WHERE TIME WINDS BLOW - Book review

Robert Holdstock’s Where Time Winds Blow was published in 1981 – and on the surface it appears he is still haunted by time-displacement which he wrote about in Earthwind (1977).  

We’re on an alien planet, Kamelios; the planet is quite like a chameleon; for example there are electric storms called fiersig – ‘the power-fields of change, twisted and distorted the stable mind just that little bit more, scarring the mind irreversibly in a way too insignificant to note at the time, but with mounting effect over the months and years’ (p27).

The archaeological team consists of the leader, Lena Tanoway, Leo Faulcon and Kris Dojaan. They can only venture outside Steel City when wearing protective masks. Steel City is unusual – ‘the city rise on its engines, and hover almost silently above the blackened crater that had been home for the last quarter year’ (p31).  [Interestingly, Philip Reeve’s Mortal Engines (2003) concerns mobile cities].

The archaeologists investigate a particular rift valley where time winds blow and a phantom human occasionally lurks: ‘he had been snatched by time and flung somewhere, somewhen, some place and time where he had screamed and not-quite-died... a prison where the walls were centuries, where time itself was his gaoler’ (49). The winds deposited ancient buildings, or futuristic edifices, and then frustratingly swept them all away. These ephemeral deposits draw scientists and fortune hunters – all of whom risk being caught in a time squall and sent to oblivion. ‘Faulcon watched as white towers winked out of existence, to be replaced by moving spiral shapes that radiated redly as they turned... an immense spider’s web of girders was torn from vision, flickering a moment as a time squall knocked it into Othertime and back, and then it was gone and a hideous shape stood there, the carved, gargoyle-decorated gateway of a primitive era...’ (p185).

In the mountains were other humans who had been altered ‘to accept the organic poisons of the world, to be able to see without their eyes melting away, to breathe without corroding the linings of their respiratory tracts’ (p99). The manchanged.

The actual phrase ‘where the time winds blow’ is used on p202.

Holdstock’s world-building is excellent. The characters interact and are conflicted. There’s hubris, cowardice, bravery and (perhaps too much) philosophising.

A rewarding science fiction excursion from a brilliant mind.

And interestingly the prolific Holdstock wrote The Night Hunter series of supernatural thrillers using the pen-name Robert Faulcon!

Editorial comment:

‘Faulcon thought to himself that...’ (p212). Faulcon thought that... is all that is needed!

Mission: Falklands - Just Published!

Mission: Falklands is the fourth in the Tana Standish psychic spy thriller series. 

The Tana Standish missions are a mixture of fact and fiction but with ‘a nifty twist’, as one reviewer put it. The ‘smart, sexy female protagonist isn’t just a rare child survivor from Warsaw’s WWII ghetto. Nor is she merely a highly skilled covert operative, brought up by the British to be extremely effective against the KGB. Tana Standish has one more thing going for her: psychic talents. There’s nothing outlandish in the psi-spy’s capabilities – they’re neatly underplayed, a talent which isn’t understood or entirely controllable but which frequently tips the odds in her favour.’

Mission: Prague (Czechoslovakia, 1975).

Mission: Tehran (Iran, 1978).

Mission: Khyber (Afghanistan, 1979-1980).

Mission: Falklands (Argentina, the Falkland Islands, and South Georgia, 1982).

[All of the above are available on Amazon in paperback and e-book format]

It took thirty-four years for my original Tana Standish psychic spy novel The Ouija Message to grow and improve and eventually transmogrify into Mission: Prague. One of my first versions was rejected by Robert Hale with the comment that it was better than many books that were published but they ‘didn’t do fantasy’. (They accepted my first book sale in 2007, a western!). It came close a few times to being accepted but in retrospect I’m glad it didn’t get published earlier. The characters and the story required more depth, more time to evolve. Naturally, there has to be a willingness to suspend disbelief regarding psychic abilities! Then again, most fiction is fantasy anyway.

Prague garnered good reviews, such as ‘Interestingly, Morton sells it as a true story passed to him by an agent and published as fiction, a literary ploy often used by master thriller writer Jack Higgins. Let’s just say that it works better than Higgins.’ – Danny Collins, author of The Bloodiest Battles.

Each book begins with my first person narration. I receive a manuscript from a secret agent which recounts one of Tana’s missions. Here’s an excerpt of the Prologue from Mission: Falklands:

Beyond the headland the North Sea was grey and turbulent, white horses racing towards the shore. Leaden clouds swirled, harbingers of rain, threatening another bleak December day. I managed to find a parking space for my Dacia Sandero on the road opposite the Octagon Tower, built in 1720, in the Northumberland town of Seaton Sluice – known colloquially as ‘the Sluice’ – half-way between Whitley Bay and Blyth.

