A. Rae Dunlap’s The Resurrectionist is a heartfelt yet gruesome historical thriller following two body snatchers as they fall in love and evade Burke and Hare.
A. Rae Dunlap’s The Resurrectionist is a heartfelt yet gruesome historical thriller following two body snatchers as they fall in love and evade Burke and Hare.
Paraic O’Donnell inserts touches of humor and insight without lessening the tension in his breathtaking gothic historical mystery, The Naming of the Birds.
Paraic O’Donnell inserts touches of humor and insight without lessening the tension in his breathtaking gothic historical mystery, The Naming of the Birds.
Sara Sligar’s Vantage Point is an entertaining literary companion to shows like Succession, but also a chilling warning about the rise of deepfake technology.
Sara Sligar’s Vantage Point is an entertaining literary companion to shows like Succession, but also a chilling warning about the rise of deepfake technology.
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Classic detective novels don’t need to be set in Los Angeles. The protagonist does not have to drive a vintage Corvette convertible, and they don’t necessarily require a loyal and lethal sidekick. It is not imperative that the narrative be spun in the first person. That said, it is a formula that has worked for the better part of 40 years for author Robert Crais, demonstrated ably in his latest installment in the Elvis Cole and Joe Pike series, The Big Empty. When the antique Mickey Mouse phone rings on the desk of private investigator Elvis (self-described as “the world’s greatest detective”), he picks up and finds himself in a conversation with the somewhat harried assistant of Traci Beller, a hugely popular social media influencer. Traci is too busy to meet Cole at his office, but if he comes to her, she will give him $1,000 whether he accepts the case or not. It turns out that she wants to hire him to find out what happened to her father, who disappeared 10 years ago: “He called my mom after lunch, told her he was running late, and we never heard from him again. So it was like, poof, he vanished.” Cases don’t get much colder, but Cole agrees to look into it, cautioning Traci not to expect miracles. But before long, Cole can use a miracle or two of his own, as he is savagely beaten by a gang of criminals intent on derailing his investigation at any cost. Oh, and the big finish? It was such a shock and surprise that I went back and read it again.
The Note
Alafair Burke’s latest, The Note, follows three women: May, Lauren and Kelsey, who have been lifelong friends since attending the same summer camp ages ago. They decide to do a girls trip together, a few relaxing days in an Airbnb in the Hamptons. They need it—they have been embroiled in three separate and very public scandals, and they think a seaside vacation will be both fun and cathartic. They are so wrong. As they arrive at a local lunch spot, they discover that parking is at a premium. They patiently await a person exiting a space, only to have it snagged by a driver coming from the other direction. They are annoyed to the point where one of them leaves a note on the car’s windshield that says, “He’s cheating. He always does.” It certainly seems as if it might sow a bit of disharmony between the male driver and his attractive female passenger, some minor naughty payback for the stolen parking spot. It is all fun and games, as they say, until someone turns up dead: in this case, the driver. When the police discover the existence of the note, bit by bit the investigation leads them toward the three women. As their mutual trust begins to break down, alliances shift and reshift. One character is a murderer. Good luck figuring out which one.
Invisible Helix
Keigo Higashino’s beloved character Professor Galileo (aka Manabu Yukawa) returns in Invisible Helix, the latest from Japan’s preeminent suspense author. This book relies less on Yukawa’s detecting skills than some of the previous installments in the series, but is nonetheless a compelling read loaded with Japanese scenery and culture, with a storyline chock-full of secrets past and present. It starts with a baby being left on the doorstep of an orphanage by a young mother devoid of options. By means of a very twisty path, it winds forward two generations to the present, in which people are still shaped by, and acting on, events that happened in their parents’ and grandparents’ day. Professor Galileo gets involved after a murder takes place—no surprise there—and his longtime friend Chief Inspector Kusanagi summons him to assist. Invisible Helix is a very different book than I expected given its predecessors in the series, but I quite liked it all the same. (A brief aside: I lived in Tokyo when the first Professor Galileo book, The Devotion of Suspect X, was released in English. Oddly, as I was reading, I found myself predicting what would happen next at every turn. Some time later, I realized that I had actually seen the Japanese movie based on the book, well before the book’s translation into English.)
