Review: One of Us is Lying by Karen McManus

I should actually have reviewed One of Us is Lying ages ago, ideally some point after I read it way back in August. I wasn't going to bother because I had ridiculously conflicting opinions about this book, but then I've seen just one two many glowing review to not stick my oar in.

Plot summary: On Monday afternoon, five students at Bayview High walk into detention.

Bronwyn, the brain, is Yale-bound and never breaks a rule. Addy, the beauty, is the picture-perfect homecoming princess. Nate, the criminal, is already on probation for dealing. Cooper, the athlete, is the all-star baseball pitcher. And Simon, the outcast, is the creator of Bayview High’s notorious gossip app.

Only, Simon never makes it out of that classroom. Before the end of detention Simon's dead. And according to investigators, his death wasn’t an accident. On Monday, he died. But on Tuesday, he’d planned to post juicy reveals about all four of his high-profile classmates, which makes all four of them suspects in his murder. Or are they the perfect patsies for a killer who’s still on the loose?

Everyone has secrets, right? What really matters is how far you would go to protect them.

I suppose the most important thing is that I enjoyed reading this book. It's written reasonably well, the dialogue isn't stilted and weird, and the narrative isn't clunky. It flows great and I kept turning the pages. My problem was that I didn't think certain... issues are dealt with in a respectful fashion.

The narrative follows four characters, each with their own chapters told in the first person. Perhaps surpringly for a YA contemporary novel, I actually quite liked them. Each character fits neatly into one of the teenage stereotypes - the vapid popular girl, the sports star, the tortured soul and the nerd. I think this is done intentionally so it's not as cloying as it sounds.

They're actually pretty great. Each character has a distinctive voice to separate them from the others and their personalities have a surprising depth. My favourite was Addy, the popular clique girl who is slowly starting to break free of her pre-determined role and consider whether this is really who she wants to be after all. 

Each of these characters has a secret, hence their potential motive for murdering the person about to reveal it. Some of these 'secrets' are infinitely more interesting than others - Bronwyn's, for example, is most definitely not a big deal and Nate's is practically plastered on his forehead. That said, I really liked Cooper's grand reveal, which I didn't see coming at all. It's a mix, in short. 

So who killed Simon? ARGH, I really need to talk about this but it's obviously ridiculously spoilery. I'm just going to have to say that I was really disappointed with the ending. I guessed the ending almost immediately but decided I was wrong because it was too obviously and there must be a twist. There wasn't.

But that's fine, I can deal with a predictable ending because I really enjoyed the characters. I have massive issues with another area of the book though, but it's an issue that would be spoilery if I even told you what the issue was.

Essentially, a certain character's actions are promoted and almost encouraged in a very damaging way. There's no discussion as to the reason behind their actions and it results in only benefits to that person, which is horrific. Nobody gets any comeuppance for their actions, neither for the issue that I'm dancing around or for the 'secrets' that made the characters suspects in the first place.

So yes, while I enjoyed the act of reading One of Us is Lying due to the great character development, the ending was predictable and certain serious issues are dealt with in a very cavalier light.  

If you've read this, please talk to me about it. Am I the only one who had similar issues? 

Review: See What I Have Done by Sarah Schmidt

I freely admit that I picked up See What I Have Done simply because it's beautiful. I was browsing in Waterstones and just doesn't resist the embossed grey cover and the neon orange pages. I even put it down a few times and tried to walk away, but I just couldn't follow through. Luckily, I ended up enjoying the story almost as much as the aesthetics (even though I spent an unreasonable amount of my reading time stroking the cover).

Plot summary: When her father and step-mother are found brutally murdered on a summer morning in 1892, Lizzie Borden - thirty two years old and still living at home - immediately becomes a suspect. But after a notorious trial, she is found innocent, and no one is ever convicted of the crime.

Meanwhile, others in the claustrophobic Borden household have their own motives and their own stories to tell: Lizzie's unmarried older sister, a put-upon Irish housemaid, and a boy hired by Lizzie's uncle to take care of a problem.

