Novels No. 116

 

Jo Nesbo. Wolf Hour. Canada: Random House Canada, 2025.

A change from Nesbo’s Harry Hole series. Visiting Norwegian author Holger Rudi is eagerly writing a book about true crime incidents of 2016 in Minneapolis. To do the best job, he wants to get into the head of not only the killer, but the cop who took him down. Touring the city for “field studies” triggers what he knows about the killer, and how he will write about him. Scenes from 2016 grow in detail and character development so that it becomes unclear if we are reading the writer’s mind, or if they are/were reality. Tomás Gomez was the killer; illegal gun dealer Dante was his first target. Homicide detective Bob Oz starts the case; Bob is an excellent detective but he’s also a troubled human being with a heavy anger management problem. His colleague Olav Hanson is one who likes to provoke him even though Hanson hides his own guilty secret.

By the time a second man is shot, and killed, Bob has been suspended from his job thanks to his increasing insubordination—but that’s no barrier to his private hunt for Gomez. His partner Kay and a new friend assist. Gomez’ early reputation as a trigger-happy maniac in gang activities—El Lobo he was called—is at odds with how Dante’s shooter has been living. Always a step ahead of his peers, Bob interviews a taxidermist, a scared doctor, and drug-dealing gang members. With a bit of time to flirt drunkenly with Liza the bartender. But Lobo is way ahead of the task force that now labels him a terrorist, even taunting them with his clever planning. The narrative races from several perspectives, including the killer’s, twisting through one fraught scene after another. At the same time, Bob learns to understand loneliness and find balance.

Nesbo has constructed a gripping, very powerful tale of the American right to bear arms, with all the consequential side effects. It’s almost impossible to put this book down. Bravo, Nesbo.

Bits

▪ Some women like bastards, but Kay Myers didn’t seen to belong in that category either. That left only the worst alternative: that she felt sorry for him. (40)

▪ “Morality is about how we want the world to function, economics is about how it actually does function.” (108)

▪ Olav got it. He understood the nightmare was back. The man at the top, the one they called Die Man, and not just because of the diamonds in his teeth. (131)

▪ “The hero of the story—if you can call him that—was my cousin. I guess I just want somebody to tell his story.” (155)

▪ And as I was thinking that, it struck me that I was already dead. I just hadn’t been laid to rest yet. (177)

▪ “We lost our daughter,” said Bob. “Frankie. She was three years old.” (216)

▪ The one who sells guns. The weapons activist. The authorities. The executive. The ripples get bigger. And bigger. (228)

Michael Connelly. Ironwood. Large Print. USA: Little, Brown and Company, 2026.

Two topnotch authors in a row! Connelly wastes no time in throwing Sheriff Stilwell of California’s Catalina Island substation (from the first of the series, Nightshade) into a few different problems. Two of his deputies—Quigley and Ramirez—are shot down when a mystery plane makes an illegal night drop on the island. Quigley’s confidential informant had notified him about it, but now Quigley’s dead. Stilwell was observing, but unable to stop the plane from leaving, or catch the intended recipient of the drop. In the morning he detains suspicious-looking Gonsalo Kalas from leaving on the ferry, to learn he’s wanted by ICE. But Stil’s natural urge to follow up, to connect this guy to the airport shooting, is nixed by his mainland boss Capt. Corum; he’s to keep Kalas in a cell until ICE picks him up. While Stil is occupied elsewhere, Kalas is indeed taken away to disappear but ICE denies it was by their agents.

If that isn’t enough trouble, a lost backpack reveals a connection to a mainland murder, and voilà: Stil meets LA cold case manager Renée Ballard, a name familiar to readers of the Harry Bosch series. Working together, they uncover a devious serial killer. The boss is often not happy with Stil ignoring commands and reprimands, but he’s too good at detecting—in addition to handling all the local complaints and misdemeanours. Like Wolf Hour above, some events do not reflect well on the police; Stil finds himself at the centre of an elaborate corruption coverup. The plot ends on a high note not everyone will appreciate, but clearly the next book in the series is already being worked on.

Master of the genre, Connelly scores again. Catalina Island is where it’s at, for Bosch fans. Love the use of “overtown” referring to the mainland.

Voices

▪ He saw the SUV with its doors open and lights on. In the beams of its headlights he saw two bodies on the tarmac. (8)

▪ “I always love that, when two guys who don’t work the cases decide how the cases get worked.” (108)

▪ “Fine, then do your fucking job. Because if you don’t get it done, you can be gone with one call. I did more than just vote for your fucking boss.” (145)

▪ “We have to start watching this guy. It’s too dangerous not to.” (180)

▪ “Listen,” he finally said. “Be smart and take a step back. For your own good. Stil, step the fuck back.” (210)

▪ “She does not do one-on-one hikes into the forest. Her private tours require a minimum of two hikers.” (260)

▪ “I have to go talk to the girl, and then we’re going to huddle and figure out how to unfuck this situation.” (275)

Novels No. 115

 

Nicholas Shakespeare. Frame 37. Canada: Viking/Penguin Canada, 2026.

