Book #47 Sycamore Gap

Sycamore Gap by L.J. Ross
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Continues seamlessly from DCI Ryan Mysteries #1 Holy Island and the trilogy is completed (I think) with Heavenfield. There are so many threads running through from book #1 that it is necessary to start there, if you haven't read Holy Island.

The satanic sect known as The Circle takes centre stage once again. What Ryan thought was over - isn't. The nightmare for Ryan was seeing his sister brutally murdered on Holy Island, the perpetrator finally brought to justice. But it doesn't end there as Ryan is soon to find out. Someone will take over The Circle as its new High Priest and Ryan and his team will, once again, be pitted against the power of 'The Master'.

This is a great police procedural conducted with diabolical overtones. L.J.Ross is up there with the best when it comes to serial killer thrillers. I loved it.

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Book #46 The Roanoke Girls

The Roanoke Girls by Amy Engel
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

So much hype surrounded The Roanoke Girls: "the most addictive thriller of the year". Well, it did not keep me enthralled. This tale of small town America and one family cloaked in a long running secret spanning decades. It is a disturbing story line but all too soon it became obvious what had occurred in the Roanoke family. The constant switching between 'then' and 'now' began to irritate and I breathed a sigh of relief when I had completed the book, particularly as I had figured out who had been doing what well before the end. A bunch of characters with no redeeming qualities, save perhaps Cooper and, at a pinch, Lane Roanoke. Amy Engel writes well and I am sure there are readers who will enjoy this more than I did.

With thanks to the publisher and Net Galley for an ARC.

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Book #45 The Devil

The Devil by Ken Bruen
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

'Nightmares are the dress rehearsal for the dread awaiting'.

Jack is having nightmares alright. He should have been in America but past misdemeanors have put paid to that. Stopped at the departure gate, prevented from boarding his flight. Jack does what Jack does. It's a large Jay and a pint of the black in the airport bar. A tall, slender man in a beautiful suit, long blonde hair, handsome, slides onto the stool next to him. "Sure is hell here today" - "Get you something, Jack?". Guy has a killer smile. Talks about evil: "Evil hones in on those closest to redemption". His name is Kurt 'with a K' and he is so going to fuck with you Jack.

Later, you take on a case to investigate the frenzied murder of a student, crucified upside down. And several murders follow and too many encounters with Mr. K. Has Jack met his nemesis? Is Jack dealing with the Devil himself?

Reading this there were times I thought I had strayed into the pages of a Dennis Wheatley occult novel. This is diabolical territory for Ken Bruen. It certainly is for Jack. 'The divil knows his own' is that right Jack? How do you fight evil? Evil of the worst kind? Can Father Malachy help? I doubt that Jack. Get yourself a Sig Sauer and cap this monster....

But do be very, very careful Jack. I would like to see you again....

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Book #44 A Hero Of France

A Hero of France by Alan Furst
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A wonderful, emotional account of of one Resistance cell, in Paris during 1941, helping downed British airmen to escape back to England. Code named Mathieu, he leads this small group - a covert network that numbers Lisette, Joëlle - who falls in love with Mathieu, Max de Lyon, an arms dealer turned nightclub owner, Daniel, a Jewish teacher fuelled by revenge, Chantal and Annemarie. This intimate tale reads like a prose poem as this band of heroes risk everything to outmaneuver collaborators, informers and spies and the threat of discovery by the ruthless German military police.

Alan Furst has made this period of history his own. For me, nobody does it better. Romantic, melancholic and full of suspense and, as The Washington Post said: "And it's not giving anything away to say that in the end many readers will want to stand up and sing 'La Marseillaise' through their tears." C'est vrai....

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Book #43 Slow Horses

Slow Horses by Mick Herron
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

How on earth do you walk in the footsteps of Len Deighton, Graham Greene and John Le Carré? Well, if you are Mick Herron, you don't. You write a new spy novel with such authority, such authenticity and a touch of black humour that left me dazzled. How do you think up Slough House and its band of "slow horses"? What a wonderful play on words! Slough House - the backwater of MI5. Where, as a spook, you finish up when you have screwed up, big time. Debunked from the achievers at Regent's Park. A bunch of misfits. Spending days listening to endless tapes of banal chit-chat on social media and mobile 'phones in the hopeless task of finding something that registers a sniff of information that might be worth reporting to Regent's Park. Making coffee, counting paper clips, set adrift in a sea of incompetence.

