The Burning Wire is the ninth novel in Jeffrey Deaver’s Lincoln Rhyme series. This time Rhyme’s target is a killer who utilises the power grid to cause arc flashes and set his victims on fire, or electrifies a building or an elevator to electrocute them. It seems that the people of New York are under threat unless the Algonquin Power company acquiesces to demands made by letter. The authorities fear terrorism, eco- or other. Whilst Amelia Sachs, Ron Pulaski, Mel Cooper and Lon Sellitto work at a frantic pace to process the crime scenes and investigate further, and Fred Dellray makes a dubious move to get information from one of his CIs, Rhyme is also monitoring the progress of the possible apprehension in Mexico of Richard Logan aka The Watchmaker. Once again, Deaver gives fast-paced action with a few plot twists. Apart from one or two false notes (uncharacteristic behaviour that should have been obvious to those present), once again, a great read.

The Broken Window is the eighth of Jeffrey Deaver’s Lincoln Rhyme series. The tale begins with a plea from Judy Rhyme to help her husband, Arthur Rhyme, Lincoln’s estranged cousin, who has been arrested on a murder charge. Flawless evidence against him leads Rhyme and Sachs to suspect a set-up, and the discovery of previous similar frame-ups. Investigation directs them to Strategic Systems Datacorp, a data-mining company with incredible reach and power. In this novel, Deaver neatly demonstrates just how reliant individuals and corporations are on data and what can happen when the security of those holding the data is breached. The potential for good, in the form of crime fighting and education, and real possibility of harm, in the form of identity theft and terrorism, are made very clear. A very topical subject that will have everyone checking their passwords and online accounts. And plenty of twists and turns, the Deaver trademark, before the villain is finally identified. We are also treated to a bit of Lincoln’s history, and Ron Pulaski’s character fills out. Looking forward to the next Rhyme instalment.

The Bodies Left Behind is Jeffrey Deaver’s 11th stand-alone novel. The scene is lakeside Wisconsin, where Brynn MacKenzie, a sheriff’s deputy, responding to an aborted 911 call, stumbles into the aftermath of a double murder. Managing to escape from the murderers, she finds herself in the Wisconsin woods in the dark, in the company of Michelle, a would-be actress and pampered city girl, on the run from two felons who are determined to eliminate them. The heroine shows herself to be gutsy, clever and resourceful very early on, but she’s up against some tough opponents. Hart, seemingly her intellectual equal, seems especially cold-blooded and unemotional. Filled with plot twists and red herrings, this is a gripping tale, a page turner that will have the reader on the edge of the seat. Deaver does it again!

Roadside Crosses is the second in Jeffrey Deaver’s Kathryn Dance series. The story starts with a roadside cross memorial which is dated for the following day, the day that police find a kidnapped teenager left for dead in the trunk of her car. Kathryn’s interrogation of the teen points to a blogging site where cyber bullying seems to have led to retaliation. More roadside crosses appear, and more victims follow. As Kathryn and her team race to identify those posting on the blogs to warn them of the danger, they find their efforts hindered by the blog owner and issues of free speech and anonymity. As if the case is not enough to deal with, Kathryn’s boss, Charles Overby, is playing his usual undermining role, her friend and colleague, Michael O’Neil is acting strangely, a former murder case appears to be running into problems, Kathryn is threatened with a racial discrimination charge and her mother is arrested for euthenasing a policeman. Luckily, Kathryn is able to enlist the help of a UC Professor to unravel the world of computers and blogs and online gaming, and comes to realise that kinesics are not quite so useful in the cyber world, where the visual cues that usually accompany speech are lacking. Deaver uses this story to emphasise the plethora of lies, misinformation, rumour and gossip that is rife in blogs, as well as the lack of accountability for the information due to the anonymity of posters. Once again, plenty of twists in the tale, a few red herrings and some brand-name dropping. TJ’s clever versions of Overby’s name provide some laugh-out-loud moments. The author blurb at the back says he’s working on a new Kathryn Dance for 2011: nothing so far, but I will be interested to read more of these.

