Review | Good as Dead, Mark Billingham

Shop owner Akhtar takes police officer Helen Weeks and a civilian hostage. His demand: that DI Tom Thorne investigate the apparent suicide of his son in prison, which Akhtar believes is a murder. Mark Billingham’s Good as Dead is a fast-paced mystery and an exciting read. It’s my first Tom Thorne book, as well as the first time I’ve heard of the Thorne TV series. I hope the TV show will be aired in Canada; it looks really interesting.

I had zero sympathy for Akhtar. I’m sure that’s partly because I just finished the deeply disturbing Into the Darkest Corner, and because of the recent real-life body parts case and Eaton centre shooting, all of which make me especially angry at people who use violence to ruin the lives of innocents. So Akhtar believes his son was murdered, and that the justice system failed his family. That in no way justifies, to any extent, his threatening the lives of two innocent people. While I understand that Thorne’s race to find out the truth about Akhtar’s son is motivated by his desire to see the hostages safe, a part of me hoped that it would turn out that the son had committed suicide after all, and that Akhtar realizes how pointless his drama is.

To Billingham’s credit, he also holds back on whatever sympathy he has for Akhtar. Rather, he emphasizes Helen’s concern over her one year old son, and the other hostage’s hysterical focus on his missing a meeting regarding his promotion at work. Even when Helen chooses to hide information from the police trying to rescue her, it’s not because of Stockholm syndrome, but rather because she wants to survive to see her baby again. Her decision seemed more like a convenient dramatic device to keep the story going rather than the smart choice, but I like that Billingham explained her reasoning behind it. I also like the scenes where Akhtar’s wife confronts him — Thorne reasons that in any couple in crisis, at least one of them has to remain strong. In the case of Akhtar’s wife, she couldn’t afford to fall apart, because someone has to take care of the other kids in the family. I like her as a character, and felt sorry for what she must be going through, first with her son, and now with her husband.

I have no sympathy for Akhtar, but his son did get a pretty raw deal. Billingham takes us into the son’s life, and the real reasons behind his imprisonment. It’s not a pretty story, and Billingham reveals a harsh, tragic type of party scene, where it’s so easy for boys like Akhtar’s son to get in way over their heads.

Good as Dead is a pretty solid, entertaining thriller. Nothing that particularly made me want to read all the other Tom Thorne novels, but definitely a good read for the weekend or an afternoon at the beach.

Review | Into the Darkest Corner, Elizabeth Haynes

Quite possibly one of the worst things about being the victim of a crime is feeling judged yourself. It’s perfectly natural to think of your own actions and agonize over how you could have prevented the crime, or how, if circumstances were different, you might’ve escaped it altogether. Among the most empowering things, therefore, for a victim of crime to hear, apart from that the perpetrator has been caught, are “You’re not alone” and “It’s not your fault.” Some are fortunate enough to learn that right away, others need a bit more time. But what if you don’t hear that at all? What if the people you trust the most tell you that you are at fault, that in fact, you are lying and not a victim of crime at all? When Catherine Bailey, the heroine of Elizabeth Haynes’ debut novel Into the Darkest Corner, calls herself “such a fool” for not having escaped an abusive relationship with Lee when she had the chance, I wanted to hug her and tell her not to blame herself. When she thinks about how her parents’ death led to her going to bars, flirting with strangers and eventually meeting Lee, I wanted to tell her that it’s useless to dwell on the what if’s, that in fact, her anger should be towards Lee and not towards herself or her past. I wanted to be the friend she so clearly needed.

Into the Darkest Corner is a difficult book to read, and I mean that as a testament to how amazing it is. Haynes has crafted a terrifying, emotional, claustrophobic story of abuse. My copy (photo on the left) is filed with Post-It notes and marginal scribbles, mostly comments like “Argh! You liar!” referring to Lee. Rarely have I marked up a book so much — Darkest Corner has provoked that much from me.

I detested Lee from the very beginning. The novel opens with Lee’s trial in 2005, where he testifies that Catherine was an emotionally unbalanced girlfriend whose obsessive jealousy caused him to snap and punch her — the “first time [he’d] ever hit a woman,” and allegedly an act of self-defense. This may be because I already knew from the book’s back cover that Lee was the jealous one with a “darker side,” but this scene just made me sick. How dare this man not just beat up his girlfriend but now try to paint her as the one at fault?

