Library Limelights 268

 

And so 2021 ends ...

Riley Sager. Survive the Night. USA: Dutton, 2021.

Now this is how psychological suspense should be written. Two strangers sharing a car ride home from college. Charlie is desperate to flee her traumatic grief and guilt over the death of her beloved friend Maddy. Josh’s reason for leaving mid-term is his father’s illness. If Charlie had not angrily left her friend alone one night at a bar, Maddy would not have died at the hands of a serial killer. Grateful for the ride arrangement, Charlie doesn’t allow her reservations about it to deflect her escape from the swirl of unwelcome attention surrounding the murder. The two of them get along well enough as they drive, getting to know each other slightly; the tension is just right between them. But Charlie is vulnerable and suspicion-prone. She’s always been a movie buff, sometimes creating an alternative film in her head for a situation she’s in, blurring reality.

By the time they reach a late-night diner, she’s convinced herself that Josh is the serial killer because he is not being entirely truthful with her. She can’t let him know she knows; in a way, if it’s her fate to be killed, she deserves it for abandoning Maddy. It’s 1991, and cell phones are not the norm; a pay-phone call to her ex-boyfriend Robbie, using a prearranged code, seems to be her only hope of rescue. After a big plot twist, the story falls down a bit in the last half—I can’t elaborate without spoilers―more predictable, but scary all the same. Charlie fluctuates back and forth, questioning what’s real and what did she invent. You may ask the same.

One-liners

▪ Charlie is a disciple, preaching the gospel of cinema. (30)

▪ Could she have gotten so lost in her own specific brand of make-believe that it’s started to bleed into reality? (111)

▪ If she can’t trust herself, then she needs to trust Josh. (125)

▪ And as soon as she hangs up, she hopes he calls the police. (160)

▪ All the tough personas she wore in the movie in her mind have peeled off like snakeskin. (182)

▪ “There’s no one here but me, sweetie.” (223)

Multi-liners

▪ Josh might seem friendly and nice, but Charlie plans to be conscious during the entire trip. (25)

▪ “Instead of what’s really happening, I see a heightened version of the scene. Like my brain is playing tricks on me.” (36)

▪ “I do trust you,” Charlie says, even though she doesn’t. Not implicitly. The simple truth is that right now she trusts herself less. (134)

▪ “Charlie, I need you to tell me what’s happening.” Robbie sounds panicked now. (160)

▪ And the realization consuming Charlie is that Josh needs to be stopped. And she’s the one who must do it. (182)

▪ “No one can hear you, sweetie. No one but me.” (220)

Parents’ funeral

After the funeral, she asked Nana Norma if she knew the name of the hymn the choir had been singing as her parents’ coffins were lowered into the ground.

“What hymn?” Nana Norma had asked.

That was the moment that Charlie knew the reality of her parents’ funeral was far different from the one she had experienced. She understood then that her brain had embellished it, turning it into a mental movie. Images on film churning through reels, telling someone else’s sad tale, which was how she was able to endure it. (33)

Blame

“You saw him. That’s what the police are saying. That you saw the man who killed my daughter but can’t remember what he looked like.”

“I can’t,” Charlie said, sobbing.

“Well, you fucking need to remember,” Maddy’s mother said. “You owe it to us. You owe it to Maddy. You left her behind, Charlie. The two of you were out together, and you left without her. You were her friend. You were supposed to be there for her. But you abandoned her with that man. Now my daughter is dead and you can’t even bring yourself to remember anything about him. What kind of friend does that? What kind of person does that? An awful one. That’s who. You’re truly awful, Charlie.” (61)

Josh

He’d been on campus less than an hour before finding her. When he showed up sporting a university sweatshirt to try to fit in, he thought it would take days to track her down and a bit of old-fashioned force to get her into his car.

Instead, all it took was a Diet Coke in the campus commons. There he was, sipping his soda and scoping out the crowd, when she appeared at the ride board with her sad little flyer. It only got easier from there. Lie about going to Akron, flash her a smile, let her size him up and think she knew exactly what type of guy he was. It’s a gift, his looks. The only valuable thing his father ever gave him. He’s handsome, but not memorably so. A blank slate onto which people project whatever they want. And Charlie, he could tell, just wanted someone trustworthy to drive her home. She practically jumped into his car. (127)

A.S.A. Harrison. The Silent Wife. Toronto: Penguin Canada, 2013.