I walked the short distance past a dry-stone wall towards the King’s Arms, a large three-storey whitewashed sandstone pub. Almost everywhere you went in the north-east was steeped in history and this Grade II listed public house was no exception, built around 1764. Overlooking the small harbour and Seaton Burn with its smattering of small boats beached on mud, it had started out as an overseer’s house, and then became the King’s Arms Hotel and coach house. In the nineteenth century the coach house was used by HM Coastguard on the lookout for contraband smugglers.

On the left was a short bridge which crossed a manmade channel blasted out in the 1760s by Sir John Delaval and named ‘the cut’; the bridge linked the newly formed ‘Rocky Island’ to the mainland and is now adorned with love-padlocks.

Despite the slight chill in the air and the threat of rain, a handful of male and female regulars in shorts and T-shirts sat drinking at wooden tables outside in an area roped-off with beer-barrels: the usual tough north-easterners.

Keith Tyson, retired spy, stood waiting for me at the entrance porch, as punctual as ever. I was pleased to see under his arm he carried a familiar leather valise though it was now a little careworn – a bit like him.

The stories about her missions are told in multiple third person narrative, merging fact and fiction. Part of the inspiration for the series stems from my interest in history.

Wherever possible I have tried to write about places I’ve seen or visited, such as Gosport’s Fort Monkton, the Khyber Pass, Belize, Bahrein, the United States, the Falklands and South Georgia. Other places have required considerable research. In Mission: Tehran at a critical point there is an earthquake in Yazd; that actually happened on the date shown in the book. An episode in Mission: Falklands that involved two Soviets in Altun Ha is derived from my trek there. Another sequence describes a meal in the Pink House in Savannah, Georgia, which I’ve frequented. My memories of two days on South Georgia informed a section of the story too. And so on...

Tana has a few contacts in Argentina and several friends who suffer at the hands of the military regime. Tana is determined to help them. And of course betrayal lurks in the shadows... When she embarks on her rescue crusade she learns a devastating fact that changes everything and thrusts her towards the Falkland Islands and inhospitable South Georgia at the outset of the historic conflict...

Inevitably Argentina’s ‘disappeared’ and ‘death flights’ are relevant. As with all the books in the series, I’ve strived to inject realism even with the fantasy concept of psychics. As one reviewer has stated, ‘Such is the level of detail and ambition that Morton soon sweeps up the reader in the narrative and creates so convincing a canvas that we can easily accept the central conceit. Bouncing between different times and locations, he has created a book which feels big in scope, an adventure story with a supernaturally gifted protagonist that still feels absolutely real.’

TARGET ANTARCTICA - Book review

Hammond Innes followed up his novel Isvik (1991) with this sequel, Target Antarctica, in 1993.

As usual, it’s a first person narrative, by Falklands War hero Ed Cruse, having just ignominiously left the RAF. After some shilly-shallying he’s given a job to fly a stranded C-130 Hercules aircraft off an Antarctic iceberg. The reasons are not made clear until near the end of the book. There is a subplot involving one of the interested parties, the tragic if exotic La Belle, which provides a depth of character lacking in a number of the others. Indeed, it is her past that provides the only real fraught conflict.

Ed Cruse is likeable – as are all his first-person protagonists; though I suspect he could be a danger on the roads: he drinks and drives! He had two Bloody Marys and then had a coffee and a couple of large brandies and drove through London in his Jag... (pp138-139)!

I’ve read and enjoyed several books by Innes and found this showed his strengths in putting the reader in the story with believable descriptions. Yet, sadly, it lacked something and I felt the ending was rushed.

If this is your first introduction to Innes and you found it unsatisfactory, do try some of his earlier novels before forsaking his work; you will be rewarded.

THE BLACK ICE - Book review

Michael Connelly’s second Harry Bosch novel The Black Ice was published in 1993 and it fulfils the promise of his first, The Black Echo. Subsequent books do not feature ‘black’ in their titles...

There was a corpse in an LA motel room and it appeared to be a missing narc cop, Cal Moore. Bosch wasn’t invited but attended anyway. It appears to be a suicide – Moore is suspected of crossing over into the criminal fraternity. Detective Bosch isn’t so sure...

