When it comes to selecting their next read, lovers of literature are familiar with the adage “don’t judge a book by its cover.” Whether most people actually subscribe to this rule is debatable, but the advice is particularly sage when considering English author R.J. Ellory’s A Quiet Belief in Angels. The bold cover evokes authors like James Patterson, and it would be all too easy to dismiss Ellory’s American debut as a cookie-cutter thriller. To do so would be a shame for both fans and non-fans of the crime thriller genre.

Given the basic premise of the novel, it’s not hard to see why A Quiet Belief in Angels is billed as a literary thriller. Growing up in small-town Georgia, Joseph Vaughan knows only a hard life that is mired in tragedy and horror. The days of his youth are forever tainted by a series of brutal murders targeting young girls, shaking the bedrock of his sleepy town and forcing Joseph to grow up faster than seems fair. As all that he holds dear is slowly stripped away, Joseph decides to leave his hometown and head north to pursue his dream of becoming an author—only to find that the atrocities from his past will not be so easily left behind.

While the mystery behind the mounting body count might motivate many readers to stick with this novel, the story has a rather leisurely pace, which might make “thriller” seem like a misnomer here. The murders never feel as though they are the central conceit of the novel, with the real focus instead being Joseph’s transition from boy to man; A Quiet Belief in Angels reads more as a dark coming-of-age tale rather than a traditional crime novel. But don’t consider this a weakness—Ellory’s writing is so lyrical, powerful and heartrending that those who normally steer clear of the genre are likely to feel at home. A Quiet Belief in Angels has already gained Ellory international acclaim, and while Americans may be a bit late to the party, another saying once more proves true: better late than never.

Stephenie Harrison writes from Nashville.
 

Toronto’s leading radio host Kevin Brace greets the newspaper deliveryman at the front door of his luxury condo, covered in blood, a confession on his lips.  His beautiful common-law wife lies dead in the bathtub. The crime appears to be solved before the first chapter is over, but the way the case unfolds makes Old City Hall, by newcomer Robert Rotenberg, an exciting addition to the legal thriller genre.  

Like Scott Turow and John Grisham, Rotenberg is a criminal lawyer turned writer with almost 20 years of legal practice behind him. Old City Hall is a tightly plotted thriller, but what lifts this book to the next level is the engaging cast of characters, from the legal workers right down to the Iranian doorman at Brace’s condo. And Rotenberg writes with relish of the neighborhoods, architecture, and multicultural population of his beloved hometown of Toronto. He is sure to have some avid fans by the close of this striking debut—which luckily contains signs of a sequel in the works.
 

Even in the 21st century, Renaissance-era political mastermind Machiavelli’s advice has its applications—something that modern-day Israeli spy Gabriel Allon has ignored at his peril. As Machiavelli said, “If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.”

When we last left Daniel Silva’s most enduring hero in Moscow Rules, the sometime art restorer and deep-cover operative had effected a harrowing escape from the clutches of Russian arms dealer Ivan Kharkov, a self-styled oligarch who amassed a fortune in the ruble’s rubble during the economic land-grab of post-Soviet capitalism. In the process, Allon not only threw a Molotov cocktail into Kharkov’s plot to funnel weapons to al-Qaeda, but he spirited off with a top-ranking Russian intelligence officer—and Kharkov’s wife. But he didn’t quite follow Machiavell’s advice.

In The Defector, the edge-of-your-seat sequel (and ninth in the Gabriel Allon series that began with 2000’s The Kill Artist), Kharkov is both shaken and stirred, and he’s not about to let Allon simply resume his quiet life in Umbria, restoring a 17th-century altarpiece for the Vatican.

The book’s opening gambit involves the disappearance of defector Colonel Grigori Bulganov from his London haunts, and indeed the novel unfolds like a match of speed chess against a global backdrop, with grandmasters Allon and Kharkov always thinking three or four moves ahead, making smaller sacrifices in pursuit of some elusive, decisive advantage. While Allon has the support of his Israeli “office,” he starts the match one pawn down, as the official British intelligence position is that Bulganov has re-defected, and they’ve washed their hands of him. For Allon, it’s not quite so easy to walk away, as Bulganov has saved his life, not once, but twice. And Kharkov’s counting on Allon’s sense of honor to lure the special op into a deadly checkmate.

