‘The Girl On The Train’ by Paula Hawkins

  

Every so often, I’ll find myself wandering around a bookshop in the hopes of finding a book that catches my eye. Some may find it a dull way to spend your time, but I can’t help myself – I love doing it. I’m not sure what it was about this particular book that sparked my interest, but the more I read about it, the more I wanted to read it.

‘The Girl On The Train’ tells the story of a young, borderline alcoholic woman named Rachel, recovering from a broken heart, who commutes to London every morning to work. Every morning, she passes a row of suburban houses, one of which a couple live their lives, unaware that Rachel is watching them, creating lives for them in her mind, and finding herself becoming more obsessed with them by the day, as she tries to forget what has happened to her own. To Rachel, they are the perfect couple – until one day, Rachel witnesses something she wishes she hadn’t, and suddenly, a window of opportunity presents itself to her, and she finds herself becoming involved in the lives of the people she has, until now, only watched from afar.

It wasn’t until after I’d finished the book did I come to learn that The Girl On The Train was immensely popular around the country, spending many weeks atop of the official Book Charts. I can certainly see why it has done so well – this book, quite simply, is an extraordinary read. It may seem like your typical, what-happened-to-her thriller (maybe even following in the footsteps of the hugely successful Gone Girl) – and in many ways, you can draw parallels between the two books, but the simple fact of the matter is – Hawkins has created a world that any one of us could find ourselves in. I’m not suggesting for a moment that we become obsessed with people we don’t know, but who can honestly say they’ve never looked at a stranger and wondered what his or her life might be like? Hawkins has brought this simple act of human curiosity, and transformed it into an astonishing thriller, one that many people can relate to. Rachel is your ordinary, nothing-special-about-her protagonist, and it may be because of this that you find yourself sympathising with her, even when you hear about some of the more deveant acts of aggression she displays to her ex-husband and his lady companion.

Hawkins tells this story through the eyes of three women, Rachel (the protagonist), Anna (Rachel’s ex-husband’s new wife) and Megan (One half of the couple Rachel becomes infatuated with). One of Hawkins’ key strengths throughout this book is the subtle way she changes the tone of voice for each character. This is something hard to do at the best of times. Talented authors have the ability to show the voice of a character, particularly when each of the characters differ from one another (for example: a child’s voice to an elderly man’s would certainly be different). What Hawkins has done is managed to differentiate between three, middle aged Caucasian women with inexplicable ease. You don’t need to be constantly reminded as to whose inner monologue you are listening to. Each of the women have secrets. Each of the women are troubled. And each of the women are so unique. It is this key factor that makes this book such a page turner, and it is one of the main reasons this book becomes so addictive.

However, where there is light, there is also darkness. It is actually because of Hawkins’ strong points in writing this book that she finds herself falling short; particularly at the climax. Let me explain: Hawkins spends the book building quite an exciting set up – Megan has gone missing, and Rachel saw a strange man who wasn’t her husband with her the day before. Anna and Tom (the ex-husband) used to have Megan babysitting their child because they live down the road from each other, and Megan, seemingly unhappy in her relationship, could be heard arguing with her husband mere hours before she disappeared. It does have all the makings of an amazing thriller….but it just seems so unlikely! I won’t spoil the ending for anyone looking to read it, but between the alcoholic (Rachel), the liar (Anna) and the cheat (Megan), how on earth can their stories entwine? I mean, Rachel happened to watch Megan’s house purely by chance – she could have become infatuated with any of the houses along that row, but she just happened to pick Megan’s, who’s life, coincidentally is lived a few doors down from her ex-husband? I don’t think so. There are far too many coincidences in this book to be entirely believable. But in saying that, it definitely is still worth a read.

This is Paula Hawkins’ first novel, and I have to say, even with my little rant about there being one too many coincidences for this book, it is one of the best debut novels I’ve ever read. It’s rare to stumble upon an unknown author and be captivated with their first try at a novel. I hope there isn’t a sequel to this particular book, but I am definitely excited to see what else Hawkins has to offer.

VERDICT: A beautifully written attempt at a debut that completely pays off. 8/10.

‘Leaving Time’ by Jodi Picoult

Jodi Picoult is, in my opinion, one of the finest authors around today. She has a remarkable ability to create stories that keeps you gripped from the moment you open the book, until the very last page, usually after a completely unexpected and amazing twist that you don’t see coming. I have been a huge Picoult fan for many years, and I always buy her latest book during its release week. So when I heard ‘Leaving Time’ was to be released, I headed over to Waterstone’s and purchased a copy.

‘Leaving Time’ tells the story of a young girl, Jenna Metcalf, whose mother vanished under suspicious circumstances ten years previously, and Jenna’s continued hunt to find her. With the help of an old detective – Virgil Stanhope (The detective in charge of the investigation of the events surrounding the night Jenna’s mum (Alice) vanished), a psychic – Serenity Jones, and some journals Alice kept whist she worked at the Elephant Sanctuary with Jenna’s father, Jenna divulges into her mothers past to find out what really happened to her. The plot is full of twists and turns, dealing with death, love and grief, and Picoult has you connect to the characters and their stories from the moment you are introduced to them.

I’m going to be completely honest with you. This was not my favourite book by Picoult. Don’t get me wrong – it is impeccably written, and it’s a very easy and enjoyable read, but in terms of the big plot twist that Picoult promises with each book, I can’t help but feel this one falls short (particularly when compared to last year’s spectacular novel ‘The Storyteller’). The book is split into four points of view – Jenna’s, Alice’s, Serenity’s and Virgil’s. It’s through the eyes of these characters that we learn why this investigation is important to each of them (excluding Alice, who’s point of view takes place prior to her disappearance). This is not uncommon when it comes to Picoult’s novels.