This unforgettable debut makes you question the truth behind one of the great unsolved mysteries, as well as exploring power, violence and the harsh realities of being a woman in late nineteenth century America.

I knew parts of the Lizzie Borden story - I knew that her parents had been murdered and that it was publically accepted that 'she done it,' but somehow it couldn't be proved in Court and she was subsequently acquitted. Turns out I was wrong about some of the most fundamental parts, however - it occurred in Boston, not London as I had thought, and she was a full-grown adult. Maybe it was just because she features in a skipping rhyme, but I thought I knew she was a child when it happened. This was king of jarring, to be honest, but my lack of knowledge is hardly the author's fault.

See What I Have Done is primarily a story about the people surrounding the death of Mr and Mrs Borden, not the facts of the case. The narrative of the chapters alternate between Lizzie, her sister, their maid and their uncle's colleague (weirdly) as they discuss the events of the fateful day and shortly afterwards. There wasn't a great deal of distinction between the four as their voices sound eerily similar, with the exception of the heavy implication that Lizzie has some sort of mental illness. Still, they were all very readable and the function of all four characters was evident.

I'm slightly confused about the inclusion of their Uncle's friend, Benjamin, however. I've done a bit of googling and I can't work out if he was a real person, or if he was just included to provide an alternative theory as to the murders. I know it's a very character-driven piece of fiction, but I can't quite see the benefit of completely fabricating a person who became heavily involved in the plot of the novel. It may be that I've just missed him in my 'research' (although it's a bit of a stretch to call it that) but even if so, some parts of the story could never be verified.

With that in mind, I'd imagine it's only very loosely based on actual events. The author states in her Afterword that 'the case didn't interest me in the slightest,' but she became interested in the people after Lizzie had come to her in a dream. As you may have guessed, it's a very... floaty Afterward.

I enjoyed reading this book, although even now I'd be hard pressed to tell you even now what the evidence was, who the suspects were and why Lizzie wasn't convicted. The story ends immediately after the funeral and before the Police investigation really starts, and then there's a quick epilogue ten years or so later. There's no discussion of it at all and it's odd that even the characters barely wonder in their narratives who murdered Mr and Mrs Borden.

As I said, the characters were interesting and it's well-written enough. Lizzie herself was crafted remarkably well, particularly with regard to her twinges of instablity. There's only a hint of it, but it's there. It's just bizarre that a book about Lizzie Borden doesn't discuss who murdered her parents. There's a heavy implication throughout that she was responsible, but this is mostly based on her mental state and not factual evidence, and the novel doesn't actually reach a conclusion. The different factors aren't tied together very well at all and it's very vague about what could have happened. It's even difficult to piece together a chronology as the narratives of the characters doesn't always match up with regard to timings - they jump around a little and it's quite jarring.  

See What I Have Done is an interesting idea and it definitely captivated my attention. It also corrected the erroenous information I had about Lizzie Borden's age and the geographical location. However, I finished the book a little unfulfilled. I just don't understand the point of writing a book that feels unfinished. Why discuss Lizzie Borden and not theorise who the murderer was!?

You can stay in Lizzie Borden's house! Is this not the best thing ever!?  

Review: Curtain: Poirot's Last Case by Agatha Christie

It's rare that I bother to post a review of an Agatha Christie book. They're sort of like the Discworld books in that I like them all and they all have the same quirks. Plus, if I'm honest, they all tend to blend together. Curtain though... Curtain needs talking about because I just can't get it out of my head.

Plot summary: The crime-fighting careers of Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings have come full circle - they are back once again in the rambling county house in which they solved their first murder together.

Both Poirot and Great Styles have seen better days - but despite being crippled with arthritis, there is nothing wrong with the great detective's 'little grey cells.' However, when Poirot brands one of the seemingly harmless guests a five-times murderer, some people have their doubts. But Poirot alone knows he must prevent a sixth murder before the curtain falls...