With a dollop of Simon Templar, a dash of Jack Bauer, the urbanity of Graham Greene and the humanity of John LeCarré, Daniel Silva has hit on the perfect formula to keep espionage-friendly fans’ fingers glued to his books, turning pages in nearly breathless expectation.

Thane Tierney, an unworthy student of Capablanca’s Chess Fundamentals, lives in Los Angeles.

No one ever said growing up would be easy, but Karen Clarke never expected it to be quite so hard. Having spent the last few years dutifully pursuing a college degree and making all the sensible choices about her future, Karen has a chance encounter with a free-spirited and captivating drama student named Biba that throws her careful plans out the window. Intoxicated by Biba’s friendship, Karen finds herself caught up in a hedonistic world of drugs, sex and a total lack of responsibility. She is fiercely devoted to Biba and will do almost anything to protect her friend, until one night ends with two people dead. The resulting string of events will test Karen’s loyalty and call into question everything she has come to believe—including the lines she herself is willing to cross in order to keep from losing everything she holds dear.

The Poison Tree, Erin Kelly’s first novel, is a stunning debut. Perfectly paced, it starts with a bang and teems with twists that will keep you guessing right up until its thrilling and shocking conclusion. Kelly masterfully ratchets up the suspense, constantly causing readers to reappraise what is true as well as which dark and dirty secret will be unearthed next, all while nimbly maneuvering back and forth in time to keep tensions running high.

Veteran mystery fans looking for nail-biting thrills will find plenty that is fresh and surprising about The Poison Tree, and Kelly’s masterful plotting and intricately crafted story make the comparisons to Tana French and Donna Tartt well-deserved. Exhilarating and satisfying, this is a book that reminds us just how rewarding and flat-out fun a really good book can be. Take the phone off the hook and cancel your evening plans, because this is one book you’ll want to read from cover to cover in order to see how everything shakes out.
 

Author Steven Pressfield has forged a considerable reputation as a historical novelist, focusing on the more ancient civilizations. His 1998 novel Gates of Fire, about the 300 Spartans who defended Thermopylae against an overwhelming number of Xerxes’ troops in 480 B.C., helped inspire a whole new wave of interest in that heroic encounter. Now he turns his sights on the desert war of World War II and the formidable talents of Field Marshall Erwin Rommel, the so-called “Desert Fox.” Told as a written memoir from a young British lieutenant, R. Lawrence Chapman (aka Chap), Killing Rommel chronicles the deadly mission of a commando unit, the Long Range Desert Group, as it tries to outmaneuver Rommel and assassinate him. It’s a daring, even reckless endeavor that takes a special group of men.

Pressfield has never been shy about sharing his vast knowledge of ancient weaponry and now, moving to the era of World War II, he hasn’t lost a step or a spear. And yet he’s smart enough not to allow didactics to get in the way of good drama. While the weapons have changed greatly, the men in the trenches haven’t, and few writers handle the intense camaraderie of fighting men better than Pressfield. The desert itself emerges as a character, as in this passage where Chap muses on its timelessness and his relationship to it. “I am an ordinary Englishman, barely out of my university years. Yet here I sit, in the vastness of the African night, surrounded by mates who could have stepped from Caesar’s legions or Alexander’s phalanx.” As you ride in the tanks with the men toward the conclusion of the novel, you come to realize that what happens to Rommel doesn’t really matter. The German commander is respected on both sides for his gentlemanly behavior toward troops. He refuses to execute POWS or Jews, earning the wrath of Hitler and sealing his own fate. No, it’s what happens to the men we’ve come to know through Pressfield’s masterly characterizations that has become so vital.

Michael Lee is a member of the National Book Critics Circle.