G. Robert Frazier

If you’re looking for an uplifting escape from the harsh cruelties of life, don’t read anything from Michael Farris Smith. Blackwood, the title itself cold and bleak, is the latest example of his evocative storytelling. 

The novel follows several characters as their lives intersect in rural Red Bluff, Mississippi, a miserable town of lost hopes, dead-end dreams and misfortune. Surrounded by hills covered in a sea of overgrown kudzu vines, the town is constantly on the verge of being swallowed whole and forgotten entirely. Not that that would be a bad thing. Travelers would be advised to simply pass on by and not linger, but not everyone has that choice. 

Into this dread landscape come three down-on-their-luck individuals with nowhere else to turn, simply identified as the man, the woman and the boy. The trio take up root on the outskirts of town, living out of their broken-down car while scrounging through trash bins and alleyways for food scraps and supplies. 

At the same time, Colburn Evans returns to town after a long absence to confront his past and forge a new start. When he was younger, Colburn witnessed his father’s death by suicide. His failure to save his father when he had the chance has haunted him ever since. 

Blackwood is startling, brutal and eerie as events spiral out of control for both the boy and Colburn. The boy’s plight seems to mirror Colburn’s, who laments that no one has ever said “it’s not your fault,” four words that could’ve changed everything for him. Smith weaves the pair’s stories together in a hauntingly memorable fashion. 

Blackwood places Smith firmly among the masters of Southern gothic literature. 

Blackwood places Michael Farris Smith firmly among the masters of Southern gothic literature. 

Former police detective Joona Linna is once more on the case in the high-octane novel The Rabbit Hunter by Lars Kepler. Things get off to an explosive start as an escort service worker is witness to the brutal assassination of her client, who is none other than the Swedish foreign minister. Initially believing the hit to be the work of terrorists and a possible prelude to additional violence, the Swedish Security Service, including Joona’s former partner, Saga Bauer, turn to Joona for help. But Joona, as Kepler fans know, is in jail as a result of striking an officer in his last case (recounted in Kepler’s previous novel, Stalker.) After some convincing from the prime minister himself, and promises of a possible commuted sentence, Joona agrees to lend his skills to the case at hand. The resulting investigation turns into an action-packed race against the clock to stop a series of additional killings by a ruthless assassin.

Kepler, a pseudonym for husband-and-wife authors Alexandra Coelho Ahndoril and Alexander Ahndoril, builds suspense with each subsequent murder while planting more clues to tantalize readers. Joona is constantly one step behind the killer, increasing the stakes for the next victim in line. While there are instances of graphic violence and admittedly gratuitous sex, Kepler keeps things grounded with real emotional threads for each of his characters. Joona’s relationship with his former co-workers is especially intriguing as he tries to put his criminal misdeeds behind him while rebuilding the trust of his colleagues.

The sixth book in the Joona Linna series (you don’t have to read the others to follow along), The Rabbit Hunter grips readers from the start and rarely lets up throughout its 500-plus pages. The breakneck pace almost seems custom-built for TV or film—producers of the TV adaptation of Jeffery Deaver’s The Bone Collector, take note! The Rabbit Hunter is a chase you’ll want to get in on.

Former police detective Joona Linna is once more on the case in the high-octane novel The Rabbit Hunter by Swedish bestseller Lars Kepler.

Reading Scott Carson’s The Chill gave me shivers like the ones I got when I first read Stephen King’s The Shining. Set in a remote town in upstate New York, the novel starts ordinarily enough, with a fractured relationship between father and son, but swiftly cascades into a story about vengeful ghosts and a cataclysm generations in the making.

Carson, a pseudonymous bestselling author and screenwriter, homes tightly in on Aaron Ellsworth, a 20-something washed-up Coast Guard rescue diver whose preference for drugs and booze has drawn the continued ire of his father. Angered after an argument, Aaron seeks solace by taking a swim in the Chilewaukee Reservoir amid a downpour. When he accidentally injures a state inspector, Aaron dives into the chill waters to rescue him, only to find the skeleton of another person entwined in the wreckage beneath the dam. But when Aaron calls his father to admit what he’s done, the inspector reappears with no sign of injury and no memory of his encounter with Aaron. 

