Pierre Lemaitre- Inhuman Resources

Alain Delambre is a 57-year-old former HR executive, drained by four years of hopeless unemployment. All he is offered are small, demoralizing jobs. He has reached his very lowest ebb, and can see no way out. So when a major company finally invites him to an interview, Alain Delambre is ready to do anything, borrow money, shame his wife and his daughters and even participate in the ultimate recruitment test: a role-playing game that involves hostage-taking. Alain Delambre commits body and soul in this struggle to regain his dignity.  But if he suddenly realised that the dice had been loaded against him from the start, his fury would be limitless. And what began as a role-play game could quickly become a bloodbath…

As well as producing one of the finest crime series, and a collection of unique standalones, Lemaitre once again demonstrates the reach and depth of his literary skill in this dark, cynical and twisted tale, which provides a perfect allegory of the daily struggle of the downtrodden individual against the power of the few…

Quickly, I was struck by how Lemaitre’s use of the absurd in the book, mirroring in style the venerable Pascal Garnier, becomes a powerful literary tool to cast an unflinching glare on the world of work, business and exploitation in French society, but by extension in every culture. By focussing on an older protagonist such as Alain Delambre, we feel the frustration and subjugation that he experiences, nearing the twilight years of his working life, and the disempowerment he rages against as he is unceremoniously thrown on the employment scrapheap. This is the cue for Lemaitre himself to rail against the exclusion of older workers, and the hugely depressing statistics concerning employees and unemployment, which pepper the book. Delambre is an angry man and incensed by the demeaning of his worth, so he formulates a plan: a plan that has severe implications for himself and his loving family. The extreme measures that Delambre undertakes, that dishonour both him and his family are shown to be symptomatic of a larger problem in society and Lemaitre addresses these with a razor sharp and cynical eye.

However, before you begin to think that this sounds like a fairly linear tale of a desperate man taking desperate measures to gain a foothold back in the world of employment, Lemaitre turns the tables on us, and in no short order we have a hostage crisis, embezzlement, computer fraud, a seriously ticked off security operative, violence, a family in disarray, a car chase, a court case and more. Taken in its entirety, Lemaitre beautifully paces moments of extreme pathos, and a general headshaking at the world of big business, with episodes of such verve and tension that add an energy and vigour to this seemingly mundane tale of the little man’s struggle in the face of unrelenting financial and emotional pressure. I loved the increasing confidence of Delambre as he formulates his plan to turn the tables, and the gradual shedding of his previously held morality to achieve his aim, despite the extraordinary sense of betrayal experienced by his wife and daughters. He proves with every fibre of his being that you can teach an old dog new tricks, and if these tricks happen to land him in a whole heap of trouble, he proves himself unafraid to take the chance, despite some unwelcome consequences.

Once again the seamless translation by Sam Gordon, picks up all the elasticity of Lemaitre’s manipulation and use of language, and heightens the perfect structuring and narrative pace that builds tension, and ratchets up the sense of human frailty and newly acquired resilience that Delambre embodies. I found this a hugely satisfying read, for not only the cynical yet pertinent appraisal of the exploitative world of business and its effect on older workers, but also as a genuinely pacey and endlessly surprising thriller as Delambre’s life appears to descend into violent freefall. Smartly done, and as a thriller with a difference, highly recommended,

(With thanks to Maclehose Press for the ARC)

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#BlogTour- Kerensa Jennings- Seas of Snow

To mark the paperback release of Kerensa Jennings’  Seas of Snow, here is a revisit of my original review. Remember to check out the other stops on this special blog tour, to discover more about this emotive and beautifully written novel…

1950s England. Five-year-old Gracie Scott lives with her Mam and next door to her best friend Billy. An only child, she has never known her Da. When her Uncle Joe moves in, his physical abuse of Gracie’s mother starts almost immediately. But when his attentions wander to Gracie, an even more sinister pattern of behaviour begins. As Gracie grows older, she finds solace and liberation in books, poetry and her enduring friendship with Billy. Together they escape into the poetic fairy-tale worlds of their imaginations. But will fairy tales be enough to save Gracie from Uncle Joe’s psychopathic behaviour – and how far will it go?