On the face of it, this is a fairly straighforward Agatha Christie novel. There's a big country house, a murder and lots of guests of varying genders, ages, professions and potential motives. The 'twist' with this one is that Poirot's knocking on a bit in years. He's confined to a wheelchair because of his arthritis so he has to use Captain Hastings as his eyes and ears... much to his evident (and fully justified) frustration. More on Captain Hopeless later.

Turning to the actual plot, this is possibly the cleverest Agatha Christie novel I have read, with the exception of perhaps And Then There Were None. It's certainly the cleverest in the Poirot series. I think what made it stand out for me was how sinister it is. It's very, very dark, much more so than any of the others. It's possibly why it's stuck in my head more than a  week later. I keep thinking about it and shuddering a little. 

The ending is... unexpected. I ran round asking everybody I knew, 'Does Poirot die?'  before I even dared to pick it up. The answer is almost irrelevant -  it's so much more than that. I also liked that this book, the last of the series, takes place at the same manor house that features in the first book, The Mysterious Affair at Styles. It's a perfect end to the 84 novels, stories and plays featuring the little Belgian detective. 

I'm not sure this book would have the same impact if you didn't have a few of the previous novels under your belt so that you really understand Poirot's character. It is quite depressing that that he's is old and poorly but I felt better when I realised his mental faculties were completely unimpaired, and that he retained his inherent cheerfulness (and lack of faith in Captain Hastings).

Speaking of. I've ranted about Captain Hastings on several occasions before, but he really takes the cake with this one. Look. You have been a sidekick to this detective for three decades, during which time Poirot has never once, NOT ONCE, been wrong. This means that you could probably stop from questioning his sanity, experience and sense every single time he implies he might have reached a conclusion. His age is immaterial. SHUT UP.

It's just that he seems even sulkier in Curtain. His best friend is stuck in a wheelchair, has suffered multiple heart attacks and can't run around solving the murder he desperately wants to... and you're going to sit there and give him the cold shoulder because he won't tell you who he suspects in case they murder you next. How unreasonable. I haaaate you.

Curain is genuinely amazing. I'm not sure I'll read it again in a hurry, partly because I don't think it would have the same impact if you already knew what was coming, but also because I'm not quite ready to be this traumatised again in the near future.
 
Read my review of Death on the Nile, my favourite Hercule Poirot novel.  

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

I added this to my wishlist right after finishing The Haunting of Hill House earlier this year. I'd link you to a review, but like almost every other book I've read this year, I didn't write one. I chose to learn Russian instead. Yes, I am also a little confused as to why. Anyway, I knew I wanted to read every book she had ever written, and We Have Always Lived in the Castle is the author's most famous work. I now completely understand why and I'm in total agreement. It's amazing and I want to lick it.

Plot summary: Living in the Blackwood family home with only her sister Constance and her Uncle Julian for company, Merricat just wants to preserve their delicate way of life. But ever since Constance was acquitted of murdering the rest of the family, the world isn't leaving the Blackwoods alone. And when Cousin Charles arrives, armed with overtures of friendship and a desperate need to get into the safe, Merricat must do everything in her power to protect the remaining family. 

I was absolutely hooked by the end of the first page. It's narrated by Merricat, or Mary Katherine Blackwood, in a very formal yet oddly chatty tone. She lives with her sister, who was formerly on trial for poisoning the rest of their family, and their Uncle Julian, who somehow managed to survive the whole thing. It's one of those books where the truth is finally unearthed with little hints here and there, dotted in and amongst the narrative of their daily lives.

The trial and the murder aren't the focus of We Have Always Lived in the Castle though, not really. It's more of a background feature to explain why the two women live alone and why the village dislikes their presence to such a vehement extent. The subtlety of it makes it all the more fascinating. The main plot revolves around their Cousin Charles, who suddenly rolls up one day and begins what Merricat refers to as The Change.

As with most of Shirley Jackson's books (from the two I've read and what I've heard of the others), there's a very Gothic, mysterious atmosphere that seems to creep from the very pages. Merricat likes to hide little treasures in the ground of their property, as apparently this will create some kind of ward to protect her and Constance from the outside world. She never quite comes out and says that she believes she has magical powers, but the implication is very much there. 

My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead.

