Category Archives: Crime

Klootzak of the year

Posted on December 25, 2016 by | Leave a comment

Father Christmas listens. It’s amazing how, even quite close to Christmas, the man in red has time to listen to find out what people want. I obviously wanted nothing, but happened to mention that I could do with educating a bit, in regard to music. Lo and behold, what did I find? CDs featuring Bowie’s and Adele’s finest.

Other than that, it was – unsurprisingly – mostly books. What better way to celebrate the end to 2016 than with good old Enid Blyton’s Famous Five on Brexit Island. That will be a jolly read. We also cheered ourselves up by laughing uncontrollably at electric chairs. Yes, it is in very bad taste. I’m sorry. Daughter had bought another quiz book, but the questions were so hard – even for the Resident IT Consultant – that we abandoned it and went back to last year’s quiz volume.

Daughter was shocked at how few presents I got. I was surprised at how many there were for me. She is now an adult. This was made clear by how many gifts she gave and how few she received. (She has rubbish parents.) The generations have swapped places. Luckily a famous author called at Bookwitch Towers last week, with a Christmas present for the witch. Flemish insult on the outside – specially for me – and a migraine trigger on the inside, so I will share it with the Resident IT Consultant. We are both happy.

There were elephants. I have no idea why.

Amaretti. I think I know why. Socks. Obviously.

And the Resident IT Consultant went to bed with Sophie Hannah, looking very happy. (I await my turn.)

Next year I shall have to resort to wrapping individual toffees to increase the number of presents under the tree.

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Posted in Authors, Blogs, Books, Christmas, Crime

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Dangerous book covers

Posted on December 17, 2016 by | Leave a comment

And possibly dangerously murderous contents as well.

I rarely pay all that much attention to the more salesy emails I receive. No time, and no interest in buying lots of books. Especially if I don’t get round to reading them.

But there was this one yesterday, from the big bookshop chain. I have deleted it for my own safety, but I will admit to having looked more than once at the books they offered for Christmas.

I mean, they weren’t actually suggesting I buy these books to give to others, were they? I was more thinking I’d love the books for myself. But that’s a most selfish way of looking at Christmas.

What they had were a handful of crime novels, all with the most enticing covers. That’s the thing really. Some of the books may easily have been bad inside, but oh those dark, snow covered, often retro style houses, where murder is about to happen or has happened – in style, obviously – well, it’s just too hard to resist. Hence the email-deleting. Or else…

It’s the faux Agatha books, or perhaps even some real ones, that are so dangerous. Sometimes it feels as if I could sit and do nothing else but read snowy Christmas murders (as though that was a nice thing).

One Christmas, when I was 17 or thereabouts, I received The Secret of Chimneys (Hemligheten på Chimneys). I have no recollection whether Christmas featured in the story, or if it was my Christmas, all mixed up with a fancy house and all the people therein, murdering each other and stuff, but I so wanted to pack a suitcase right then and simply pop over to England.

Because that’s what it’s like, yes? All that snow, the pretty lights and the red of the holly berries. And the blood.

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Posted in Authors, Books, Bookshops, Christmas, Crime

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The goat

Posted on December 9, 2016 by | 2 comments

I nearly always read the news one day late, and sometimes not at all. But one morning this week my attention was drawn to the short piece about the goat in a Carrickfergus shop.

Goats are nearly always fun, but I primarily noticed it because of Carrickfergus, where I’ve never been, but which is home to one of my most favourite detectives, Adrian McKinty’s Duffy.

Then, for some reason, I decided to dive into my junkmail, which I hardly ever do. (I ought to really, as it often contains important stuff.) Found a tweet by Adrian McKinty about funny books, and followed the trail to Adrian’s blog, thinking it was odd how he cropped up twice in a morning.

On the blog I followed the trail further to Adrian’s new website where – naturally – there was a goat. In Carrickfergus. In a shop. You couldn’t make it up.

Except Adrian did. The *new, as yet unpublished sixth Duffy (yay!) has a scene where Duffy encounters a goat in Carrickfergus.

Duffy and the goat

The annoying thing about this deliciously funny coincidence will be that in future people will say Adrian borrowed the incident from the news.

*Police at the Station and They Don’t Look Friendly.

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Posted in Authors, Blogs, Books, Crime, Humour

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Those murdering Scots

Posted on November 21, 2016 by | Leave a comment

How I love them!

It’s Monday morning, and it’s Book Week Scotland. And here at Bookwitch Towers, I am most likely to spend it reading, rather than being out and about, despite all the events on offer. I feel as if I’ve finally got into the swing of reading again, after far too much travelling, or agonising over things, and it does my mental state a lot of good.

And you really don’t want me too mental.

Scottish Book Trust have looked into what everyone else in Scotland is doing, and it appears that Scots are into crime, in a big way; ‘crime/thriller books are the single most popular type of fiction in Scotland.

In a recent Ipsos MORI Scotland survey of 1,000 adults, just over 1 in 4 Scots (27%) who read for enjoyment said that books which fictionalise crimes, their detection, criminals and their motives topped their choice of reading or listening genres. — While the crime genre was the most popular among readers of all ages, the second most popular genre among young readers (aged 16-34) was science fiction/fantasy (15%). — Eight in ten Scots (79%) read or listen to books for enjoyment and 39% do so either every day or most days. Additionally, among those —  50% read or listen to more than 10 books per year.’