John Dyer, Brit, and Argentinian Miguel de Belew met in Michigan for a graduate program in journalism; both are now retired from their separate global adventures: the former an investigative journalist and the latter a topnotch photojournalist. During that post-grad program, Miguel invited Dyer and several friends to spend time in Buenos Aires and at his own wealthy estancia. Michigan sisters Lia and Nova were part of that group forty years ago. Now Miguel reacts to a frantic call from Nova to say that Lia has been killed, by calling on Dyer – “the best man to piece together a story” – to join him. Miguel and Nova believe they know who the perpetrator is; the subject is a very powerful man. After her phone call, Nova can’t be reached. Dyer arrives at Miguel’s home to find him dead. Can Dyer find the murderer and the proof to expose him?

Frame 37 is densely packed with back stories, mostly in the student days of the six friends. So many stories within stories, it’s as if the author had enough material for half a dozen books. One shocking incident is at its core, for Dyer to follow through. Argentina’s warring politics play a recurring role; cynical American politics loom larger. Everyone seems to have an alias. Digressions into obsolete newspaper production, connecting distant native cultures, pages of how to rid your back yard of moles—at times I felt overwhelmed by such tangents or mired in wordiness (encyclopedic descriptions of locales, exclusive restaurants, and old-white-man power centres). What does a sentence like this even mean? —

► The ex-president was emblematic of an unprincipled Dark Age shallowness, a reductive placard to which only an optical illusion could lend dimension. (173)

So, a mixed reaction on my part—admiration for the plot intricacies and for spinning out a love affair that never was, and impatience with barely relevant distractions. The global chaos caused by ex-president Ockloss finds Talcy Malcy, our villain, presented as a saviour candidate with an impeccably curated biography. Certain parallels with today’s world are hard to ignore.

Glimpses

▪ “This is a big, big, big story, John – maybe the biggest story that you write in your life. But it’s not something I can tell you on Skype.” (15)

▪ Miguel and Talcy Malcy were not one and the same. But the men in these two images somehow were. (68)

▪ Who was that mystery caller who hung up? And the landline going down for half an hour, what was that about? (78)

▪ He is clearly drunk or high on something, with his fingers gathered together beneath her, prying. A frightful smile uncovers his blood-framed teeth. (124)

▪ Dyer kept asking himself if the outcome might have been different had he found the courage to act, to behave other than he did. To inhale. He hated his congestion, the English reserve that had paralysed him. (135)

▪ “Would you recognize James Donald Bowman – who then became James David Hamel – as J.D. Vance?” (170)

▪ He’s not certain if the lens captured what he saw. He knows he clicked, but he’d taken the pictures in a weird reflex mode, without looking in the viewfinder. (269)

Christoffer Carlsson. The Living and the Dead. 2023. USA: Hogarth/Random House, 2025.

Siri Bengtsson is a policewoman new to the village of Skavböke, joining veteran cop Gerd Pettersson to investigate a murder, rare for Sweden. Eighteen-year-old Mikael is found beaten to death in the back of a stolen Volvo; the steering wheel is covered with blood and the driver is missing. Interspersed with progress on the case are moments a few years later when Siri launches a search party for Hampus Olsson—a missing young man she thinks she spotted in the forest. After speaking to a farmer as a potential witness, Siri abruptly quits the police force with no explanation to anyone. Meanwhile, Mikael’s peers who had partied with him the night before, are being interviewed, including best friends Killian and Sander. Beneath the surface of teenage banter we get hints of simmering violence. More people will die.

Next, we are twenty years on when Sander, now a teacher in another town, returns to Skavböke for the funeral of Sten, father of his buddy Killian. The man had generally been blamed, without any evidence, for a spectacular explosion that changed the entire village. Felicia, Jakob and Filip are Sander’s only old schoolmates still around. That night, Filip is found beaten to death just as his brother Mikael was so long ago. Policeman Vidar must review the old, unsolved case. Keeping track of numerous names and families means referring to a cast list provided up front; also helpful is a map of the unfamiliar places. The plot moves like molasses with Sander representing years of inarticulate, repressed feelings.

Yes, it’s a murder mystery, but beyond the well-drawn atmosphere of village life and gossip, one asks what is the point? It was difficult to find resonance with the characters. Most of them seem to exist half-depressed with regret or guilt over things past and lost opportunities.