There's also a mental illness theme that runs through this book. It seems to be a trademark of Shirley Jackson's to keep the reader on their toes - half the time you're not sure whether the characters have psychological issues or there really is something worrying going on. Aside from Uncle Julian's obvious difficulties, both Constance and Merricat have been affected by the trial and the death of their family, and it shows in their actions. Both are agoraphobic, although to different extents, and both are stuck in the mindset they carried during That Time six years previously. It's very cleverly written. 

I don't feel like this review is really doing any justice at all to the book. It's hard to capture the subtlety and the atmosphere of this book, that is just written so beautifully. Even the ending is perfect, in a lot of different ways. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I turned the last page and I would be very surprised if this book didn't make my Top Ten Books of 2015 list. 

Read Laura's review of The Haunting of Hill House at Devouring Texts.

Review: We Need To Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver

You'd never believe how long I've put off writing this review; it's just going to be impossible. Not only did this book make me feel such a complex range of emotions, but every single person I've talked to seems to have taken something different from We Need To Talk About Kevin. Ah well, here goes nothing.

Plot summary: Eva never really wanted to be a mother; certainly not the mother of the unlovable boy who murdered seven of his fellow high school students, a cafeteria worker and a teacher who tried to befriend him. Now, two years later, it is time for her to come to terms with marriage, career, family, parenthood and Kevin's horrific rampage in a series of startlingly direct correspondences with her absent husband, Franklyn. Uneasy with the sacrifices and social demotion of motherhood from the start, Eva fears that her alarming dislike for her own son may be responsible for driving him so nihilistically off the rails.

In Lionel Shriver's afterword she says, 'Though any writer is pleased by admiring reviews, I've been more fascinated by the responses to Kevin from so-called 'ordinary' readers. Not only are many of these amateur reviews well written and reflective, but they divide almost straight down the middle into what seems to be reviews of two different books.'

That's exactly it (as much as I bristle at being called ordinary). I've spent quite a while talking to Ellie about this and I swear that she's read a completely different book because her viewpoint is almost the exact opposite of mine. The basic point of We Need To Talk About Kevin is what drove him to murder seven classmates and two adults in a highschool gym - did his unaffectionate mother drive him to it or was he just born 'evil?'

There doesn't seem to be any middle ground here at all - you either completely believe that Eva shouldn't have had children in the first place or you feel desperately sorry for her and the way Kevin turned out. That's a testament to Lionel Shriver's great writing - there are two books intertwined within and your own experiences and your own morals (I think my nine months of working with serial rapists affected my judgement) determine which version plays out in your head.

You know what happened right from the beginning; it's even in the blurb. Kevin shot people and is now in prison. It's hardly a secret. But that's all you know until Eva unravels it for you, little by little. It's as if she's telling a story to her estranged husband but with the benefit of hindsight, and it's that hindsight that makes this story fascinating.

I have reflected on the fact that for most of us, there is a hard, impassable barrier between the most imaginatively detailed depravity and its real-life execution. It's the same solid steel wall that inserts itself between a knife and my wrist even when I'm at my most disconsolate. So how was Kevin able to raise that crossbow, point it at Laura's chestbone, and then really, actually, in time and space, squeeze the release? I can only assume he discovered what I never wish to. That there is no barrier.

This book is perfect. Well, no, actually it's horrible. But it's perfectly written. It's not just what Kevin eventually ends up doing, it's the little details that really 'get' you and keep you looking over your shoulder for days to come. His mannerisms are so spot-on and vaguely terrifying that it's a masterpiece of characterisation.

Eva is also a perfectly written character, but one I had an awful lot more sympathy for. Not killing nine people helps with that, I've found. I wouldn't say I liked her, but I had a lot of respect for her honesty and her willingness to admit her own flaws. Plus, nobody deserves to go through what she has, regardless of... well, anything.

Franklin, Kevin's father, is a little bit flatter as a character but then he doesn't feature half as much as Kevin and Eva do. If I'm honest, I'd have to admit that I hated him more than the other two combined, just for being so damned naive and the infuriating way he undermined Eva at every opportunity. Maybe I should pin any 'blame' on him for lack of appropriate discipline.