The strongest element in this novel is the amount of research Picoult had done in order to make the subplot involving the elephant’s work. It’s amazing how many authors today would rather make up a world, or even guess. This novel would have done just as well without Alice’s endless hours spent observing elephants, but it’s what she learns about them that helps push the narrative forward, something that is incredibly hard to do with a subplot, but something that Picoult has been able to master, and demonstrate almost perfectly through her 22 years of being an author.

I won’t reveal what the ending twist is (in spite of my complaints, I would still recommend this to anyone who enjoys contemporary fiction novels), but I think this is really where Picoult has let herself down. It felt rushed, unjustified and a little lazy. Although there are very subtle hints throughout the book as to where the novel is leading, you actually don’t see the ending coming at all (or at least, I didn’t). This would be an amazing thing to demonstrate in your writing, if the unexpected plot twist was worth reading 350-odd pages for. It is a branch of the fiction genre that Picoult has dabbled in before, but if I’m going to be honest, although I applaud her experimenting with her writing, I would rather she leave this element alone, and write her stories in the way she usually does.

As always, one of the most enjoyable aspects of the book is the tone in which Picoult separates her characters. Each of the characters she has created have their own, individual voices, and you don’t have to remind yourself who is speaking, and what they’re hoping to get out of the investigation. This is something that comes so easily to Picoult. Throughout her career, she has created many complex and interesting characters, and not once has she fallen short of the tone her characters speak in. They’re all individual and they’re all believable. This book is no different. When you’re reading from Jenna’s point of view, you know you’re in the mind of young teenager. When you read from Serenity’s mind, you know you’re reading about a psychic who’s life has been ruined. This is one of the very reasons I adore Picoult’s novels.

Picoult had so many extremely amazing books under her belt, and although this latest edition didn’t hold a candle to her 2013’s The Storyteller (seriously, this book was one of the most powerful stories I have ever read in my life), I still enjoyed reading it, as though Picoult’s style of writing was an old friend. For me, it just felt like the elements surrounding the plot twist were just too unrealistic. Even if the main plot twist could happen, everything else that happens because of it just couldn’t. Even so – It was familiar and comfortable to read, and I am already eagerly awaiting what she has in store for 2015.

For the record, this review reflects only my view on this novel. If you are interested in reading it, please don’t take my word for what I’ve written. Discover the book for yourself!

VERDICT: Not one of her strongest novels, but definitely still worth a read. 7/10.

‘Blackbrooke III: King Of Queens’ by Emma Silver

During my time working at Waterstone’s, I often found myself pausing while tidying the shelves to read the blurb of a book that caught my eye. This happened quite a number of times – but the book that caught my eye and brought me back to that shelf again and again was ‘Blackbrooke I’ by Emma Silver. I’m not not sure what brought me to this book on more than one occasion, but I do remember looking at the front cover and thinking ‘There is far too much blood on that axe…‘. After skimming through the first couple of pages, I decided that at some point, I would buy this book.

‘Blackbrooke‘ tells the story of a small English town, where the residents are not the only things living within the town walls – creatures known as ‘Crits’ rule the night, and as long as the residents follow the rules set by the Mayor, the people of Blackbrooke need not fear the Crits, who have been known to devour any human that disobey the rules (a particular favourite rule being “No human is allowed outside after sunset.”) It introduces young teenager Liberty Connor, who, at just seven years old, encountered her first Crit, but was left unharmed – something, of course, unheard of when it comes to these man-eating monsters. After a series of Walk-Outs (or suicides), Liberty then begins to uncover the truth about Blackbrooke, and the real reasons for the Rules. ‘Blackbrooke II: The Guardian’ continues the story with the survival Liberty’s life long Albino friend Cassius Godwin and his apparent control over the Crit species. Despite her best efforts, Liberty cannot convince him that her actions in this novel and its predecessor were all for the Greater Good, and what she (with the help of the English Government) may have invoked within Cassius may destroy the town of Blackbrooke and its citizens forever.

I actually had the great fortune of knowing the author of these novels personally – I worked with Silver in Waterstone’s, and you can imagine my surprise when I realised the book I had been so drawn to was written by a colleague. She informed me that she was close to finishing her final draft for ‘Blackbrooke III‘, and if I was interested, would I want to be a beta-reader. I, of course, jumped at the chance to do this, and, though you might think I am biased, I cannot think of a better ending to the story of ‘Blackbrooke‘ than the one Silver allowed me to read before it was published.

‘King of Queens‘ picks up a few months after we left off in its predecessor, and the town of Blackbrooke is completely unrecognisable. The gates to the town have been closed and the Rules separating humans and Crits no longer apply. From page one, we are thrown into the deep end of gruesome and horrific action, whereby almost every page has the reader’s heart racing a little faster – even for characters we aren’t invested in. Credit where credits due – if Silver had not done such an amazing job to invoke into the reader’s mind just how terrifying the Crits are, then this book would have flopped immediately before it had a chance to begin.

What I liked most about these books is the portrayal of its main character – Liberty Connor – and the fact that there is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about this girl. What I mean is, Silver could have very easily decided that Liberty was ‘destined’ to be the one who stopped Cassius, or she was chosen to be the saviour of Blackbrooke – in fact, the only reason Liberty is a heroine is simply because she knew the villain before he was a villain. That’s all. It could have been anyone who was nice to Cassius prior to the Blackbrooke novels starting (which, admittedly, doesn’t leave many candidates). In fact, it’s because of this that Liberty becomes one of the most sought after person in Blackbrooke – for all the wrong reasons. What I’m basically saying is that Liberty is a hero without meaning to be, and with every chance to walk away from the horror that is Blackbrooke. But she doesn’t – and that’s what makes her so likeable. Silver has created a hero that’s not only powerful as a human, but with the power and motive that we as the reader’s can completely relate to. I also particularly enjoyed how much Silver makes the reader feel for Cassius (a man, let’s not forget, ordered Liberty’s execution in the last book and is now going on a rampage, killing everyone in Blackbrooke), but it’s the unlikely romantic feelings between Cassius and Liberty that show him to be human – something fantasy writers can sometimes forget about their villains. Despite everything Cassius has been through, despite what he has planned for Blackbrooke, we know, as the reader, that he still holds a candle for Liberty, and although he seems to have gone off the rails, we do not thirst for his blood like the rest of Blackbrooke – we hope he comes to his senses and realises what he is doing is wrong. Silver has portrayed her villain in such a way that you cannot be completely sure he is even a bad guy, because even the best of us are rooting for him.