Aaron soon learns of a bizarre story about the body found underwater and the people who sacrificed themselves when the dam and reservoir were created, flooding the town of Galesburg. While Aaron tries to piece together the story, the ghostly spirits begin their own quest for vengeance on those who condemned their town to destruction by ushering in the collapse of the dam itself. Between confrontations with the dead and the impending break in the dam, Carson ably and exponentially ramps up the intrigue and danger. 

Carson includes plenty of factual exposition about real New York reservoirs and tunnel systems, sections that could have been dry and boring were it not for his deep characterizations and a pervading sense of doom. The result is a fast-paced, frenzied tale of survival against both natural and supernatural forces that will leave you gasping for air. 
 

Editor’s note: Scott Carson is a pseudonym for Michael Koryta.

Reading Scott Carson’s The Chill gave me shivers like the ones I got when I first read Stephen King’s The Shining. Set in a remote town in upstate New York, the novel starts ordinarily enough, with a fractured relationship between father and son, but swiftly cascades into a story about vengeful ghosts and a cataclysm generations in the making.

Naked Came the Florida Man, the newest novel by Tim Dorsey, is a crazy read from start to finish, and I mean that in a good way. The novel—part comedy, part thriller—follows the latest exploits of Dorsey’s oddball duo of Serge Storms and his weed-addicted sidekick Coleman on a meandering trek across the Sunshine State, with no real end goal in mind. And that’s just part of what makes this book so fun.

Longtime Dorsey fans already familiar with Serge and Coleman’s antics will have the distinct advantage of knowing what to expect heading into the novel (but they won’t be able to rekindle the feeling of discovering the intrepid pair for the first time like new readers). Admittedly, the misadventures and seemingly aimless wanderings of Dorsey’s characters take a bit of getting used to, but once you do, you’ll be all too eager to go along for the ride.

What starts out as a simple tour of the state’s historic graveyards (complete with fascinating lessons about the state and its people that you probably won’t find in tourist brochures at the state line) turns into a series of escapades resulting in Serge’s unique brand of vigilante justice. Between tombstone rubbings, the pair intervene in a so-called pastor’s scheme to bilk needy seniors out of their money through shady reverse-mortgage deals, exact punishment on a man filming birds that explode after consuming Alka Seltzer tablets and help save a young football player from a greedy pirate.

If that’s not enough to pique your curiosity, Dorsey peppers the novel with Serge’s one-of-a-kind social rants on anything that comes to mind, from tangents in internet comment threads and why the U.S. cares about soccer to the length of receipts from drug stores. At one point, Serge even admits to being completely “off his rocker” and adopts a ferret as an emotional support animal.

A former reporter and editor for the Tampa Tribune until 1999, Dorsey has shirked his commitment to serious recounts of the day’s top events in favor of over-the-top tall tales and wacky characters like Serge and Coleman. I have to admit, they are a lot more fun.

Part comedy, part thriller, Tim Dorsey's novel is a crazy read from start to finish, and I mean that in a good way.

To the Edge of Sorrow, Aharon Appelfeld’s novel about a band of Jewish refugees hiding from German patrols in the forests of Ukraine, could have been just another World War II story of strikes and counterstrikes, bullets exchanged and bombs exploding. But thankfully, Appelfeld instead gives readers an up-close, deeply moving story of characters haunted by grief and loss yet buoyed by courage and hope in the most adverse conditions.

The novel follows the group’s day-to-day efforts to survive, seen through the eyes of the young narrator, 17-year-old Edmund. Haunted by his forced separation from his parents and from his non-Jewish girlfriend after the relentless advance of German soldiers, Edmund finds uneasy comfort among this resistance group.

Guided by a somewhat reluctant leader, Kamil, the group initially strives simply to endure. Searching for food, medicine and shelter is the focus of their everyday existence. They raid local villages and farms to gather only what they need, leaving behind enough for the innocent farmers and families they’re robbing. The only luxury the group affords itself is the few books confiscated along the way, books whose words offer inspiration, comfort and faith.

