“Oh, here we go again,” says Chris. “I want to organise a meeting with the mafia. In Fairhaven.” “Of course you do,” says Chris. “Any reason? Or was bridge cancelled and you had a slot in your diary?”
Set one week after the eventful happenings recounted in The Thursday Murder Club came to a conclusion, Elizabeth, Joyce, Ibrahim and Ron are back and the game is afoot once more in everyone’s favourite retirement community. It involves a whole new intriguing cast of shady characters, diamonds, cups of tea, robberies, bus and train trips and a lot of heart, humour and humanity. This time, an old flame turns up most unexpectedly in Coopers Chase with an unlikely proposition for one of our formidable pensioners, while something else dramatic happens to another of our favourite characters. One thing leads to another and soon our four veteran vigilantes are helping the authorities once again, whether they like it or not. As in the first book, the story in this sequel comes with some subtle, insightful and wry observations on life, relationships, ageing, hopes and dreams and the whole gamut of human experience. The pace never slows and the plot is as inventive and fun as ever, with some fiendish red herrings and inventive twists, all told in a tone that is entertaining and compassionate but which also never ducks the reality that bad things do happen to good people. It all goes to produce a charming, touching, hugely enjoyable and engrossing page-turner of a sequel that I flew through in three days and that is as good, if not better, than the original tale.
In May 1941, Ian Fleming went to New York and met James Bond.
Or, rather, Fleming met William – Bill – Stephenson. Stephenson worked with the creator of Bond in the dark world of espionage during WWII and may well have been the inspiration for that quintessential dashing British spy who has now been serving Queen and Country for nearly 70 years.
Stephenson was not a career MI6 spy. In fact, he had made a fortune in Canada after WWI and then created his own private intelligence network. One of his most eager consumers of information was Winston Churchill, still a backbench MP seemingly destined for ever greater obscurity if Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain’s negotiations with Hitler succeeded in keeping Europe at peace. It didn’t of course, and a small part of the reason for Churchill becoming Britain’s new war-time Prime Minister in 1940 was the valuable and unique information on Nazi rearmament supplied to him by Stephenson.
Impressed by freelance spy’s ability and dynamism, when the MI6 station chief left his post in New York Churchill tapped Stephenson for the role – and then greatly expanded it. Stephenson became head of Britsh Security Coordination, BSC, in the Americas, a powerful role overseeing MI6, MI5, and SOE.
A Canadian millionaire was an unusual addition to what had been a small and modest intelligence operation, dabbling in a relatively small-time influence work, propaganda and refugee affairs. Stephenson transformed the British intelligence operation in New York and North America and achieved feats of espionage that would – and perhaps should – have seen impossible.
Using his own money, the new station chief began much more ambitious, dangerous and potentially disasterous operations with an ultra-secret goal – get the United States into WWII as Britain’s ally as soon as possible. Stephenson was entrusted with this crucial task by Churchill himself and it would not be an exaggeration to say that the fate of Britain depended on his success. Stephenson had no scruples about using any means necessary to fulfill his mission.
Reorientating the entire security policy of a foreign nation when the mass of its population was opposed to war was a Herculean task in itself. Stephenson, however, was not unopposed in his difficult endeavours. One of the great strengths and wonderful achievements of Henry Hemmings in Our Man in New York is that he opens our eyes to how very different a world the 1930s were and how our assumptions can be turned on their heads by the reality of that very different time.
For example, the ‘special relationship’ between Britain and the United States did not exist in the 1930s- and indeed Britain was seen in mostly a negative light by most Americans and as an outright enemy by many. Opinion polls in the 1930s regularly found more public support for Germany than Britain, as strange as that might seem to us today.
This is what made Stephenson’s endeavour so intriguing. The wealth and power of the US was evident to Stephenson and Churchill but finding a way to inveigle those resources into supporting the British side would prove a difficult if not impossible task. Not the least of the problems were German agents of influence active in the highest levels of government- as well as undercover spies from the German Embassy – who had the help of many other ordinary Americans sympathetic to the Nazis cause.
It would be a shame to ruin such a marvelous book by giving away any more. Reviews of history books often refer to such works ‘breaking new ground’ and ‘shedding new light’ and this can come to seem a little overused. In this case, though, Henry Hemmings genuinely has done wonders to trace, analyse and synthesise a treasure trove of new material.