★ The Lost House
It’s no secret among BookPage mystery and suspense readers that I am a devotee of Nordic noir, as I often wax poetic about the subgenre. But who would have thought that a superb Nordic noir novel would emanate from the pen (or more likely, keyboard) of an American writer? Melissa Larsen’s The Lost House is that book. On the 40th anniversary of a double murder that rocked Iceland, Agnes, the American granddaughter of the presumed—but not convicted—killer, goes to the small town of Bifröst to participate in a podcast about the homicide. She has always believed her grandfather to be innocent, but she is in the distinct minority. Now, after her grandfather’s slow decline and death, Agnes has decided to visit her ancestral homeland for the first time in an attempt to get some closure. Then, as if in response to the grim anniversary, a local girl goes missing in the harsh Icelandic wilderness. Suspicions of foul play abound, and the buzz around the town is that it is at least peripherally connected to the 40-year-old cold case. The characters are all conflicted and vividly drawn, the milieu is pitch-perfect and the resolution is by turns heartbreaking and strangely uplifting. The Lost House is the first must-read thriller of 2025.
Melissa Larsen’s debut thriller is a chilly masterpiece, plus new cases for Elvis Cole and Professor Galileo in this month’s Whodunit.
To be a member of one of the country’s wealthiest, most prestigious families means, well, wealth and prestige. But what if your family’s cursed and you’re a woman on the internet—are you ever truly safe? Sara Sligar’s Vantage Point blends family drama, generational trauma and the destructive forces of cutting-edge technology in a disturbing suspense story told from two compelling female perspectives.
For the Wieland family, April is a historically tragic month: 14 Aprils ago, a teenage Clara Wieland witnessed both her parents’ brutal demise. A whirlwind of chaotic world travel, heavy substance use and eating disorder clinic stays later, Clara returns to Vantage Point, the family estate on a remote Maine island. Also living at Vantage Point are Clara’s brother, Teddy, now running for the U.S. Senate, and Clara’s childhood best friend, Jess, now married to Teddy. At the beginning of April, an intimate, graphic video of Clara surfaces online and immediately goes viral, but Clara has no memory of the video’s events. Is it real, or an extremely advanced deepfake? As Teddy’s political campaign is threatened and Jess struggles to hold the family together, Clara experiences disturbing hallucinations she insists are also engineered. Has Clara descended into madness, or are the three surviving Wielands in serious danger?
Author and academic Sligar expertly crafts the history of her fictional dynasty through fictional Wikipedia entries describing the tragic outcomes of the Wieland curse, from wine cellar explosions to rogue horse tramplings. Jess grew up impoverished and became enmeshed with the Wielands at an early age, and Clara is still grappling with the tremendous loss in her adolescence. Close confidantes and now in-laws, they each provide a unique perspective on the family’s collective trauma, and they share common ground as women vulnerable to a society intent on ruining them. The “future” of believable deepfakes is already here, and Sligar’s novel serves as an entertaining literary companion to shows like Succession, but also a warning to women everywhere: Your moment of deepfake reckoning may be just around the corner.
Sara Sligar’s Vantage Point is an entertaining literary companion to shows like Succession, but also a chilling warning about the rise of deepfake technology.
In the checkout line of an upstate New York convenience store, opportunistic small-time thief Eddie Parker spots a purse overflowing with cash. As the elderly owner finishes her transaction, Eddie maneuvers himself into position to relieve her of her stash. It does not go according to plan; within arm’s reach of his prize, Eddie feels a sharp scratch on his neck and, moments later, his world goes black. He wakes up in a small deserted town that looks like a movie set: buildings with false fronts, shops filled with empty containers, no food or water in sight and Christmastime temperatures dropping below freezing. The title of this thriller by James S. Murray and Darren Wearmouth is almost prophetic: You Better Watch Out. Eddie soon discovers that a handful of other folks have met a similar fate. And although they don’t entirely trust one another, they know that their lives depend on getting out of this place, and the best means to that end is teamwork. But, in true Agatha Christie fashion, one by one they meet their untimely demise, and most graphically. Here is the funny part, though (to me, at least): Fairly early in the book, I thought I had figured out who the villain was. Turns out, I was right—but I had no inkling whatsoever of the diabolical twist that would reveal itself in the final pages.
