Mystic River by Dennis Lehane: A-

From the back cover:
When Jimmy Marcus’ daughter is found murdered, his childhood friend Sean Devine is assigned to the case. His personal life unraveling, the investigation takes Sean back into a world of violence and pain he thought he’d left behind. It also puts him on a collision course with Jimmy Marcus—a man with his own dark past who is eager to solve the crime with brutal justice.

And then there is Dave Boyle, a man who hides monstrous secrets beneath a bland facade—secrets his wife, Celeste, is only beginning to suspect. As the race for a killer heats up, all are pulled closer toward an abyss that will force them to face their true selves—and will mark them as irrevocably as the past itself.

Review:
Mystic River was darkly riveting and well plotted. It was also depressing and disturbing. I was most freaked out by one character’s desperate thoughts while contemplating a very imminent demise; it trod too near things I try very hard not to think about. The whole tale was a tragedy and, while I appreciated how everything fit together, I was relieved to finish it.

It didn’t read like the average mystery story, though I must admit that most mysteries I’ve read are British and maybe a bit erudite in tone, and this was anything but. It was gritty—full of criminals, misery, profanity, and lots and lots of beer—but still thoughtful. So many important things were unspoken, in fact, that it left me wondering how on earth the film adaptation (which I haven’t seen) managed to convey what was going on in the characters’ heads. Even characters who weren’t likeable were still vivid. All that said, however, I thought the truth behind Katie’s murder was disappointing; it felt like Lehane fell back on a stereotype.

I did like it, though I’m not sure it’s the kind of book one can truthfully claim to have enjoyed. And I’d read more by Lehane. But right now, I’m left with a craving for something utterly fluffy.

The Ruby in the Smoke by Philip Pullman: B+

From the back cover:
“Beware the seven blessings…”

When she first utters these words, sixteen-year-old Sally Lockhart doesn’t know their meaning. But when an employee of her late father hears them, he dies of fear. Thus begins Sally’s terrifying journey into the seamy underworld of Victorian London, in search of clues that will solve the puzzle of her father’s death. Pursued by villains and cutthroats at every turn, she at last uncovers two dark mysteries. One involves the opium trade; the other, a stolen ruby of enormous value. Sally soon learns that she is the key to both—and that it’s worth her very life to find out why.

Review:
This made me cry, dangit. I swear, I am such a sucker for kind fathers. It’s ridiculous.

Anyway, it took me a little while to get into this book, because there were a few mysteries going on simultaneously and nothing really made sense for a couple of chapters. Sally’s coolness as a character really only emerged once she’d left the care of a distant relation and come to live with a photographer and his sister. Their business was in financial straits, and she delighted in devising ways to get it back on track. I loved that she was a competent girl who excelled at bookkeeping and numbers. The supporting cast were also lively and fun, and I snickered more than once.

Anton Lesser narrated the audiobook and he was fabulous. He had distinct voices for each character, and I’ve never heard a man achieve such a realistic voice for a woman as he did for Mrs. Holland. It really added a lot to the experience.

The actual mystery was a little too Holmesian for my taste, what with secret societies, sparkly jewels, and ties to the Mysterious East. I also didn’t like the use of opium as a means to impart revelations upon the heroine. Still, I enjoyed it well enough to continue on with the series. The library has two more narrated by Lesser, so I will definitely be seeking those out.

Well-Schooled in Murder by Elizabeth George: B+

From the back cover:
When thirteen-year-old Matthew Whateley goes missing from Bredgar Chambers, a prestigious public school in the heart of West Sussex, aristocratic Inspector Thomas Lynley receives a call for help from the lad’s housemaster, who also happens to be an old school chum. Thus, the inspector, his partner, Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers, and forensic scientist Simon Allcourt-St. James find themselves once again outside their jurisdiction and deeply involved in the search for a child—and then, tragically, for a child killer.