The result is a rollicking good read that achieves what is almost impossible – Our Man in New York entices in readers and then regales them with an exciting and significant story of WWII that has almost gone completely untold before now.
Do read it, you won’t be disappointed – it makes the average James Bond plotline seem humdrum in comparison!!!
The dramatic cover of this book caught my eye several times over a few weeks, online and in the real world.
Eventually it seemed that it was virtually stalking me, so I gave in and acquired a copy. I’m glad to say that in this case at least nothing is lost by judging a book by its cover.
The Dry is set in Kiewarra, a tiny South Australian farming community beset by drought. Rain has been absent for years, the countryside is parched, times are hard, tempers are frayed and tensions are high all round.
Aaron Falk is a Federal Police detective based in Melbourne, specialising in financial crime. Originally from Kiewarra, one day he gets a phone call telling him his best friend from his school days in the town, Luke Hadler, is dead – along with his wife and young son. All of them shot with the family’s own shotgun, apparently by Luke.
However, Falk’s own past ties to Kiewarra are far from straightforward – as is the reason why he left the town so many years before.
When he returns ‘home’ for the funeral, his own unfinished business comes back to haunt him in unexpected ways.
Can Falk unravel the intensely personal and intricately intertwined mysteries of the past and the present?
I know because Goodreads tells me so. Or at least Goodreads tells me that I told it that was the number.
Actually it was the number, I didn’t game the system though of course it is possible. It was the first time I had ever consciously kept track of how many books I read over a year.
Thoughts on the experience?
It definitely made me much more aware of how many books I had read, and was reading. How often do you realise that days have gone by and very few or maybe no pages have been read? It’s easy as we all discover to lose time, to get lost in other things, to be the fly in molasses. The Goodreads counter knocked lassitude on the head – ‘You’re on track!’ or ‘You’re 2 books behind’. It never went beyond two, the kick in the pants worked wonders ever time.
Added to the impetus was the % read tracker on my Kindle. Between the two, there was a steady drumbeat of recognition of progress made, or not, and encouragement to stay on track, or catch up.
Over time this did though grow to be a little disconcerting. Only 15% through a book? 1 book behind? Time to up the pace…..maybe speed up? Skip a little even? There were targets to be met after all!!
This was the downside of what was mostly a positive experience. A ticking clock measuring anything inevitably pushes towards a greater tempo, and then greater still, as it counts down, ever closer to the moment on 31 December and the final reckoning. The odd psychological effect was that even though the figure I set was entirely of my own choosing, and no one cared or was watching, and the unseen outcome counted for absolutely nothing, it did assume a significance just by being there. I not sure I liked that feeling, and especially not to have it bound up and instilled with reading – a pleasure and a realm intended to be as enjoyable as it is because it was separate from deadlines and pressures, walled off in its own sanctuary beyond normal space and time, and the everyday world. Though of course really it’s not – but it’s nice to think that way.
It’s easy (and in the grand scheme of thing right) to say that the best response was to just chill, since the grand total was freighted with no meaning – nothing was lost at 98 or gained by 103 books read.
And yet. It mattered. Oddly, and perhaps inexplicably so. I’m not sure why. I wasn’t competing with anyone. As I said no one was keeping an eye on me. I didn’t mention any total or the challenge to anyone, let along invest any importance in reaching the figure.
So why care? A good and puzzling question. A challenge is a challenge perhaps? Losing to oneself is the worst defeat of all? Keeping track highlighted how much time is actually ‘wasted’, as it might be termed, not reading? Maybe 100 books doesn’t seem a very large number? Especially in a year? With over 1,200 on my Kindle alone? And more to add? And that leaves aside all the paper mounds and pyramids accumulated and waiting to be explored?
In a way I suppose keeping track revealed a tangible mortality of time, a limit that is real and insurmountable. Our thread of life is finite and what we do with the length available, in so far as we can ever know or guess what that is, is a series of choices.
And all of the time a clock is ticking.
Like it or not.
I set the 100 books goal again this year, with a bit more trepidation and hesitation than last.
The close associates of a dead insurgent leader start meeting grizzly deaths.
Doubts arise as to whether the insurgent himself is really dead. His diminishing band of companions proclaim not. Bizarrely they believe he came back from the dead.
Disgraced secret policeman Cassius Gallio knows this is impossible. He was in charge of the crucifixion of Jesus – he saw the radical agitator die before his eyes. True, the body was stolen from a tomb but the guards were inexperienced and open to offers. Still he suffered for the embarrassing outcome – busted back down to uniform and posted to the wilds of Moldova.