Havoc
In Christopher Bollen’s Havoc, octogenarian and self-confessed do-gooder Maggie Burkhardt narrates a tale of obsession, deceit and worse at a riverside hotel in Luxor, Egypt, during the height of COVID-19 restrictions. Following the death of her husband, Maggie is far afield from her Wisconsin homeland. Egypt was not her first choice for her retirement, but it is one of the few places welcoming tourists, and she has grown acclimated to the heat and the easy pace of life in the Royal Karnak, a hotel that exemplifies the term “faded glory.” Over time, she has become something of a fixture there, reveling in her role as “doyenne of all she surveys.” And then Otto shows up with his mother, and quickly establishes himself as Chief Nemesis to Maggie and all she holds dear. His childish pranks escalate to blackmail after he surprises Maggie doing something she clearly should not have been doing, and his demands seem to have no end in sight. That said, Maggie is rather duplicitous herself, both in her interactions with other characters and with the reader, as she tries to play the virtuous victim. The narrative is by turns creepy, snarky, humorous and every bit as atmospheric as you would expect from a story set somewhere like the Valley of the Kings. Oh, and there are a couple of murders: nothing too graphic, but quite definitely an affectionate nod to the sweeping, international mysteries of the 1940s.
Robert B. Parker’s Hot Property
After a popular series writer passes away, they often leave legions of fans clamoring for more adventures of their fictional heroes. Ian Fleming’s James Bond and Stieg Larsson’s Lisbeth Salander jump to mind. Other writers often take up the challenge, albeit with decidedly mixed results. But when Mike Lupica took over Robert B. Parker’s Spenser series, it was a seamless transition. It’s as if he channels Parker from beyond the grave: setting, prose, dialogue—the works. In the latest installment, Robert B. Parker’s Hot Property, an attempted murder hits close to home. Ace criminal defense attorney Rita Fiore has been shot and is clinging to life but tenuously. She had been romantically involved with a young up-and-coming politician until his recent accidental (?) death, and now it appears that he may have been involved in some property shenanigans with mob overtones. For Spenser, Rita Fiore is family, as surely as if they had been related by blood, and he will leave no stone unturned in bringing her assailant to justice. Speaking of stones, another Parker protagonist, Police Chief Jesse Stone, makes a cameo appearance, and the two play off each other exceptionally well. Hot Property is a must for longtime Spenser fans and a terrific entry point for newcomers as well.
The Collaborators
If you are in the mood for a high-stakes global espionage novel, with secret agents jet-setting all over the world, you have come to the right place. Michael Idov’s The Collaborators doesn’t waste any time setting up locations or easing into the narrative. In the first sentence, a Russian MiG-29 fighter jet pulls up alongside an Antalya Airlines commercial flight from Istanbul to Riga, Latvia. They are in Belarusian airspace, and the MiG pilot clearly plans to force the Antalya 737 down or shoot it down. On board are a dissident blogger, a pair of fugitives in disguise and heaven only knows what other manner of dodgy characters. Meanwhile, in Riga, CIA agent Aria Falk waits anxiously for the blogger, initially unaware of the flight’s unplanned stop in Minsk. In other news, a financier who has been laundering Russian money for years has apparently killed himself by leaping off a yacht in the open sea, and the multibillion dollar fund he managed seems to have vanished along with him. The connection point for all these disparate events is Falk. Soon enough, he will become involved with Maya Chou, the daughter of the missing (and presumed dead) financier, and things will get very convoluted indeed. The Collaborators devotes little space to pyrotechnics, chase scenes and the like, but cleverness and subterfuge abound, followed by a believable, real-world sort of denouement. PS: Idov is a screenwriter in addition to being a novelist, and this book has silver screen written all over it.