Questioning prefects, teachers, and pupils closest to the dead boy, Lynley and Havers sense that something extraordinarily evil is going on behind Bredgar Chambers’s cloistered walls. But as they begin to unlock the secrets of this closed society, the investigation into Matthew’s death leads them perilously close to their own emotional wounds—and blinds them to the signs of another murder in the making…

Review:
While I did enjoy this book, and felt that the mystery was probably the best in the series so far, it had some pretty significant flaws that ultimately kept it out of the “A” range.

In the previous two books, it had been the personal lives of and interactions between the main detectives that I enjoyed best, with the case itself a distant second. Not so with this installment. I appreciated the decision to show Lynley and Havers working together quite companionably now; any further angsting about possible insuitability would’ve been frustrating; the time was right to move away from that theme.

Doing so, however, left a hole that ended up being only partially filled. There’s a subplot involving Havers’s family and also one involving a couple (friends of Lynley’s) who’ve suffered a chain of miscarriages. The former was okay, though its outcome was predictable, but the latter appeared so sparsely that when it did intrude upon the narrative, it was annoying rather than affecting.

The case itself offered many twists, and though I had a gut feeling about the culprit relatively early on, I was still swayed into suspecting various folks at various times. I thought it got a little convoluted near the end, but otherwise it was good.

The Man in the Queue by Josephine Tey: B-

From the back cover:
When they found the stranger stabbed to death in the queue outside the theatre, it was his complete lack of identity which struck everyone as very odd. The labels on his clothes were missing and nobody came forward to claim him. Inspector Grant of the CID has no choice but to travel deep into the theatrical world in his efforts to build up a picture of the nameless man. As the picture builds, Grant must cast his net ever wider as the dead man and the murderer slowly give up their secrets.

Review:
Luck and fingerprints. That’s how Grant seemed to operate. Oh, and much theorizing in advance of the facts with a dash of foreigner-bashing thrown in for good measure.

As the case progressed along by a series of coincidences, I was initially annoyed; it really didn’t make for much of a story. Grant had no clue there was a witness until one showed up to talk to him. And then he just so happened to run into a man fitting the description given by the witness while walking down a London street one evening. There wasn’t much delving into character.

By the end, though, it seemed more like Tey was doing this on purpose to thwart the image of the omniscient detective so prevalent in crime literature of this period. Many, if not most, of Grant’s hunches and assumptions were proven incorrect. He failed to think of things that could have significant bearing upon the case. In fact, he did not actually solve it, though there is closure on the point. For the novelty of that alone, even if the mystery itself wasn’t that great, I enjoyed the book.

Payment in Blood by Elizabeth George: A

From the back cover:
The career of playwright Joy Sinclair comes to an abrupt end on an isolated estate in the Scottish Highlands when someone drives an eighteen-inch dirk through her neck. Called upon to investigate the case in a country where they have virtually no authority, aristocratic Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley and his partner, Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers, grapple for both a motive and a murderer.

Emotions run deep in this highly charged drama, for the list of suspects soon includes Britain’s foremost actress, its most successful theatrical producer, and the woman Lynley loves. He and Havers must tread carefully through the complicated terrain of human relationships, while they work to solve a case rooted in the darkest corners of the past and the unexplored regions of the human heart.

Review:
Although I thought the mystery here was better than in the first novel in the series, I still found it to be less interesting than the developing relationship between Lynley and Havers. Payment in Blood was set fifteen months after the events in the first book, and found Lynley and Havers still working together, but not on the same page regarding the partnership. Lynley, in fact, shuddered at the idea of its being permanent, while Havers soon demonstrated that, though he irritated her immensely, she felt a great deal of loyalty to him and would fight to protect him.

I wondered that Lynley did not recuse himself from this case when he found that one of his close friends (he didn’t realize yet that he loved her) was technically a suspect, but the tense conversations he and Helen shared were so riveting that I didn’t mind very much. The resultant jealousy Lynley experienced on finding her there with another man led him to twist facts to suit his conviction that her lover was the murderer. Feeling her superior to be on the wrong track, and desirous of protecting his job and reputation, Havers began her own secret investigation into other areas of the mystery, and eventually Lynley’s friends arrayed against him to confront him about the single-mindedness of his pursuit. All of this was excellent.

