s soul with.
‘You have done nothing wrong, Tully.’
‘Forgive me for laughing.’
‘You will have the very best solicitor.’
‘Who will pay for him?’
‘Queenie.’
‘No, no. I don’t want her to. I have some jewels…’
I felt sick.
‘Concentrate on staying well,’ said Hope.

If this life was a dress rehearsal, I would now have a chance to play my part again but with a more favourable outcome. Alas, we players are unaware that the curtain goes up the minute we take our first gulps of air; the screams of rage our only hopeless comments on being born onto such a barren stage. 
So here I am with ink, pen and a box of writing paper, courtesy of a well-wisher. Still I wait to know the date of my trial. What to do until then? Write, Tully, write.
With a hey ho the wind and the rain. And words are my only escape. For the rain it raineth every day.

Appendix VI, The Newgate Calendar


Review
I adored the way Delaney mixed an aura of Victorian era with a hint of modern. For me it definitely had shades of Fanny Hill and Moll Flanders, and to be fair the author does give her inspiration a nudge, wink and its dues.

How to give you an idea of what this book is like? Imagine the aura and setting of an old book mixed with themes of urban fantasy, magic, ghosts and necromancy in an 19th century setting. It is a fascinating combination of historical fiction with a cheeky touch of soft erotica. It's what I would call a bit of naughty wickedness.

The story starts with our main character sat in jail reflecting upon the past and the choices that have led to her facing the noose. The reader is then invited to follow Tully Truegood, as she is taught to control the passion within her.

She is taught the art of pleasure and how to pleasure others, which unfortunately also means heartbreak and disappointment. In her profession it can also mean violence and having to endure or watch violations and intimate betrayals.

Subtly interwoven into the story is a fascinating element of necromancy and ghostly magic. Tully can see the sins of the past, the horrors that haunt us and the mistakes everyone keeps very well hidden. It's a talent and also a curse. At the beginning of some of the chapters there are 18th century recipes, such as Hasty Pudding, Hodgepodge or Sheep's Tongue in Paper. Personally I found them fascinating, although it's fair to say I won't be trying tongue in the near future.

Delaney also writes with the eloquence of a writer of the 19th century. Her writing goes down like hot chocolate on a cold day. It's simply a pleasure to read. I have to say I loved the overall feel of his book. It felt as if the universe had conspired to create a perfect book moment. The cover art (even on the review copies), the characters and the plot. It just felt as if all the jigsaw pieces had come together perfectly.

Hopefully this was the first of many for Delaney. I know I will be both recommending this book and looking forward to the next.

Buy An Almond For a Parrot at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Follow @TheSallyGardner

Wednesday 19 July 2017

Watching You by Arne Dahl

Sam is desperately trying to find a young girl, the victim of a kidnapping. The upper echelon of the police think it is an isolated event, but Sam thinks it is the work of a serial-killer.

He believes her disappearance is linked to other cases of missing girls. Of course the upper echelon is also unaware of his personal interest in the case, and his private investigations into the crimes.

Sam happens upon a coincidence, well at least he thinks he does, which leads him to the killer. Enter Molly, the face with many names, and the other person who thinks she has found the killer.

I have to admit to being of two minds about this book. At times I thought it was incredibly clever and then at other times it seemed overly complicated. Perhaps because it swayed between moments where you have to strain the grey cells to keep up and then others that were a wee bit unbelievable.

Readers will get to the point of 'who the heck is the killer?' Then change their minds and ultimately start doubting everyone. After the whole Sam interviews Molly and vice versa debacle I felt like having a stiff drink, and I don't even drink.

Dahl thinks outside of the box. He isn't afraid to challenge the reader or himself for that matter. It has a noir feel to it, and Dahl certainly believes in the darker the better.

Buy Watching You at Amazon uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Visit arnedahl.net  Follow @arne_dahl

Monday 17 July 2017

The Stars are Fire by Anita Shreve

In our day and age the problems Grace encounters might seem conventional and the way she deals with them completely normal. 

In 1947 her attempts to be independent and raise her children as a single mother would have been frowned upon. In that era the wife was still very much considered to be property of said man. Women were still coming into their own and starting to throw off the chains of their servitude.

Grace has no idea that her marriage isn't like every other marriage. Gene is her first sexual experience and her first encounter with what she believes to be love.

When Gene disappears in the midst of a terrible fire she gets the opportunity to discover new emotions and real love. She also experiences friendship with both genders and the kindness of strangers.

Faced with a life of abuse, neglect and anger she has to make a choice to either stay and be silent or refuse to endure a life lived on the terms of a bully.

Kudos to Shreve for adding historical facts and for the authentic feel of the story. Grace was and is every woman, regardless of the era.

Buy The Stars are Fire at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer

Sunday 16 July 2017

The Crane Girl by Curtis Manley

(Illustrations by Lin Wang)
This is the kind of book I buy for my children, but secretly it will be for myself, because I adore beautiful books. The illustrations are alluring, so much so that they often overshadow the actual written story.