But the Germans are always close behind and are determined to root them out, forcing the group deeper into the mountains of Ukraine. Infrequent reports over a stolen transistor radio and contact with other refugees are the group’s only real links to developments in the war and their place in it. It’s only upon learning that the Germans are shipping Jews by train to death camps that the group’s mission changes to one of attack and rescue. Edmund eventually earns his place as a soldier within the group’s ranks and participates in the raids. Nevertheless, most of the story revolves around the group itself, composed of stalwart victims of persecution who display enduring compassion for each other as well as relentless faith in humanity.

The author of more than 40 critically acclaimed books, Appelfeld (1932–2018) weaves a memorable chronicle of those who sought to persevere at the height of one of the world’s worst moments.

To the Edge of Sorrow, Aharon Appelfeld’s novel about a band of Jewish refugees hiding from German patrols in the forests of Ukraine, could have been just another World War II story of strikes and counterstrikes, bullets exchanged and bombs exploding. But thankfully, Appelfeld instead gives…

A title like Thin Ice immediately connotes danger, and New York Times bestselling author Paige Shelton delivers in every way. A sense of dread persists from the opening page to the novel’s surprising conclusion, with an overall tense mood and an all-too-real terror felt by the book’s protagonist, Beth Rivers.

Beth is also known as Elizabeth Fairchild, the famous penname under which she writes popular thrillers. When we first meet her, Beth is on the run from a violent encounter—a kidnapping by an obsessed fan and a dramatic escape. Her flight takes her to the remote village of Benedict, Alaska, where she hopes to elude her assailant, who is still at large.

Beth’s scars, both internal and external, are real. Internally, she suffers from an overriding fear that even though she has put hundreds of miles between her former and new lives, she may still be in danger. Externally, there is a ragged scar on her head incurred during her escape, serving as a constant reminder of her close brush with death.

Shelton methodically introduces Beth to a wide-ranging cast while swiftly ramping up the tension. It’s not yet winter, but Beth’s Alaskan environment is already harsh, cold and remote. While most of the people she encounters in the village appear to be supportive and caring, she can never quite let go of her suspicions that any one of them could mean her harm—or worse, expose her real identity.

With more memories of her ordeal threatening to return, Beth takes on a new role as the community newspaper’s only reporter and thrusts herself into an ongoing investigation of a local death. New secrets and questions abound, leaving Beth to wonder if she has escaped one threat only to have fallen into another.

Thin Ice is the first in a series from Shelton, who is best known for her Scottish Bookshop Mystery cozy series. But there is nothing cozy here, only danger.

A title like Thin Ice immediately connotes danger, and New York Times bestselling author Paige Shelton delivers in every way. A sense of dread persists from the opening page to the novel’s surprising conclusion, with an overall tense mood and an all-too-real terror felt by the book’s protagonist, Beth Rivers.

Before reading Marley, I dug out my Bantam Classic paperback of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens and reread it. As if I needed such an excuse: It’s one of my favorite books, and Ebenezer Scrooge’s story of greed and selfishness never gets old.

I was equally excited to read Marley, which promised to deliver the untold origin story of Scrooge and his partner Jacob Marley’s sordid business. But whereas Dickens’ novel is ultimately uplifting—our stingy protagonist wholly embraces the lessons learned from ghostly visitations and immediately sets about amending his ways—Marley is anything but. It’s darkly haunting in its own way, but also devilishly fun reading.

There are good reasons for the heavy chains wrapped around Jacob Marley’s ghost when he visits Scrooge that fateful Christmas Eve, and author Jon Clinch spares no detail as he depicts Marley in this prequel as a harsh, uncaring, coldly calculating, deceitful individual, showcasing his malevolent influence on Scrooge. The novel follows the pair from their first meeting at Professor Drabb’s Academy for Boys in 1787—where Marley immediately extorts money from Scrooge—to Marley’s deathbed in 1836. Throughout, Marley’s obsession with money motivates every waking moment of his life. While Scrooge crunches the numbers (or cooks the books, if you will), Marley carries on the nastier businesses of cons, smuggling and slave trading, using various aliases and dummy corporations along the way, even going so far as to keep secrets (and cash) from Scrooge. Marley is, for want of a better phrase, more of a scrooge than Scrooge.