In terms of the rest of the characters, there are only two that the reader really becomes attached to – Liberty and Cassius, and although they could be argued that it’s their relationship that drives the novel forward to its powerful and exciting climax, I think Silver underestimated how interested the reader is in secondary characters at this point. If you were to ask me what Gabriel Moretti’s purpose in this book was, I’m not sure I could give you a proper answer. He provides relief as a familiar face among the chaos of Blackbrooke, but to be completely honest, we get that from Denzil and Marie (who’s love has been brought to light once more, giving us more than necessary to feel safe among characters we’ve grown to know). I’m not sure Silver did Gabriel justice with having very little to drive the plot forward. His story seems to have ended in ‘Blackbrooke II‘.

The one thing that did baffle me while reading this book was something I’m not entirely sure Silver thought through completely – if the Crits are no longer playing by the Rules set by the Mayor of Blackbrooke, why don’t we see more of them? True, while Liberty is moving from place to place, we see the odd chase happening between human and Crit, but surely if they were given a free reign over a closed town with thousands of people to feast on, there would be a lot more deaths happening all over town? It all seemed a little…convenient that they didn’t seem to be where she was.

Like most book series, it’s always hard to turn the final page, knowing that the characters you have grown to love will never again tell you their story, but as endings go, as I mentioned earlier, I don’t think Silver could have found a better one. This fast paced, exciting conclusion will make for a brilliant movie one day! I’ve already recommended this series to a number of my friends. The emotions she envokes in her readers for the characters who didn’t make it is powerful, and I cannot wait to see what else she has to offer.

VERDICT:: She could not have ended this book any better. 9/10.

‘The Dynamite Room’ by Jason Hewitt

I have to admit, I’m not usually a fan of fiction books set during the years between 1939 and 1945. Not that they aren’t good books to read, but I usually get so invested in the characters, that I actually find it hard to read something that very well may have happened to someone. It’s for this reason I tend to stay away from World War II dramas.

I came across ‘The Dynamite Room‘ whilst on a break at work, and I immediately became interested when I read the blurb. This was not a normal drama in which we are put in the point of view of a soldier during battle. The Dynamite Room‘ tells the story of a young girl, Lydia, an escaped evacuee, being held hostage in her own home by a German Soldier, who informs her that Britain is on the brink of invasion, and it would be in her best interest not to leave the house. As Lydia and her German Captive – Heiden – spend five days in isolation together, it is clear that there is more to Heiden’s story than him being the first German of an invasion, and that quite possibly, it’s no accident that he ended up in Lydia’s home.

The story is told over a series of timelines, and is through this that we begin to understand just how these two very unlikely companions came to be in each other’s lives. There is the timeline set in the present, with Lydia and Heiden together. There is a timeline set before the War, with Lydia growing up in England, and then there is the timeline of Heiden in Germany, with his lady companion Eva, and her thoughts and fears of the inevitable War. It is clear that it is the collective memories of Heiden and Lydia that drive the narrative forward, that gives us a better understanding as to why certain events are happening – but this is also a flaw in Hewitt’s narrative. Don’t get me wrong, this novel is impeccably written, and it’s extremely hard to believe that this is Hewitt’s first novel, but I think he may have overlooked the idea that a memory that has happened before the present (i.e an event that happens in Heiden and Eva’s timeline) should ultimately affect Heiden throughout the present timeline with himself and Lydia. But this doesn’t seem to happen. The event I am referring to (and I won’t say anything just in case you wish to read it) does not seem to bother Heiden at all until we (the reader) learn of it, and then suddenly it becomes all he can think about. This wouldn’t happen in reality. The traumatic incident would have been thought of at least once during the first four days of Heiden’s five day stay in England. I understand that Hewitt has probably done this in an attempt to hide what has happened until the right point for dramatic effect for the reader (and believe me, it works), but realistically, what he has done would just never happen in reality, and I can’t help but think it’s quite flawed for him to try and pass it off as something that might.

One of the best aspects of this book, – and I do apologise for any offence I cause to anyone with what I’m about to say – is how likeable Hewitt portrays Heiden, a Nazi soldier, particularly in comparison to Lydia, an eleven year old English girl. Let me try and explain what I mean. Lydia is a typical girl who spent her time prior to the war playing with her siblings and the children in her area, and learning some important life lessons from her mother. But that’s all she is. She could be any eleven year old evacuee from England during the Second World War. Heiden, on the other hand, is a man who, when he had the chance to murder this poor, innocent girl, he stopped himself, for reasons we do not learn until later on in the book. Now, I’m not saying that this choice has made him a hero, but we suddenly become invested in Heiden a lot more than we do Lydia. Heiden is burdened; Heiden is in pain, and Heiden has secrets. Hewitt has written this character in a way that, even when he is being a little firm with the eleven year old girl he is holding hostage, we actually enjoy reading from his point of view the most! Even when we’re in the timeline with himself and Eva, we enjoy reading those segments a lot more than when we’re with Lydia before the War.

