Cold is a brilliant example of Indigenous literary fiction. A powerful storyteller, award-winning playwright, columnist, filmmaker, and lecturer, Drew Hayden Taylor infuses this mythical mystery with nuggets of knowledge, literary allusions, and humour (black and otherwise). He began his career as a standup comic. A handful of diverse characters, unknown to each other, combine to track and kill an unbelievable enemy that touches all their lives in Canada’s biggest city. Toronto.
“The profound lesson here is that even in the coldest, most desolate landscapes of our existence, it is these very connections that can keep our spirits warm and guide us through the storms.”
I met Taylor in the early 1990s at Trent University in Peterborough when he was publicizing his two one act plays for youth: Toronto at Dreamer’s Rock and Education is our Right. Taylor was born nearby at Curve Lake First Nation. Over the last thirty years, he’s won a host of awards while writing novels, plays, and documentaries, directing films, and touring the world.
The book is divided into three parts, with titles in Anishinaabemowin (and English). “The Storm Approaches” begins with the crash of a Cessna 2065 in Northern Ontario. A young Indigenous boy dies. A driven Caribbean journalist, Fabiola Halan, suffers a compound fracture in her right leg, and the pilot, an Anishinaabe woman named Merle Thompson, leaves Fabiola alone, intent on traversing thirty kilometres of ice and snow to find help. Here, in this tragic moment we catch a glimpse of Taylor’s comic relief in Fabiola’s thoughts: “No matter the amount of pain, people whose tortured command of the English language would and usually did cause her more discomfort than a mishandled Brazilian wax and a children’s first-year violin recital combined” (13).
Next, we’re introduced to the handsome, aging, “Ojibwa hockey ninja” Paul North as he awakens from a hangover. North’s team is part of the Indigenous Hockey League, and he’s in Toronto for a tournament, perhaps his last. The inclusion of Elmore Trent, Professor of Indigenous Literature, provides Taylor with a spokesperson for Canadian Indigenous fiction. With nods to dystopian writers, Waubgeshig Rice (Moon of the Turning Leaves) and Cherie Dimaline (The Marrow Thieves), Trent muses how Indigenous writers used to lament the past but now tend to explore future dystopian worlds.
Meanwhile, Detective Ruby Birch is investigating a trail of vicious murders by a serial killer leapfrogging across the country. The question that drives the plot and plagues the reader is who, or what, is this killer? As “The Blizzard Rages” these disparate characters connect. Trent talks racial politics with the brilliant journalist, Fabiola, who survived her cold ordeal and wrote a book she’s now publicizing. When Trent and North discover they’re both connected to one of the victims, they decide to work together. After all, this killer is hunting people they know. They could be next. The twists will tie you in knots.
Taylor reveals in his acknowledgements that Cold began its life as an Indigenous horror movie called Wendigo, based on a mythical Anishinaabe nightmare creature, which evolved in the frozen north where people were starving. “It’s a spirit. It doesn’t have a body, but it has horrifying hunger, a hunger so strong it eclipses anything else… It needs a physical body so it can eat” (305). Enough said.
I highly recommend this novel. Though Cold blends genres (murder mystery, horror, and thriller) it is something unto itself—not unlike the Wendigo. Fascinating and spellbinding, it will keep you reading far into the night. Who or what is the Wendigo? And how will they stop it?
Most Canadians will pick up Thomas King’s latest novel, check out the cover, and think the story involves a tragic accident on a lonely mountain highway caused by an invisible frozen glaze on pavement. Haven’t we all encountered black ice at some point on a Canadian road? But that explanation is way too simple for this King of Metaphors. Black Ice actually refers to a team of government agents whose mission was to collect corporate information but who raised the stakes by demanding scads of ill-gotten money and stashing it in a vault only one of them could access. But I get ahead of myself.
Black Ice is the eighth installment in The DreadfulWater Mysteries, a must-read satirical series set near a Blackfoot reserve in Chinook, Montana. The protagonist, Thumps DreadfulWater, is an ex-cop from Northern California—a ravenous, diabetic, Cherokee photographer who got in his car one fateful day and drove east until his fuel pump broke. His wife and daughter had been murdered, and Chinook “had simply been at the bottom of a long fall.” Due to his policing skills and a lack of trained detectives in Chinook, Thumps has been invited to assist the local law on several occasions. In Black Ice, the sheriff appoints Thumps temporary deputy sheriff when he’s forced to take a leave following his wife’s suicide. Of course, everywhere he goes, Thumps is referred to as that photographer.