Clinch—who pulled a similarly remarkable feat with his first book, Finn, about the father of Huckleberry Finn—has successfully added a layer of depth and intrigue to Dickens’ beloved characters. Rereading Marley each Christmas may become as much of a tradition as rereading A Christmas Carol.

Jon Clinch’s take on Scrooge and Marley’s story is darkly haunting in its own way, but also devilishly fun reading.

It’s hard to believe that there are stories about the hunt for Nazi war criminals yet to be told. Numerous books and films already exist and seem to cover everything that can be said on the matter. So it was with some reservation that I approached reading Joseph Kanon’s new novel, The Accomplice, which promised a hunt for one such war criminal. Fortunately, Kanon’s skill as a master storyteller quickly allayed my fears.

The Accomplice is a fast-paced, emotionally charged novel. While the subject matter is familiar—there were moments of “I’ve heard all this before”—Kanon’s characters were so well-drawn and authentic in their portrayal that it was easy to put those early doubts behind.

Kanon’s riveting story takes place some 17 years following Nazi Germany’s downfall at the end of World War II. He begins by introducing us to Max Weill, a Jewish concentration camp survivor fixated on the atrocities at Auschwitz, where he was imprisoned, and on the man who terrorizes his every waking moment, Otto Schramm. An assistant to Josef Mengele, who oversaw gruesome experiments on camp prisoners and selected those to be sent to the gas chamber, Schramm is believed to be dead at the outset of the novel. But Max believes otherwise.

With Max critically ill from a heart condition, however, his obsession of bringing Schramm to justice falls to Max’s nephew, a CIA desk jockey named Aaron Wiley. Initially, Aaron is reluctant, believing there’s nothing to be gained by dredging up old wounds. But Aaron ultimately concedes, propelling him to chase leads to Buenos Aires where he encounters (and falls in love with) Schramm’s daughter, who may be more devious than she lets on.

Kanon, who previously wrote the critically praised spy thrillers Detectors and Leaving Berlin, uses taut prose and sly dialogue to dial up the intrigue and tension to satisfy any reader, including skeptics like me.

Joseph Kanon uses taut prose and sly dialogue to dial up the intrigue and tension to satisfy any reader.

Readers yearning for a noir mystery in the vein of Mike Hammer or Sam Spade are in luck. Peter Colt has delivered just such a tale of intrigue with his debut novel, The Off-Islander.

Set in 1982, the book features all the classic tropes of noir: a lonely detective on a missing persons case, shady suspects and red herrings, sultry ladies to entice him, rainy streets and seedy bars, danger lurking at nearly every turn. The detective, Andy Roark, even totes around a copy of The Raymond Chandler Omnibus for when he needs moments of inspiration. What more could you ask for?

Colt, an Army veteran who served in Kosovo and Iraq and now is a police officer in a small New England city, captures his firsthand, on-the-job experience in moody prose. The novel spends nearly as much time exploring Roark’s inner demons from the Vietnam War and life afterward as it does with the case at hand, adding a deeply evocative perspective to events.

Approached by longtime friend and lawyer Danny Sullivan, Roark is tasked with finding the long-missing father of a California woman whose husband is seeking political office. He follows the cold case trail to Cape Cod and Nantucket Island, where the man once lived as part of a hippie commune in the late 1960s and received his VA checks in the mail.

It doesn’t take long before Roark’s probing questions about the island’s reclusive residents begin to uncover some unsavory details, all with dangerous repercussions. In typical gumshoe fashion, Roark is pushed over a bluff, his car is vandalized, and he’s shot at by a lurking sniper. Before long, even his friend Danny, who got him into the mess in the first place, is begging him to let things lie.