The novel is structured so that the story of Catherine and Lee’s developing relationship in 2003 (pre-trial) is told in alongside (in alternating scenes) the story of Catherine in 2007 (post-trial). It took me a while to get into this structure, mostly because I felt I already knew how the 2003 storyline was going to turn out, and I wanted to get on with the rest of the story. I soon found myself liking Haynes’ choice of structure however — the scenes of Catherine being carefree and flirting with the handsome, mysterious Lee are especially heart-wrenching when contrasted with the perennially frightened Catherine in 2007, who suffers from OCD and practically has to be dragged to the office Christmas party.

Even when Catherine was really in love with Lee, I never found him attractive. There was a major red flag from the beginning — Lee’s secrecy about his job — though I guess I could see how that would have a dark, brooding stranger type appeal. I do wish I saw a bit more of Lee’s charming side, just so I can understand how Catherine could have fallen so hard, and how her friends could have been so won over.

I have rarely detested a character as much as I do Lee. He’s just creepy and controlling. For example, he switches around the knives and forks in Catherine’s kitchen drawer. When Catherine demands to know why he did it, he replies, “I just wanted you to know I was looking out for you.” Catherine admits she feels uncomfortable without knowing why, and that was one point when I wanted to just yell at her — how can you not know why that creeps you out? Talk about the heebie-jeebies! To Catherine’s credit, she does ask him not to do it again instead of just letting it alone.

Haynes does an amazing job of putting us in Catherine’s frame of mind. It was terrifying to see Lee’s controlling tendencies escalate, to the point that even when Catherine realizes how much she needs to escape this relationship, it’s already too late. Several times in the margins, I’ve written “how to escape?” The story at times felt claustrophobic — Catherine’s experience of being trapped by Lee felt so real that even I, who knew he’d be convicted in 2005, saw no way out.

In contrast to Lee is Stuart, Catherine’s neighbour in 2007, who is a psychologist and who wants to help her deal with her OCD. I was initially put off when he tells her she has OCD and asks if she’s gotten any help for it. I knew he was trying to be helpful, but I also wanted her to tell him it was none of his business. Still, she does need help, and I like how Haynes balances out Catherine’s wariness of Stuart with her desire to get better. Stuart gradually grew on me — I love how, despite his attraction to Catherine, he is first and foremost a friend. I kept wishing that he wouldn’t turn out to have some hidden agenda, that he really is as nice a guy as he seems. Lee is such a horrible, manipulative person, and the way he destroys Catherine is painstakingly, painfully methodical. Because Catherine’s relationship with Stuart unfolds in the book alongside her experiences with Lee, it is difficult to allow ourselves to trust Stuart, just as it must have been for Catherine as well.

Darkest Corner has been compared to S.J. Watson’s Before I Go to Sleep. Watson even blurbs Darkest Corner, calling it “intense, gripping and utterly unputdownable.” I am a huge fan of Before I Go to Sleep — I found it, quite literally, “unputdownable,” and it kept me up all night. Its premise of not knowing who you really area is terrifying.

I found Into the Darkest Corner difficult to put down as well, but more than that, I found it difficult to read. Catherine’s story gets into you, in a way the very best books — of any genre — do. Catherine battles not just Lee the person but, perhaps more difficult, Lee the memory, which haunts her even after Lee is behind bars. I cheered every time Catherine fought back. I wanted her to win, to beat Lee once and for all and finally get on with her life, even though I knew that no matter what, the scars left by her experiences will never fully go away. Catherine’s story feels real, ever last terrifying, tragic bit of it, and kudos to Haynes for not holding back on such a difficult subject. Brilliant book, one that will stay with you long after you’ve finished reading.

+

Thank you to Harper Collins Canada for an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review | Phantom, Jo Nesbo

Holy crap. WTF Jo Nesbo?! That was all I could think as I finished Phantom, the ninth and latest book in the Harry Hole series (seventh to be translated into English).

Confession: I’ve had an author crush on Jo Nesbo ever since I saw him read at the International Festival of Authors (Most. Intense. Eyes. Ever.) but I’ve never read a Harry Hole novel until PhantomAnd holy hell, what a book to start with!