Jodi Brett and Todd Gilbert have had a great marriage for twenty years; he’s a serial cheater and she ignores it. Their domestic life is perfect—she plans everything from meals and wine to socializing for the maximum in comfort and quality, knowing he will never give it up. Jodi is a psychotherapist, a bit anal herself, we think. Todd is a contractor in property renovation. But wait. His latest bimbo is volatile Natasha, the opposite of the composed, cool Jodi. Todd in lust loses all sense of his boundaries this time. To make it more awkward, Natasha is the daughter of Todd’s old friend Dean; uh- huh, half his age. Mesmerized, Todd allows her to plan their future together, moving in with her, delaying any thought of confronting Jodi, at the same time missing her placid company. Dean is enraged and informs Jodi of wedding plans, putting Jodi deep into denial.

Even when Natasha announces her pregnancy to all and sundry, Jodi convinces herself that Todd will come back to her. She’s as much stuck in a trance as he is, trying to find comfort in her lonely perfect home. Until Todd’s lawyer sends her an eviction notice. Her friend Alison reminds her: Jodi and Todd never married; by state law, once married to Natasha, Todd has no legal obligation to support Jodi in the style she loves. Clearly, those wheels are already in motion with the wedding a few days away—something must be done (and it is ...). Under so much pressure from the demanding Natasha, regret about Jodi, worry about some medical tests, exuberance at becoming a father, Todd’s old habit surfaces when he meets an attractive waitress ... You may well smile at the growing absurdities. Author Harrison’s untimely death robbed us of a clever, talented writer.

Jodi

▪ She didn’t think that eleven pills would kill him, and they didn’t. (111)

▪ Certainly Natasha Kovacs is not a force. Not anyone to be reckoned with. (112)

▪ It’s a good thing that she, at least, is stable, mature, and loyal, capable of holding a marriage together. (112)

▪ Dean is such a good talker he could have this conversation without her. An asset for a salesman, no doubt. (194-5)

▪ “The law will keep you jumping through hoops till you’ve lost everything, including your self-respect. I’ve seen it happen a million times.” (235)

▪ Every shrink knows that it’s not the event itself but how you respond to it that tells the story. (321)

Todd

▪ He’s a lucky man and doesn’t lose sight of the fact. She’s still a knockout with her slender figure and dark hair, and in spite of being a homebody herself, she understands that he can’t be spending his evenings sitting around the condo. (35)

▪ As a force in his life Jodi is polished, a virtuoso who works on him artfully, whereas Natasha plugs directly into his primitive brain. (61)

▪ This is his tribe now, his fraternity, and these men must henceforth accept him as a fellow procreator, a sanctioned member of the assembly of breeders, a contender of proven virility, a dynasty builder. (76-7)

▪ “For God’s sake, Todd. What happened after she spoke to my father?” (105)

▪ He’s a lover in love with the world, and when he’s in form the world gives back. It’s how he wants to live every minute of every day. He wants it all unwrapped. (213)

▪ He doesn’t know who is in charge of his life these days but it sure as hell isn’t him. (225)

Relationship crux

It simply doesn’t matter that time and time again he gives the game away, because he knows and she knows that he’s a cheater, and he knows that she knows, but the point is that the pretense, the all-important pretense must be maintained, the illusion that everything is fine and nothing is the matter. As long as the facts are not openly declared, as long as he talks to her in euphemisms and circumlocutions, as long as things are functioning smoothly and a surface calm prevails, they can go on living their lives, it being a known fact that a life well lived amounts to a series of compromises based on the acceptance of those around you with their individual needs and idiosyncrasies, which can’t always be tailored to one’s liking or constrained to fit conservative social norms. (23-4)

Best friend Alison

“Honey, I know you’re hurting, but you can’t be naive about this. The man reviewed his options and made up his mind to leave. What you need is a divorce lawyer. We have to keep a roof over your head, make sure you get your fair share of what’s coming to you. After spending twenty years wiping the man’s ass.” (150)

Blindsided

The Adlerians would have a heyday with this, the muddle she’s made of things. They’re big on routing out the error in the client’s way of life, the screwy private logic and harebrained assumptions. All that privilege and opportunity and she drove it into a wall. She could do this because she took it for granted that life would treat her well, that there was no need to look ahead or take precautions. It was a form of hubris; she sees that now. (203)

Elly Griffiths. The Crossing Places. 2009. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 2010.