I might be more kindly disposed to this ultra-secular notion that whenever bad things happen someone must be held accountable if a curious little halo of blamelessness did not seem to surround those very people who perceive themselves as bordered on every side by wickedness. That is, it seems to be the same folks who are inclined to sue builders who did not perfectly protect them from the depredations of an earthquake who will be the first to claim that their son failed his math test because of attention defecit disorder, and not because he spent the night before at a video arcade instead of studying complex fractions.

It's not just the characters though. What well and truly makes this book is the altering relationship between Kevin and Eva. I've never seen anything like it and I can't even begin to decide which adjectives describe it effectively. It's so subtle but it's definitely there. I think you might have to read it to understand, but you should be reading this anyway.

It was a struggle to read the last few pages. Not because I didn't passionately love the book, but because it's hard. If you have a soul, a heart or any form of compassion, it's so damned hard to turn those pages. I predicted parts of the twist but it didn't stop it from hurting so much. I wanted to cry, throw up and hug Eva all at the same time.

The only only only thing wrong with this book is that occasionally the sentences are a little... odd. Sometimes I had to reread a sentence a few times and mentally add a few commas before I could understand the meaning properly. It's not a constant fault and the prose is of a generally high standard, but that's why I noticed it all the more when it did happen.

We Need To Talk About Kevin isn't an easy read and it's not particularly an enjoyable one either. What it is, is truly amazing. It takes real skill to create a novel so unique that every reader interprets differently. Please read this. It's one of the best books I've ever come across.

This book was:

• The Best Book I Read in 2014
• The Most Unputdownable Book of 2014
• The Most Memorable Character of 2014 (Kevin, obviously)  
• The Book I Can't Believe I Waited Until 2014 To Read

Have you read We Need To Talk About Kevin? What's your view - whose 'fault' was it?

 

Review: The Dinner by Herman Koch

As previously promised, this is the second installment of 'That Month Where Hanna Could Only Read Her Birthday Books.' Not that I'm complaining though, as I've had a 100% success rating so far. Bex bought me The Dinner after hearing about the 72 times I dithered over it whilst book shopping, and it turns out that I should have just bought the damn thing in the first place. It's amazing.

Plot summary: A summer's evening in Amsterdam and two couples meet at a fashionable restaurant. Between mouthfuls of food and over the delicate scraping of cutlery, the conversation remains a gentle hum of politeness - the banality of work, the triviality of holidays. But the empty words hide a terrible conflict and, with every forced smile and every new course, the knives are being sharpened...

As the dinner reaches its culinary climax, the conversation finally touches on their children and, as civility and friendship disintegrate, each couple shows just how far they are prepared to go to protect those they love.

The entire novel takes place over one meal at a fancy restaurant. Paul and his wife are soon joined by Paul's brother, a high-ranking politician, and his wife, Babette. It starts out trivially enough but eventually it's revealed that there's a purpose for that a meal; an issue relating to their children that needs to be discussed. Slowly, with the aid of flashbacks, more is revealed about what the teenagers have done and which adult knows which part.  

It's done very, very well. It's fast-paced; incredibly so when you consider that hardly anything actually happens - it's all in the past. I absolutely couldn't put it down as I needed to know how the meal was going to end as we slowly progressed through the many courses with the two couples.

It's not for the squeamish. Don't read it if you can't deal with violence. It's not just that there is a lot of explicitly-described gore but even the language and tone are somehow aggressive. It's very cleverly done and I'm sure the translator deserves some credit there as well.

The Dinner also raises some interesting moral issues - how far would you go to protect your children? At what point do your actions stop being for their benefit? How much does a children's upbringing affect their mental state? Unfortunately for Paul, these questions are incredibly clear-cut.

I'm struggling to think of a negative for The Dinner. The main character is incredibly irritating, but it's more of a plot point than a failure of the writing. The other characters are also quite flat and two-dimensional, but again - plot point. It's a very short book so there's not much more I can say without beginning to give away spoilers, but I really do recommend reading it. Just perhaps not in the queue for a Sarah J. Maas book signing, like I did.