The writing is authoritative, putting the reader in the scene. ‘There had been a Streamline Moderne office building that looked like an ocean liner docked next to the motel. It had set sail a long time ago and another mini-mall was there now’ (p11).

Connelly has a way with description, too. ‘... he stood out like a garbage man at a wedding’ (p24). And: ‘The gloom in the squad room was thicker than cigarette smoke in a porno theatre’ (p44). And: ‘He saw the kind of man not many people approached unless they had to’ (p89). And: ‘It was a place to drink mean, as long as you had the green’ (p127).

The characters are distinctive, some good, some unpleasant, some bad. I particularly liked the part-Chinese Mexican Aguila: a very sympathetic fellow. Bosch’s humanity shines through, as does his stubbornness. Needless to say, he’s a great creation – testified by the number of books and a successful long-running TV series.

It seems that Moore had been looking into the movement of a drug called Black Ice from Mexico to LA when he died. Bosch’s investigations take him via the autopsy performed by his on-off bed-mate pathologist Teresa Corazón, through many dives frequented by drunks, to a town across the border, via a grisly bullfight. The more he digs, he’s sure something is being concealed. Corruption is part of it, as well.

Then there are all those damned flies... Fascinating insider knowledge – and a twist ending – make this a police procedural book with a difference.

Next Bosch: The Concrete Blonde.

Editorial comment:

We all make mistakes, me included. Anyway, here are a couple of rare occurrences: ‘He sipped it before speaking’ (p39) and then further down the same page, ‘She handed him a mug of coffee’. It should have read ‘She sipped...’

Bosch’s boss Pounds is talking about another cop, Porter. Then we get: ‘Porter looked exasperated’ (p50) – but it should be Pounds who is exasperated...

EXCURSION TO TINDARI - Book review

Andrea Camilleri’s fifth Montalbano novel Excursion to Tindari was published in 2000 (and published in English 2005).

Montalbano is investigating the murder of 22-year-old Sanfilippo and coincidentally the disappearance of two pensioners living in the same block of flats. The disappearance occurred during the excursion... Naturally, there are no coincidences! The plot, as ever, is convoluted but seems entirely logical and it would be a shame to relate more.

New readers should really start with the first Montalbano book. The rest, they know what to expect:

Long-suffering Fazio muses ‘Whenever the inspector chided him for no reason, it merely meant he needed to let off steam’ (p63). And, naturally, as usual, food and drink figure in the narrative. ‘The day Arturo decided to offer a few scraps of brioche free of charge would be the day the world witnessed a cataclysm to delight Nostradamus’ (p97). The unfortunate accident-prone Judge Tommaseo has yet another car crash – this time, in a ditch (p154). We’re presented with shifts in scene – many involving only telephone conversations – so that at times it’s like reading a radio script. Yet this method is ideal for the screenwriter and for turning the pages fast. There is limited description to put the reader in the scene, but the characters carry the story.

None of the Montalbano mysteries are cosy crime tales, despite the humour and occasional farce; they’re grim, fast-paced and even poignant. And addictive.

The cover – and spine illustrations - of these editions convey the story/plot; better, I feel, than the new covers.

Editorial comment:

‘said to himself’ (p103) – hurrah!

THE CHEROKEE TRAIL - Book review

Louis L’Amour’s novel The Cherokee Trail was published in 1982.

Mary Breydon, widow of retired major Marshall is taking on her late husband’s job of running a stagecoach station. With her daughter Peg she fled her home Harlequin Oaks in the South when it was pillaged and razed by guerrillas. Her father had taught her to ride, to shoot and to stand firm – ‘... “the strongest,” her father said, “is he who stands alone!’ (p95). 

She meets a Union cavalry officer Barry Owen – (not Gary from the 7^th Cavalry music!) Indeed, she meets all sorts of folk on the stagecoaches passing through: ‘Actors, prospectors, gamblers, miners, hunters, newspapermen, homemakers, and shady ladies, whiskey peddlers and weapons-salesmen, Indian agents, drummers from all over the world (p193).

She’s stubborn and brave and peremptorily dismisses the slovenly detestable Scant Luther, making an enemy of the man; there’s another even more formidable, a ruthless war criminal who actually killed her husband! She has to face Indians and gunmen – yet nothing will deter her from making her station the best on the Cherokee Trail.

She is helped by the mysterious Temple Boone, cantankerous Ridge Fenton, the orphan Wat and the Irish lass, Matty – all characters who add to a very enjoyable story.

Interestingly, this adage ‘The secret of victory is to attack, always attack’ (p72) is used in his other books. And why not?