The mystery itself was pretty good and featured a more defined cast of suspects than the previous book. The conclusion was exciting, surprising, and emotionally satisfying. And really—who could ask for more than that?

The Breaker by Minette Walters: B+

From the back cover:
Twelve hours after Kate Sumner’s brutally murdered body washes up on the beach, her traumatized 3-year-old daughter is found wandering the streets alone. At first, the prime suspect is a young actor, obsessed with pornography. But now, the local English constable has doubts about the victim’s husband. Was he really out of town when she was killed? And why does the child scream every time her father comes near her?

Holding readers in an exhilarating state of anticipation, British author Minette Walters guides them through a startling maze where nothing is at it seems, and even the innocent tell lies.

Review:
The Breaker was a lot different than the other English mysteries I’ve read. Instead of introducing a community of suspects, there were only a few, and details of their personality were revealed only gradually, sometimes shifting when lies were discovered. The role of the local police constabulary in the investigation was given more prominence, with PC Nick Ingram turning out to be the most likable character. The atmosphere was also darker and more grim.

I found the mystery itself to be good, and had no idea who would turn out to be the culprit. The stories of suspects and witnesses changed often, and I also liked that even when caught, the perpetrator still didn’t divulge the entirety of what had really happened. Another neat sidestepping of convention involved the idea of the intuitive leap. In other mysteries, an investigator would have a sudden flash of the (possibly unusual) manner in which the crime was committed, and it’d turn out to be right. Not here, though. PC Ingram made quite a lot of very plausible suggestions that weren’t always proved correct.

This was the first book I’d read by Walters. I’ll be reading more.

A Great Deliverance by Elizabeth George: A-

From the back cover:
To this day, the low, thin wail of an infant can be heard in Keldale’s lush green valleys. Three hundred years ago, as legend goes, the frightened Yorkshire villagers smothered a crying babe in Keldale Abbey, where they’d hidden to escape the ravages of Cromwell’s raiders.

Now into Keldale’s pastoral web of old houses and older secrets comes Scotland Yard Inspector Thomas Lynley, the eighth Earl of Asherton. Along with the redoubtable Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers, Lynley has been sent to solve a savage murder that has stunned the peaceful countryside. For fat, unlovely, Roberta Teys has been found in her best dress, an axe in her lap, seated in the old stone barn beside her father’s headless corpse. Her first and last words were, “I did it. And I’m not sorry.”

Yet as Lynley and Havers wind their way through Keldale’s dark labyrinth of secret scandals and appalling crimes, they uncover a shattering series of revelations that will reverberate through this tranquil English valley—and in their own lives as well.

Review:
I was quite surprised to discover, about halfway through this book, that Elizabeth George is American. I never would’ve guessed, as it seemed such a quintessentially English mystery to me. Stylistically, her writing reminded me of P. D. James: thorough, easily-visualized descriptions of places and people; well-defined detectives with class differences; and lots of words that required me to seek out the dictionary. Favorite new word: armigerous. One just has to love the way people talk in these books, too. A normal person might say “I’m just in time!” Here, however, an aristocratic lady appearing in time for breakfast exclaimed, “What a propitious arrival I’ve affected!”

While the mystery itself was okay, what really made the book special was the relationship between Inspector Lynley and Sergeant Havers. He’s an Earl, Eton-educated, and a “golden boy” with a reputation for appreciating the ladies. Havers, from a working-class background, is described as truculent and termagant (another for the dictionary!) and had actually been demoted back to the street on account of difficulties she’d had getting along with the inspectors with whom she’d previously been paired. I loved that the first appearance of Lynley is seen through Havers’ eyes: “He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. She loathed him.” Hee hee. Watching them getting to know one another as they worked the case was of equal importance to the case itself.

About the only thing I didn’t like was the obnoxious American tourist with a propensity for demanding to be told “the poop.” I realized he was there to make our heroes cringe and all, but egads, he was repellent.

Innocent Blood by P. D. James: B

From the back cover:
Philippa Palfrey, adopted as a child, exercises her legal right to apply for a copy of her birth certificate when she becomes eighteen. Although she has always had a fantasy of being the illegitimate daughter of an aristocratic father and now dead mother, she soon learns the shocking truth about her parents—and finds that her mother is about to be released from prison.