This is a lyrical version of a well-known Japanese folk-tale. The moral of the story is one found in fairy and folk-tales all around the world. Greed destroys all and makes even the kindest person forget the things they once held dear. They say money can corrupt even the most upright citizen, and that everyone has a price.

One day Yasuhiro comes upon a crane caught in a trap. He comforts and frees the bird. Not long after a young girl called Hiroko appears on his doorstep and Yasuhiro gives her shelter. In return for the help Hiroko helps Yasuhiro's father by weaving silk behind closed doors every night. Soon he wants more than she is willing to give.

This is about friendship and random acts of kindness. A smile, a helping hand or perhaps just a moment of your time to help another living being. It's important that we don't lose our sense of humanity in the midst of all the indifference, violence and conflict.

The Crane Girl is nice way to teach our children and remind ourselves that we can and should help others without expecting anything in return.

Buy The Crane Girl at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Blog-Tour: Ice Lake by John A. Lenahan

It's my stop on the Blog-Tour for Ice Lake by John Lenahan. Be prepared to be entertained by his amusing and sharp-witted characters, and his environmentally driven assiduous crime story.
About the Author
John Lenahan is a popular TV magician who toured with Jack Dee, Lenny Henry and Victoria Wood. He starred on a prime time BBC1 TV show, had his own BBC2 series, and was the voice of the toaster in ‘Red Dwarf’.

His fantasy trilogy Shadowmagic, an award-winning podcast that received over 100,000 downloads, was published by HarperCollins and sold over 70,000 copies across all editions.

Ice Lake is his debut crime novel, the first in a new series featuring psychologist Harry Cull.

Read more about John Lenahan and his books
Follow @johnlenahan @KillerReads @HarperCollinsUK
About the book
An electrifying debut crime novel and the first in a new series featuring psychologist Harry Cull.

An abandoned body...
Deep in the woods of Northeastern Pennsylvania, the body of a man is found – shot three times, dumped under the trees where the local kids will find him.

A haunted psychologist...
Psychologist Harry Cull, tormented by his past, arrives in the picturesque town of Ice Lake to help with the murder investigation. There he unravels a web of lies and deceit that leads to the dark heart of a community torn apart by fracking, drugs and murder.

A desperate killer...
It’s not long before the second corpse turns up, this time a lawyer left for dead in the forest, and Harry finds himself on the trail of a twisted killer – who will do anything to keep the town’s darkest secrets buried.
Review
Harry Cull is not only a trained polygraph examiner and psychologist, he is also a wee bit of a human lie detector. He can read his fellow humans like books. He also isn't very subtle about telling them what he can read in their faces, voices and body language. His very direct approach often leads him into some uncomfortable and often contentious situations.

The interactions between Harry and Todd are especially funny, although Harry and Edward Cirba come a close second as a comedy duo. It is this light-hearted touch that makes the story flow in a way that distracts the reader from the dangerous elements of the story. It almost lulls them into believing it is safe.

Hidden behind the dry humour and sharp observational skills is a world of pain. Harry has been dealing with a personal tragedy. The kind of tragedy you don't recover from. His personal problems make him a little bit paranoid when it comes to connecting the dots in perhaps completely unrelated crimes.

The author also tackles the issue of fracking, which is an important hot topic at the moment. He does this in a way even laymen can understand both sides of the argument. This definitely applies to the 'loophole' that was created, so fracking companies can get away with not only contaminating the water supply, but also being able to dispose of waste illegally in a completely legal way.

Lenahan infuses his crime with his very own brand of banter and wit. Sarcastic tongue lashings and cheeky comments are plentiful in this crime story driven by environmental topics. The author plays with the idiosyncrasies and eccentricities of small town people in a way that is beneficial to both the characters and the story. I always enjoy walking away from a read with the feeling that I have added to my pot of knowledge.

Buy Ice Lake at Amazon UK or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Follow @johnlenahan @KillerReads @HarperCollinsUK


Monday 10 July 2017

Juniper Lemon's Happiness Index by Julie Israel

The idea itself is lovely. Dealing with grief by tracking it daily via a happiness index. For each person the index would be different of course, because what makes one person smile or feel a moment of happiness isn't always the same for another person.

Think about what kind of things make you happy each day. Even the smallest things count. A memory, an interaction, a piece of chocolate or perhaps just relaxing after a long day.

Since the death of her sister Camilla, Juniper has been desperately trying to find her happy. She is so grief stricken that she is trying to grasp what she can from life.

She is also trying to fulfil what she believes to be her sister's last wish. A letter to her love. So Juniper takes it upon herself to find the mysterious recipient. She is also really invested in making the people around her happy. She does this by playing matchmaker, by saving those around her from possible negative thoughts and bad intentions.

In her quest to survive day by day and to not crumble under the weight of her personal loss, Juniper inadvertently finds herself building friendships, experiencing love and learning a few hard lessons along the way.