Peeks

▪ “But if you’re stupid enough to withdraw your savings, hide it carelessly in your home, and let your son go to a party where he blabs about it, you have only yourself to blame.” (97)

▪ “Don’t bother,” Karl-Henrik thundered. “It’s too late. You missed. He’s gone.” And he slapped Mikael on the back of the head with an open palm. (114)

▪ “Why does he want you two to haul a crate of dynamite through the whole village, though? It’s so dangerous!” (134)

▪ “We’re all human, even us cops, we realize maybe you don’t want to ... Well, anyway, we believe you know more than you’re letting on.” (150)

▪ “Someone is trying to kill the boys of Skavböke.” (172)

▪ Until now he had persisted in using the present tense, as though language were a tool with which he could force reality to conform. As long as he spoke about Killian as though he were alive, it was possible to imagine that he really was. (194)

▪ Sander entered adult life all on his own, and slowly he sank through the darkness toward the bottom. (279)

Novels No. 114

 

Viola Van de Sandt. The Dinner Party. USA: Little, Brown and Company/Hachette, 2025.

Franca is writing a letter, on the advice of her therapist Stella, to Harry—the unusual man who loved her and left her four years ago, despite being her best friend and potential lover. In truth, it was Franca who had rejected Harry; conventional norms overruled her and they had no further contact. Instead, she’s engaged to marry wealthy, establishment-raised Andrew. In counselling sessions, she’s trying to remember the events occurring at a troubled dinner party. Andrew and his business partner Evan were celebrating their launch of a Golden Record-type project on a space mission, also inviting Gerald who’d contributed to its literature content. Franca’s scattered mind wanders between Stella now and the past dinner preparations and arguments at the actual dinner, returning often to the image of a knife in her hand—straining to recall its meaning. What she does remember clearly is that Evan invited an old friend at the last minute: Harry. Her Harry. Awkward!

What happened with the knife seems secondary to Franca’s constant self-deprecation for doing nothing with her unsatisfying life. And what instigated the trauma at the dinner that went on and on all night. She’s distinctly not always of sound mind. As her counselling sessions continue, the dinner party re-plays to show how emotions and language heightened among Franca, Harry, and Andrew. Issues of abandonment and loneliness are evident among all five diners but there’s a much deeper, hidden scenario that no one talks about even when Evan drunkenly blurts a name as a clue.

Imagine starting to mix and bake the cake for dessert after they finish the main course. The Dinner Party is hard work at times, having answers between the lines for questions we didn’t ask. Addressing “you” often in her text, we are reminded that for the most part, Franca is speaking to Harry throughout the book letter.

Bits

▪ “These are large strides you are taking. What happened to you,” Stella shakes her head, “it’s not a small thing people can just shrug off.” (Stella, 38)

▪ I didn’t come to England to be a housewife, Andrew’s fiancée, fussing over dinner, chatting about recipes with old ladies at the supermarket. I’m trying to figure out how it happened. How I got from there to here. (42)

▪ I reach down and pull the cat loose from my belt loops and twist its neck until something snaps and the fucking thing stops wriggling. (58)

▪ Perhaps, if I’d been alone, hadn’t met Andrew, stayed in my room, stayed miserable, I would have done something. Been someone. (134)

▪ I didn’t want Andrew to think what he was obviously thinking of me, didn’t want him looking at me like this for a second longer: like I was a damaged, pitiable thing, about to have a mental breakdown. (152-3)

▪ Andrew had no right, none at all, telling everyone I’m an alcoholic. Who doesn’t fucking drink in the afternoons? (167)

▪ “Well unlike you, Fran, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being dependent on somebody else.” (Andrew, 187)

Carol Higgins Clark. Zapped. USA: Scribner/Simon & Schuster, Inc., 2008.

(Yet another desperate in-house grab) Letters again! Actress Lorraine Lily secretly installed a small safe in her Manhattan loft but while she was out of town her estranged husband Conrad sold the loft to the next-door neighbours—Jack Reilly, head of NYPD Major Cases, and his private investigator wife Regan—so they could expand their space. Renovations are already underway. In some previous therapy frenzy, Lorraine had written nasty, slanderous letters to everyone she knew in show business, never intending to mail them, of course. She’s desperate to retrieve them, stashed away in the safe, before anyone else sees them – if her loft key still works. Wally, one of the reno workmen, wants to get into that safe too; he’s already sent his pal Arthur to scout the situation. Conrad thinks Lorraine hid cash away, money he wants to claim. So three different people with assistants are plotting how to access the loft and the safe, when New York is hit with a city-wide blackout.

The plot thickens when Regan Reilly learns from her friend Kit that a deranged person called Georgina is about to drug and torture an innocent young man she picked up at a downtown club. (I know. It gets crazy.) Actually, dubious coincidences begin to appear along with a broken nose, a broken shoe, a useless bicycle, a lost stun gun, and a branding iron—all creating more than one dizzying adventure in a sweltering, darkened city. Familiarity with the streets and landmarks of Manhattan would make the action feel more meaningful or compelling, as a collection of hangers-on enlarges the search parties for Georgina and her victim. Regan and Jack’s efforts have identified him as Chip Jones.