Editorial comment:

‘... the Williamses’ (p138)

And ne-er-do well ‘called Williams’ (p64). Of all the names in the world, why duplicate for two different people?

THE VOICE OF THE VIOLIN - Book review

Andrea Camilleri’s fourth Montalbano novel The Voice of the Violin was published in 1997 (English version in 2003).

It begins humorously with Salvo Montalbano realising it wasn’t going to be his day – besides attending a funeral (the wrong one), other set-backs pile up – not least his distant relationship with Livia. He also has to contend with the new commissioner, Benetti-Alderighi and the new forensics guy, Dr Arquá, both of whom reserve ‘their cordial antipathy’ for the inspector (p29).

Then it gets serious. By roundabout means Montalbano discovers a naked young woman suffocated in her bed. There is no shortage of suspects – her ageing husband, who is a distinguished doctor, a simple shy admirer who has gone missing, an antiques dealer from Bologna, the victim’s friend Anna. The key just might be a reclusive violinist!

‘Maestro Barber struck up the first notes. And before he’d been listening even five minutes, the inspector began to get a strange, disturbing feeling. It seemed to him as if the violin had become a voice, a woman’s voice that was begging to be heard and understood’ (p222).

Montalbano knows his faults. ‘In physics, at school, he’d always been between a D and a F. If he’d had a teacher like her [Anna] in his day, he might have become another Einstein’ (p67).

Acerbic, temperamental, Montalbano castigates his loyal men when things go wrong – but they take it all with a pinch of salt because he gets to the root of the mystery every time. The usual gang are here – Mimi Augello, long suffering; the hapless Catarella who undergoes a sort of transformation; and detective Fazio who he most relies on.

The story races along with rapid scene-shifts – often merely quick-fire telephone conversations. And of course there’s food as well as wit and poignancy, all of which you come to expect in a Montalbano book.

A PLACE CALLED FREEDOM - Book review

Ken Follett’s novel A Place Called Freedom was published in 1995 and is a fascinating dive into history. 

The prologue or whatever (it’s untitled) is a conceit that we could do without; it mentions an iron neck-collar worn by slaves: ‘This man is the property of Sir George Jamisson of Fife, AD 1767’.

The book is broken into three parts: Scotland, London, Virginia.

Mack McAsh is a young miner in Fife; a slave to the mine owner, Sir George. ‘Life was hard for miners, but it was harder for their wives’ (p116). Mack speaks up about the injustice he and his fellows endure and is brutally punished: ‘... you have to understand that they don’t feel pain as we do’ (p132).

Lizzie Hallim used to play with Mack when they were bairns, but now they are worlds apart. She is attractive, indeed. ‘I can get a husband whenever I like. The problem is finding one I can put up with for more than half an hour’ (p14). Her mother needs Lizzie to make a match that will save their property and land since her father has died leaving much debt. The obvious answer is Jay Jamisson, son of Sir George...

This is a time of unrest in the colonies, Boston boycotting all British import, and even giving up tea!  This problem may also affect the lucrative business of transporting and selling seven-year slaves – criminals sent from England to the New World: ‘130 or 140 convicts packed into the hold shoulder-to-shoulder like fish in a basket’ (p44).

Anxious to have his freedom, Mack escapes the mines and finds himself in London, where he falls foul of the law – thanks to the intervention of the Jamissons. He faces the Westminster magistrate, Sir John Fielding. ‘Fielding was blind, but that did not hinder him in his work’ (p249).

Follett has done his research – as he always does. There’s a passage concerning ‘the Blind Beak’ Fielding in The Fatal Shore: A History of the Transportation of Convicts to Australia 1787-1868) (published in 1986) by Robert Hughes. Fielding, half-brother of Henry, was ‘able to identify3,000 different malefactors by their voices alone’ (ibid p26). Due to the American War of Independence, no more convicts were sent to the Americas, so the prison hulks of Britain were overflowing; the government therefore had to resort to transporting felons to Australia instead of to Virginia.

However, this story occurs before the First Fleet to the antipodes, before 1776 in fact. Jay and George Jamisson are classic villains. The fate of Lizzie and Mack are inevitably entwined.

The 567 pages fly by to a satisfactory ending.

Editorial comment:

‘I think to myself’ (p3) – ‘I think’ is adequate!

‘he thought to himself’ (p214). Enough said...

POINT BLANK - Book review

Originally published in 1962 as The Hunter by Richard Stark, this edition is titled Point Blank and published in 1986 and features on the cover a stylised still of Lee Marvin from the 1967 film Point Blank.