The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party is the twelfth book in Alexander McCall Smith’s No 1 Ladies Detective Agency series. Mma Ramotswe has plenty to keep her busy as someone is killing cattle on a southern cattle-post, Charlie the apprentice seems to have fathered twins and Grace Makutsi’s wedding to Phuti Radiphuti is fast approaching. She also has to wonder if she is seeing a ghost when her tiny white van makes an appearance. Mma Makutsi is faced with a shoe dilemma and shows her usual indignance at Violet Sephotho’s latest antics: standing for election. Clovis Anderson’s Principles of Private Detection is freely quoted (where can I get hold of a copy?) and Mma Ramotse manages to resolve the issues, big and small, in time for Grace to (finally!) get married. This audio edition is (once again) beautifully read by Adjoa Andoh (takes me back to kindergarten story time…..). Truly a delight to listen to, it will leave the reader feeling good.

The God of Small Things, the first (and so far, only) novel by Indian writer, Arundhati Roy, was written between 1992 and 1996. This (semi-autobiographical) story takes place in the village of Ayemenem and the town of Kottayam, near Cochin in Kerala, and is set principally during two time periods: December 1969 and 23 years later. The main characters are Esthappen (Estha) and Rahel, seven-year-old two-egg (i.e. non-identical) twins, and their mother Ammu. Ammu falls in love with Velutha Paapen, a Paraven (Untouchable) who works for the family’s Pickle Factory, a man the twins already list amongst their most-loved. But even in 1969, with a Communist Government, parts of India are still firmly in the grip of the Caste system. By breaking the "Love Laws," or "The laws that lay down who should be loved, and how. And how much”, Ammu and the twins set in motion “The Terror”. The manipulations of Ammu’s aunt, Baby Kochamma, are instrumental in bringing down The Terror, and her subsequent cruelty to Ammu and the twins will leave readers gasping.
As well as commenting on the Caste system and Class discrimination in general, the novel examines Indian history and politics, the taboos of conventional society, and religion. But more than anything, this is a story about love and betrayal.
The innocent observations of 7-year-olds, their interpretation of unfamiliar words and phrases, the (typically Indian) Capitalisation of Significant Words, the running together of and splitting apart of words , the phonetic spelling, all are a source of humour and delight in this novel. “It’s an afternoon-mare”, Estha-the-Accurate replied. “She dreams a lot”. Even as Estha is being molested by the Orangedrink Lemondrink man in the Abhilash Talkies, his observations (“Not a moonbeam.”) bring laughter. Echoes, repetitions and resonances abound. Roy is a master of the language: “So futile. Like polishing firewood.” Her prose is luminous. This novel is powerful, moving, tragic. Beautifully written, with wonderful word pictures.
This novel demands at least two reads: once to learn the story; a second time to appreciate the echoes and repetitions and understand what the early references mean. It deserves a third reading to fully appreciate the prose, the descriptive passages. On this, my third reading, I read parts I would swear I had not read earlier. And I had tears in my eyes very early in the novel. I loved this book when I first read it: I love it even more now. I remain hopeful that Arundhati Roy will share her considerable literary talents with her eager readers in the form of another novel.

Sing You Home is Jodi Picoult’s 18th novel. As always, Picoult deals with big issues. This time it is homosexuality and the attitude of society, government and, in particular, organised religion, to those who are openly homosexual. But other issues also make an appearance: as Picoult herself says, this book is about a lot of things. This novel details the single-mindedness, the almost obsessive lengths to which some people will go to overcome infertility. It asks about the fate of frozen embryos: are they people or property? Who has rights over them when a marriage breaks up? It touches on the importance of music in our lives. It examines in detail the arguments of certain religious leaders against homosexuality: the faulty logic, the quotation of scriptures out of their historical context, the convenient interpretation of biblical quotes, the power of charismatic preachers. Most of all, this novel asks the question: what is a family? As she usually does, Picoult tells the story in voices: in this case, Zoe, who has spent ten years trying to have a baby; Max, her husband, who has finally had enough, divorces her and finds God; and Vanessa, a guidance counselor who becomes Zoe’s friend and eventually, her lover. As with all of Picoult’s novels, this one is thought-provoking and highly enjoyable: an excellent read!