Humorous touches in dialogue and character are fun, but the overall effect has a (perhaps unintended) cartoon-ish quality. (An OFF OF writer)

Heard

▪ “The loft was mine. It says so very clearly in the prenuptial agreement you signed two years ago.” (5)

▪ “Clay, there is also valuable jewellery in the safe. You can have it all. I just want the letters.” (41)

▪ “If I can’t crack the code,” Arthur said nervously, “I’ll break open the safe with a sledgehammer.” (58)

▪ Georgina massaged his neck and said softly, “Sitting with you on a park bench, sipping champagne, listening to your jokes—what more could a girl ask for?” (68)

▪ “But a tall, blond guy did order two margaritas at last call. I didn’t see who he was with.” (138)

▪ “You two know each other?” Alexis shrieked. (150)

▪ “Only the good die young,” Sue answered, her voice hysterical. “She kept singing that one line over and over.” (161)

▪ “I borrowed a pair of her tap shoes. They were in the bathroom.” (174)

Novels No. 113

 

Fiona Barton. The Widow. Toronto: Penguin Canada, 2016.

Obsessions, of different shapes, drive this engrossing novel. When Glen Taylor is accidentally killed in front of a bus, his widow Jean is besieged mercilessly by the press for her story. Finally, Jean chooses to contract with a sympathetic journalist, Kate Waters, to escape the hounding; Kate’s newspaper pays for a hotel suite where they retreat with a photographer. Immersed in relative luxury, Jean – privately, in her head – reviews her life with Glen, dreading the obligatory interview next day. We watch her story unfolding in tandem with DI Bob Sparkes’s long investigation of a missing child, Bella Elliot. Jean comes across as a naïf in the beginning; she’d worked as a hairdresser from a young age, becoming the compliant wife adoring her husband Glen.

DI Sparkes and his team make an exhaustive but unsuccessful search for Bella. The longer it takes, the more obsessive he becomes to find whoever snatched the little girl. His journey is very complex via a few suspects but ultimately he believes that Glen took her—having discovered the man’s online porn addiction—but lacks solid evidence. Jean consistently stays loyal to Glen but with constant police visits and a growing media mob, she starts rationalizing some of his now-known behaviour. Plus her craving for motherhood increases with each tick of her biological clock. Glen is arrested and goes to trial for abduction since no body is involved. The trial falls apart, Glen goes home, it gets worse. Many more twists and turns are coming.

The Widow is thoroughly absorbing. This is how an author at the top of her game crafts a convoluted story with such resonating characters. Related from several POVs, each piece fuels the next in a dramatic dance.

Jean

▪ I’m not fooled. She doesn’t care about me. She just wants the story. (50)

▪ It wasn’t meant to be a problem. It’s just that having a baby was all I wanted to do in my life. (116)

▪ It was all very clever—they got some police officer to pretend to be a young woman on the Internet and chat him up. (156)

▪ They must see this is all her fault. That’s what Glen and I think. She let her baby out of her sight. (172)

▪ Wonderful wife. This is my role now. The wonderful wife who stood by her husband. (175)

▪ Dawn suddenly wheeled on Jean. “What has he done with my baby, Mrs. Taylor? What has your husband done with her?” (214)

Sparkes

▪ “You are obsessed with this case, Bob,” Eileen had said the other night. (127)

▪ If Jean loved children so much, why would she stay with a man who looks at child abuse on the computer? he thought. (129)

▪ The next day, he was named and shamed along with his bosses in the papers as one of the “top cops” who had “wrecked” the Bella case. (187)

▪ “You need some time off, Bob,” Chief Superintendent Parker told him firmly at their formal interview the following day. (194)

▪ “Did he hear me talk about Bella? Is that how he found her?” (244)

Best line: She was a sturdy young woman with a degree and a career path apparently tattooed on the inside of her eyelids. (191)

Rachel Hawkins. The Storm. USA: St. Martin’s Press, 2025.

St. Medard’s Bay, Alabama: a magnet for budget summer crowds and deadly hurricanes on the Gulf of Mexico. Geneva is the third generation of the Corliss family to own the Rosalie Inn, a faded hotel she runs with the help of her friend Edie. A booking for a month from writer August Fletcher saves Geneva temporarily from financial worries. He’s preparing to write the memoir of Gloria (“Lo”) Bailey, the centre of a huge scandal around St. Medard’s Bay forty years ago. The still-beautiful Lo accompanies him, curious about her old hometown. The worst hurricanes here claimed many lives over the years, including Lo’s father, and it was in 1984’s Hurricane Marie that Landon Fitzroy died, son of Alabama’s then Governor. Gloria Bailey was accused of killing him. Her trial fell apart when the prosecution failed to provide proof—but public opinion trashed her.