With this knowledge, Philippa moves into an alien world that is to prove more dangerous and terrifying than any she could imagine. For there is someone else interested in her mother’s release—someone who has dedicated his life to seeking out and destroying her.

Review:
Innocent Blood is rather odd. The story is intellectually interesting, but not much beyond that. The characters aren’t exactly unlikable, but they’re very aloof and remote. By the time they experience something provoking a powerful emotional response, it’s hard to care very much.

Not a lot happens until the last hundred pages or so, where the man with a grudge gets closer to exacting his revenge. I was curious to see whether he’d succeed but again, not very invested in the fates of the characters. I liked how revelations about Philippa’s adoption precipitated the events of the novel’s conclusion.

The writing is quintessential James, complete with thoughtful insights and the exceptionally vivid physical descriptions of the characters that I love so much. I liked it, but I’m not sure whether I’d reread it. I don’t rule it out.

What the Dead Know by Laura Lippman: B

From the back cover:
Thirty years ago two sisters disappeared from a shopping mall. Their bodies were never found and those familiar with the case have always been tortured by these questions: How do you kidnap two girls? Who—or what—could have lured the two sisters away from a busy mall on a Saturday afternoon without leaving behind a single clue or witness?

Now a clearly disoriented woman involved in a rush-hour hit-and-run claims to be the younger of the long-gone Bethany sisters. But her involuntary admission and subsequent attempt to stonewall investigators only deepens the mystery. Where has she been, why has she waited so long to come forward?

In a story that moves back and forth across the decades, there is only one person who dares to be skeptical of a woman who wants to claim the identity of one Bethany sister without revealing the fate of the other. Will he be able to discover the truth?

Review:
On a mystery level, this book succeeds. Initially one believes in the claims of the disoriented woman, but as the story is revealed, and subsequent details come to light, doubt creeps in. The story is well-paced, unpredictable, and makes sense, even with the jumping about in time. I found myself taking slightly longer routes home just so I could hear more of it and was not disappointed in the conclusion.

The characters are more of a mixed bag. The Bethany family itself—daughters Heather and Sunny and parents Dave and Miriam—were by far the most defined. Significant time is spent on showing them before the abduction and also on the relationship of the parents afterwards. In some aspects, I was reminded of The Lovely Bones, as it deals similarly with a family coping after the disappearance of a daughter.

The present day cast—the detectives, the social worker, the lawyer—involved with determining the veracity of the woman’s story are more nebulous, some of them downright flat. I sincerely hated the primary detective, Kevin Infante. He’s incredibly crude, profane, and misogynistic.

What the Dead Know is ultimately worth reading. It was never boring, and though I never mustered any particular care for any of the characters, I enjoyed the suspenseful plot. I don’t see myself reading it again or acquiring my own copy, but I’d probably read more by this author.

A Dark-Adapted Eye by Barbara Vine: A-

From the back cover:
Like most families, they had their secrets—and hid them under a genteelly respectable veneer. No onlooker would guess that Vera Hillyard and her beautiful sister, Eden, were locked in a dark and bitter combat over one of those secrets. England in the fifties was not kind to women who erred. They had to fight it out behind closed curtains using every weapon they had. And in this case, it was murder.

Review:
Barbara Vine is a pen name for Ruth Rendell, whose writing I generally like a great deal. A Dark-Adapted Eye is no exception.

The book can’t be called a mystery, really. The culprit is clear from the beginning, as is the method. What is missing is the why. Told from the point of view of the niece of Vera and Eden Hillyard, we are presented with “warts and all” portraits of the women involved, ultimately leading to the circumstances inspiring the drastic act. It’s very well-done and interesting throughout.

One frustrating thing is that the narrator refers to a variety of people by their given names at the beginning of the book without referencing their relationships, so it takes a bit of time to work out who these people are. I ended up drawing a little family tree to help myself.

I also guessed what “the secret” would turn out to be halfway through the book. There was at least one awesome surprise, though. Definitely recommended.