What did you think of The Dinner? 

Review: They Do It With Mirrors by Agatha Christie

I love Agatha Christie books - they're the perfect comfort read. Accessible and light, but with just enough twists to keep you guessing. I usually much prefer Poirot to Miss Marple, as he's just somehow cooler, the latter is just occasionally worth keeping an eye on.

A man is shot at in a juvenile reform home – but someone else dies…
Miss Marple senses danger when she visits a friend living in a Victorian mansion which doubles as a rehabilitiation centre for delinquents. Her fears are confirmed when a youth fires a revolver at the administrator, Lewis Serrocold. Neither is injured. But a mysterious visitor, Mr Gilbrandsen, is less fortunate – shot dead simultaneously in another part of the building. Pure coincidence? Miss Marple thinks not, and vows to discover the real reason for Mr Gilbrandsen’s visit.

All the plot summaries for all the Agatha Christie's books sound the same, which isn't really appropriate. I mean, fair enough, they often have similar components and the tense atmosphere is generally present but each book is very unique. The setting is different and the ingenious denouement has never been replicated in a different book that I know of. I've said it before, but once again- even if you've read one of her books and didn't like it, try another. They're just so different to each other.

Anyway. Usually I dislike Miss Marple for just ambling around asking everybody personal questions which, for some reason, they answer. I don't understand this. We live in England. People don't spill out their innermost feelings to people they haven't known for 25 years, much less to an interfering old lady who sits next to them on a bench. Well, they do to Miss Marple and then she does nothing but nod along while an Inspector later solves the crime, going "Ah yes, yes, I knew that." Argh.

I bring this up because actually this book isn't like that, for a change. Miss Marple doesn't have a whole lot to do with solving the crime (not that she ever does) but at least she doesn't get in the way either. I do respect that she never does what every other fictional amateur detective does and decides not to inform the police for some unfathomable reason. Instead she's all "Oh hello, Mr Policeman. This is what I know..." I wish they'd all take a lesson from her!

Thinking about it, there's no reason They Do It With Mirrors actually needs Miss Marple - the entire plot could continue without more or less. Huh. That's interesting. There are actually scenes where she's not present, which doesn't make sense. Usually these books follow the detective but instead we see scenes where the detective is interviewing the other witnesses. It works just fine but it makes me wonder if this was always intended to be a Miss Marple book. 

For me, the most important thing about the book was... I GUESSED THE ENDING. This isn't particularly a thing in itself, other than that this never happens. I can't remember the endings of the books I have read and I'm notoriously terrible at predicting even low-budget romantic comedies, so for this to happen pretty much thrilled me. That's not to say that the ending was predictable or week - it wasn't. It's still just as clever as the all the other novels, but clearly this one was on my wavelength!

To conclude, They Do It With Mirrors was full of pleasant surprises - firstly that I guessed the ending but also because Miss Marple was a much more likeable character than she is normally. If you're looking for a place to start but haven't taken to Hercule Poirot, this would be a good place to start.

Read my review of And Then There Were None, my favourite Agatha Christie!

 

Review: The Secret History by Donna Tartt

Sometimes you buy a book based on an interesting synopsis or even a beautiful cover; a recommendation from a friend maybe. Then again, every so often a book crops up that you know absolutely nothing about but you read it anyway just because it's within easy reach of your oh-so-lazy self. The Secret History was just such a book. Charlotte recommended it to me, but only in passing and in the vaguest of ways. The blurb tells you absolutely nothing and the cover is hardly descriptive. And yet this modern classic ended up being one of the best written and enigmatic books I've read this year.

Plot summary: Under the influence of their charismatic classics professor, a group of clever, eccentric misfits at an elite New England college discover a way of thinking and living that is a world away from the humdrum existence of their contemporaries. But when they go beyond the boundaries of normal morality their lives are changed profoundly and forever.