I must confess that when I started reading Seas of Snow, I was entirely unsure of what to expect, hoping that this would go far beyond a simple, linear tale of family misery. My fears were very quickly dispelled, and to be honest, this was one of the most emotive, thought-provoking, and beautifully characterised novels I have read for some time…

For the purposes of this review I will studiously avoid the words crime novel, as to my mind what Kerensa Jennings has produced with aplomb is much more akin to literary fiction, in terms of emotional depth and narrative tone. With the use of the dual narrative structure, where the past is seamlessly intertwined with the contemporary timeline,  the reader finds themselves  gently pivoted back and forth. To avoid any unwitting spoilers, the contemporary aspect of the book involves two characters looking back on childhood events with their knowing adult perspective, but so as not to reveal a hugely surprising twist in the tale I can say no more. Suffice to say this part of this story was incredibly moving, and sees these characters wrestling with the emotional consequences of the events so many years previously. It is emotionally uplifting yet perturbing in equal measure, as Jennings’ explores the themes of redemption and blame in relation to their actions, leading to some exceptionally moving revelations.

Instead, what I will focus on is Jennings’ absolute mastery of the language and thought of both Grace and Billy as children. I do tend to avoid reading books with a child’s narrative, as I am so often disappointed by the lack of realism, and how many authors slip into the attribution of adult reasoning that then undermines the credibility of the young narrator. Jennings’ portrayal of her child protagonists is never less than perfectly realised. Gracie’s dialogue, thoughts and child’s reasoning is absolutely authentic throughout, and as a reader, when the dark events unfold, you are genuinely terrified for her. Jennings’ depiction of the abuse that Gracie suffers is totally unflinching, so much so that at times I had to physically take a breath when reading these scenes. I admired the bravery and realism with which Jennings’ approaches this hugely emotive subject matter, be it the sheer physical fear that Gracie experiences, or in the uncompromising and brutally graphic depiction of the psyche of her abuser. Jennings’ neatly circumvents the clichéd  bogeyman images of paedophilia, but instead, presents a much more frightening depiction by the way she explores so fearlessly and thoroughly the mind-set of this deeply disturbed individual who brings fear and havoc to Gracie’s childhood. It takes the reader into the darkest recesses of psychopathy, and Jennings’ intuitive exploration of the conundrum of nature vs nurture is both deeply chilling, and strangely fascinating. The writing is emotionally intense, graphic and unceasingly honest.

As much as the novel focuses on the violence of Gracie’s childhood, Jennings’ harmonises this throughout with the simple pleasures of childhood friendships,  and increasing perception that both Gracie and Billy begin to experience of the world around them. There are childhood stories of make-believe, adventure, and Gracie’s flourishing interest in the world of books and poetry, that in tandem with her friendship with Billy, sustains her mental equilibrium, as the dark events of her household play out. It brings a beautifully weighted lightness, and emotional relief to the novel, that keeps the reader balanced and engaged, before the next plunge into the darker aspects of the book, and Jennings’ cleverly uses this part of Gracie’s development to change the nature of her narrative voice, and the images she ascribes to her tormentor’s presence. This is the only point where you can quite clearly hear a resonance of Jennings’ own authorial voice, as Gracie’s increasing appreciation of books and poetry, reflect what I believe is the author’s own joy and emotional succour afforded to us all by literature and verse. I found the scenes reflecting Gracie’s growing appreciation of this world of words and images strangely reminiscent of my own, and I’m sure many other readers too, and it was a delight.

This was without doubt an emotionally intense, but extremely rewarding reading experience, despite the harsh and quite often unpalatable depiction of a childhood destroyed. The language, imagery and controlled nature of Jennings’ writing was at times deeply unsettling in the portrayal of the darkness of Gracie’s experiences, and the psyche of her abuser,  but then uplifting in the purity and simplicity she attributes to Gracie’s discovery of the pleasures of storytelling and poetry that becomes her coping strategy. At times, an incredibly discomforting read, with a shockingly powerful denouement, but equally a brave, truthful, and thought-provoking novel. Highly recommended.