Plus, a wicked holiday delight and a ripped-from-the-headlines espionage thriller in this month’s Whodunit column.
A hotly anticipated debut novel, complete with a princely advance and a dreamy move to Los Angeles, equals lifelong success, right? Not quite. Books flop, money dries up and the city’s bright lights conceal both its dark underbelly and what those in the limelight will do to stay famous. Pip Drysdale’s marvel of a thriller, The Close-Up, follows Zoe Ann Weiss, a writer as witty as she is messy, as she gets entangled in a high-profile, high-stakes relationship that could lead to a bestselling second book—if no one kills her first.
Zoe always dreamed of being a writer, and that dream came true . . . for a while, until her debut failed and her advance funds ran out. Now, Zoe works in a flower shop to make ends meet while her agent rejects pitches for her still-under-contract follow-up and her dad frequently begs her to move home to London. Just before Zoe’s 30th birthday, she has a chance reunion with Zach, a sexy bartender she spent three breathless days with years ago, who is now an action star with a to-die-for LA bachelor pad. Zoe finds inspiration for her second book in their rekindled romance (there’s just the little problem of the NDA she signed). But when she’s stalked by someone reenacting the events of her debut novel—in which the heroine dies at the end—Zoe finds herself fighting, and writing, for her life.
Drysdale’s four previous novels have been bestsellers in Australia, and the author grew up on three continents (per her bio, she “became an adult in New York and London”). Her protagonist, Zoe, has a believably world-weary air and a distinctively jaded voice, with nascent hope swimming just under the surface. The decisions she makes are often rash, heavily influenced by ambition, love, lust and all the other intense emotions endemic to those who move to Hollywood with stars in their eyes. You may not agree with Zoe Ann Weiss, but you will love watching her navigate Drysdale’s deceptively glamorous LA. With its colorful supporting characters (especially Daisy, an aspiring actor who manages Zoe’s flower shop) and spectacularly twisty plot, The Close-Up is a fantastic addition to the neo-noir subgenre.
World-weary and distinctively jaded, The Close-Up is a fantastic, Los Angeles-set neo-noir.
What are your bookstore rituals? For example, where do you go first in a store? Lee Child: My first concern is how good of a breakfast I ate. How much weight can I carry home? I know there are going to be 20 or 30 titles I want. I usually glance at the front tables but start at the back, for the undiscovered gems. Then I calculate how much strength I have left and pick up what I want from the new titles.
Andrew Child: For me this depends on whether I’m browsing or going in for a specific title. I much prefer to browse! How I approach this depends on the layout of the store. Does it have different rooms? Multiple levels? I take stock of the geography and go from there, usually at random. For example, there’s a store in the town nearest to us in a building that started life as a brothel. There’s a central “parlor” that houses the new releases and popular categories, and a bunch of side rooms that now contain the more specialized genres. I like to pick one of the smaller rooms on a whim, start there and move on as the mood takes me. The only consistent factor in visiting a bookstore is to make sure I take a very large bag.
Tell us about your favorite library from when you were a child. LC: I started at a tiny local place but quickly read all the books there, so I graduated to a bigger library in the neighboring municipality, which was a long walk and a scary trip on a high footbridge over a canal. I remember it as a huge glass-fronted palace full of books. Ironically, I just got involved in a campaign to secure its funding, and as an adult I realize it’s perfectly normal size. That place both enabled and created my life.
AC: My favorite is my first—the same tiny local place that Lee started in. However, the family moved before I had read everything there and the library in the town we wound up in was just not the same. Not welcoming in the same way. Something to do with the layout or the lighting, maybe? Or the way the librarians sat behind glass screens at a high, impersonal counter? The experience of visiting wasn’t as much fun, but I still went there. I had to. It was the only source of books.
“I have literally never walked past a bookstore without going in and checking it out.”