King is a photographer himself. As Thumps struggles with modernity—leaving behind his basement dark room and all those killer chemicals to trudge into the digital age, I have to wonder if this is King’s personal experience. As deputy sheriff he has to carry a cell phone that makes him jump every time it vibrates.
Thumps plays straight man to an eccentric cast. The setup is reminiscent of King’s CBC radio show, The Dead Dog Café Comedy Hour (1997 to 2000.) Political satire and black humour define his style, and the Indigenous characters are fair game. Roxanne Heavy Runner is “dressed in a gunmetal-grey, shrapnel-patterned pantsuit. Her hair … held in place with a large metal clip that stuck up off the top of her head like the safety lever on a hand grenade” (129.) Her sister, Deanna Heavy Runner, and Cooley Small Elk, both do police work when they’re not playing Jenga at the station or watching the flat screen from the bed in the jail cell. The enterprising Wutty Youngbeaver surprises them all by entering the qualifying round of the U.S. Open supported by “Wutty’s Warriors” hooting him on from the sidelines in red T-shirts with gold lettering. Cisco Cruise “the ninja assassin” returns to “assist” Thumps in solving the death of a private investigator, and the disappearance of Nora Gage, the woman he’s been investigating. King says of this quirky cast: “They’re friends of mine and I don’t have a great many friends in the world. Those characters are pretty, pretty dear to me.” Fortunately for fans, he continues to create their lives.
King must be an animal lover as critters always make it into the story. Gage leaves a massive dog named Howdy at the pound when she bolts, and Thumps, in a shrewd move, rescues the beast and drops him off with the grieving sheriff—an outcome that seems to suit them both, more or less. Thumps doesn’t think Howdy will survive his cats. It’s doubtful whether the sheriff will survive Howdy.
King takes a jab at various contemporary trends from Amazon bashing to Moses Blood’s analogy on global warming: “too many gophers in the box.” His relationship with Claire suffers when she’s forced to take her daughter to Canada to access decent health care.
King can get away with this type of political commentary. A member of the Order of Canada, he’s won a string of prestigious awards for his work including: The Governor General’s Literary Award, a National Aboriginal Achievement Award, and a Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Medal. His book, Indians on Vacation, won the 2021 Stephen Leacock Award for Humour. Deep House, book Six in the DreadfulWater series, won the Crime Writers of Canada Whodunit Award for best traditional mystery in 2023. King wears the title, professor emeritus at the University of Guelph where he taught for many years. Oh, to have been in one of his English classes.
Really, if you’ve never read Thomas King, you must. Charmingly witty—wittingly charming, and laced with black ice that’ll keep you on your toes.
I am a huge Elly Griffiths fan. I’ve read all of the Ruth Galloway Mysteries over the years and enjoyed them immensely. I feel like I know the characters and the archaeology is a bonus as Griffiths does such extensive research into the past. That’s why I picked up this book.
To begin with, whoever formatted this book called it “A Ruth Galloway Mystery” on the inside title page. It’s not. That made me feel tricked. I think HarperCollins could have done a better job of proofing. I’m not sure if it’s part of “The Brighton Mysteries” or something entirely its own. There are a trio of characters who work together as a team of sleuths though only two of them formed the K and F agency because of a) their last names which I honestly can’t remember and b) F and K looked too much like F*K (cute little joke that one.)
Right from the beginning, there are two many names. Our three key sleuths (84-year-old Edwin, the gorgeous Ukrainian Natalka, and her boyfriend and former monk, Benedict.) Then there’s Natalka’s mother who lives with them and her brother who’s gone off to fight in the Ukraine. After that, it became such a jumble I could barely keep up. Also, there is a detective, Harbinder, who seems way too friendly with Natalka.
I started by writing a list of five of their cases—all which have multiple names. It might help you to know that Edwin presents his own list on page 137 (if you can keep it together that long.) The interesting part for me, which may be of interest to you, is that most of the victims are either part of a book club or writers who attended a writing retreat (which Edwin and Benedict attend to do some sleuthing.) I found the retreat particularly annoying. As a writer, I detest (that’s the word) being tasked with writing prompts like “If Only I Hadn’t . . . ” This one is significant to the story. Also, why would I ever want to go to a writing retreat and write with a strange partner. All they seem to do is socialize and eat and they have to prep meals. Yikes! Anyway, beyond the annoying retreat, I really lost interest trying to sort out all of these people who are names minus personalities as it’s the kind of book with no character-building. I stayed with it until the end when, wouldn’t you know, the list multiplies again when their parents start getting knocked off.