(With much thanks to the author for the ARC)

 

Blog Tour- Roxanne Bouchard- We Were The Salt Of The Sea

  • As Montrealer Catherine Day sets foot in a remote fishing village and starts asking around about her birth mother, the body of a woman dredges up in a fisherman’s nets. Not just any woman, though: Marie Garant, an elusive, nomadic sailor and unbridled beauty who once tied many a man’s heart in knots. Detective Sergeant Joaquin Morales, newly drafted to the area from the suburbs of Montreal, barely has time to unpack his suitcase before he’s thrown into the deep end of the investigation. On Quebec’s outlying Gaspé Peninsula, the truth can be slippery, especially down on the fishermen’s wharves. Interviews drift into idle chit-chat, evidence floats off with the tide and the truth lingers in murky waters. It’s enough to make DS Morales reach straight for a large whisky…

As an avid reader of crime fiction in translation for its more lyrical and considered look at the human psyche , and highly atmospheric use of place, French Canadian thriller We Were The Salt Of The Sea, ticked many boxes for me. Roxanne Bouchard’s beautifully lyrical appreciation of the sea and its ever changing moods, provided a wonderful backdrop to this tale of human frailty, and the unstinting shadow of the past on this small coastal community.

There’s a wonderful quote in the book,  which to me summed up completely the psyche of the host of colourful and interesting characters that inhabit this book- “The people I met here were living in the past, in the nostalgia of a bygone era they had all conspired to revere as it had been. The only beauty in the present was the memory of yesterday, and nothing else would ever compare…” As the story is firmly rooted in past events, and how the character of Marie Garant has loomed so large in the lives of the residents, there is this unerring feeling of the past controlling and reverberating so strongly in the present. Of all the individuals that Catherine Day encounters in her quest to discover more about her birth mother, Garant seems to have played a significant role be it as a conduit for love, jealousy, violence and death. I liked the way that we never really achieved a complete picture of Garant, as everyone’s different opinions of her, and interactions with her are refracted like a prism through their differing accounts. That’s not to say that we don’t ultimately care about how she met her watery fate, and I rather enjoyed this sense of still not knowing her intimately by the end of the book. I felt there was an almost symbiosis with Garant and the sea, as she seemed to be a woman of mercurial and unpredictable behaviour leaving a trail of anger, regret and sorrow in her wake.

Although I wasn’t particularly enamoured with the character of Catherine, as I felt the author was maybe trying too hard to imbue her with the same qualities as the mother she had never met, I thought the surrounding cast were superb. I was strongly reminded of other French thrillers I have read set in coastal communities, and the balance that they achieve between the more quirky and serious protagonists was perfectly mirrored here. There’s the salty old sea dogs, the too talkative bartender, the shyster running the funeral parlour, jealous women, and into the mix the hapless detective Morales, with his Mexican roots, and embarrassing midlife crisis. As I said the balance between moments of heart wrenching emotion, and dark humour, embodied in Bouchard’s depiction of these people was consistently pleasing, and I felt very much like I was in a small boat on calm, and then stormy waters, as the mood of the book chopped and changed.

As a lover of the more naturalistic writing of authors such as Annie Proulx and Ron Rash, I loved the way that Bouchard showed such an incisive and lyrical edge to her writing in her depictions of the sea. Whether as a murder scene, as a source of making a living, as a route to a different life, or simply as the ever present force in these people’s existence, you feel its influence at every turn, and there are some truly beautiful descriptions permeating the book throughout. This sense of the poetic adds another level of enjoyment to the book, and through the translation of David Warriner, I was quite bewitched at times by the language and imagery the author employs. A very satisfying read, and recommended for those who like their crime fiction with a more literary edge.

(With thanks to Orenda Books for the ARC)

 

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Blog Tour- Sarah Ward- A Patient Fury

When Detective Constable Connie Childs is dragged from her bed to the fire-wrecked property on Cross Farm Lane she knows as she steps from the car that this house contains death.
Three bodies discovered – a family obliterated – their deaths all seem to point to one conclusion: One mother, one murderer.

But D.C. Childs, determined as ever to discover the truth behind the tragedy, realises it is the fourth body – the one they cannot find – that holds the key to the mystery. What Connie Childs fails to spot is that her determination to unmask the real murderer might cost her more than her health – this time she could lose the thing she cares about most: her career.

I must confess that I have experienced a slight sense of disenchantment with some writers of Derbyshire set crime of late, but Sarah Ward has proved to be as refreshing as a window suddenly opening in an airless room. Having previously reviewed, and enjoyed, In Bitter Chill and A Deadly Thaw it is no exaggeration to say that Ward is honing her writing more and more with each book, and has just produced, in my opinion, the best of the series to date in A Patient Fury