Donald E Westlake used several pen-names and Richard Stark was one of his most popular – mainly thanks to the amoral Parker, a man without much of a conscience.

The style is omniscient so we don’t get into the soul of Parker or any of the characters. It’s cold, stark (!) and unrelenting narrative throughout. Deceptively simple to read, but cleverly presented.

Parker is out for revenge. His one-time partner Mal Resnick double-crossed him after a heist, aided by Parker’s wife, Lynn. They left him for dead in a burning building. Slowly and methodically, Parker tracks down his wife: ‘Her face was no longer expressionless. Now it was ravaged. It was as though invisible weights were sewn to her cheeks, dragging the whole face down’ (p16),

On his trail of revenge Parker breaks into room 361. Donald E Westlake’s novel 361 was published the year after his pseudonymous The Hunter.

Mal Resnick is aware that Parker has survived and attempts to silence his ex-accomplice by using heavies from the gambling syndicate known as The Outfit. All parker wants is his fair share of the heist’s loot. The Outfit isn’t playing that game so Parker takes on The Outfit as well...

Grim, fast-paced, and before the end there’s a grudging admiration for this Parker. He’s not infallible, which brings a smile, but in the end, he gets what he wants. 

Editorial comment:

‘... he came to the grocery. BODEGA, it called itself, Spanish for grocery’ (p89). Sure, in the US it goes by that name and purpose; but in Spain a bodega is a wine shop or wine cellar. So it’s not ‘Spanish for grocery’.

‘He knocked the glass over the air conditioner out and...’ (p109). It would read better like this, maybe: ‘He knocked out the glass over the air conditioner and...’

THE FERGUSON RIFLE - Book review

Louis L’Amour’s novel The Ferguson Rifle was published in 1973 and my paperback copy is the fourth reprint (1982). And I’ve just got round to reading it!

It’s early 1800s and is narrated in the first person by Ronan Chantry who is travelling west after the sad demise of his wife and son in a cabin fire. He travels with ‘a good horse, a small pack, an excellent knife, and my Ferguson rifle... my constant companion since my childhood, all that remains of my past, that and a few precious books to stimulate my thoughts...’ (p1). The breech-loading rifle was presented to him by a Major Ferguson in 1780 which he'd made himself.  He had no idea where he was headed. ‘As long as one travels toward a promised land, the dream is there, to stop means to face the reality, and it is easier to dream than to realise the dream’ (p15).

Ronan is well-travelled, a professor of law and literature; he’d ‘studied at the Sorbonne and at Heidelberg and had taught history at Cambridge and William and Mary’ (p22). But he accepted that he had plenty to learn in the Old West from frontiersmen he encountered. ‘The mind that is geared to learning, that is endlessly curious, cannot cease from contemplating and comparing’ (p37).

He soon comes to realise that though he was a civilised man he now existed in an uncivilised world.

He joins a group of friendly frontiersmen who appreciate his skill with the rifle, notably in hunting but also in despatching renegade Indians! On their travels they meet up with a strong-willed woman, Lucinda Falvey, who is searching for some 200-year-old lost treasure. ‘... with winter coming on, the aspen had already turned to gold. The earth where we were to sleep was inches deep with the golden leaves... treasure enough for me’ (p118).

Like all his books, L’Amour puts the reader in the scene. ‘... I could see the moon. The sky was impossibly clear, bathing the forest below in misty golden light. Not the mist of cloud or dampness, but of moonlight among the trees. Behind me bulked the vastness of the mountains, below the steep hillside, the shimmering pool of the aspen...’ (p120).

And Lucinda’s treacherous uncle Rafen is on her trail, determined to wrest the treasure from her grasp.

A short, fast-paced book filled with interesting characters, a smattering of history – even the Knights of Malta! – and the usual western lore so familiar to readers of the author.

Recommended.

THUNDER POINT - Book review

 

Jack Higgins’s thriller Thunder Point was published in 1993 and is a credible page-turner.

It concerns serious incriminating documents from 1945 locked away in a metal Nazi briefcase located in a sunken U-boat in the Caribbean.

The U-boat is discovered by accident in 1992 but when the diver learns of the contents inaccessibly locked in a watertight compartment he consults friends in London. This escalates, ultimately involving Brigadier Ferguson who runs a clandestine unit only answerable to the PM. Ferguson inveigles Sean Dillon, Irish assassin and hard man to penetrate the submarine and recover the briefcase.

Other people learn of this and want the contents either to be destroyed or for potential leverage in a political power-game.