The one aspect of this novel I had a little difficulty wrapping my head around was the relationships Hewitt had forged between certain characters. I’m not talking about the strange, almost sexually-desiring relationship that Lydia and Heiden felt for one another; I’m referring to some of the brief encounters we have with Alfie and Eddie. They seem like two, ordinary little boys until one day – for some reason – they kiss. I wasn’t completely sure if Lydia had imagined this kiss, or of the boys actually did lock lips whilst wrestling…but I couldn’t understand the point of it. It didn’t add anything to their particular story. We knew that Alfie was nicer to Lydia when Eddie wasn’t around, and we knew he was a lot more typical-little-boyish when Eddie was with him, so why did they randomly kiss at one point? The kiss happens only for a second, and it’s never mentioned again, nor made reference to by Lydia for the rest of the novel. It didn’t even really change Alfie and Eddie’s relationship…so why did Hewitt feel it necessary to include it? I’m not saying I’m not about promoting homosexuality…but in this incidence, I don’t think it was altogether needed.

Although I can kind of understand it, I feel I need to address Lydia’s infatuation with Heiden at certain points during her five day encounter with him. There are times when she sees him (naked or even just wearing her father’s clothes), that she clearly feels some kind of attraction to him. Whether this is her missing her father, or only being able to express certain desires upon the only male she had at her disposal, I felt a little uncomfortable reading these sections of the book. I’m sure that Heiden is an attractive man, but Lydia is eleven, and a couple of times, I needed to remind myself that no matter how this relationship can be perceived, it is highly inappropriate – but Hewitt portrayed this beautifully within his novel. Though these incidents happened every so often, it was never taken too far or handled distastefully.

I have to admit that I really did enjoy this book. There were only a handful of times when I found my concentration wavering, but it doesn’t take Hewitt long to draw me back in. That’s what I liked the most about this book – it’s not the most action filled of books, yet Hewitt still manages to entice you to turn the page. I find that a lot of novels (particularly those surrounding the World Wars) sometimes fall into the trap of having far too much going on – of course, during the Wars, a lot was going in – but for a reader who wants to lose themselves in a brilliant, eerie drama, Hewitt delivers exactly what the reader is looking for. I’ve heard Hewitt will be releasing a book in 2015, and if it’s anything like this one, I look forward to reading it.

VERDICT: An explosive and enticing novel. Definitely worth a read. 9/10.

‘Tregarthur’s Promise’ by Alex Mellanby

A few months ago, I applied for a job at Cillian Press Publishing House in Manchester. At the time, they had no positions available for me, but they said they’d hold on to my details should anything come up. Same old story, right? Except last month, they actually did get in touch with me to help with a Twitter Campaign to help raise awareness of Independent Publishers. With this campaign came the chance to read and promote the first book of the ‘Tregarthur’ series by Alex Mellanby.

‘Tregarthur’s Promise’ tells the story of a group of misfit, troubled teenagers going on a field trip to the Moors, only to find themselves facing an earthquake, and their only chance of survival is to follow a tunnel that leads and traps them in what seems like the land that time forgot. The main character, Alvin, is given a bizarre and disturbing message by the chaperoning teacher (Miss Tregarthur, no less) – to keep an unknown promise to an unknown person – moments before she is seemingly crushed to death by a falling stone. Now, completely cut off from the rest of the world, the children must learn how to survive in harsh conditions.

If I’m going to be completely honest in my review, I will admit that when I started reading this book, I felt myself becoming annoyed with the way Mellanby was narrating the story. It seemed as though he was doing it an incredibly fast pace, and to me, it didn’t feel as though we were given what we needed in order to set the scene in my mind. He seemed more interested in telling the story, rather than showing it to us, which got frustrating at times, because as soon as you begin the book, you are thrown into a story with so many different characters, who apparently have very different attributions to one another, but he doesn’t show us this at all. It seems as though he’s split the teenagers as ‘Us’ and ‘Them’ and hoping that would be enough. I’ll admit, I don’t really like books that spend too long describing what characters look like, but I would imagine we would need a little more than what Mellanby gave us.

Throughout the book, we come across new animals and new things that the children don’t really have names for, so they come up with their own. For example, the bird that resembled a cross-specied duck and a chicken became a ‘chuckern’. I quite liked this, because it is exactly how a child would see this, and it would be how they all referred to this particular bird. However, it did get a little tedious when they began to do it with everything. It kind of felt as though they were giving up – as if they were setting up shop in this unknown place, not bothering to find a way back home. That’s not what the readers have come to read. They want to read how they plan to get home, and the trials and tribulations they face in doing so.

I did initially have a lot of problems reading this book, but I tell you something – I had a hard time finding a suitable chapter to stop reading before I went to bed. Honestly, without even realising it, Mellanby actually manages to make you connect with the characters. He makes you picture them in your head as you see them, rather than how he sees them, and is perhaps this little gem of a skill (that he possibly doesn’t know he has) that makes his descriptionless characters stick with you. For example, the character of Demelza reminded me of Harmony from the ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ TV series, and Jenna reminded me of Deb from the TV show ‘Dexter’. It’s not as though Mellanby has described these characters in such a way, but by allowing us to asses his characters by means of our own imaginations, we do suddenly care for the bunch of misfits who can’t find their way home.

Throughout the book, Alvin obsesses over the promise the teacher mentioned before they became trapped. I felt it was a bit weird for him to think about it too much. In reality (and yes, I am aware this is a fantasy novel), given everything that followed the cryptic message, I would have thought he would have forgotten all about it as soon as he realised he couldn’t figure it out immediately. That might just be me though. It’s a good thing he doesn’t, however, because he does eventually figure out what he was told…and I have to say, of all the unusual things that happen in this book, despite it being disgusting, horrifying and unthinkable – the promise turns out to be one of the more stable storylines.