The first aspect of this book that I really enjoyed was the undercurrent of darkness that undercuts the whole book. The central plot is exceedingly grim, with the crime of murder/suicide of a family laying at the heart of this twisted morality tale. The unconscionable act of a child’s murder strikes the investigation team particularly hard, and the initial suspicion of the mother being guilty of this crime sits uneasily with the fictional protagonists, and us as readers too. I thought the plotting was superb as the book is permeated by small twists, and teasing reveals, the instances of which are perfectly placed in terms of narrative pace, and to increase the suspense. As the net is cast wider to include other relations of this family, Ward plays with our perceptions of each protagonist, and invites us to engage in our own crime solving, as the police team grapple with this particularly tricky investigation. I thought the whole premise of the crime, and the conclusion to it, was entirely realistic, and I enjoyed the way that it unashamedly approached the very real issues of child abandonment, familial abuse, and brought to the fore the varying degrees of emotional intelligence that the members of this family exhibited. With all the elements of a soap opera, but infinitely better written, it certainly kept this reader fully engaged.

Obviously being three books into a series, there is an added enjoyment at my now familiarity with the two main police protagonists of D.I. Francis Sadler, and D.C. Connie Childs, and the way that Ward pushes their personal stories and tribulations onwards. In particular, Connie, still recovering from events in the previous books, is put through the wringer further in terms of her professional behaviour in relation to this case, and her own insecurities as a single woman. I like her character very much, admiring both her tenacity, impetuousness and those small moments of fragility that suddenly appear. Likewise, Sadler is not immune to moments of self doubt and sometimes blindness, both in his treatment of Connie, and his involvement with a face from the past. Ward balances this growth in their characters in parallel to the main plot with an assured touch, leading the story off in different directions, but never to the detriment of the reader’s involvement in the central investigation.

Ward draws heavily on the atmosphere and surrounds of her Derbyshire setting, bringing the area alive to the reader’s imagination, and using the unique landscape of the area as a rich texture to the human drama that plays out. Coupled with the strong, perfectly placed plotting, the examination of human frailty, and her innate talent for realistic characterisation, I found A Patient Fury a hugely satisfying read, and would urge you to discover this series for yourselves. Highly recommended.

(With thanks to Faber for the ARC)

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#BlogTour- Su Bristow- Sealskin

sealskinWhat happens when magic collides with reality? Donald is a young fisherman, eking out a lonely living on the west coast of Scotland. One night he witnesses something miraculous and makes a terrible mistake. His action changes lives – not only his own, but those of his family and the entire tightly knit community in which they live. Can he ever atone for the wrong he has done, and can love grow when its foundation is violence?

Prepare to be completely entranced by Sealskin, a mystical and emotive novel by debut author, Su Bristow. Set in a small fishing community on the west coast of Scotland, Bristow weaves a magical tale tinged with sadness, regret and violence drawing on the traditional folkloric stories of shape-changing Selkies, and their mesmeric effect on the hapless men that encounter them. One such man is Donald Macfarlane, a formerly quiet and naïve individual, who experiences a phenomenal change of character to forcibly abduct a young Selkie woman, and integrate her into his family and community. What transpires is a story, that in its seeming simplicity, explores many threads of human nature, and the real meaning of community, family and love…

I was instantly held in the swirling, mystical air of this story, and quickly developed an instant feeling of empathy or strong dislike for the characters contained within it. The way that Bristow explores the changes that Mairhi’s arrival in this close knit community, and on those who dwell within it, is a constant source of enjoyment throughout the book. Mairhi’s influence on a whole array of individuals, for better or worse, exposes some real schisms in the community, and behaviour that was previously overlooked or accepted comes to be exposed as truly the opposite. There is a real growing in strength in some of the female characters in particular, and by the same token, a noticeable reigning in of the arrogant and violent behaviour of some of the male residents. The way Bristow leaves her without verbal communication allows us to view her as a human prism through which other’s behaviour is seen and judged, and although not wholly childlike she does have this aura about her. The changes she brings to Donald’s character in particular is striking, exposing a man formerly crippled by insecurity in a community where masculinity is prized, who grows in stature and confidence as he builds a life with her.  In the day to day lives of the village’s inhabitants, Bristow carefully navigates the realm of the real and the spiritual, drawing in the themes of the tough existence of the fishermen, the influence of religion in the community, and the adherence to the old ways of natural cures and respect for the traditional. This is very strong in Donald’s mother, Bridie, who practices, and is regularly called on for, her craft in traditional cures,  and the community as a whole exposes division and suspicion roughly drawn along the lines of those who subscribe to the retaining of tradition and those that embrace the folkloric. Hence, the arrival of Mairhi, is cause for further suspicion, moments of violence, and an eventful and emotional journey to some degree of acceptance for more than one character along the way.