While researching your books, has there ever been a librarian or bookseller who was especially helpful, or a surprising discovery among the stacks? LC: Deep stock in a chain bookstore helped me: I found a book about money laundering in the narcotics trade—moving and storing so much cash was an industrial-sized problem for the bad guys. The details within led to the spine of my first book, Killing Floor.
AC: I find that “research”—the profound, story-defining kind rather than fact-checking—works the opposite way around to what people often expect. I never set out to find an interesting topic to write about. I write about a topic I already find interesting, and the reason I find something interesting often stems from a suggestion from a bookseller. For example, a book about white-collar crime that was recommended to me in a store contained a section on malicious ways to short stock, and that became a central theme in Too Close to Home.
Do you have a favorite bookstore or library from literature? LC: Not really—I’m so thrilled with the real-world examples I didn’t feel the need for more.
AC: Not literature, but TV. I would love to visit the shop in Black Books, an offbeat British comedy in which the curmudgeonly store owner seems intent on not selling books.
Do you have a “bucket list” of bookstores and libraries you’d love to visit but haven’t yet? What’s on it? LC: All of them. Every single one has a quirk or a choice that makes them fascinating. I have literally never walked past a bookstore without going in and checking it out.
AC: My favorites tend to be the kind of quirky gems you discover by chance, tucked away down a backstreet or in a neighborhood you stray into by mistake. As a result, there’s no real way to foresee what they’ll be and where you’ll find them, so it’s not possible to make a list in advance.
What’s the last thing you checked out from your library or bought at your local bookstore? LC: Yesterday I bought a book about linguistic choices in framing political arguments. I love insights into how things are done.
AC: My most recent purchase was The Battle of the Beams by Tom Whipple, which is about the way that the development of radar shaped the outcome of World War II.
How is your own personal library organized? LC: Organized is a big word, and I’m not sure I can lay claim to it. Generally, I keep fiction and nonfiction in separate rooms, or at least separate bookcases. Beyond that, nothing. Any form of organizing means every time you get a book, you have to move every other book. That’s way too much!
AC: Lee may be horrified at this, but Tasha [Alexander, his wife and fellow mystery novelist] and I keep our library organized via an app. Every book we buy is added—mainly because we got fed up with the quantity of duplicate purchases we were making.
Bookstore cats or bookstore dogs? LC: Dogs for sure, the same as every other walk of life.
AC: Why pick between them? Why not have one (or more) or each?
What is your ideal bookstore-browsing snack? LC: I’m part of a generation that saw books as expensive, rare and precious, so I wouldn’t dream of eating or drinking in a bookstore or library.
AC: I don’t eat or drink while browsing, either, but I do love it when bookstores have a built-in coffee shop. That way I can dive right into my newest purchase and caffeinate at the same time.
Photo of Lee and Andrew Child by Tasha Alexander.
We asked the brothers behind the iconic suspense series about their favorite libraries and bookshops.
Hell hath no fury like Anna Williams-Bonner in Jean Hanff Korelitz’s The Sequel, a cleverly conceived matryoshka doll of a tale that employs pitch-black humor and nail-biting suspense to excellent effect.
It’s also, well, the sequel to The Plot, the audacious 2021 bestseller that’s soon to be a TV series alongside Korelitz’s other adapted works: Admission, The Latecomer and You Should Have Known (the basis for HBO’s The Undoing).
Fans of Korelitz’s work will be delighted that The Sequel follows in the artfully twisted footsteps of her previous thrillers, this time via the very intelligent and deeply angry Anna, who’s determined to preserve authorship of her life at all costs.
As the story opens, Anna’s on tour for her husband Jacob’s posthumously published book when his editor and agent suggest she write a novel based on her life as bereaved widow of a beloved author. Anna “couldn’t think of a novelist whose next work she was actively waiting for, or whose novel she even cared enough about to keep forever, or whose signature she wanted in her copy of their novel,” but realizes it could be entertaining, if not entirely interesting. After all, she muses about other writers, “If those idiots can do it, how fucking hard can it be?”