Now, though with one phone call he’s on a plane back to Jerusalem – the case is reopened, and with it the chance to save himself and possibly the Roman Empire as well.
Even from that short description it’s obvious that Richard Beard’s book is different. A Roman Empire with phones? And planes? The Twelve Apostles as part of a murder mystery? Roman Imperial FBI with Glock pistols?
The premise is intriguing and the setting and background as creative as it is mind-bending and unsettling.
Plotwise the story is a little weak but the concept and context is so inventive that you keep reading to learn more of this odd and unique story world, and of course to find out what happens to the characters in this strange parallel universe.
Not a book that you might ever re-read but one that has enough elements of interest to hold the reader the first time around, and when the end is reached it’s hard not to find satisfaction freighted with relief.
Is the Islamic State/ISIS a flash in the pan? Brutal but ephemeral? Or might it be more long-lasting?
Could it even become a ‘proper’ state? Might the ‘Caliph’ one day address the UN?
Dr. Sami Moubayed is a Syrian historian and researcher who tries to answer these questions in Under the Black Flag: At the frontier of the new jihad.
Based in Damascus, he has the bitter sweet advantage of witnessing the events convulsing his country at first hand, and has interviewed many of those involved. This proximity to sources and evidence gives a unique perspective to his book. An added strength is that he has no particular axe to grind – the tragedy he describes that is the current Syrian crisis is made all the worse by seeming to have no obvious solution and no easy fixes.
In trying to understand ISIS and the other jihadi groups in Syria and Iraq, he emphasises their ideology as deriving from one specific strand of Islamic thought, and not, as ISIS and indeed some of its enemies would claim, inherent in and intrinsic to Islam itself.
Moubayed traces this extremist interpretation from the 1300s thought of Ibn Taymiyyah (1263-1328) to later Wahhabism in the 1700s and beyond, revived in the twentieth century by people such as Hassan al-Banna and Sayyid Qutb and continued by modern salafi-jihadism.
He shows that this history is far from irrelevant – it is indeed the central focus of and justification for the ruthless campaigns of ISIS, the Nusra Front and al Qaeda: a return to what they imagine was the purity of the past. Simply return to those beliefs and glory will follow. Anyone rejecting the call stands in the way of regress, and will suffer.
Moubayed describes how the Islamic State based on the city of al-Raqqa in Syria, and headed by Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi/self proclaimed Caliph Ibrahim, now has all the trappings of a state – a civil service, a police force, an army, an intelligence service, taxes, schools, a capital, a national anthem, a flag and significant income from oil smuggling and border crossing levies. This developing governance structure is staffed by many experienced ex-Iraqi Army officers and former Baath officials.
No less important is a slick and sophisticated communications strategy, taking in social media, as well as print, television, and radio.
Overall, Moubayed concludes, ISIS is a significant threat and one that stands a good chance of creating a functioning and enduring state from the ruins of what was Syria and Iraq.
A sobering assessment from an experienced and talented scholar in an informative and well researched book.
Books ‘in the style of’ a deceased author can be hit and miss, but Anthony Horowitz had the advantage of a framework, and even some original passages, written by Ian Fleming himself when creating this new James Bond thriller.
Set in the 1950s, Horowitz manages skilfully to retain the essence of Bond while thankfully jettisoning the more objectionable and dated aspects of the originals.
In Trigger Mortis women protagonists give as good as they get, henchmen have backstories, and Bond has a conscience. But not too much of a one.
None of this gets in the way of a rollicking good story – on the contrary, even as the plot and characters have more depth and satisfying nuances, the action is if anything enhanced.
All the traditional staples of a Bond story are here to be enjoyed – a maniacal villain, a female character with a memorable name, an inventive and dastardly sinister scheme, and perhaps Bond’s most challenging dicing with death ever, all set against a background of Cold War tension and the Space Race.
In Horowitz’s talented hands Trigger Mortis makes for an enjoyable read whether you’re a long-time Bond fan, a dedicated thriller aficionado or just in search of your next good book.
Gillian Flynn’s novel became a phenomenon in 2012. Published in June, it sold over two million copies within the year.
It became a favourite of book clubs and a stalwart of review pages, staying at the top of the New York Times bestseller index for weeks on end.
Somehow it passed me by at the time, but with the movie version arriving in Ireland I decided to catch up with the book before seeing it.