Bristow’s portrayal of the bleak and wild coastal landscape is never less than perfect, reflecting the extremes of weather and seasonal changes that impact on this small community and shape their lives. The changeable spirit of the ocean that punishes or provides in equal measure is at the heart of this story, and the author’s descriptions of this windswept terrain, flora and fauna is vivid and tangible to the reader. Whether it is the cries of the seals, the raging of the sea, the hostility of winter, or the blooming promise of spring, the descriptions consistently arouse our senses and form bright, vivid pictures in the mind.

It’s been a while since I have been utterly lost in a book, but Sealskin produced this very effect. Set apart by its difference in subject to much of modern fiction, it held me totally in its grip, and the ending was something special and unexpected too. A book that is tinged with sadness, but utterly magical too. Highly recommended.

(With thanks to Orenda Books for the ARC)

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Blog Tour- Elizabeth Haynes- Never Alone- Review

A few years ago, way ahead of the fashionable, over-hyped, and largely disappointing array of domestic noir thrillers, Elizabeth Haynes wrote Into The Darkest Corner, untouched by girls, trains, nauseating middle class strife, and the like. To my mind, having dabbled in the current crop, Into The Darkest Corner still stands head and shoulders above what I have read to date in the domestic noir genre, in terms of its psychological depth, character development, the sheer visceral chill of a woman under threat, and how the reader can actually relate to and believe in the insidious danger that Haynes presented to us. Having read most of Haynes’ books since, I was more than happy to curl up with her latest book, Never Alone and post a review for this blog tour marking its publication…

haynesSarah Carpenter lives in an isolated farmhouse in North Yorkshire and for the first time, after the death of her husband some years ago and her children, Louis and Kitty, leaving for university, she’s living alone. But she doesn’t consider herself lonely. She has two dogs, a wide network of friends and the support of her best friend, Sophie. When an old acquaintance, Aiden Beck, needs somewhere to stay for a while, Sarah s cottage seems ideal; and renewing her relationship with Aiden gives her a reason to smile again. It s supposed to be temporary, but not everyone is comfortable with the arrangement: her children are wary of his motives, and Will Brewer, an old friend of her son s, seems to have taken it upon himself to check up on Sarah at every opportunity. Even Sophie has grown remote and distant. After Sophie disappears, it’s clear she hasn’t been entirely honest with anyone, including Will, who seems more concerned for Sarah’s safety than anyone else. As the weather closes in, events take a dramatic turn and Kitty too goes missing. Suddenly Sarah finds herself in terrible danger, unsure of who she can still trust. But she isn’t facing this alone; she has Aiden, and Aiden offers the protection that Sarah needs. Doesn’t he?

And so to Never Alone, and Haynes once again with an immediate intensity, draws us into the life of Sarah Carpenter, an emotionally fragile woman three years on from the loss of her husband, and residing in a metaphorically empty nest with her two children having left home for differing reasons. What Haynes disseminates so well in this book is the nature of human relationships, and every character is used to explore the differing connections we make with one another. As the following demonstrates there are numerous different permutations of characters’ connections to one another throughout the book. Sarah finds herself emotionally unsettled by the reappearance of an old flame, Aiden, who takes up residence in a small cottage aligning her property, concealing certain revelations about his past interactions with her late husband, and the shocking reveal of his current career choice. She is also grappling with missing her daughter Kitty who is at university (who is also experiencing her first love affair) and the minimal contact with her son Louis, who has his own reasons for shunning her. Sarah also has only one close friendship in this small community, with glamorous and larger than life politician’s wife, Sophie, which seems an unlikely alliance, and when Sarah is plunged into the company of others seems rather a square peg in a round hole. Then there is Will, a friend of her son’s Louis, who comes to the attention of Aiden and Sophie for differing reasons, and Sophie and Aiden also have a connection. Haynes perfectly controls the gradual reveals about the deeper connections between various characters, and by splitting the narrative in sections between them, gives her a real opportunity to explore their psychology, and allows us to see the same scenarios from different viewpoints.