More Twisted is a volume of sixteen tales of suspense by Jeffrey Deaver, including a previously unpublished Lincoln Rhyme story. Each of these tales, as the title suggests, has a twist. Most are set in modern times, but one is set in Victorian England and features Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson. All are enjoyable, some are spine-chilling. An excellent read!

Jasper Jones is Craig Silvey’s second novel. It is set during a hot summer in 1965 in a small West Australian town, Corrigan, and narrated by thirteen-year-old Charlie Bucktin. Charlie is surprised by Jasper Jones’ appearance at his sleepout window: Jasper needs his help. Jasper, mixed race, rebellious and solitary, represents danger and intrigue for Charlie: he is desperate to impress him and so goes along with Jasper. This action unleashes a sequence of events that will change Charlie, Jasper and the people of the town of Corrigan. Silvey’s elegant prose touches on racism, adultry, truth and lies, human weakness, falling in love, trust, small-town boredom, cricket, coming of age, love of literature, hope and despair and long-kept secrets. Silvey’s characters are compelling, his dialogue is credible and his plot takes a few unexpected turns. The subject matter could have been heavy going, but Silvey provides us with exceptional comic relief in the delightful Jeffrey Lu, Charlie’s best friend. Jeffrey’s conversations with Charlie provide many laugh-out-loud moments. Charlie’s relationship with his father, Wes, and later with his prospective girlfriend, Eliza, provide a heartening contrast to some other aspects of the story. Jasper Jones is an outstanding and decidedly enjoyable novel: let us hope for more like this from Craig Silvey.

House Rules is Jodi Picoult’s seventeenth novel. The story involves Jacob Hunt, a young man with Asperger’s Syndrome and an obsession with forensic analysis, who is charged with and tried for the murder of his tutor, Jess Ogilvy. Five voices tell the tale: Jacob’s own; his brother, Theo’s; his mother, Emma’s; his lawyer, Oliver’s; and the investigating police officer, Rich’s. As always, Picoult’s research is meticulous, and she presents controversial issues even-handedly. The tension that builds throughout the novel is occasionally alleviated by the jokes and puns the characters themselves make. While the reader may conclude the truth about Jess’s death well before the denouement, this in no way detracts from the enjoyment of the journey towards the revelation. The view from within a person with Asperger’s is very well described, and Jacob’s frustration with the inability of those around him to recognise the truth is expertly portrayed. As well as educating about autism, Asperger’s and aspects of crime scene investigation, Picoult deals with motherhood and brotherhood and what truth really is. The conclusion demonstrates the pitfalls of relying solely on physical evidence, or, for that matter, on appearances and /or behaviour alone. Once again, an excellent read!

The Hand That First Held Mine is Maggie O’Farrell’s fifth novel. Two stories are told in parallel: Lexie Sinclair quits Devon for London when the charismatic Innes Kent arrives on her doorstep, and starts her life at the heart of the 1950s Soho art scene; Elina and Ted are coming to terms with the changes wrought in their present-day lives by the birth of their son. As we follow lives separated by fifty years, wondering how they might be connected, we learn that Ted has been having flashes of memory of his childhood which seem at odds with his parents’ version. O’Farrell weaves her usual magic with authentic dialogue and evocative descriptions: the feel of 1950s London is expertly conveyed. This novel is filled with elegant prose, characters to love and to despise, humour and heartbreak, poignant moments and enough plot twists to keep the reader guessing. Fans of Maggie O’Farrell’s previous novels will not be disappointed.

The Murder of King Tut by James Patterson and Martin Dugard is described as the Ultimate Cold Case Re-opened. In the format of James Patterson’s signature (extremely) short chapters, the story is set out over three time periods: modern day, where we follow James’ progress in writing the book; the late 19th and early 20th century and the discovery of King Tut’s tomb; and 14th century BC, contemporary with King Tut’s life. It makes for an easy way to assimilate some ancient history. Whether or not this cold case is solved by the James Patterson treatment is debatable.