Near the end of the book I was faced with quandary of whether to see the movie if I’d read the book, and compromised by not finishing the last few chapter.
The film itself sticks closely to the book, with some minor changes – interestingly the screenplay is by Gillian Flynn as well, so fidelity to the written word is not surprising. By no means though is this a rigidly ‘stage bound’ production slavishly following every aspect of the book; some parts and characters have been omitted, and some minimised and the timeline altered where necessary.
The core of the story remains the same. Nick Dunne and Amy Elliott Dunne are married. Both are writers. They live the life of a dream couple. Amy is the inspiration for and living embodiment of her parents’ best selling children’s books ‘Amazing Amy’, about a near perfect girl who (over)achieves at everything.
Nick Dunne left his North Carthage, Missouri behind and become a success in the literary/journalism world of New York.
Boy meets girl at a party, true love strikes and the two are entwined as soulmates for ever.
Not quite. The fairytale takes a bit of a dent when both lose their jobs and move back to Nick’s hometown, but their lives continue more or less as normal.
When the film opens we see Nick Dunne now an ex-writer running a bar with his sister, Margo – or Go for short.
It’s Nick and Amy’s five year anniversary; he doesn’t have a present yet but he has the whole day……then the phone rings.
Nick drives home and finds his house empty. Amy has disappeared – the Gone Girl.
The rest of the movie unravels and unspools the story in more detail, using present and flashback perspectives.
The surprises come thick and fast, as do the twists, turns, and revelations. What starts as a simple love story and two people fated to be together, takes a complicated turn with many angles. Will true love run its course? In sickness and in health, till death do them part?
Rosamund Pike was a little questionable for the early part of the film but by the end her performance will be seared in your brain – especially one particular scene; if you don’t like blood, be prepared!
Ben Affleck is well-nigh perfect for the role of Nick, and the supporting cast of Tyler Perry, Carrie Coon, Kim Dickens in particular are very much contenders for best on-screen performance.
Very enjoyable with some of the tense and uncomfortable moments that mark out a good thriller. Do see it if you get a chance – just not if your relationship (should you be in one) is in any way delicate!
America 1844: Religious Fervor, Westward Expansion, and the Presidential Election That Transformed the Nation– (November 1, 2014; Chicago Review Press) by John Bicknell
It’s fair to say that neither John Tyler nor James Polk rank very highly as memorable Presidents of the United States.
If he had lived slightly longer perhaps Tyler might at least have become infamous – he was elected to the Congress of the Confederate States of America but died soon after, sparing the USA the sting of seeing one of its ex-Presidents serving the secessionist South.
But as author John Bicknell makes clear in America 1844 perhaps these two largely forgotten occupants of the White should be better known because momentous events were set in train during their terms – events that would have far-reaching consequences, not just for America but much of the world.
1844 was an election year in America, and Bicknell takes this as his jumping off point. President John Tyler harboured hopes of running for a second term; his opponents manoeuvred to replace him.
Tyler was unusual in not having a party solidly behind him – he had been elected as Vice President in 1840 on the same ticket as President William Henry Harrison of the Whig party. Tyler was the first Vice President to succeed to the Presidency when Harrison died in office, just 30 days after his inauguration on 4 March 1841.
As President (His Accidency as wits dubbed him), Tyler was expelled from the Whig party for vetoing a number of its proposals. Without a dedicated following he needed nothing short of a miracle to win re-election. To Tyler’s mind, that miracle would be the annexation of Texas – bring that vast land of opportunity into the Union and he would sweep the election of 1844.
The story of that election bookends and scaffolds this volume’s central narrative. Rather than focus entirely on politics, Bicknell skilfully weaves into this tale of electoral chicanery other fascinating aspects of a rapidly changing America that would transform and convulse the new nation in years to come.
Slavery and territorial expansion were closely tied to political wrangling, intimately linked to each other and both were inextricably bound up with the future shape of America. Should the US spread beyond its existing boundaries and settle the question of slavery as it did? Or should it consolidate its achievements for a time, given it was still a young and recent creation with many internal issues to resolve?
While Congress and state politicians ponderously discussed and debated, migrants voted with their feet. Thousands of settlers journeyed into the unknown, towards what they hoped would be better lives in the West – despite not knowing much of what lay there.