Sometimes I felt that the characterisation was a little diminished by the need to so completely control all their connections to one another, and how these would bring the action together at the denouement of the book, and felt there was a certain amount of repetition in how Sarah was presented. In particular, her critique of her own life, that did seem to be endlessly re-treading the same analysis of her emotional and financial situation. I hesitate to use the word annoying, but she didn’t engage my empathy as much as she should have. I did, however, like the characters of Louis and Sophie very much, who had interesting textures and quirks to them which I would have like to have seen more fully explored, and Aiden proved a pivotal figure to the book with shades of light and dark to keep the reader on their toes. There is also a sinister stream of consciousness by a certain character, that runs chillingly throughout the book, alerting us to the danger of an individual on the brink of violence, and Haynes largely conceals the identity of this person until a crucial point in the plot.

I very much liked the setting of the book, using the North Yorkshire Moors, as an immovable and threatening backdrop in the grip of winter, reflecting the psychological bleakness and threat of the main plot. The perfectly placed reveals of one character’s connection to another drove the plot consistently at a measured and controlled pace, and although the unveiling of the bad egg in the whole affair did not come as a real surprise, there was a good amount of tension and suspicion built up along the way to keep reading on. Although not entirely convinced why the bad person did what they did for the reasons they did and how this was played out, I feel that the consistency of the writing up until that point more than justifies giving this one a look. Perhaps, this is a testament to the writing of Haynes herself that even, in my humble opinion, a slightly below par book from her is still immeasurably more enjoyable than others in her chosen genre. Recommended.

(With thanks to Myriad Editions for the ARC)

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Blog Tour- Melissa Ginsburg- Sunset City- Review

Sunset cityTwenty-two-year-old Charlotte Ford reconnects with Danielle, her best friend from high school, a few days before Danielle is found bludgeoned to death in a motel room. In the wake of the murder, Charlotte’s life unravels and she descends into the city’s underbelly, where she meets the strippers, pornographers and drug dealers who surrounded Danielle in the years they were estranged…

Billed as ‘taut, erotically charged literary noir’, Sunset City pretty much ticks all these boxes, and in common with the brilliant  Cracked by Barbra Leslie, explores the life of a damaged young woman in an impersonal and isolating metropolis, in this case Houston. Through her first person narrative, we observe Charlotte immersing herself totally in the life of her murdered friend Danielle, to uncover the truth behind her death, and drawing her into maelstrom of danger and jealousy. Fans of edgy, slight and sexy crime fiction in the style of Megan Abbott will love this. There’s a good development of Charlotte’s character as she navigates the underbelly of Houston life, encountering the less savoury characters that Danielle has been associating with, and drawing the reader in to a hazy world of drugs and sex, that are graphically explored in the course of the book.

This is another incredibly female-centric novel with much time expended on developing their characters, and very little development of the male protagonists, who again begin to conform to stereotype, although one or two of them would have been more interesting if they had been fleshed out a bit more. I liked the portrayal of Charlotte and Danielle’s relationship and the way their paths had diverged only to be brought back together in such difficult emotional circumstances. Charlotte herself exhibits a curious mix of strength and flakiness, that is so representative of the insecurities that women undergo in their twenties, seeking their place in the world, and being not altogether immune to the temptations that life that throw up, She was a likeable character throughout, despite moments of exasperation with her as she wandered blindly into moments of danger. I also thought the underlying angst and the exploration of the relationship  between Danielle and her mother was incredibly well drawn, paying particular attention to the difficulties and jealousies that can place pressure on the mother and daughter bond. These parts of the narrative really gave a sense of depth to the book, as the central mystery of the reasons behind Danielle’s death became very obvious very quickly, and the emphasis on characterisation rather than the delineation of the plot itself led to a rather damp squib ending.

Always one to comment of the use of location in the book, and in this one Houston provides a smart backdrop to the book. In a recent interview Ginsburg, who was brought up in Houston but now lives elsewhere, says that she is almost re-imagining the city from her youth, and this is very evident in the book. The Houston we see through the different characters viewpoints and experience of it is a prism of the city as a whole, making it not strictly urban and not strictly rural, not completely moral, but underscored with social darkness. The city mirrors the moods and lives of the protagonists in Ginsburg’s portrayal of it, and this works incredibly well throughout, in this not altogether unsatisfying dark, violent and sexy tale. Worth a look.

Melissa Ginsburg was born and raised in Houston and attended the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. She is the author of the poetry collection Dear Weather Ghost and two poetry chapbooks, Arbor and Double Blind. She teaches creative writing and literature at the University of Mississippi. Sunset City is her first novel.  Visit her website here and follow on Twitter @Ginsburgmelissa

(With thanks to Faber for the ARC)

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