Geneva is a true crime fan, so she’s as intrigued with the story as Fletcher is—reading all the old newspaper clippings her mother saved. Mom Ellen had been good friends at school with Lo, but oddly had never mentioned that to her daughter. Others are equally interested to know the truth about Landon’s death. Even though local people have long memories of the shameless slut who destroyed the powerful Fitzroy dynasty, Lo is used to ignoring them; Geneva warms to Lo’s engaging personality. However, with past grievances surfacing, you might guess another major storm is brewing, and not just in the weather. Hurricane Lizzie is on its way.

Author Hawkins integrates the voices of Lo’s contemporaries with those of the current Rosalie Inn residents, leading the pre-storm tension. Lo herself is a larger-than-life character, much like the surrounding climate; true crime(s) revealed in lightning strikes.

Voices

▪ Honestly, I sometimes wish it had just been sex between us. That would’ve been a lot easier, a lot simpler. (38)

▪ “Alison Fitzroy is my cousin, slut,” he says, the word somehow sounding worse in that honeyed old-money voice. (74)

▪ “I know it sounds silly, but I’m kind of hoping the book is this big ol’ hit and then we get people wanting to stay at the inn because of it.” (89)

▪ I don’t know how long Mr. Fitzroy stood there, silent as the statue they built for him a few years ago, the one that makes him look like a fuckin’ Star Wars villain. (101)

▪ It was pitch-black, and someone yelled about a flashlight, maybe Ellen, but I couldn’t be sure. Everything that came after that is still a nightmarish blur. (129)

▪ “Her, and that guy, August. Writing this book. Dragging up the past. The fact that it’s been forty years, but it’s still like she’ll die if she’s not the center of attention.” (138)

▪ “She’s fun, and sassy and sweet, and she’s everyone’s best friend. Until she’s not.” (138)

▪ “That’s the book she thinks we’re writing, yeah,” he says finally, and I see him pull the box a little tighter. “But I don’t know if that’s the book I’m writing anymore.” (172)

Novels No. 112

 

Reese Witherspoon & Harlan Coben. Gone Before Goodbye. Large Print. USA: Grand Central Publishing, 2025.

Humanitarian surgeon Dr Marc Adams is swarmed by a mob of armed, manic killers in a remote African refugee camp. Suddenly we are a year later with his wife, Dr Maggie McCabe, who worked with Marc in war-torn areas of the world. Their friend, Dr Trace Packer, was a partner in the charity they formed, called WorldCures Alliance where they were making radical new transplant developments. Trace disappeared after Marc’s savage death and Maggie desperately wants to find him. But her medical licence is suspended, the charity is disgraced, and she’s persona non grata among her colleagues—it’s not at all clear why, or what had happened. She’s now at the point of poverty with sister Sharon, a polymath scientific genius. Out of the blue, her former mentor Dr Evan Barlow, offers Maggie a highly confidential “concierge surgery” job that more than pays off her debts.

With Maggie being flown in style to the client in Russia, events or characters verge on farce. Oleg Ragoravich lives in remote palatial splendour, a true oligarch. Maggie’s job: some facial changes for him, and breast enhancement for his young girlfriend Nadia—who secretly speaks English but refuses to divulge personal info. What is Nadia hiding? Was Oleg involved in the collapse of WorldCures? After the surgery, Maggie needs rescuing, finding allies in her search for Trace—Marc’s outlandish biker father Porkchop, and Sharon’s ultra-cool AI app. The authors pile on many tangents in a twisting mix of opulent lifestyle, financial fraud, medical spies, organ harvesting, scientific experiments, and eternal youth-seekers. Deeper issues and serious medical ethics are addressed.

In this writers’ collaboration (why are these celebrity-partnerships becoming popular?), a few areas tend to zoom right over-the-top credibility-wise. Background exposition is minimal, the characters are lively for the most part, and surgical discussions are fascinating. A lot to unpack here.

Insights?

▪ It would be easy to say they—she, Marc, Trace—created WorldCures Alliance for purely altruistic reasons. That had been a good story—three combat doctors who saw a need and eschewed the comforts of home to save the needy and revolutionize health care, but that felt too much like spin to Maggie. (56)

▪ “You’ve always been a risk-taker, Maggie. It’s what drew you to the military. It’s what drew you to provide care in some of the most dangerous places on the planet.” (75-6)

▪ “Five million put into your account at Merrill Lynch right now. The other five million when you’re done.” (83)

▪ “When well done, the humanoid AI can replicate the dead person’s speech patterns, personality, temperament, mannerisms, intelligence, tics, gestures—everything that made the deceased unique.” (129)

▪ “All of you who live in comfort can afford your ethics and morals. You want to judge me by them. How, you wonder, could I sell my own kidney?” (163)

▪ Using the momentum from the fall and roll, she jumps behind the firewood just as the next shot rings out. When you watch someone fire a handgun on television, it seems like a pretty accurate weapon. It is not. (215-6)

▪ Everyone has been playing head games with her. She knows that now. None of this is accidental or coincidental. (242)

▪ “Do you see how it looks?” Nadia continues. “You leave WorldCures—and then on his very last humanitarian mission, someone sells out your husband.” (324)

Jesse Q. Sutanto. You Will Never Be Me. USA: Berkley/ Penguin/Random House, 2024.