I hate giving poor reviews and I wanted to like this book but I’m feeling a little like using “vituperative” language at the moment. Yes, that word is used. Also, the actual motives for the murders seems a little far-fetched. I can’t tell you why as that would lead to spoilers and I hope you’ll give this book a chance. Just because it didn’t work for me doesn’t mean it won’t work for you. Just be prepared to draw sociograms on your bedroom walls. Sorry, Elly Griffiths, please write us another real Ruth Galloway Mystery.
I almost put this book down. I only picked it up from the 7 Day Express Loans shelf at the library because of the setting. Not because Michaelides is a New York Times bestselling author or because his first novel debuted at #1 and sold 6.5 million copies. I just really wanted some Grecian atmosphere because I’ve just booked a writer’s retreat in the Cyclades. But the beginning bored me, even though from the first line it promised to be “a tale of murder.”
It was set on an ex-movie star’s private Greek island as promised, but not all of it. (That too was a lie.) And yes, there were moments where the sand and surf and wind buffeted me into that island world, but much of it is set on another island entirely. England. The Fury, of course, refers to the mad Grecian wind—a wind that plays as antagonistic a role as the insane trickster narrator, Elliot Chase (not his real name.) Nothing is real about this narrator. But I enjoyed moments like this:
“We made our way to the coast and began to search the beaches. This was an arduous task, with the wind attacking us as we walked. The fury was relentless, slashing our faces, hurling sand at us, screaming in our ears, shoving us off-balance every chance it got” (160).
It is a locked room murder mystery, I suppose, considering there are only seven people on the island: Lana, the ex-Hollywood actress who owns Aura (the island named after the Goddess); her seventeen-year-old son Leo; her studly boyfriend, Jason; her best girlfriend, a messed up actress named Kate; Agathi, the old woman who is Lana’s faithful servant; Nikos (I can’t remember why he’s there to tell you the truth, perhaps he’s another servant); and Elliot, our fiendish narrator who’s Lana’s friend and obsessed with her.
I say “fiendish” because the author breaks all kinds of writerly rules; like popping in with his opinions when he’s not in the room and can’t possibly know what’s being said. This cardinal “point-of-view” rule haunts me and I dare not break it. But I suppose a NewYork Times #1 bestselling author can do whatever he wants. Elliott frequently pops in with his first-person voice and is the most twisted fuck I’ve read in a long while. I caution you: Don’t believe what he says because three pages later, he’ll admit to making it up and give you a completely different version of the events. Oh, and the characters are actors, playing parts for the narrator, and at times the author, who continues to rewrite the script of this five-act prose-play. It’s brilliant really. Even if it’s as infuriating as that damn wind.
So, why didn’t I put this book down? One word. Spellbinding. Michaelides caught me in his trickster spell and forced me to keep reading, and, as I read, the action revved up—driven by lies and self-propelled by an annoying narrator. I can’t say I’ve read anything like it before.
Is there a murder? Yes. But that’s all I’ll tell you. To know more, you’ll have to mount the wind and see where she takes you. Who of these seven players is the victim and who the killer, I will not say.
If you’ve never read Jackie Elliott’s Coffin Cove cozy mysteries you’re in for a salty treat. Each story in this, currently four-book series, builds off the last and draws us deeper into the endangered and fearsome lives of Coffin Cove’s venturesome journalist/sleuth, Andi Silvers, along with her friends and neighbours. Imagine Murder, She Wrote liberally sprinkled with the grit and ferocity of The Shipping News, then nuanced with the history and atmosphere of Vancouver Island small town smack.
Elliott doesn’t shy away from shining a spotlight on political, social, and economic issues common to small provincial towns—especially those whose livelihoods were based on the forestry and fishing industries. We find fishers vs. loggers vs. environmental greenies, as well as rampant sexism, racism, and homophobia. When the tide turns and raw materials are depleted, a town must adapt or die— a sentiment Mayor Jade Thompson wears etched across her forehead. Jade beat out one of the oldest boys in the club to spirit Coffin Cove—a small town near Nanaimo—into the 21st Century, despite almost dying herself. Now, she’s turning the fish plant into a trendy tourist attraction and organizing an Indigenous cultural centre on offshore Hope Island—both gestures that have the locals pointing pitchforks.