It’s colourful, well-researched and the reader becomes invested in the characters.

A first-rate fast-paced Higgins thriller.

Editorial comment:

In most cases my comments are not criticisms but hints about writing.

There are a couple of contrived episodes involving imprisonment in Yugoslavia and a nun outside Paris, the latter of no real relevance; nothing to spoil the reading experience, however,

This section is from Dillon’s POV:

‘... He recognised Algaro at once... and then Santiago came out of the wheelhouse. “Who’s the guy in the blazer and cap?” Dillon enquired.

“That’s Max Santiago, the owner...”’

Instead of ‘Santiago came out...’ it should have read ‘a man in a blazer and cap came out’. (p179)

Several characters sit or lie and ‘think about things’...

Dillon’s favourite handgun – Walther PPK with a Carswell silencer...

Fact:

The skeletal remains of Martin Bormann were discovered in the 1960s and identified in the 1970s, though not conclusively until 1998 following genetic testing.

GRANTCHESTER-1 - Book review

James Runcie’s first collection of Grantchester short stories feature in this tome: Sydney Chambers and the Shadow of Death, published in 2012. Besides this tale the others included comprise A Question of Trust, First Do No Harm, A Matter of Time, The Lost Holbein, and Honourable Men. These stories span the period 1953-1954.

The stories formed the basis of the popular ITV series Grantchester.

Sydney is in his early 30s and is partial to whisky – ‘favourite tipple... only kept for medicinal purposes’ (p4) – rather than sherry. He fought in the War with the Scots Guards and ruminates on the survivors of the conflict: ‘... rest of their lives lived in the shadow of death’ (p24),

After a funeral that Sydney officiated at mourner Pamela Morton informs him that the reported suicide of a solicitor, Stephen Staunton, was actually murder. The local detective, Inspector Geordie Keating is Sydney’s regular drinking pal and reluctantly goes along with Sydney investigating. Staunton’s widow is German, Hildegard, at a time when memories of the war were still bitter.

The characterisation of all involved in these stories is well done, and the descriptions evoke the place and the feel of the period. ‘As the leaves fell the landscape revealed itself, like a painting being cleaned or a building being renewed’ (p55). This allusion to a painting pre-echoes a later tale, The Lost Holbein.

Sydney is invited to Nigel and Juliette Thompson’s New Year dinner party; it ends in chaos and mystery when an engagement ring goes missing. By now Sydney is worrying about how his life is being affected: ‘... to be suspicious, to think less of less of everybody, suspect his or her motives and trust no one. It was not the Christian way’ (p113). Almost all those gathered at the dinner table are suspects.

In A Matter of Time Runcie cleverly begins with thoughts on four minutes – the time to boil an egg, run a mile, etc – and concludes reflecting on those four minutes.

‘Singing is the sound of the soul’ (p80). Sydney loves jazz and, in the hope that he can convert the inspector, he takes his pal Geordie to see an American jazz singer, Gloria Dee – ‘Ain’t got no husband. You don’t keep the carton once you’ve smoked the cigarettes’. Sadly, there is a murder. ‘He looked like a man who was stuck in a dream of falling from a high building; someone who knew that he would go on falling for the rest of his life...’ (p231).

Sydney has a girl-friend Amanda – it’s platonic though he’d like it to be more – and while helping him she manages to get into a dangerous situation while investigating a missing Holbein painting.

To go into detail about any story would spoil the enjoyment. Suffice it to say that the writing is very good and involving. Sydney and Geordie come alive, as do others. There’s poignancy and light humour and irony on display, too. ‘Let me take your cloak. I always think they make priests look like vampires’ (p113). The main characters in the TV series are all introduced by the end of these stories.

Editorial comment:

The first story begins: ‘Canon Sydney Chambers had never intended to become a detective. Indeed, it came about quite by chance, after a funeral, when a handsome woman of indeterminate age voiced her suspicion that a recent death of a Cambridge solicitor was not suicide, as had been widely reported, but murder.’

This paragraph effectively makes the first few pages superfluous as it tells us what is going to be revealed in those pages. The hook would still work if it merely began with: ‘Canon Sydney Chambers had never intended to become a detective. Indeed, it came about quite by chance.’

‘thought to myself’ (p8). Oh, dear: ‘to myself’ is not necessary.

‘... take a holiday in France, he wondered?’ The question mark should go after ‘France’.

Characters called Thompson, Templeton and Teversham – beginning with ‘T’! There are other letters in the alphabet...

Yet another character called Morton... We do get about.