Of course, no respectable private dick would ever do such a thing, and neither does Roark. If you’re a fan of such fiction, you’ll want to see things through to the end, too.

Readers yearning for a noir mystery in the vein of Mike Hammer or Sam Spade are in luck. Peter Colt has delivered just such a tale of intrigue with his debut novel, The Off-Islander.

Observant travelers along Tennessee’s highways may notice roadside signs denoting watersheds across the state. These are regions where water from streams, rivers and lakes provide power, recreation and clean, safe drinking water. The creation of one such watershed is the pivotal backdrop of Mark Barr’s powerful debut novel, appropriately titled Watershed

In a rural Tennessee community in 1937, contractors from across the country have converged to construct a federal dam that will help bring electric power and prosperity to the post-Depression-era community. Into this setting comes one such contractor, Nathan McReaken, an engineer hiding a dark secret from his past. Nathan joins the crew at the dam on a probationary period and quickly learns that loyalty, hard work and diligence are no guarantee of continued employment when there are so many others begging for work.

Nathan takes up residence in a boarding house, where he encounters Claire, a local housewife escaping her abusive husband, Travis, who also works at the dam. On her own for the first time, Claire takes on an assistant role to a power company salesman, going door to door to get people signed up for electric service. As Nathan’s past catches up with him and Claire’s relationships with men reach a boiling point, their stories intersect in suspenseful, heartfelt fashion.

Watershed is the second title in the Cold Mountain Fund Book series, a collaboration between Hub City Press and National Book Award-winning author Charles Frazier. But more than that, it’s an eloquently written story of two people and their ambitions, yearnings and passions amid a key historical period.

In rural Tennessee, two stories unfold as a federal dam helps bring electric power and prosperity to a post-Depression-era community.

Stephen King’s The Institute is already drawing comparisons to a couple of his older works, Firestarter and It, as well as to the Netflix sensation “Stranger Things.” And with good reason—The Institute includes a ragtag collection of adolescents banding together against a common enemy, a shady organization exploiting children for their unique “gifts.” But whether King is chasing “Stranger Things” or “Stranger Things” is chasing King, the result is the same: shocking suspense and hallmark thrills.

In an unexpected move, King opens The Institute with a Jack Reacher-like drifter named Tim Jamieson, who takes a job as a “night knocker” with the sheriff’s department in rural Dupray, South Carolina. It’s more than 50 pages later before we meet the novel’s true protagonist, young prodigy Luke Ellis, whose parents are trying to get him into a prestigious school where his unique intellect will be challenged.

But Luke’s world is shattered when he is kidnapped from his Minneapolis home in the middle of the night by a team of highly skilled special operatives. He awakens in a room made to look like his own, though the illusion stops at the door. Once outside his room, Luke finds himself in a strange facility somewhere in Maine. He soon learns he’s not alone, as other kids, ranging in age from 10 to 16, are also being held prisoner. King conveys Luke’s confusion, shock, hopelessness and grief in convincing and heart-wrenching fashion.

The concept of family separation takes on an eerie weight here, with unsettling parallels between the events of the novel and the real-life images we see on the news of kids huddled under silver mylar blankets in cramped cages at the U.S.–Mexico border. In a thinly veiled comparison to callous border patrol agents, Luke’s adult captors lack compassion and are  often downright cruel. 

But King ramps up the cruelty even further, subjecting Luke to physical and mental abuse that, at times, readers may find hard to sit through. Luke and the other kids get slapped around, are forced to receive mysterious injections that cause convulsions and are nearly drowned in a sensory deprivation tank, all to awaken the kids’ latent telepathic or telekinetic powers. The kids are promised that, if they do as they are told, they’ll have their memories wiped and be returned home to their parents as if nothing ever happened. Good behavior is rewarded with tokens to purchase snacks or even alcohol and cigarettes. Kids can even buy time on a computer, though internet access is restricted.

After gaining the trust and help of one of the Institute’s support staff, Luke makes a break for freedom. His escape brings him to South Carolina, where Tim Jamieson finally reenters the story just in time to aid Luke in a final confrontation with the Institute’s baddies.