Blindly grabbed during my paralyzed waiting lists, this turned into a delight. Ruth Galloway, forensic archaeologist, strikes a very sympathetic chord in the first of a series. Mystery and murder combined with prehistoric artifacts and myths. Ruth lives alone on the (fictional) Saltmarsh of England’s east coast, near the university where she teaches. That marsh with all its crazy terrain and hidden secrets is a magnet for her. Ten years ago she was there on an exciting dig when an ancient henge circle was discovered, and she stayed on. Some of the people involved then are still in her life: Erik the Norwegian guru of archaeologists, her good friend Shona, Cathbad the eccentric protester, and Peter, the lover she broke up with, reappearing. A child’s bones are found buried in the marsh and DCI Harry Nelson asks Ruth’s help in dating them; could they be for currently-missing four-year-old Scarlet Henderson?

Thus begins a tale harking back ten years to another missing child, who was never recovered. Ruth’s thoughts have been occupied more distantly, with the remains of an Iron Age girl that she recently uncovered, perhaps a sacrificial victim. The exciting find may lead to more prehistoric rituals and objects. But in the present day, someone is warning Ruth away from the Henderson case, creating fear and suspicion about friends and neighbours; she feels safe only when the burly Nelson is nearby. The power of nature here is a majestic, major factor; navigating the Saltmarsh and its treacherous tides is a unique experience. And the author has captured the essence of an intelligent, curious, lively woman sufficient unto herself. I’m glad to see there are more Ruth Galloway adventures ahead.

One-liners

▪ Ruth can’t explain, even to herself, how a girl born and brought up in South London can feel such a pull to these inhospitable marshlands, these desolate mudflats, this lonely, unrelenting view. (13)

▪ Good old Ruth, devoted to her cats, child-substitutes of course, shame she never got married, she’s really very pretty when she smiles. (13)

▪ She will be drowned right here on the desolate marshland with a priceless Iron Age torque in her pocket. (44)

▪ There is nothing more annoying, thinks Ruth, than someone who thinks they don’t have to introduce themselves on the phone, who assumes that you must recognise their voice because it is so wonderfully individual. (97)

▪ Shona often explains that her car is a penis substitute and, like the real thing, is often unreliable. (108)

▪ “He used you, Ruth.” (167)

Multi-liners

▪ She sees a light, a shaky hand-held light coming towards her. “Help!” she shouts frantically, “Help!” (44)

▪ According to her brother Simon, Ruth has the musical taste of a sixteen-year-old boy. “A tasteless sixteen-year-old boy.” But Ruth doesn’t mind. She loves Bruce and Rod and Bryan. (50)

▪ So Cathbad knew Erik long before the henge dig. Why hadn’t Erik mentioned it? (103)

▪ Peter is suffering from an attack of nostalgia, she knows the symptoms. She mustn’t join in otherwise she’ll be swept away too, drowning in a quicksand of the past. (117)

▪ He is married, they have almost nothing in common. It was only the circumstances of last night that conjured up that particular spell. (188)

▪ “This was a murder investigation. You were probably helping the murderer get away.” (240)

In her kitchen

“Cats aren’t stupid,” says a voice behind her. “They have highly developed mystical powers.”

Ruth starts and swings round. A man wearing a muddy cloak over jeans and an army jacket stands smiling, quite at ease, at her kitchen door.

Cathbad.

Ruth backs away. “How did you get in?” she asks.

“I came in when that man came to feed the cat. He didn’t see me. I can make myself invisible, didn’t you know? I’ve been watching the house for a while. I knew you’d be back. This place has got quite a hold over you, hasn’t it?”

The statement is disturbing on so many levels that, for a moment, Ruth can only stand and stare. (213)

In the open

Bent double, Ruth is running across the Saltmarsh. Falling headlong into muddy streams, clawing herself out, tasting blood in her mouth, getting up again and falling again, this time into a pond about a foot deep. Spluttering, she staggers to her feet. The marsh is full of water like this, some stretches several feet wide. She retraces her steps, finds some firmer ground and starts running again.

On she runs; she has lost a shoe and her trousers are ripped to pieces. Thank God for the police jacket, which has, at least, kept her top half dry. She must keep going, she owes it to Nelson if no one else. It really would finish his career if another body was found on the marshes. (273)