What have I done? Entered Gen Z land? From way back on my waiting list, this book popped up. Tempted to pass because of the initially glib tone, I braved it out. First was popular beauty and fashion influencer Meredith (Mer), who’d had a fight with her bestie, “mom” influencer Aspen. These influencers, it’s all about followers and sponsors, you know. Numbers. They dispense their advice for self-improvement and the perfect home on Tik Tok, Instagram, Facebook – all over the internet. Cool photos are a must. Not to say that the women don’t work hard at their chosen careers. It’s not easy balancing motherhood and family with the demands of ever-fresh postings that feature coping skills and inspiration for their fans. Like, you too can have the ideal home, cutely dressed kids, mouth-watering recipes, just follow me, and use this product for the whitest laundry. Achieving such perfection means their anxiety levels are often through the roof.

Aspen’s income from this enterprise far exceeds husband Ben’s (trouble coming there, naturally). In a milieu where authenticity is the highest virtue, how genuine are her posts? Does she never spill the veggie smoothie, burn the chicken, have a screaming child? Do I care? Snooze. Meredith had mentored her friend from day one until Aspen’s ratings soared above everyone else’s; using her family and home as props clearly paid off. Hoping to catch up, Meredith switched to the same domestic theme, but her jealousy was so predominant, it lead to secretly sabotaging Aspen’s popularity and numbers.

Because I’m still w-a-i-t-i-n-g for my next TPL arrival, I slug on through the scheming-manipulating-superficial-artificial girlishness, hoping for a dramatic diversion. And it does happen—whether believable or not. There’s a demographic out there that will love this novel.

Meredith

▪ Damn it, one of this year’s resolutions was to stop being so mean, and it’s not even February yet. (8)

▪ You’re sitting there thinking I’m this horrible jealous bitch who can’t handle her best friend’s success, and that’s not at all the case. (37)

▪ “Wait, what?” Tanya says. “So you guys used to be besties, then she got big and dumped you?” (105)

▪ “But then one day I just ... snapped. I exploded on her. I told her she was the fakest friend I’ve ever had.” (148)

Aspen

▪ But nowadays, it feels like it’s the entire household versus me, and I don’t understand how it got to be like this when I’m the one keeping everything afloat. (49)

▪ He of all people knows how much space Mer takes up in my life—how much it ripped me apart when we had that fight. (53)

▪ “Um, well, a lot of them are saying you’re sort of, you know, a little bit fake?” Then she quickly adds, “I disagree, obviously, but uh.” (88)

▪ “I’m a momfluencer, and one of the many reasons I love what I do is because it connects me to other moms. We help one another feel less alone.” (140)

Novels No. 111

 

Louise Penny. The Black Wolf. USA: Minotaur Books, 2025.

Three Pines had worn kind of thin for me some time ago, so the right vibe wasn’t there and I set aside The Grey Wolf after a chapter or so. But curiosity about how The Black Wolf was said to foreshadow some real life developments (even though written before Trump’s second coming) spurred me on—without fully realizing that The Black Wolf is a continuation, a sequel if you will, of Grey. The author provides just enough here for grasping the gist of the preceding plot and players.

Armand Gamache is still head of homicide in the Québec Sûreté; he’s temporarily deafened by an explosion during a terrorist attack that nearly poisoned thousands in Montreal. The former Deputy Prime Minister of Canada, Marcus Lauzon, was convicted and imprisoned as the mastermind (the Black Wolf, as Gamache deemed the perpetrator). Lauzon consistently denies it and Gamache’s instinct says he’s not the Black Wolf; finally the prisoner gives him a clue to the next secretly planned attack. For all his vaunted intelligence, it takes Gamache over two hundred pages to recognize the devious plot—a plot the reader no doubt scoped much sooner. Then the action becomes breathless and non-stop. Penny is at her intricate storytelling best with puzzles galore.