Postcard Killers is the first novel co-authored by James Patterson and Liza Marklund. It’s a thriller about young glamorous killers traveling around Europe murdering couples. Plenty of sex and violence, in the short chapter format that James Patterson seems to love. The villains are nasty and there’s a bit of a plot twist to keep it interesting.

Stephenie Meyer’s (so far) stand-alone novel, The Host, departs from her popular Twilight series and explores the theme of bodily possession of humankind by alien souls. As we follow the soul of Wanderer, who is implanted into the body of her host, Melanie Stryder, we gradually learn the history of this alien species and how their possession works. The spanner in the works for Wanderer comes when she realises that Melanie’s soul has not given up the body, and that they inhabit the body together. Having at first dutifully reported this to her supervisor/advisor, a Seeker, she begins, eventually, to have sympathy with her host and manages to escape. The real fun begins when she manages to track down a colony of humans who have so far escaped possession, including Melanie’s younger brother Jamie and her (pre-possession) lover, Jared. This is a thick book to read, but Meyer keeps the reader’s interest easily. The situation where Wanderer’s (Wanda’s) soul and Melanie’s soul, both inhabiting the same body, have fallen in love with two different men, creates an especially delicious dilemma. This was a great read, and, with the Twilight series complete, let us hope Meyer turns her talent to more like this one. There are rumours of sequels in the pipeline called The Soul and The Seeker.

Yan Lianke’s latest work, Dream of Ding Village, is narrated by Ding Qiang: “I was only twelve, in my fifth year of school, when I died. I died from eating a poisoned tomato I found on the way home from school…I died not from AIDS, but because my dad had run a blood collection station in Ding Village ten years earlier. He bought blood from the villagers and resold it for a profit.”
Qiang’s narration details how the dirt-poor villagers were coerced into selling their blood at Government-sanctioned collection stations and even, literally, “in the field”: the flattery or the appeal to patriotism that formed not the soft or hard sell, but the hard buy. Interspersed throughout the narration are the dreams of his Grandpa, Professor Ding Shuiyang: seemingly surreal but increasingly accurate and premonitory, from them we learn how, in the midst of abject poverty, bitterness and increasing hopelessness, some people’s behaviour sinks to breathtaking greed, corruption and short-sightedness.
Qiang gets to see both sides of the coin as his father, Ding Hui, was a “bloodhead”, who used criminally negligent blood collection practices, whilst his uncle, Ding Liang, contracted AIDS in the self-same place. Hui profits initially from buying and selling blood, then from selling Government-issued coffins to the families of the AIDS victims and developing Funeral Parks, then from matchmaking the dead so they will not be lonely in the afterlife. Dream of Ding Village portrays the death of the villagers and ultimately, the death of the village.
Filled with elegant prose, rich imagery, strong characters and allegory, Yan Lianke’s work exposes the nepotism and greed rife in China whilst at the same time giving us poignant moments of love, self-sacrifice and humanity between the villagers. It may be difficult to imagine that this subject matter could evoke humour, but the absurdity of certain situations (a free coffin from the Government as consolation for dying from AIDS; an AIDS couple arguing about who should die first so that a nice coffin and a good funeral will be assured; matchmaking the dead) does not fail to raise a chuckle.
Yan claims that Dream of Ding Village is a sanitized version of the documentary he intends to write. If only a fraction of the events portrayed had truly happened, then it would already be a tragedy of epic proportions: it is easy to see why the Chinese authorities have banned this book. The lack of responsibility taken or reparation made would certainly warrant a cover up. Dream of Ding Village is a powerful read: in places it will leave you gasping and it will stay with you long after you turn the last page. It will also make you grateful that you donate blood under conditions so vastly different from these. Cindy Carter’s excellent translation deserves a special mention.