The entire book is filled with head-scratching twists, bizarre turns, all catapulting towards an even more confusing cliffhanger at the end of the book. Without giving too much away, the final page of the book had me wondering what Mellanby had planned for the next book in order to explain the weird way in which he ended the book. Though I initially didn’t really care for the story, I am intrigued to read ‘Tregarthur’s Revenge’, too see how the decisions made at the end of the last book played out. I definitely recommend this book to those who enjoy reading young adult, teenage fiction books.

VERDICT: A very promising opening to a new fantasy series: 6/10.

‘The Caseworker’s Memoirs’ by Dan Thompson

‘Dan Thompson’ is a name that you probably won’t have heard yet. You probably won’t have heard about the trilogy he’s started writing, entitled ‘The Black Petal’, nor will you know about his young adult fiction novel ‘Here Lies Love’. It’s a shame, because not only is Thompson a genuinely talented writer, he is also one of the friendliest authors I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to, through frequent interactions via Twitter (If you want to follow him: @dan_pentagram).

‘The Caseworker’s Memoirs’ tells the story of an elderly gentleman, Malcolm who, after the recent death of his wife Mary, begins to reflect on his life as caseworker, working with those who have some kind of phobia, in some shape or another. Malcolm is not coping with Mary’s demise the way we all hope we would after the death of a loved one. Whether it be homophobia or agoraphobia, Malcolm revisits these cases that he has dealt with during his career, and each of them, in their own unique way, begin to help Malcolm slowly learn to move on from his pain.

One of the first things you will notice when reading ‘The Caseworker’s Memoirs’ is that Thompson is delivering exactly what he has promised in the title. Told through a series of short stories, strung together by Malcolm’s narrative, we actually get a feel of what Malcolm is feeling, and why he has chosen that particular case to look back on. A lot of the time, when a novel has adapted an epistolary structure, an author can be tempted to speak too heavily about a particular incident, which, if a person were to write about it in reality, probably wouldn’t use as much space describing something very insignificant that would set the scene. When you read through Malcolm’s eyes, you actually feel as though you are reading someone’s personal and private thoughts, something they wouldn’t actually want to share with the world.

Though the book is essentially told from the point of view of Malcolm, Thompson tells the tales of each of Malcolm’s cases in such a way that you actually begin to empathise with his patients. What completely astonished me whilst reading was Thompson’s ability to make you connect so profoundly with each of the characters in the book, whether they’re good or bad. When, for example, the character of Fynn Brown attempts to brave a Ferris Wheel to overcome his fear of heights, Thompson makes you silently pray for the man, hoping that he can push himself to the point of overcoming his fear. Although fear of heights is actually a very common phobia, Thompson’s portrayal of this gets your heart racing, more than any action book could do. And with Mark’s unreasonable hatred of homosexuals, you find yourself hating the man who, only three pages ago, bought flowers for his wife for no apparent reason. It is very rare for a book with so many sub-stories to move you in such a way, but it appears this is one skill Thompson has completely mastered.

Having said that, I have to admit there were parts of the novella that I had a little difficultly picturing in my mind. For example, when the character of Marvin is telling his story to Malcolm, without giving too much away, there is a scene that takes place on a plane that had me pause for a moment and re-read to make sense of what had happened. Of course, this might just be me over thinking it, but this is an example of a time I found myself wondering how exactly something like that could have happened. It doesn’t happen a lot in Thompson’s writing, but it does crop up every now and then. There is another scene, featuring a woman named Candace, which had me frowning slightly, wondering if, (again, not too give anything away), the memory she has which ignited her phobia, was perhaps a little too-cartoony. I think that the scenes Thompson writes could just be genuinely a little hard to get down in writing. It could be argued that as its a memory, it’s not supposed to be a perfect rendition of what happened, but to me, I would have preferred something a little more solid.

If you’re looking for a thrilling narrative, with plot twists, action and adventure, then this is not the book for you. If you are looking for a heart-felt, warm novella, where you connect with characters quicker than you would in another book, then I recommend ‘The Caseworker’s Memoirs’. Although the different characters only hold the spot light for no more than a chapter, Thompson makes you think about them long after you’ve finished their segment, about how their fear defined them, and how it affected an elderly gentleman, who was too scared to face life on his own.

VERDICT: Dan Thompson will be proud to refer to this book in his own memoirs. 8/10.

‘The Silkworm’ by Robert Galbraith

There is not a person alive today who doesn’t know that the critically acclaimed crime author Robert Galbraith is in fact the legendary JK Rowling, who stole the hearts of millions of people everywhere by creating the Harry Potter series. No doubt when this little bit of literary gold came to light, Galbraith’s sales shot right up, which might be an unfair assessment, as Galbraith’s novels actually has what it takes to stand on its own, non-Wizarding-World legs.

I’ll admit, I neither knew not cared who Robert Galbraith was when his debut ‘The Cuckoo’s Calling’ was published last year. It was only after I was told who actually wrote it did it suddenly become the only book I wanted to read, and it shot to the top of my ‘Must Read‘ list. However, it was very easy to forget who wrote that book the longer I read it – Galbraith and Rowling are actually two very different writers.

‘The Cuckoo’s Calling’ introduces a very unlikely hero in Cormoran Strike, an overweight, war veteran with a prosthetic leg, who became a private investigator and his pretty, young secretary Robin Ellacott, sent by an agency for temporary work, but who holds a secret ambition to become a private investigator herself. Together, they uncover the truth behind a famous models apparent suicide, which allows Strike’s otherwise abysmally failing Detective Agency to soar, which leads us to the start of ‘The Silkworm’.

The very best thing about these novels is how much Galbraith makes you fall in love with Strike, despite him not actually doing anything significantly heroic. He can be moody, jealous, sarcastic…and yet when the narrative is told from his point of view, you find yourself enjoying the book a lot more. That’s not to say when Robin has taken the narrative, you don’t enjoy hearing from her point of view, but Galbraith has written Strike in such a way that you feel more secure that the mystery will be solved prominently with Strike in charge.