The novel is populated with treacherous politicians, police of all ranks, Montreal’s mafia boss, a young biologist, a daring journalist, laundered money, American military brass, internet conspiracy theories, so many names, and – of course – the “usual suspects” of Three Pines village. It’s a complex zigzag race to identify and stop the impending disaster, with Gamache trusting very few people. Author Penny provides all the well-researched details that make the complicated scenarios so realistic. My only fret is the frequent tangents into a character’s memory lane to reveal how human he/she really is. Often inserted at a moment of dramatic decision-making, to me they unnecessarily interrupt the narrative flow. But Penny’s dexterity at such “re-winding” is an intrinsic part of her style.

For full impact, I’d really recommend reading The Grey Wolf first!

Intel

▪ Which meant there were others still out there. Those who had avoided arrest. And to do that, their influence must extend to the highest levels of government, the judiciary, industry. Organized crime. (17)

▪ If a trained Sûreté agent could believe the lies, believe the poisoning plot never happened, then how many others had been manipulated too? (48)

▪ She looked puzzled. “Now why would the mafia want Caron’s assistant dead?” (118)

▪ “By the way, the same site also claimed Canada was salting the clouds so that acid rain would melt American cities.” (182)

▪ “Natural resources are the new currency. Power is measured in liters now. Not missiles. Not GDP.” (222)

▪ No longer able to hold it in, Nichol blurted out, “Tardiff’s going to have Lauzon killed.” (163)

▪ Shots had been fired in the White House. (247)

▪ Jean-Guy felt pressure on his head. A boot was crushing his cheekbone against the cave floor. (297)

Eddy Boudel Tan. The Tiger and the Cosmonaut. Canada: Viking, 2025.

Sibling issues. Immigrant expectations. Racist taunts. Narrated from the perspective of Casper Han, he and sister Nadia and older brother Ricky gather at the old family home in a small wooded BC backwater called Wilhelm. It’s ten years or more since they’d all left home. Casper’s current love Anthony has willingly accompanied him. Mom had called to report their father Philip had gone missing overnight. They contact local policeman Ivan Bauer – who happened to be Casper’s secret boyfriend in high school – and search parties are organized. Philip is found later, wandering the nearby deep forest, agitated and not making sense; signs of dementia seem obvious. Undercurrents suggest that something dreadful happened to Casper’s twin Sam, when they were nine years old.

The novel’s title refers to the costumes the two young boys wore when Sam disappeared. It was during whistler’s night festival, a community event unique to Wilhelm, latterly downplaying its connotations of a legendary scary man (the whistler) who lived in the dark forest. That night affected each member of the Han family somewhat differently, but guilt weighs on all of them. Philip seems haunted by that fateful night, so before his mind drifts away forever, Casper determines to give him peace by uncovering what really took place then. To do so, he must overcome his resentment towards Ivan and his father Paul, the former police chief. And find the whistler.

Much more than just a mystery, the novel delves deeply into the immigrant psyche, its generational effect, conflicting emotions within the family unit. Unable to articulate feelings even to those closest to him, Casper comes to terms with his need to express grief and guilt. A scandal and a tragedy—tenderly told by a compassionate author.

Bits

▪ “It’s not healthy to bottle things up,” he’d often say, and I’d struggle to explain how I’m too afraid to let everything spill. Because every spill leaves a stain that can’t just be wiped clean. (22-3)

▪ I was supposed to be the promising one. I was bright and polite and obedient. (19)

▪ “Sam.” The name escapes my lips and hangs in the air. “This is about Sam. The fireworks, the woods, the scissors. Something’s going on with Dad’s brain.”(103)

▪ We stare at the floor from our respective corners, a triangle of siblings realizing that we now have what we’ve been avoiding for years: a common problem. (104)

▪ That man accused me of corrupting his son. That man took something precious that Ivan and I shared, and he perverted it into something shameful. (135)

▪ There were cameras in a few of the rooms, including ours, and some of the videos leaked online. To this day, nobody knows who planted the cameras or posted the videos. (160)

▪ “Aren’t you tired, Casper? Of being humiliated? You think any of us had a choice but to leave town, this place that’s supposed to be home?” (204)

▪ “Wouldn’t you be angry? If your family was pushed aside and pulled apart, your neighbours beaten, and nobody cared? Wouldn’t you want to break something, or hurt someone?” (206)

Novels No. 110

 

K.J. Whittle. Seven Reasons to Murder Your Dinner Guests. USA: Sourcebooks, 2025.

In-house grab, and what a pleasure to discover a fresh plot concept. Seven strangers converge at a pop-up restaurant for a dinner party, each believing the invitation is related to public relations in their jobs or other activities. No host or explanation is offered; the point seems to be a card slipped beneath their dessert plates: stating at which age they will die. Only two are opened at the table, causing puzzlement or upset. Middle-aged Vivienne, longtime editor at a failing magazine. Shabby and lonely Tristan, math and computer whiz. Handsome banker Matthew, charm personified. Melvin, married Black policeman. Gorgeous young Stella, sparkling fashion influencer. Dr Gordon, humourless nutritionist. Janet, lingerie business manager and perpetual flirt. Janet’s card said she will die at age forty-four, her age right now. Dr Gordon’s said age fifty-three; he’s fifty now.