First, I have to admit, the beginning didn’t grab me. A chapter narrated by a rat? Worse, this rat narrates a few other chapters in the novel. In contrast to the excerpt from The Leopard that gave me nightmares after Nesbo read it at IFOA, this chapter from a rat’s POV just made me go “meh.”

Fortunately, the story picks up right after. Harry Hole returns to Oslo after three years, and we are immediately plunged into a seamy neighbourhood, where Harry notices a drug dealing set up that had been used in the 80s and 90s, but has since been dropped. “Had the police started arresting street dealers again?” Harry thinks, and it’s a wonderful, atmospheric set up for the mystery to follow.

Throughout the novel, we feel how weary Harry has become, how much he wants to give up dealing with criminals and just retire to a peaceful life in a different country. When we first meet him in Phantom, he already has a facial scar, presumably from an earlier novel, a “path left by the nail from his time in the Congo. It stretched from mouth to ear like a badly sewn-up tear.” Nesbo also includes references to the Snowman case later on, and we get the sense that all Harry wants to do is leave Oslo forever and take the rest of his life to heal.

Unfortunately, a 19-year-old junkie has been shot, and convicted for the crime is Oleg, the 18-year-old son of Rakel, the only woman Harry has ever loved. The case is closed, but Harry feels the need to help this boy he considers a son, and the only way Harry knows to help is to be a policeman and find the truth. Who really killed the junkie? As Harry investigates, he is pulled deeper into the world he thought he’d already escaped, with drug cartels and potentially corrupt police officers. He learns that Oleg has been involved in dealing a drug called violin, a more potent version of heroin, and he struggles with the guilt of having left Oleg behind. To top it all off, Oleg refuses to talk, and someone wants Harry dead.

This is Norwegian noir at its finest. The mystery is compelling and convoluted — I kept changing my mind about who I could trust. Nesbo’s Oslo is wonderfully atmospheric — like Ian Rankin’s Edinburgh and Donna Leon’s Venice, Oslo is as much a character as Harry Hole. We become as weary of the deceit, corruption, and especially the desperation-tinged lives of addiction as Harry becomes.

The crux of Phantom lies in Harry Hole himself. I’ve only just met the man, and already I want to give him a hug. Oleg and Rakel have clearly been hurt by Harry’s dedication to such a horrifying career, and Harry’s own pain at his separation from them feels very real. I love this passage, where Harry speaks about a photograph taken years ago of him, Rakel and Oleg:

“When I look at a photograph that’s how I remember it. The way we were in the photo. Even if I know it’s not true. […] But perhaps that’s why we take snaps,” Harry continued. “To provide false evidence to underpin the false claim that we were happy. Because the thought that we weren’t happy at least for some time during our lives is unbearable. Adults order children to smile in the photos, involve them in the lie, so we smile, we feign happiness. But Oleg could never smile unless he meant it, could not lie, he didn’t have the gift. […] I found a photo of the three of us on his locker door in Valle Hovin. And do you know what, Rakel? He was smiling in that photo.”

This is especially poignant when put together with the scene where Harry first sees the photo: he thinks about how he looks like he doesn’t belong in that family, then wonders:

Was that really him? Harry could not remember having such gentle features.

You can’t help but feel for the man, for all he’s survived, and you can’t help but cheer for him to win this case — not just solve the mystery, but patch things up with Rakel and Oleg, and have that family he longs for so badly. That’s why it’s especially painful whenever he thinks he’s solved the case and is all ready to leave Oslo, only to realize that he’s missed something out.

I remember the exact moment I realized who the killer was, and how the novel would end (page 400, if you’re interested). It was an idea that had been flitting about my mind at various points in the novel, but it was only near the end that I realized there was only one solution possible. And yet a part of me still didn’t believe it until the very last chapter. All I can say about this ending is: bravo, Mr. Nesbo, bravo. Also, of course, holy crap, WTF?

Fans of Norwegian noir, Ian Rankin’s John Rebus series, mysteries and thrillers in general, and, most especially, long-time fans of Harry Hole — definitely check this book out. So good.

Oh, and just because… 🙂

Jo Nesbø © Stian Andersen | jonesbo.com