Hardly specific. Yet I do think that's an asset for The Secret History. With some books you need to begin with an understanding of the general direction of the story, but here I loved just settling back for the journey. I didn't know what The Point was, the tone or even what genre it was going to end up (and that's still under dispute), but that meant every development and twist was a complete and absolute surprise.

The prologue threw me a little in that respect. I suppose I was expecting something very academic and perhaps relationship-related, and the very dramatic and adventure-type-novel tone of the prologue threw me a little. In all honesty I nearly didn't continue with the book at all. However, I've stated time and time again that the first thing I'll do as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom is to completely outlaw both epilogues and prologues alike, and I think that my point in that respect is proved with The Secret History.

The book itself is certainly not even remotely adventure-ish. It has quite a slow plot with not a great deal of action, but you feel the twists in the plot like a punch to the stomach. The story is built up ever-so-slowly with a lot of discussion about classic philosophers and morality that occasionally went over my head. It's not to a book to pick up when you're sleepy as it would be almost impossible to follow.

I listened, a bit affronted by his tone. To do what he asked was tantamount to my transferring entirely out of Hampden College into his own little academy of ancient Greek, student body five, six including me. 'All my classes with you?' I said.
'Not quite all of them,' he said seriously, and then laughed when he saw the look on my face. 'I believe that having a great diversity of teachers is harmful and confusing for a young mind, in the same way I believe that it is better to know one book intimately than a hundred superficially,' he said. 'I know the modern world tends not to agree with me, but after all, Plato had only one teacher, and Alexander.' 

Don't let that put you off though. The tension and the atmosphere is almost tangible, and without doubt the best thing about this novel. I put down the book and still felt the pressure to keep hold of all the dark secrets I'd been told in confidence through reading. It's a masterpiece of storytelling, it really is.   

The various relationships, secrets, plots and betrayals loosely demonstrate the Greek tragedies which are, after all, the theme of the book. It's not something I picked up upon until I sat down afterwards to consider exactly why The Secret History works so well, but I eventually clicked onto the way it shadows the very concept under discussion. It's actually kind of perfect.

The characters aren't exactly likeable; in fact, they're the very opposite. Then again, the Greek heroes were hardly the epitome of charm and goodness. Except when they transformed into swans and raped women, obviously. It adds to the story to a certain extent though. It adds a certain distance between the characters and the reader, much as though you were studying their actions in an academic context. 

All in all, I love the formal but clever tone and the aura of darkness that surrounds the story. There are lots of twists and secret revelations, but it's the stunning prose that really makes The Secret History what it is. It does require you to take your time while reading it, but I promise you that it's worth every second.

Read a much more eloquent review at The Lit Addicted Brit.

Review: Sparkling Cyanide by Agatha Christie

The stand-alone Agatha Christie books (the ones that feature neither Poirot nor Miss Marple) seem to be a little hit-and-miss.I think that And Then There Were None is one of the cleverest mystery books of all time; I read it before I set up this blog, but you can see The Lit Addicted Brit's review here. It's simply wonderful. But then you have novels like Passenger to Frankfurt (review here - my own this time) where I actually regretted the loss of the few hours it took me to plough through it. So, keeping the above in mind, I was fairly apprehensive when I picked up Sparkling Cyanide. Would it be a spectacular mystery with suspense and a truly thrilling ending, or a complicated political flop?

A beautiful heiress is fatally poisoned in a West End restaurant. Six people sit down to dinner at a table laid for seven. In front of the empty place is a sprig of rosemary -- in solemn memory of Rosemary Barton who died at the same table exactly one year previously. No one present on that fateful night would ever forget the woman's face, contorted beyond recognition -- or what they remembered about her astonishing life.

 

All of society knows that Rosemary Barton committed suicide with cyanide on the evening of her birthday party, but when her husband starts receiving notes that tell him otherwise, he sets out to investigate who could have poisoned his late wife. The book starts out with a chapter devoted to each of the six suspects, as they muse on what they remember of Rosemary Barton. Naturally, as with most mystery novels, it turns out that every single one of them had a motive for murder. After this, the true investigation begins as the Police, aided by an old friend of Mr. Barton, try and discover whether Rosemary's life was in fact cut short by the hand of another.