Well, that’s good to know; both that people read, and that they like what I like. (If I hadn’t given up ironing, I’d be listening to more audio books as well.)

I suppose that with their fondness for a good murder, the Scots really are – almost – Nordic. It’s dark up here, although possibly more cheerful than ‘over there.’

And, on that cheery note I will dive back into my waiting book mountains, before the January books arrive. There tends to be this brief lull for a couple of weeks, or three, as one year [in the publishing world] comes to an end and the new one begins. When the publicists go off on their Christmas holidays, they might fire off the ‘first’ 2017 books. (That’s apart from the ones I’ve already received and filed away because 2017 was such a long way off…)

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Posted in Audio books, Authors, Blogs, Books, Crime, Reading, Science Fiction

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Another ‘Girl’ crime novel

Posted on November 17, 2016 by | 1 comment

I wonder how long the ‘Girl’ phenomenon will last? And would we have had it at all, had someone not made Lisbeth Salander a ‘girl’? For someone like me, the plethora of girl-titled crime novels now means that I cannot tell them apart. But presumably they sell a bit better for it.

Anyway, this one, by Liselotte Roll, was called Tredje Graden [third degree] in the original Swedish. The translator and I have spent some time discussing a suitable English title, and I felt we came up with some good ones. But on the other hand, I do quite like the sound of Good Girls Don’t Tell.

Liselotte Roll, Good Girls Don't Tell

Published today by a Dutch publishing company, recently bought by a UK publisher, I have to say I also like the look of the actual book. It has curved corners, and the font used on the cover looks good. And as with most female Swedish crime writers, Liselotte has ‘been compared to Camilla Läckberg,’ which I suspect isn’t always a useful thing for authors. But there you are.

The blurb on the back gives away too much of the plot, in my opinion. Knowing what has to happen, someone like me would read on tenterhooks, just wondering when ‘it’ would come. And then the next ‘it.’

Translation by Ian Giles, as you may have suspected.

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Murder on the Caledonian

Posted on November 13, 2016 by | 4 comments

I mean drinks. Of course I do. There was no murder.

After I arrived at King’s Cross, which was not Euston, I then had to travel home again. After I’d done what I came for. To confuse matters, I travelled home from Euston.

Rather than spend the night in a hotel (I find I’m going off hotels) I suggested to Son we should book ourselves on the Caledonian Sleeper, and travel in style. I’m keener now, since discovering the beds have new mattresses and pillows, as well as duvets and duvet covers. The beds are still narrow, but the rest is fine.

We had an interconnecting door between our ‘rooms.’ Son was awfully excited by this and had to take a photo. (I hasten to add that he is so young and I am so old, that both of us qualify for a third off the fare, which is how you make this affordable. Before you think I’m rich, or something.)

He then invited me for a bedtime drink in the Lounge. It was very civilised and straight out of Agatha Christie. (Until the Americans turned up.)

While Son had something I’m glad mother-of-witch couldn’t see, I had tea. Or it would have been tea had the lovely barman not forgotten the teabag. But that just added to the jollity, and with teabag, the tea tasted like nectar. (Well, it had been a long day.)

There were a few other passengers drinking, chatting politely to strangers across the aisle. Someone ‘old,’ who looked like they came straight from the opera, and a white-shirted beautiful young man who could have starred in any Poirot you care to mention.

So there we were, enjoying our Agatha-ness and the sophistication of sleeper travel. No one was being murdered or anything.

When in walked a party of Americans, maybe ten of them. I love Americans, but these were so very American, somehow. Loud, dissatisfied with what they found, ordering American whisky and not liking there was none. Suggesting there ought to have been soft music in the background. (Wouldn’t have been enough of a sound barrier.) Taking photos of each other and wanting to put them on Facebook, asking if there was wi-fi.

Thank goodness there was no wi-fi.

There could have been murder. (I’m hoping they went to Glasgow. I didn’t see them – or hear them – in the morning.)

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Posted in Authors, Blogs, Books, Crime, Travel

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The Damage Done

Posted on November 11, 2016 by | Leave a comment

James Oswald’s sixth outing for Tony McLean is about power hungry men with unusual sexual tastes. They like to abuse their power to satisfy their needs, and they don’t care who is hurt because they end up in the middle, or are seen as weak and expendable enough that they can be used in whatever way these men want.

James Oswald, The Damage Done

Tony is working two jobs, or so it seems. He is in the Sexual Crimes Unit, but also back at his old police station, and no one is happy with him. There is a raid on a brothel, there is the supernatural element we’ve got used to, and his old enemy Duguid is obsessed with some old cold cases.

In the way of these novels, most of what McLean works on, ends up being part of the same bigger picture. It just takes a while to connect the dots. He also finds himself on the same side as those he has previously disagreed with most. (Happens to us all on occasion.)

Privately Tony wonders whether to give up dreaming of Emma’s return, and he suddenly has a pregnant woman on his hands, with subsequent childbirth (James might want to read up on that), and interesting developments on the romance and sex front. But Tony is almost always a complete gentleman.

To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure I could afford to spend more time on this loveable but slightly hopeless Edinburgh detective, but to continue being perfectly honest, it took only a few pages to hook me, and this book gave me more pleasure reading than many I’ve started on recently. I suspect there’s no hope for me, and I will simply have to keep returning to James’s underworld of ghostly crime.

The next curry is on me.

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