King makes no effort to hide his distaste for Trump, as he takes a direct jab at him in the book’s waning pages. Political leanings aside, The Institute offers a thrilling reading experience and rousing tribute to the resilience of children and the unending fight against evil.

Stephen King’s The Institute is already drawing comparisons to a couple of his older works, Firestarter and It, as well as to the Netflix sensation “Stranger Things.” And with good reason—The Institute includes a ragtag collection of adolescents banding together against a common enemy, a shady…

Lisa Lutz’s new novel, The Swallows, is fast-moving, darkly humorous and at times shockingly vicious. The battle of the sexes within its pages couldn’t be more compelling.

The book opens as teacher Alexandra “Alex” Witt reluctantly begins a new role at the prestigious Stonebridge Academy, a boarding school in Vermont. Alex isn’t one of those teachers whose passion for the profession overrides all else. She doesn’t hate it, but she doesn’t love it. After losing a similar position following a scandal at her previous school, she’s just happy to be employed at all.

She doesn’t hate or love her students either, although they would be easy to hate after one of them hides a dead rat in her desk on the first day of class. Alex responds by assigning them five questions: What do you love? What do you hate? If you could live inside a book, what book? What do you want? Who are you?

What she gets in response is both surprising and mysterious. Many of the anonymous responses cite something called the Darkroom. It’s not long before Alex begins to match the students to their replies and discovers the school’s secret hierarchical pecking order, ruled from the top by a group of students known as the Ten. Even worse is a dark game in which the boys secretly rate and critique the girls on who gives the best blow job.

Student Gemma Russo quickly emerges as the second most important voice in the story as Alex convinces her to stand up for herself and the other girls on campus against their male counterparts, resulting in a wildly creative and hilarious episode.

Lutz delivers a frantic, morbidly funny story about what happens when girls are no longer willing to excuse bad behavior as “boys will be boys.”

The book opens as teacher Alexandra “Alex” Witt reluctantly begins a new role at the prestigious Stonebridge Academy, a boarding school in Vermont. Alex isn’t one of those teachers whose passion for the profession overrides all else. She doesn’t hate it, but she doesn’t love it. After losing a similar position following a scandal at her previous school, she’s just happy to be employed at all.

Readers looking for fast-paced, page-turning suspense and intrigue need look no farther than The Black Jersey. The new mystery from Mexican journalist Jorge Zepeda Patterson throws readers into the middle of the grueling 23-day, 2,000-mile Tour de France bicycle race through the French countryside.

Considered one of the most intense sporting events in the world, the Tour ends badly for many individuals who succumb to fatigue, bad luck or physical injury. Casualties are par for the course, but what no one can account for is the possibility that some of the contenders are being murdered.

Professional racer Marc Moreau of France, who rides for U.S.-based Team Fonar, provides a firsthand account of the events when he is approached by French Police Commissioner Favre to spy on his fellow cyclists from within in an effort to identify the potential killer. Moreau, who has some military police training but no real detective skills to call upon, doesn’t want to believe the worst of any of his competitors, but when he becomes the apparent target of a gas explosion in his camper, the threat becomes all too real.

It isn’t long before Moreau, who emerges as a contender to win the race, begins speculating about who could have it out for him and his fellow cyclists. Any of them would kill to stand on the podium at the end of the race. Even team managers, mechanics and his best friend and teammate, Tour favorite Steve Panata, are unable to escape suspicion. Every accident, every incident on course, becomes fuel for increasing speculation, testing loyalties, friendships and trust.

Patterson, whose work is aptly translated by award-winning writer Achy Obejas, mixes edge-of-your-seat racing action with dark suspense, all leading up to a surprising finale. Race out to get this one.

Readers looking for fast-paced, page-turning suspense and intrigue need look no farther than The Black Jersey. The new mystery from Mexican journalist Jorge Zepeda Patterson throws readers into the middle of the grueling 23-day, 2,000-mile Tour de France bicycle race through the French countryside.

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