Trying to change that in 1844 was John C Frémont, who had set off the previous year to explore the vast unknown areas of what today are parts of Idaho, Oregon, Utah, Nevada and California and map a reliable route westwards. His expedition included the famous ‘mountain man’ Kit Carson. Throughout much of 1844 Frémont’s wife Jessie waited anxiously for news that travelled at snail’s pace across the vast distances involved. Letters intended for the east arrived haphazardly and sporadically.
Samuel Morse’s new invention, the telegraph, was just undergoing its first practical trials in 1844 and would soon render Jessie Benton Frémont’s long agonising wait for news from her husband a thing of the past. Asa Whitney, a New York merchant had an even more radical plan to bind America together not with copper wire but iron rails – his day had not yet arrived but it was a harbinger of the railroads his advocacy and perseverance would eventually bring about.
Add in the social upheavals caused by violent riots against Catholic Irish immigrants in Philadelphia and a large group of religious Americans who were fervently convinced the end of world was nigh and 1844 truly was an eventful year in American history – with more long term importance than anyone could have known at the time.
John Bicknell writes about all of these themes with a telling eye for insightful personal stories and human interest angles that allow the reader to relate to the era. Equally many of the issues that transfixed America then have resonance today – a nation deeply divided, unsure about the impact of immigration, on the cusp of great technological promise while still beset by paralysing fears for and of the future.
A great tale well told and one that provides the reader with both enjoyment and food for thought.
I was lucky enough to be able to read an advance copy, through Netgalley.com, of this thriller by American author Robert K. Tanenbaum, due for publication on August 12. And I was really hoping to like it. A lot.
It seemed promising. The CIA, covert ops, Chechen rebels, drone attacks, clandestine affairs, grisly murder, skullduggery, cover ups and court room drama.What’s not to love as stories go?
Unfortunately the book has a number of problems.
Tanenbaum, a former Assistant Attorney General of New York county, wears his conservative politics on his sleeve. Barely a page passes without some sideswipe at President Obama, the Democrats, administration officials, government in general, and the US news media. The Comedy Channel and Jon Stewart (not named but you don’t need the forensic skills of say a former Deputy Attorney General to figure it out) come in for some particularly harsh and unfair criticism.
Beyond the distorted looking-glass world of Tanenbaum’s skewed view, even those who strenuously disagree with Stewart and his politics acknowledge his ability – and his effectiveness. Not liking the angle he takes and the fact that he does what he does well is no excuse for petty attacks in print intended to be a work of fiction.
The tide of real world points scoring and recrimination is relentless and frustrating. Indeed the reader begins to wonder why Tanenbaum didn’t just write a political screed instead and concentrate on telling the story in this book.
Perhaps for certain sections of the US market the rather snide asides and continuous flow of carping cynical criticism against everything American except apple pie, guns and Republicans will actually be a selling point but on this side of the Atlantic, and on this island in particular where the Barack Obama Plaza has just been completed, the book and its main protagonist Butch Karp will be a fish out of water.
This explains why Tanenbaum has achieved significant sales in the US but remains largely unknown in Europe. Paradoxically his success in America presents a problem for would-be non-US readers. Fatal Conceit is just the latest in a long line of works in a series stretching to over 25 books featuring the same characters: Butch Karp, his wife Marlene, their daughter Lucy, and twin sons.
Much of the plot in this book inevitably refers back to early happenings in its companion volumes, and indeed many of the secondary characters have featured in previous outings. For the non-aficionado this makes life difficult, and Tanenbaum has tried to overcome the hurdle with extensive backstory exposition. In doing this he ends up falling between two stools, with not enough detail for new unfamiliar readers but a clunky clogged text.
Structurally, the story also has other problems. The plot unfolds in a convoluted timeline, full of flashbacks and timeshifts between chapters, with some overlapping in later sections. Action takes place in three main locations, Chechnya with special ops, New York among the administration and cops and finally in the court room. Trying to maintain a sense of suspense and stretch the narrative to encompass all the parts – an uneasy combination of Tom Clancy action set-pieces and John Grisham legal drama – is a struggle requiring the bolting together of what would much more comfortably be two separate books.
All in all I found it a disappointing read but then again I’m not the target audience. For those who read and liked the previous 25 books – and obviously any author, even with credited ghostwriters, who has produced that amount of books is doing something right for a large number of people – this will be I suspect a good experience, a return to familiar characters picking up where they left off, a continuation of previous enjoyment. Which in its way is its own success I suppose.