Having left the dinner venue in various stages of agitation or scorn, they never expected to meet again. Until Melvin the cop emails that Stella died by falling under a subway train. By comparing notes of after-dinner conversations, they learn her card had said age twenty-three – right on. And so it begins, as two more die at the prophesied age, by accident or suicide. The remaining group has theories; Dr Gordon thinks it’s an experiment by a secret scientific society. Convinced that an unknown person is directing a macabre plot to kill them all, Vivienne goes full investigative-journalist; her own card disappeared before she could read it. Funerals and memorial services become their contact points, witnessing how the strange dinner party has affected each of the dwindling group.

Being honest in their relationships would have saved everyone so much trouble. The Spoiler Law forbids me to further enlighten. Even if you recognize a certain underlying basis as you proceed, or make tentative connections, this is a creative and challenging and highly enjoyable novel.

Getting Acquainted

▪ Already seated is the Botoxed lingerie boss with huge knockers, the old Welsh police officer who clearly loves a drink or ten, the too-skinny YouTuber frowning at her phone, and the dull TV doctor desperately waiting to be recognized. (9)

▪ “I’ve got a YouTube channel with nearly half a million subscribers.” (18)

▪ “I prefer takeaway at home with friends,” Tristan replies, which is only a half lie. He has takeaway most Friday and Saturday nights, but never with friends. (26)

▪ As well as handsome Matthew and sex-obsessed Janet, Vivienne is a lady of around his age and seems to have elected herself the headmistress of the group, looking offended at every turn. (44)

▪ Matthew attempted his cat-that-got-the-cream grin but feared it was more like hyena-with-a-hernia grimace. (68)

▪ “Well I, for one, won’t be going down without a fight,” says Gordon. (124)

▪ Melvin thinks of the many glimpses of barely contained anger he’s seen from Tristan, the clenched fists and jaw, the scathing comments and withering looks, but he doesn’t want to encourage another of Vivienne’s wacky theories. (188-9)

Shari Lapena. She Didn’t See It Coming. Canada: Doubleday Canada, 2025.

An ordinary day, an ordinary family, but mummy doesn’t show up to fetch daughter Clara from daycare. Husband Sam finds her car, her purse, her phone, at home in their condo. Dread. Bryden Frost vanished, becoming the object of a missing person search—probably an abducted person. Family and friends are stunned, bewildered, stymied, so uncharacteristic of Bryden. Detectives Jayne Salter and Tom Kilgour quickly interview neighbours, arranging a thorough search of common areas in the entire high-rise building. Lapena sets us up with detail after detail of the police protocol to heighten the tension. No one has seen Bryden all day, nor did cameras catch her leaving the site. The next day a K-9 tracking dog solves the mystery, finding her hidden body.

Sam is devastated, having panic attacks. His main support comes from sister-in-law Lizzie, from Bryden’s parents who arrive from Florida, her best friend Paige, and their neighbour Angela. But still, the spouse is always the first suspect, and Sam is hiding secrets. So is Paige. So is the man whose car Bryden had damaged a few weeks earlier. Lizzie’s big secret is her obsession with online true crime fans—maybe they can solve her sister’s murder instead of the slow-moving police. At that point the drama intensifies, while family members agonize—did Sam kill his wife or not?—and a sociopathic couple add a new dimension.

Motivations surface as frightened people try to deflect police attention to anyone but themselves. Lapena at her mind-twisting best.

Pointed Bits

▪ Lizzie says, “There was nothing, and Bryden tells me everything. We’re very close, you know that.” (45)

▪ She’s probably a good detective, but he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like her. (53)

▪ What could be worse for a man than to lose his wife and the mother of his child? And he loves her, they all know that. (72)

▪ There’s a charged silence as cadaver dog registers with everyone. Sam’s face blanches and Bryden’s parents look stricken. (77)

▪ “And I don’t have an alibi. They really grilled me about that. Detective Salter hates me, I can tell.” (106)

▪ Alice is suddenly very angry, at the detectives and at her husband. But mostly at her husband. What has he done? What has he been up to, and not telling her about? (115)

▪ He adds, “It was an exceptionally clean murder.” (139)

▪ If only she’d been stronger and stood up to him. Told him she wasn’t going to take any of his shit. (175)

▪ Lizzie has never felt so important, so noticed, even though she is anonymous. She glows inside. (217)

** It may be time for another wee vent on why novelists seem to outdo each other in the odd selection of names for female characters. So many sound masculine. Why? This year alone I’ve come across Bryden, Aubrey, Aislin (Ash), Madison, and Whitney. Then there’s Savanah (one “n”) and Cheyenne. Really, are parents doing that?