The Vile Narrows refers to a treacherous stretch of sea bordering Quadra Island that hid Ripple Rock, “an underwater mountain with two peaks which caused dangerous eddies from the strong tidal currents that ran through Seymour Narrows” in Discovery Passage. On April 5, 1958 the government blew it to bits. Also on that day, Randolph Weber rescued a young boy—an act that comes back to haunt him decades later when, at the age of one hundred, he’s murdered in his home on Quadra Island. Soon after, his son, archaeologist Gerald Weber is murdered in Coffin Cove. Seeing an obvious connection, Andi Silvers sends a young reporter to Quadra to parse out the story for the Gazette. Meanwhile, a psychopath from earlier in the series resurfaces in Coffin Cove and Andi’s father, himself a journalist, disappears. The RCMP are hard into it as Elliott piles body on body with the precision of the most intimate executioner. Her murders are brutal and visceral. Why shoot someone when you can bash in their skull with a cast iron pot or stab them gleefully multiple times with a homemade knife?
Elliott’s strength lies in her ability to twist fact and fiction, past and present, into a pretzel of a tale. I’ve just read all four murder mysteries—though not in order—and had no problem following along, although I drew visual mind maps to connect the characters like Elliott’s detectives do. Each chapter introduces a character with a full-on backstory that situates the reader in the midst of their life, their trauma, and their agenda. Elliott’s writing is fluid, sensory, and descriptive, and she has an excellent ear for dialogue. Moreover, you will learn things, like the difference between a purse seiner and a packer, and what it’s like to live aboard a boat in January.
Elliott writes with all the earthy charm of Anne Cleeves—perhaps the blood of the gritty English murder mystery writer runs through her veins. It’s where she began. Since marrying a Canadian West Coast fisherman in 2004, she’s become enamored with the charm of Vancouver Island’s harbour towns. Book two in this series, Hell’s Half Acre, was shortlisted for the Crime Writers of Canada 2022 Whodunit award for best traditional mystery. Take a chance on this rivetting cozy mystery series that won’t disappoint. The nautical lover in each of us will enjoy exploring Coffin Cove.
If you’re a fan of British cozy mystery author Elly Griffiths, you’ll know that she’s been writing one Ruth Galloway archaeological mystery each year for over a decade. This is book fourteen. When the pandemic hit, she had to make a decision. Do I set this story in the current reality or not? It’s a decision many authors faced and will continue to face as we move through history. As no-nonsense as Ruth, Griffiths decided to not only to set it during the pandemic but to make it a kind of homage to plagues and isolation. I admit that I found bits triggering at times as I followed the characters through the horror and hassle of the opening weeks of the plague in Britain, February 2020.
Ten-year-old Kate is home, bored, doing school online. Nelson’s wife and young son are away looking after her mother. There are pandemic references: the evening clanging cheer to front-line workers, masking or not, grocery cues, empty shelves and the stocking of staples including toilet paper, lockdown laws, social distancing, two-metre walks out-of-doors, office staff on rotation and working from home, learning to Zoom, teaching from home, loved ones taken away to hospital and the grief of those quarantined and left behind who are not permitted to visit, references to plagues past, and the feeling of never being able to escape the fear and isolation it conjures.
Griffith’s strength is her ability to weave in these facts in a kind of matter-of-fact way, so they never overpower the mystery, which concerns healthy women who appear to be suddenly committing suicide. One woman is even found in her bedroom with the door locked from the outside.
Griffiths’ books are always gently packed with tidbits and meaningful symbols. The title signifies, not only the isolation of plagues in general, but how our “killer” operates, locking victims in total darkness. As is always the case, Nelson and Ruth end up tangled in dangerous climatic scenes of discovery.
Nelson, who’s living alone while his wife’s away, comes calling on Ruth until his grown daughter arrives home, needs her daddy, and he goes running off. That’s Nelson, protector of all and burly man of guilt. Ruth takes it all in her stride, even the discovery of her mother’s lifelong secret—a secret that will come to affect her present moment in a big way.
One thing that bothered me: I came away not understanding the killer’s motivation. He had the means and opportunity but the motive seemed lacking. Perhaps I missed something.
One thing I loved: the “Who’s Who” character pages at the end of the book. My favourite character is Cathbad and, true to form, the druid shaman embraces the pandemic by offering Zoom yoga classes every morning to his children and friends.
Don’t let the pandemic setting deter you. Just be aware that if you start fretting about going out in public, you’re likely triggered. We live in a different time now and this too shall pass.