‘The Silkworm’ picks up a few months after the finale of ‘The Cuckoo’s Calling’, with Strike’s Detective Agency being sought after by a whole host of people wanting his services, and Robin now having a full time job working along side Strike. Strike is approached by an authors wife, who claims her husband has been missing since completing his latest book. The author is discovered murdered in the most bizarre fashion, which, apparently, is exactly how the main character is murdered in his latest book. A little investigating reveals that his book is actually a giant metaphor for many people in his life – many people who’s lives would be ruined if his book ever made it to print.

Immediately, we are thrown into this case with several suspects, each with a different, yet powerful motive for committing this murder. Galbraith gives each character enough air-time for us to get to know each character individually – however, there were times whilst reading I got the lives of some of the suspects mixed up, and I was actually a little confused when one suspect began speaking about another’s actions, when I had thought the suspect speaking had done them. That isn’t to say Galbraith’s writing is sloppy, or even hard to keep up with, but there is so much going on, you can be forgiven for needing to stop for a moment to catch up with the story.

One of Galbraith’s (and Rowling’s, for that matter) most prominent skills through his career is the ability to distinguish characters purely by what they are saying. Rowling nailed the technique when writing the Harry Potter books, and she has now passed it on to Galbraith, who seems to have mastered the art of knowing exactly how a character would say something, and in what accent. This is not as easy as it sounds to grasp. A lot of writers have been known to fall at this hurdle (see my review on ‘Eeny Meeny’). But Galbraith, it seems, has taken the time to get to know his characters before writing them. Something I wish other writers would try and do in their writing.

Though this book is almost impeccably written, there are times when I found myself getting a little bored due to the lack of activity happening in parts. This was also a problem with ‘The Cuckoo’s Calling’. Strike is solving a case that, quite frankly, in the closest possible way to real life. He investigates. He researches. He interviews…and he solves the case. This is probably how it happens in reality, but that’s not what the readers want! They want drama, they want scandal, and they want to lose themselves in the lives of fictions characters. There is minimal drama in these books. Yet, despite it, the books are very hard to put down.

One of the biggest problems I had with this book was actually something I was completely expecting, because it happens at the finale of ‘The Cuckoo’s Calling’, is that Galbraith makes it virtually impossible for the reader to work out who has committed the crime! A lot of the time when you’re reading a detective novel such as this one, people like to try and decipher the clues that are scattered throughout the book and figure out who the villain is. Galbraith sort of takes this small thrill away from his readers. Not only do you never see coming who the killer/killers are, but Strike somehow manages to work out exactly how and why they have killed without giving any indication to the readers as to how he came to that conclusion. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a brilliant read to finally be told who the villain is, but with absolutely no indications as to who it possibly could be, you sort of feel a bit cheated in the sense that Strike is not telling you everything you should be told.

This is Rowling’s third attempt at an adult, contemporary novel, the second of which is under her Galbraith pseudonym, and it kind of shows. Obviously, Rowling has spent the best part of twenty years writing the Harry Potter novels, which were predominantly aimed at kids, so she had to be careful with what she wrote (that’s not to say she didn’t throw the odd “bitch” and “bastard” about in Deathly Hallows), but now, she seems to be throwing herself into vulgar language which frankly, at times, seems a bit unnecessary. I mean, yes, she now has the creative freedom to allow her characters to say and do whatever she pleases, but there are times in the book when you can’t help but think ‘Okay, are they just swearing for the sake of swearing?’ Swearing is a very common use of the English Language nowadays, but I think Galbraith/Rowling needs to set some boundaries as to what may be too much to say.

Galbraith has announced that this is book two of a much larger set. I cannot wait to find out where Strike and Robin’s job will take them next. If ‘The Cuckoo’s Calling‘ set up the pins, then ‘The Silkworm’ knocked them down with a perfect…well, Strike!

VERDICT: Another well crafted story which doesn’t need a detective to tell you as such! 9/10

‘Inferno’ by Dan Brown

Everyone is familiar with Dan Brown’s books, and most people will at least have heard of the character Robert Langdon. He’s a Harvard Professor, who specialises in the field of Religious Iconology and Symbology, and he seems to be the most logical thinker on the face of the planet (losing the top spot only to Miss Hermione Granger); in short, he is the most likeable protagonist you’re likely to read in a thriller, and you’re always grateful he has been called upon to solve puzzles that seem to root from old-school religion (which, let’s face it, can be pretty damn horrifying). When I heard Brown was releasing a new book with Langdon as the star, I knew immediately I wanted to read it.

‘Inferno’ tells the story of everyone’s favourite Professor of Symbology waking up in a hospital with absolutely no memory of the last 48 or so hours. All he knows is that he’s been shot in the head, and the government is after him. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t know what to do. He races against the clock, using only ‘Dante’s Inferno’ as a guide to locate this latest terrorist threat, all the while hiding from people who want to capture him for some unknown reason. Immediately, this book already surpasses it’s predecessors, because when you have so much faith in a protagonist who usually seems to know everything, having him know nothing at all is a little exciting! From the word go, Brown has you asking questions as to how Langdon has ended up in this horrifying situation. For the first time in a Robert Langdon book, he is as clueless as we are, so the usual feeling of inferiority that can be felt when reading a Langdon novel is absent.