The resulting novel, The Afterword, is an immediate bestseller, of course. Anna is jauntily casual about her increased fame until a Post-it note in a book she’s signing reveals her past is not as buried as she thought. Who wrote it? What do they know? And most important: What do they want?
Anna’s cross-country tour of fact-finding and retribution will have readers eagerly flipping the pages to see what on earth she’ll do next. (Hint: It’s not good) She moves from threat to threat, so hell-bent on squelching the truth about her past that she increases her present-day peril. Jacob published and perished; will Anna, too?
Rife with delicious tension and sharply honed satire, The Sequel is a gripping, disturbing and wild ride, with a humdinger of a conclusion that explores just how deadly it can be when someone feels their story isn’t being properly told.
Gripping, disturbing and absolutely wild, The Sequel is a more than worthy, well, sequel, to Jean Hanff Korelitz’s The Plot.
Wait for the next dark and stormy night to dive into John Fram’s No Road Home. This twisty murder mystery, rife with cleverly employed elements of horror and the supernatural, comes to a head during a mighty deluge.
As in his debut novel, The Bright Lands, a BookPage Best Book of 2020, the Texas-born Fram sets this darkly dramatic, gothic tale in the Lone Star State. He draws readers into Ramorah, an expansive compound home to the uber-wealthy Wright family, presided over by patriarch Jerome Jeremiah Wright, a fire-and-brimstone televangelist.
Things are off-kilter at the estate these days: Jerome has been making increasingly fatalistic prophecies, and the Wrights are worried about the future of their family business. It doesn’t help that threatening messages in blood-red paint have begun appearing on the mansion’s bedroom doors.
Toby Tucker has no inkling of the danger that awaits him when he sets out to visit Ramorah with his son, Luca, and brand-new wife, Alyssa, Jerome’s granddaughter. Luca is a sweet child, who “wore his hair long and dressed in lots of pink and mauve and called himself a boy, which was fine with Toby.” This combination is not, Toby soon realizes, fine with the Wrights, who stare at and mutter derogatory comments about Luca despite Alyssa’s assertion that “[her] family’s too rich to be bigoted.”
Toby’s already-present desire to flee Ramorah multiplies a thousandfold when Jerome is found murdered, but floodwaters make that impossible. As the storm rages outside and the Wright clan whispers that their newest visitor may to be blame for Jerome’s death, Toby resolves to solve the murder, clear his name and get himself and Luca the hell out of there—especially since Luca claims to have seen a ghost, and Toby believes him.
Fram expertly ratchets up the tension as Toby and Luca desperately search for allies and answers as the devious Wrights circle around them. Fans of everyone’s-a-suspect stories will be riveted as long-held secrets float to the surface, twisted motivations are revealed and revelations of generational trauma and abuse prompt them to consider whether the most outwardly pious might just be the biggest sinners of all.
Set at a televangelist’s compound as floodwaters rise, John Fram’s No Road Home is a darkly dramatic murder mystery-thriller hybrid.
Joseph Nightingale, nicknamed Fearless after a moment of heroism during the Bosnian conflict, is a British war photographer who was in Nairobi during the August 1998 attack on the U.S. Embassy. While he was away, his pregnant girlfriend, an award-winning investigative journalist, was killed in an automobile accident. As Praveen Herat’s gripping debut political thriller, Between This World and the Next, opens, Fearless has accepted his old friend, Alyosha Federenko’s invitation to Cambodia, arriving overwhelmed by grief and guilt.
Federenko stashes Fearless at the Naga, a gathering place for the gangs and soldiers of fortune set loose upon the world after the collapse of the Soviet Union. One of the chilling pleasures of this book is Herat’s vivid, knowledgeable portrait of this threatening netherworld, from outposts like the Naga to breakaway states like Transnistria, where money is exchanged for advanced weaponry and private armies are assembled to rule in feudal power.