The focus is on the people left behind, as opposed to a lot of books that seem to make the dead the main characters. What's done is done and those who are gone aren't coming back, so let's concentrate on the living.

The author tries not to delve too far into the teen drama or rather make the scenarios too candy floss sweet or unicorn eccentric. It is passionate without being soppy, witty without being ridiculous and is realistic in a down-to-earth way.

Definitely a read I would recommend.

Buy Juniper Lemon's Happiness Index at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Follow @thatjulieisrael visit julieisrael.com

Sunday 9 July 2017

Mrs Fletcher by Tom Perrotta

I have to be honest it didn't quite hit the mark for me.

I could easily pontificate about Perrotta's skill when it comes to social commentary and his ability to make readers squirm, because he hits the realism button far too often. However I do believe this is over-hyped and doesn't live up to expectations.

It doesn't take a master of social interactions to create this type of scenario. In fact I think a lot of it is gratuitous sexual gratification, perhaps for the shock factor. Shall we say, the ticking of en vogue boxes.

Even though the words sexual harassment were thrown in as a kind of jokey afterthought, and not taken seriously at all, Mrs Fletcher was definitely guilty of crossing the line. She was guilty of crossing quite a few of those. There seemed to be a really big focus on the son and his dubious actions, especially his very particular brand of misogyny, and yet none on the mother. There shouldn't be distinction made between the two just because one of them is a middle-aged woman.

One could argue that her son knows no better because he wasn't taught to treat women with respect. What is her excuse? Does she believe women aren't held up to the same standards when it comes to crossing boundaries?

There was also a contradiction when it came to Mrs Fletcher being an over-protective mother, and yet that same person becomes so involved in her sexual fantasies that the plight of her son goes completely unnoticed.

Taking a step back I can see the intent or the point the author was striving to make, a tongue-in-cheek scathing eye-opener on the life a suburban housewife, but it wasn't executed very well.

Buy Mrs Fletcher at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Saturday 8 July 2017

A Horse Walks into a Bar by David Grossman


Stick with it, would be my first observation. It may take a while for you to be drawn into this, and to be fair Grossman plays his cards close to his chest. The majority of the book takes place on stage with Dov and his stand-up comedy routine.

Dov bares his emotions and soul to the audience. He pays particular attention to his old acquaintance Avi, after extending a personal invitation to him. Why comedy? Well, that becomes self explanatory when Dov tells everyone what happens to his parents.

Avishai is both observer and narrator, through past and present. I think one of the most important questions is what role he plays in the story. Why does Dovaleh want him there? What will his presence change? Does Dov expect something from Avishai?

I do believe Dov wants Avi to comprehend what he did and how he treated Dov all those years ago. There is a moment during the comedy routine or rather the life monologue where Avi is once again given the choice between looking away or intervening. This decision may be the beginning of a healing process, then again perhaps it is just late justice.

Grossman reminds me of Roald Dahl in a sense that his writing reflects his grief. You can feel the pain of losing his son in his words. Even after a decade he still seems to be searching for the why of it all. This is also a theme within this particular story. Why Dov? What is the point of our existence? Why one person and not the other? Perhaps most importantly why so many of us look the other way when someone is in need or just needs some support.

This is an unusual read, one I can imagine well as a short film. It is a confession of sorts, the type that needs absolution or maybe Dov is seeking it for others. A Horse Walks into a Bar is a complex conversation full of self flagellation in the form of jokes.

Buy A Horse Walks into a Bar at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Thursday 6 July 2017

Don't Close Your Eyes by Holly Seddon

There are plenty of hot topics in this psychological thriller, however I think there was one in particular that resonated more with me. Possibly because in this story it is the root and cause of everything else, all the other problems to come, and perhaps also because it is so commonplace nowadays.

Divorce, separation, custody battles and enforced patchwork families. That doesn't mean some families don't manage amicable arrangements, however the emotional trauma still remains the same. Depending on how vicious and vindictive things get the emotional damage is unmeasurable.

For the twins, Robin and Sarah, the moment they are ripped apart is the beginning of the end. The reader meets two happy little girls in the past and then moves forward to encounter two unhappy women in the future. The paths the two of them take are completely different. Robin finds fame and enough anxiety to fill a house, whereas Sarah creates a family, but is ousted by her manipulative husband.

It is fair to say that all is not what it seems, as the layers of this story are slowly torn away like someone peeling an onion. The anger, abuse and hate ripples through the two families over the years. It leaves victims in its wake.

Seddon confronts the reader with quite a few uncomfortable truths, and yet simultaneously she spins a web of fear, deceit and mayhem around them. It is done in such cunning way that you don't see the twist coming until it nearly smacks you in the face.

Buy Don't Close Your Eyes at Amazon Uk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.

Follow @hollyseddon and @Atlanticbooks

Read Try not to breathe by Holly Seddon