Novels No. 90

 

Ashley Winstead. This Book Will Bury Me. USA: HarperCollins Publishers Ltd., 2025.

Jane Sharp seems to be an ordinary college student who, following the shock of her father’s death, finds solace and purpose in contributing to true crime forums. Unusually, the author places an introductory note to caution readers who might be sensitive because of their own experiences. And Jane begins her story by saying this ‒ hers ‒ is the only true story, unlike sensationalist, false media coverage of her exploits. Upon contributing insights to one forum network, it’s not long before Jane is invited to join four seasoned “armchair detectives”—Citizen, Mistress, Lightly, Goku (their online user names)—as a team. Although living in different places, they get to know each other well; competing forums recognize them as stars. They share insights with police investigators who, in turn, respect them enough to sometimes trade information.

Then came the Delphine, Idaho, murder case: three young women students slashed to death in their sorority house. The crime scene was contaminated even before the small town police arrived to bungle the case from the start. No one seemed close to solving it; an ex-boyfriend and other potential suspects were cleared. As media interest grew to explosive proportions, our Five were regarded as heroes or villains, depending on where their fingers pointed. But whoa! Three more victims are murdered the same way, same town; the FBI takes charge with Agent Hale treating the Five as bonafide consultants. They rent a house in Delphine, where crowds of excited amateur s and a voracious press mob are swarming. A tiny forensic clue intensifies the hunt, building to wild heights. Jane didn’t ask to be co-opted as a heroic figurehead—or expect the herd to turn, critics savaging her.

The hive mind at work is intensely fascinating for crime fiction fans; the culture itself generally serves some public interest, but where do ethics enter? Innocent people could be mistakenly targeted. Did Jane cross a line? The author adds thoughtful sidelights to a very complex tale. If ever a novel was hard to put down, this is it.

Jane’s take, about forum and media initial notions:

Mistress, the knitting grandma murder-solver. Lightly, the jilted ex-cop on his own mission for justice. Goku, the tech genius using his power for good. Citizen, the handsome hero, helping people in and out of uniform. And as for me? Trust me, I was just as surprised as anyone when they painted me as a savant. (92)

Thoughts

▪ I have nothing to hide. If I did, I wouldn’t offer you any of this, wouldn’t rip out my own heart describing my father’s death or how I faltered under the weight of it. (55)

▪ It was my first taste of the phenomenon sleuths call “victim attachment,” what others call a parasocial relationship with the dead. (63)

▪ To the average sleuth, frats were cesspools of toxic masculinity that existed solely to perpetuate old-money power systems, as well as white supremacy and rape culture. (124)

▪ I liked to think of the five of us as rogue scientists. It reminds me that even though we were operating outside the bounds of the establishment, there were still rules. We needed to stay dispassionate and logical. (126)

▪ “The true crime community is a menace,” Chief Reingold insisted, his face now tomato red. “They’re keeping my officers from carrying out justice. They’re condemning people to punishment before a fair trial.” (156)

▪ “Do you hear yourself? Stop working the case for a single second. You threw me to the wolves.” (337)

▪ Deep down, I wanted Citizen to want me, knock on my door for another kiss. (339)

▪ This was exactly what I wanted—proof that my friend was innocent, that the last twenty-four hours of mounting dread could be wiped away. So why did I feel so reluctant? (384)

Clare Leslie Hall. Broken Country. USA: Simon & Schuster, 2025.

Beth Kennedy is farm wife Mrs Frank Johnson, secure in their mutual love, but still painfully recovering from the death of their nine-year-old son Bobby—his cause of death not told us. Small-hold farming is hard work, but Beth, Frank, and his ebullient brother Jimmy can imagine no better life. Into their lives comes an awkward figure from the past: Gabriel Wolfe, now a highly successful fiction writer, returns to his old estate home in the neighbourhood. Years ago, Beth and Gabriel had had a tender but passionate affair that seemed destined forever. Again, we are not told why or how it failed, but Gabriel’s upper-crust mother made known her biting disdain of the country girl. Gabriel has a young son now, Leo, who takes to Beth like a kitten to cream; her obsessive grief over Bobby finds an outlet.

As the story of Beth’s younger self becomes clearer, so does the present—Frank is uncomfortable that she spends so much time with Leo because Gabriel is obviously nearby. How long can Beth deny the yearning she has? Is it possible to love two men wholeheartedly and simultaneously? How aware is she of creating extended collateral damage? Unanswered questions drive the tension toward the biggest mystery: who is the person currently on trial for murdering an unidentified man? Meanwhile, Jimmy marries his vivacious sweetheart Nina to everyone’s satisfaction. But Beth is not the only family member harbouring some guilt as the courtroom trial progresses. I could not agree with the verdict in the way the case was presented.

Well-structured to make the most of suspense, Beth’s story paces evenly, beautifully. With so many dramatic turns, we suspect it can’t end well. In fact, it smacks of Shakespearean tragedy.

Before

▪ We smile, perhaps both thinking the same thing: two would-be writers, two dreamers, two lonely teenagers waiting for their lives to begin. (20)

▪ We lie together, heartbeats fading, wrapped up so tightly in each other’s arms I cannot see his face when Gabriel says, “By the way, I love you. I think I did from the first moment I saw you.” (50)

▪ “It’s starting to feel like we share a brain,” Gabriel says. “How will we integrate ourselves back into the real world?” (58)

▪ “You should go,” he says, and still he doesn’t look at me. “You’re right. This is finished.” (103)

▪ Not Eleanor, who never bothered to hide her distrust of Gabriel on the basis of his being “ ... let’s face it, a bit of an entitled prat.” (197)

After

▪ He’s a boy who misses his mother and I’ve managed to make it worse by showing him how much I miss my son. (133)

▪ Frank can’t often bear it because he’s so steeped in guilt he manages to carry on only by acting as if Bobby never existed. (133)

▪ It’s like Bobby is a ghost everyone has forgotten. And I miss him. I miss him so much. (135)

▪ Frank, who has been attuned to my every mood, who hears the words I don’t say just as much as the ones I do. (197)

▪ And then we’re kissing and it doesn’t even feel wrong, kissing one man, and then another. They are different things. (190)