Small Wonder, Barbara Kingsolver’s second book of essays, was written after the events of 9/11, and touches on subjects as diverse as Terrorism, why the world doesn’t like America, Genetic Modification, Teenagers, Mothers, and Self-Sustainability. While I may not have agreed with every single word of the essays, on the whole, I found Kingsolver’s to be the Voice of Reason. As with her previous book of essays, High Tide in Tucson, there were some aspects that avid readers of Kingsolver’s novels would have found reflected there. The essays are interesting and thought-provoking. The essay on Genetic Modification is particularly succinct. I would recommend this book, not just to Kingsolver fans, but to anyone who wants to read a reasonable point of view.

The Scarpetta Factor is Patricia Cornwell’s 17th Scarpetta novel. The Scarpetta novels have had a chequered history: they started out consistently good and then went downhill for a while. This one is quite an improvement on those of 5 or 6 years ago. While it’s a bit slow-moving in places, on the whole, it has something like the quality of the first novels. A lot of the subject matter is topical, the CSI bits are better than ever, and the characters have finally matured somewhat: they have gone from acting like self-indulgent and irritating juveniles to reasonably responsible adults, although Lucy could probably do with anger management classes. With regard to the plot, it helps if you can remember what happened around the time of Benton Wesley’s disappearance, but it’s not essential. I enjoyed this novel and look forward to reading the next Scarpetta, Port Mortuary.

Emma Donoghue’s latest novel, Room, is told from the perspective of Jack, a five-year-old boy who has lived his whole life inside “Room” with his mother, Ma. Having Jack narrate is a clever device: through his innocent eyes and ears, we gradually learn how he and Ma come to be in this situation and what fills their days. We share Jack’s thoughts about daily life and his fear at the thought of escape and the attempt to carry it out. Altogether, it makes for horror, humour, hope, suspense and sadness. I really enjoyed this book. I laughed, I cried, and at one stage, the tension was so high, I did the reading equivalent of putting your hands in front of your eyes in a scary movie: I had to walk away for a break. Apart from that, I found it hard to put down and I am sure many will read it in one sitting. Heartbreaking in parts, it was ultimately a truly uplifting novel.

For me, Ian McEwan’s book, Atonement, was mistitled. I think a better title would have been “How to profit from ruining others’ lives”. I was prepared to give this book a chance. A slow start, but good use of language, beautifully written, characters to love and hate and what seemed like a good story until the rather grim ending, which made a complete lie of the blurb on the back: “Briony will have witnessed mysteries, and committed a crime for which she will spend the rest of her life trying to atone”. If doing a bit of wartime nursing and then writing the story of your crime after all the people to whom it might matter have died, first changing the ending so that it will be more acceptable to the reader, then Briony’s definition of atonement is something different from the accepted one. “Atonement: amends or reparation made for an injury or wrong”. I felt cheated by the ending for the time I spent on this book. Guess I don't need to try any more by Ian McEwan!

Kate Grenville’s latest novel, “The Lieutenant” is a beautifully crafted work. The Lieutenant in question, Daniel Rooke, is based on William Dawes, a soldier in His Majesty’s Marine Force on the First Fleet which arrived in Sydney Cove in 1788. Dawes accompanied the First Fleet as an astronomer, to record the predicted reappearance of a comet in late 1788/early 1789. The story is thus based on historical events: Grenville fills in the blanks of everyday life around these events in a way that makes the historical facts a pleasure to assimilate. Whilst waiting alone in his observatory for the comet to appear, the lieutenant interacts with the indigenous population, his intention being to make a study of the native language. This interaction with the natives, in general, and his friendship with a young girl, in particular, appears to be a pivotal point in Rooke’s life. Subsequent events prompt Rooke to re-evaluate his priorities and lead him to the conclusion that “…the service of humanity and the service of His Majesty were not congruent”.
Grenville’s skill is such that we cannot help but feel empathy with the young Rooke from the very first page. Her characters are realistic, although Silk is perhaps not what he first appears to be. The dialogue takes us very effectively back to the 18th century. Grenville conveys the feel of the place and the time with consummate ease.
This is a novel about language and communication, solitude and loneliness, duty and integrity. Grenville explores friendship, truth, a man’s place in the universe. And what is worth risking one’s career or even one’s life for. The end leaves a lump in the throat.
What a pleasure this novel was to read. Let us hope for more from Kate Grenville soon.