 

I know it's kind of a strange idea to start a review by talking about the ending of the book, but ohhh, it's all kinds of awesome! The denouement is always the key to a kick-ass mystery story - if it's boring, the whole story will fall apart. The revelation in Sparkling Cyanide is definitely not boring. I honest-to-God literally sat here with my Iron Man blanket and went 'AAaaahhhhh!' and grinned like a lunatic. It's very, very nearly as clever as And Then There Were None, and that takes some doing.

 

The characterisation is a little better than it can be in certain Agatha Christie books. Sometimes they all meld into each other and you can't remember whether Mrs. Tomato was the lady with the little dog, or whether she was the one that slept with Mrs. Butter's husband. Anyway, before I get sucked into the world of kitchen related scandal, that's not the case here. All the suspects have identifiable personalities, and I was fascinated by how each person could have a different perspective on the same event. Frequently a person would know something that another person didn't think they knew, and that could affect the entire case. It was just wonderful how everything could tie in with everything else.

 

Agatha Christie books are very difficult to review, because they all follow more or less the same formula, so I only usually bother if they're particularly good or particularly bad. I read Sparkling Cyanide in pretty much one sitting and it emerged as at least one of my top three mystery novels.  

Review: The Body in the Library by Agatha Christie

I'm not usually the biggest fan of Miss Marple - I much prefer Poirot who actually gets off his arse and does things instead of sitting there and piping up at the end that he knew it all along. Regardless, I really enjoyed The Body in the Library. It's clever, amusing and much more interesting than some of the others.

It's seven in the morning. The Bantrys wake to find the body of a young woman in their library. She is wearing evening dress and heavy make-up, which is now smeared across her cheeks. But who is she? How did she get there? And what is the connection with another dead girl, whose charred remains are later discovered in an abandoned quarry? The respectable Bantrys invite Miss Marple to solve the mystery! before tongues start to wag. 

To be honest, I think this may be the only Miss Marple book I've been impressed with. I love Poirot more than life itself, but Miss Marple just tends to sit there knitting while making obscure little remarks. The Body in the Library is completely different though - she takes an active role in investigations, while still comparing the victim to her sister's neighbour's maid's cat or something similar.

"Downstairs in the lounge, by the third pillar from the left, there sits an old lady with a sweet, placid spinsterish face, and a mind that has plumbed the depths of human iniquity and taken it as all in the day's work. Her name's Miss Marple. She comes from the village of St Mary Mead, she's a friend of the Bantrys - and where crime is concerned she's the goods, Conway."

I love how all the characters keep mentioning how the whole scandal 'seems like something from a mystery novel!' Ms. Christie states in the introduction how she wanted to take a mystery novel cliche (the body in the library, shockingly) and turn it on it's head. As a result, all the characters seem to be in on the joke and it's hilarious. In an earlier book, someboy states that Ariadne Oliver is the author of a book called 'The Body in the Library,' which apparently Ms. Christie ended up actually writing!

"I say, are you the detectives? I'm Peter Carmody. It was my grandfather, Mr Jefferson, who rang up the police about Ruby. Are you from Scotland Yard? You don't mind my speaking to you, do you?"
Colonel Melchett looked as though he were about to return a short answer, but Superintendent Harper intervened. He spoke benignly and heartily.
"That's all right, my son. Naturally interests you, I expect?"
"You bet it does. Do you like detective stories? I do. I read them all and I've got autographs from Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie and Dickson Carr and H.C. Bailey."

Aww. That actually made me smile. I think that's the main reason I love the book though - Agatha Christie wrote it like she's poking fun at herself and all the author mystery authors of her time. 
And naturally the plot is as ingenious as ever - twists, red herrings, accused innocents and unexpected accomplices! I've always understood why Ms Christie is known as the Queen of Crime, but this book really confirms it for me. These books are always really hard to review, so excuse the brevity - I can't talk about the plot without giving the twists away and the rest of it is very dialogue-based. Just trust me, and choose this one if you're going to read a Marple.