‘Inferno’, as you may have already guessed, is not the first book to feature Robert Langdon, so it also tends not to be the first book people will have read with him as the protagonist. Meaning that before you open this book, you are already undoubtedly aware of Brown’s writing technique when speaking as Langdon. It can be pretty intense, I won’t lie to you. As Langdon has spent the majority of his adult life studying topics that many people would find tedious today, you can be forgiven if your eyes begin to glaze over as he gives a little background knowledge to his lady companion (who is always different in each book: this novel plays host to the young doctor Sienna Brooks). It’s not that what Langdon is saying is dull, it can just be extremely complicated at times, and more than once, I found myself having to go back and re-read what I’d read just to make sense of what I’d just read. You sometimes find yourself thinking “This isn’t relevant; surely we didn’t really need to know this.” and at times, you would be right, but Brown is an intelligent man, as is Langdon, and you have to believe what he is saying will all make sense at the climax of the book, which, if you have read Brown’s other books (‘Angels and Demons’, ‘The Da Vinci Code’, ‘The Lost Symbol’), you will know to be a thrilling, twist heavy ending that you allows you to close the book feeling satisfied, despite how confused you found yourself getting there.

In saying that, however, without giving too much away, I have to admit I was slightly disappointed with the ending of the book. When you read a Robert Langdon book – for example, Angels and Demons – you expect there to be an explosive ending. You believe that without Langdon, the world wouldn’t survive, and it’s thanks to Langdon’s in depth insight about subjects no one else knows about that saves the day. That’s just something we’ve come to expect from him…and that just isn’t the case in this book. Don’t get me wrong, it’s Langdon’s knowledge of Dante’s Inferno which manages to lead them where they need to go to attempt to thwart the terror attack on the world, but by the time you get to the end of the book, and you realise what the threat actually is, you find yourself thinking that the entire book could have actually been done without Langdon’s help, or at least, no one would have noticed the threat if hadn’t been for him, which ultimately, kind of renders Langdon slightly pointless. I won’t say anymore about the ending because I don’t want to ruin it for anyone. There is still a rather intriguing twist; it’s just not as exciting as you hope it to be.

The one thing ‘Inferno’ does that would make people not want to read this book is rely so heavily on ‘Dante’s Inferno’ to drive the plot forward. Clearly, it’s an important text for this novel (hence it’s name), and you might worry that you need some sort of knowledge of the text to understand what’s happening. Let me be clear: it would probably help, but it’s not necessary. As with the other subjects throughout Brown’s books, Langdon’s in depth knowledge of everything explains it all to you.

Fans of Brown’s books will love this latest instalment of Robert Langdon’s adventures, and even new fans to the franchise could pick this book up and enjoy reading it. But I wouldn’t recommend people doing that. I would suggest that they start from the beginning and work their way up to ‘Inferno’. Not because the series runs in a way where you’d need to read one first, then another to make sense of the last, but because Brown’s narrative has changed for this one. It’s still the same old Langdon, but as mentioned earlier, Langdon is not portrayed as the man the good side want in order to decipher clues. He doesn’t really resemble the man you fall in love with in his earlier books.

VERDICT: As with Dante’s Inferno, there are so many levels to survive before you reach Paradise. 8/10.

‘How To Fall In Love’ by Cecelia Ahern

I was working in Waterstone’s when I first saw this on the shelves. I’ve read quite a lot of Cecelia Ahern’s books, and I’ve always enjoyed them, so, in need of some more reading material, I bought this one, knowing almost immediately what I was getting myself into, without even opening the book.

‘How To Fall In Love’ tells the heart warming story of a woman, Christine, who reaches out to a troubled young man, Adam, who tries to commit suicide, and promises him that before his 35th birthday, she will prove that life is worth living. She only has two weeks to do this, and given that she has never met Adam before, Christine really has her work cut out for her.

For fans of Ahern’s books, they will already be expecting the simplistic style of the writing, as well as the almost-instant connection to each of the characters in this book, causing them to root for Christine and Adam before they get a chance to know them. This is one of Ahern’s greatest strengths when she writes characters – she knows how to make the audience fall in love with them. Christine is the hopeless romantic who lives her life by the self-help ‘How To…’ books, and Adam, the strangely attractive, miserable soul who feels that with all of life’s problems, his only option is to throw himself from a bridge. It seems unlikely that their paths would happen to cross in real life, right? But that’s exactly why this book works! Ahern is an actual master at writing contemporary fictional dramas that could happen, but are extremely unlikely to, and this book is no exception. This isn’t a bad thing – there are far too many writers today who seem to think if it can’t happen, it’s not worth writing about.

One of Ahern’s strengths when it comes to writing is the dialogue she writes for her characters. She seems to have grasped the correct balance between what is necessary, and what is too much. There are writers who will only have their characters talking if it will push the story forward, and, let’s be honest, that’s not how communication happens in life. Sometimes we talk about things that are absolutely irrelevant. Sometimes we say things just for the sake of saying it. I’m not saying that what Ahern has Christine and Adam saying to each other is irrelevant, but there are several conversations you could cut from this book, and still have the narration work perfectly fine. But that’s how you lose the readers attention! We want to see Christine and Adam’s relationship unfold. We want to hear them talk irrelevantly to each other because it will strengthen them. Ahern had managed to find the difference between what is irrelevant, and what keeps you interested.

Although Ahern has you hooked as soon as you meet him, there are times throughout the book where Adam seems a little whiney, particularly when he’s moping about his ex-girlfriend (who, subsequently is one of the many, many reasons he wanted to jump from Ha’penny Bridge), and you find yourself screaming at him to forget her and fall for Christine. Likewise, Christine becomes a little too repetitive with her thoughts when it comes to her plans to help Adam. Of course, this is probably how it would work in reality, but it can become a little stale for the reader to take in.

There is a trap that Ahern seems to fall into with each book that she writes, and that is to include far too many subplots for her characters lives that you actually struggle to keep up with what they’re actually doing, and sometimes, she doesn’t put enough into the subplots to make us care about them. For example, in this particular book, Adam does not want to take over his father’s company, nor does he want his cousin to take it over (who would be next in line if Adam refused), and you can’t help but think ‘You were just about to kill yourself, why do you care who takes over your fathers company?’ and then, when Christine and Adam visit his fathers home, we learn how much his father hates his cousin…and how disappointed in his daughter he is…you kind of just stop and wonder why the nephew was relevant at all, and couldn’t that whole story be part of the disappointment in the daughter segment.