Federenko himself resides at a luxury hotel while he wheels and deals in an attempt to gather money and power to work himself back into the upper echelons of the new Russian elite. Fearless at first forgives the acquisitiveness of a man he knows was born in chaos and poverty. But as events unfold, and people get hurt and killed, Fearless’s worldview of engaged empathy collides with Federenko’s selfish, transactional view of human interactions.
Also at the Naga is Song, a young Cambodian woman enslaved as a cleaner. As children, she and her twin sister were sold into prostitution. Song’s face has since been ravaged by an acid attack, and her soul is deflated by loss of contact with her sister. She cares for the young children who are brought to the Naga by adult predators and whose gruesome abuse is recorded on video. The existence of one of these videos, handed off to Fearless, sets the elaborate plot rolling with increasing velocity.
The final chapters of Between This World and the Next are breathtaking in their descriptive power and imaginative reach, and the novel’s ending is very satisfying. But some threads still dangle and not all questions are answered—which makes one hope for a sequel.
Praveen Herat’s prizewinning debut thriller, Between This World and the Next, paints a vivid, knowledgeable portrait of a threatening political netherworld, including breakaway states like Transnistria.
A fatal accident, a cosmic visitor and a mysterious stranger all come together in a small Australian town in Ruby Todd’s dazzling debut, Bright Objects.
Young widow Sylvia Knight is recovering from the car accident that killed her husband and left her with serious injuries, both physical and psychological. Profoundly lonely, Sylvia works at the local mortuary, keeps her husband’s grave tidy and puts on a cheerful face for her mother-in-law, Sandy, whom she visits weekly. But she is haunted by sketchy memories of the night of the accident. Although another car was involved, nobody was arrested, but Sylvia believes she knows who was responsible. When word comes through her friend Vince that the police are closing the case, she falls into a deep depression and plans to take her own life. However, the appearance of a rare comet proves a distraction. When the comet’s discoverer, American astronomer Theo St. John, walks into the mortuary one day, Sylvia’s life takes a turn. Sylvia and Theo begin to find connection through shared meals and trips to the observatory to view the comet.
As the comet’s path draws closer to Earth, the mood in town shifts from celebratory to ominous. Joseph Evans, local meditation teacher and the heir of a wealthy family, sees the comet as a divine messenger and begins a series of mystical lectures that attract a cultlike following. He is eager to involve both Sylvia and Sandy, and Sylvia is distressed to see her mother-in-law drawn in by his promises. Conflicted in her feelings towards Theo and still wrestling with suicidal ideation, Sylvia finds her obsession with uncovering her husband’s killer pushing her to the edges of her sanity.
Bright Objects is a riveting literary thriller of obsession, vengeance and astronomy, but its most poignant gift may be its depiction of trying to make sense of life after tragedy.
Ruby Todd’s dazzling debut, Bright Objects, is a riveting literary thriller of obsession, vengeance and astronomy, but its most poignant gift may be its depiction of trying to make sense of life after tragedy.
Hard to believe though it may be, Commissario Guido Brunetti has survived 32 hair-raising adventures thus far, and is back for number 33 in Donna Leon’s sophisticated police procedural series set in Venice, Italy. As A Refiner’s Fire opens, members of two rival gangs have been herded into the police station following a late-night dust-up in a town square. One by one, the parents of the teenagers pick up their unruly offspring until only one boy is left. Orlando Monforte explains to Commissario Claudia Griffoni that his father never answers his phone when sleeping. In the interest of expediency, Griffoni decides to accompany the boy home; it is a decision that will come back to bite her. Meanwhile, Brunetti has been tasked with the vetting of one Dario Monforte, a onetime hero of the Carabinieri, the Italian military police, and, coincidentally, the father of the aforementioned Orlando. As his investigation proceeds, Brunetti is troubled by the ambiguities of Monforte’s supposed heroism, most particularly by the fact that he never received any sort of medal or commendation, seemingly because he was under investigation for antiquities theft. Tangentially, Brunetti’s friend and co-worker Enzo Bocchese, a collector of antiquities, is badly beaten and his collection is vandalized, likely by a particularly nasty gang member who lives in his building. The cases begin to dovetail as Brunetti and Griffoni uncover disturbing connections to the highest levels of the government. The grand finale is truly inspired, explosive in every sense of the word and perhaps the best of Leon’s long career.