Wait a minute. Are these "slow horses" so incompetent? You are one of Jackson Lamb's crew. You are highly trained joes and you are not going to sit around just pushing paper. You didn't join the Intelligence Service to be a "slow horse". So watch out, Regent's Park, when a boy is kidnapped and held hostage and his beheading is scheduled for live broadcast on the internet. Despite the instructions from the Service, the slow horses aren't going to just sit quiet and watch....

A delicious piece of skulduggery combined with an intimate knowledge of 'The Service', twists galore, a bunch of 'joes' stirred into action and a protagonist, that might be 'getting on', might be overweight, but still has a forensic mind to out-spook the spooks! Jackson Lamb, Head of Slough House, a latter day reincarnation of the darker side of George Smiley. This is a fabulous British spy novel with an intricate plot and believable characters. I did at times have trouble following who was who; I should have made notes as I read! Definitely though, a spy novel for our time.



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Book #42 Last Breath

Last Breath by Robert Bryndza
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It's Wimbledon fortnight. So what on earth was I doing starting to read the latest DCI Erika Foster? Last Breath? I nearly took mine! How can Robert Bryndza keep getting better? A short while ago I read Dark Water - Foster #3. Robert sure as hell knows how to rack up the tension. But Last Breath truly had me gasping. Until 2:15am in the early hours of yesterday morning. I don't do that! Well, you try putting this down! Those chapters that get shorter and shorter. As DCI Erika Foster chases down a monster - a serial killer who exhibits the most despicable traits as the mutilated bodies turn up.

I am not giving away any of the plot; it's darned clever, there are blind alleys, there are heart-stopping moments when you do catch your breath. You have to carry on. You know who the killer is, one of the most despicable individuals you will encounter in a serial killer, thriller. And Last Breath has thrills galore! I was completely sucked in with the almost unbearable tension.

And completely forgot about Wimbledon. No mean feat. If you haven't read Last Breath, get a copy. And be prepared to stay awake nights. It doesn't get any better!

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Book #41 Bill Evans: How My Heart Sings

Bill Evans: How My Heart Sings by Peter Pettinger
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It has taken me a while to read and digest this enthralling book about Bill Evans as I constantly cross-referenced Pettinger's forensic examination of the recorded works of Evans, my favourite jazz pianist of all time, with my own comprehensive collection of his music - on CD, on vinyl and some by download. This approach has made the reading of this classic biography all the more enjoyable and I know I will be revisiting the text on a regular basis.

Peter Pettinger was a keen pianist. His classical training took place at the Royal Academy of Music, where he studied with pianist Vivian Langrish and composer Hugh Wood. He was also intrigued by jazz music, in particular that of Dave Brubeck and of course, Bill Evans. The book is laid out in chronological order as Pettinger discusses the making of every important Evan's recording and the discography lists 168 of these.

Evans was vexed by heroin addiction for much of his career (as were so many jazz musicians of his era) and suffered with chronic, low-grade hepatitis. Evans's life could be summed up by both personal tragedies and commercial successes. His technique stood head and shoulders above any other jazz pianist of his time. His compositional methods and approach to ensemble playing have become his legacy.

As I read How My Heart Sings I found myself listening to Sunday At The Village Vanguard recorded 25th June 1961, with Scott LaFaro on bass and Paul Motian on drums, considered by many to be his best triumvirate. LaFaro was just 25 years old, a bassist of unbelievable talent. Ten days after this set was recorded LaFaro was driving back late to his parents' home in upstate New York when he veered off into a tree and was killed outright. Evans had embraced LaFaro as a kind of alter ego. The bass player's death killed something in the pianist himself. Evans and Motian were both devastated at the news. Evans did not play for many months after this, not even at home. I cannot listen to this album without getting rather choked up.... Just one of the tragedies that befell this giant of jazz composition and unique style of playing.

If you enjoy jazz, especially jazz piano, you should get yourself a copy of this wonderful, critical commentary on the life of Bill Evans, who died on Monday September 15th 1980, aged just 51. He lies at rest in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. There is not a week goes by that I do not listen to something played by this jazz legend....

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