One of my only issues with this book is that it is completely predictable how it’s going to end, and that you can see the finale coming as soon as Christine is given the 2 week deadline. For fans of Ahern’s earlier works, they probably are expecting this, and will enjoy the easy-paced, easy-to-read style that Ahern tells her story in (and it’s probably one of the reasons they love her so much). However, if a new reader was to begin reading Ahern’s works, starting with ‘How To Fall In Love’, I’m not entirely sure they’d invest any more time in reading any of her other books, which is a shame because Ahern is actually a very talented writer – she just needs to take more risks when it comes to her novels, and not play everything safe because she knows it works.

VERDICT: ‘How To Sell Books By Playing It Safe.’ 7/10.

‘Eeny Meeny’ by M.J. Arlidge

I came across this one when I was late night shopping about two months ago. I have no idea why I took to it. I’d never heard of ‘Eeny Meeny’ or it’s author. However, it did catch my attention, and after skimming through quite a promising blurb, I bought it, looking forward to getting started.

The blurb promises a story in which people are abducted in pairs, then they are given a choice – kill or be killed. The idea of ‘Kill or be Killed’ is not a new concept in literacy. One of the biggest series at the moment – ‘The Hunger Games’ – has the very same premise. But there was something different about this one. It’s one thing to imagine yourself with that choice in an arena with faceless strangers – but what about if it’s just you and someone you know, with no prize at the end of it except your life? One lives and one dies. It’s quite a thrilling concept.

Sadly, this is as about as thrilled as you’re going to feel with this particular book. The idea is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t help but feel that Arlidge could have written this book so much better than he did. With it’s page long chapters, and a narrative that sounds like he has adapted it from every drama on television at the moment, you would be forgiven for thinking that the writing was not Arlidge’s actual voice, rather, his years working for ITV producing part-time crime serials has given him the generic ‘Less is More‘ approach to his work, which unfortunately, seems to be more like ‘Nothing is Enough.’

The main problem I had with this book was that attitude of ‘Less is More’ being spewed across each of his pages. He literally gives you nothing to work with as you’re reading it. He could have done so much more in so many of his chapters, but he kept it to it’s bare minimum, almost rushing through each chapter so he could begin the next one. The problem is, when you take this approach, you don’t have time to get to know the character you’re reading about, and frankly, you don’t really care what happens to them; if you can’t connect with a character, why should you be bothered if they live or die? He doesn’t give the readers enough time in his chapters to become invested in any of his characters, so even when the final twist occurs and the killer is revealed (I won’t say incase you choose to read it), you’re just kind of thinking ‘Oh…alright then…’.

He has also, (and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why) chosen to have very little dialogue in it. True, there are books that are very dialogue heavy, and they use speech to push the story unnaturally forward, but Arlidge seems to be ignoring the fact that in books (thrillers, for example) need dialogue to keep the readers interested. There is a scene, for example, where our protagonist goes to interview one of the survivors. Ideally, you’d have the survivor being fragile at first, and the protagonist, Detective Inspector Helen Grace, trying to build a relationship with them, before they open up about all the horrors they faced whilst they were abducted. We don’t get that. Seriously. Not even a little bit. We get told that what Helen is about to do (for a good half a page) is critical to the investigation, and she has to be cautious as to how to approach the victim…and then we get about four lines, several chapters later, telling us she didn’t really get anything from it. Well, let us judge that! We’re never going to figure out who the killer is if no one is talking about it!

One of an authors most distinguished tasks when creating a world with several different characters is to give them all their own voice. I’ll admit, this blog is going to be very ‘voice’ heavy, but that’s one of the things that jumped out at me the most. Arlidge has set up a narrative with characters who all sound exactly the same! I can imagine how hard it is to write in a different voice, but when you’ve set up a prose the way Arlidge has, where each chapter is told from the point of view of a different character, you need to be able to distinguish the difference between the characters, and not just rely on the author telling you who’s speaking. In reality, people speak with different dialects, different accents and they structure sentences uniquely. In the case of each of the characters in this book, they all sound like they’re reading from a script that someone who only has a vague idea about communication and was told to consult a thesaurus if they got stuck. Consistency with dialogue is something he doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing with, either. Helen Grace doesn’t seem to know if she loves her job as Detective Inspector, or she hates it, her life, her colleagues and generally anything she comes into contact with.

That doesn’t mean to say the whole book isn’t worth the read, (or I wouldn’t have been able to finish it). Its the abduction scenes that kept me wanting to read on. Now, I’m not about abducting people and forcing them to kill each other, but it’s those chapters that actually get the reader involved. Aside from the fact that Arlidge talks a little too much about what the victims are doing with their waste, the time spent imprisoned with the characters are quite strong. You feel empathy for them, as they struggle to come to terms with what’s happened to them, why it’s happened to them, and what will happen next. For once, Arlidge has his characters behaving in the right way, and asking the right questions. Their fates are not clear to the reader immediately, and they actually have their own surprise twists as their imprisonments comes to an end. Arlidge’s descriptions of the inner workings of his characters minds actually sound as though the victims are slowly losing their minds, and murder becoming a more attractive option than they initially thought.

For what started out as such a good idea, I was left bitterly disappointed with how frustrating Arlidge wrote this book. It could have been done so much better, and he has to know that! I’ve been told that ‘Eeny Meeny’ is book one of a series that feature Detective Inspector Helen Grace, but I for one can’t imagine myself reading any more of them.

VERDICT: Eeny Meeny Miny No! 3/10.