★ The Night of Baba Yaga
The Night of Baba Yaga, the English language debut of Japanese writer Akira Otani, features all the elements you could hope for from a crime thriller set in the Land of the Rising Sun: a heroine spiritually descended from samurai stock; two pairs of lovers on the run; a beautiful and spoiled young woman treated like a hothouse flower by her doting father; and a yakuza presence that is gloriously, gratuitously violent, well beyond the traditional chopping off of a pinky finger for perceived insubordination. Both the dialogue and the prose, translated by Sam Bett, are staccato and to the point; there are no wasted words. In that regard, the story is very akin to Japanese illustrated novels (only without the illustrations, which would almost certainly be too graphic for Western sensibilities). Baba Yaga, for those of you unfamiliar with her, is a legendary Russian witch who lives in the forest, in a house built on gigantic chicken legs that would raise and lower upon her command. She is noted for her cruelty, her rather bizarre sense of humor and her occasional kindness to those who are pure of heart, few though they may be. She figures strongly in Otani’s narrative, which is nicely done, indeed.
Think Twice
When the feds pay a visit to sports agent Myron Bolitar, he is more than a little surprised by the reason: They want to know the whereabouts of Myron’s nemesis-turned-friend, former basketball star Greg Downing. Problem is, Greg Downing has been dead for three years; Myron delivered the eulogy. The second problem is that Downing’s DNA has been found under the fingernails of someone who was just murdered, so now Myron is a person of interest in the investigation. Think Twice is the 12th installment of Harlan Coben’s popular series featuring Myron and his uber-wealthy and mysterious sidekick, Windsor Horne Lockwood III (aka “Win”), and the mystery is much more than a possible case of a faked death. The authorities suspect that the recent murder was but one of a series of homicides all perpetrated by the same person, a serial killer who then artfully and seamlessly framed someone close to the victim. The difference with this latest case is that the perp apparently got a bit sloppy and left DNA at the scene: Greg Downing’s DNA. And now the FBI is closing in on Downing (who may indeed be dead) and his known associates. First-person accounts by the as-yet-unidentified murderer appear here and there throughout the narrative, with “How I did it” details that are both inventive and jarring. Cool story, cool characters, tasty twist ending. What’s not to like?
Like Mother, Like Daughter
Anyone who ever had issues with a controlling and overprotective mother will empathize with Cleo, and anyone who ever had issues with a rebellious teenage daughter will certainly empathize with Cleo’s mother, Kat. But their fraught relationship is about to change in ways neither could predict, within pages of the opening of Kimberly McCreight’s new thriller, Like Mother, Like Daughter. It’s been a while since they met; they’re not exactly estranged, but are nonetheless distant. Kat has extended an olive branch, however, in the form of a homemade dinner and a promise not to be contentious. But when Cleo arrives, Kat is nowhere to be found. Food is burning on the stovetop and in the oven, and a bloody canvas shoe suggests foul play of some sort. Chapters alternate between Kat’s and Cleo’s perspectives, sometimes in flashback to each of their childhoods, but more often cutting back to the week leading up to Cleo’s discovery that her mom has gone missing, and then moving through the investigation. We learn that Kat’s law firm job was quite a bit more convoluted than she lets on, that Cleo was a part-time drug courier, that several million dollars have mysteriously gone missing from Kat’s bank account, and that Cleo’s exceptionally bad choices in lovers threaten to bring things to a very unpleasant denouement. And we also learn that Kat’s rigidity has at times been tempered by a dangerous rebellious streak, while Cleo’s fierce individuality can be overshadowed by an equally fierce protective urge, given the right circumstances. Like Mother, Like Daughter is intense, thought-provoking and completely unputdownable.
Akira Otani makes her English language debut with The Night of Baba Yaga, plus the latest from Donna Leon and Harlan Coben in this month’s Whodunit column.
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