If you’ve read or watched The Girl on the Train, you’ll know how Paula Hawkins likes to mess with her character’s minds. Published in 2021, the slow fire that’s burning could refer to any of them, as all of these characters carry emotional wounds from past traumas.
There’s “The Girl Who Got Away,” but not unscathed, when she and her friend skipped school one day and accepted a ride with a predator.
The woman who was struck by a vehicle in a hit-and-run at age ten and bears more than physical scars.
The woman married to the story-stealing writer who lost her little boy and never recovered. And her sister with her own troubled son.
The old woman who no one sees but who sees it all.
Hawkins connects them all and situates them in the same community. She even provides a map. At its core, this is a murder mystery that begins with a vicious killing on a canal boat in London. Intelligently crafted, the author keeps us guessing as she skips between scenes from her characters’ pasts that reveal possible motivation, flaws, and ferocity.
Paula Hawkins worked as a journalist for fifteen years before writing fiction. This training is evident in the structuring of her novels; as well as her fascination with people, their humanity, and their personal stories. She grew up in Zimbabwe but has spent the past thirty years in London. A Slow Fire Burning is a quick read, excellent for summer, and likely available at your local library. That’s where I found it … on the “Hawk” fiction shelf.
Earlier this year, I had the pleasure of reading and reviewing Anne Emery’s latest Irish novel, Fenian Street. You can read the full review in my Reviews. I reached out to Anne with some questions, and she graciously answered them in the following interview.
I’ve set two books in my series in Ireland, one on the West Coast, and the other in the Iron Age midlands (it’s about Old Croghan Man). I’m currently writing book 5 which is taking me back there again. I’ve travelled to Ireland a few times to do research (2005, 2006, 2017) and have threatened to move there many times. I love to walk on the land my characters walk on and feel the energy.Did you travel to Fenian Street yourself to do this research? What kind of research did you do? I loved doing pub research and made one of my characters an old trad player;)
I spend quite a bit of time in Ireland. Members of my family had their origins in several of the Irish counties. My first visit was in the 1980s; a friend and I took the train from Dublin to Belfast in the midst of the euphemistically-named Troubles, i.e., the war. I saw cars being stopped and searched at checkpoints, saw the tanks, and the British soldiers in the streets with their rifles. We were searched whenever we entered the city centre. In later years, I’ve been making yearly trips to Ireland, basing myself in Dublin and visiting other parts of the country. I have friends there, and that certainly adds to the good times.
As for research, I’m a bit of a fanatic. Even at home in Halifax, I’ll drive or walk along the streets to make sure I don’t have a character going the wrong way on a one-way street. I’ll look over a familiar building, and make sure I have the correct architectural style and period. For Fenian Street and my other Irish novels, I spend time in the various locations, taking photos of the streets and buildings, chatting with people there.
My twelfth book, The Keening, was a standalone historical novel. It is set in County Fermanagh between 1595 and 1607, and has a present-day plot as well. For the historical parts, every single line had to be researched. I couldn’t just say, “They went to the castle.” How did they get there? Walk, horse, carriage? I read dozens of books, even more articles, had interviews with professors, archaeologists, curators, and others, in person and online. And I received great assistance from the librarians in Enniskillen. When I told a friend here about my plans for the book, he said, “By the time you finish, you’ll have a PhD.” Meaning I’d have done as much research as I would for a doctorate. And he was right; it was way more research than I had done for my masters degree. When The Keening was launched, my husband and daughter sent me flowers with a card: “Congratulations on your PhD in Irish History!” And, like you, I’ve done a whack of “pub research” in my day!
I see you have contacts in the Garda Siochana. Did you just reach out to them? What was it like writing a Garda’s life?
I am very grateful to the owner of an Irish bar here in Halifax (where I’ve had several of my book launches). He had met Liam, the retired Garda detective, when the detective visited Halifax and stopped in at the bar. So, I had an introduction, and Liam and I corresponded by email for two years. He was enormously helpful with all my questions about the Garda, police culture and procedure in Ireland, and so much more. Then, on my most recent trip to Dublin, I offered to treat him to supper or drinks, and we agreed to meet. On my way to the bar, I asked myself, “How will I know him from the other fellas in the bar?” Turned out, there was no question who was the garda in the room: I copped on to him, so to speak, right away! I had some great times in Dublin with him and his wife, and I look forward to seeing them again.
Dialect. You use dialect so well, I was instantly transported to Dublin. I jotted down a list in the back of the book of all the ways to talk alcohol;) What was it like writing an entire book in dialect? How did you get it right?
Thank you for those kind words!
Writing dialogue is my favourite part of the process. I could spend hours with a group of people and not remember a thing about what they wore. But I can recount conversations, often word-for-word, and I can remember the cadences and the tones of voice. And I’ve had lots of conversations in Ireland. Take a train from, say, Dublin to Cork, and the person beside you will keep the chat going for the full two and a half hours, all of it entertaining. I’ve stayed in touch with a couple of people I met during train rides, made friends that way.
Spending all that time in Ireland affords me a familiarity with various dialects and, whenever I’m in doubt about a word or phrase, I’ll search for it on Google, to see if I can find it on an Irish site, to make sure it’s genuine. Currently, Fenian Street is being done as an audiobook by an actor originally from Dublin, Ashley O’Connell, so he’s well able for all those Dub voices!
I have one friend near Waterford and based my characters loosely off some young women my daughter lived with when she stayed in Galway to work for a year in 2005. And I have another friend near Glasgow I run lines by when my books take me to Scotland. Did you run your story by someone for a dialect check? Did you start thinking in Shay’s voice? I can sure hear it in the text. I’d be dreaming in dialect. Did you?
Yes, I do hear the characters’ voices in my head, whether I’m awake or dreaming. When a character says something in the Irish language – as Gaeilge – I always check with one of the professors in the Irish Studies program here at St. Mary’s University. He has been a great help to me in my writing.
How does being a lawyer affect your views? Given you write politically pro-Republican have you ever been criticized for your characters’ views or actions?
Oh, yes, being a lawyer has had a great influence on my writing. One of my main characters, Monty Collins, is a criminal lawyer. And I love writing courtroom scenes – with the proviso, of course, that the dramatic stuff must take precedence over procedure!
As for my Irish Republican characters, yes, I am generally in accord with their view, that is, that the 800 years of occupation of Ireland (in whole or in part) should be brought to a decisive end, and Ireland united as one country. But I belabour the question over and over, as my characters do. Brennan Burke in particular, priest and philosopher, agonizes over “just war” theory and its application to the situation in Ireland. He knows all too well that, even when a cause is a just one, the means of fighting for that cause are often far from just.
I remember one encounter here in Nova Scotia. On a day trip out of town, I happened to see a woman I used to work with. She was with her husband. He told me he was reading my book Ruined Abbey. I’m sure I turned pale at the hearing of it! His family is from Portadown in the North of Ireland. Portadown is known as a bastion of “unionism/loyalism”, that is, union with and loyalty to Britain. It is as far as you can get from a hotbed of Irish Republicanism! He was very courteous but allowed as how he didn’t agree with some of what I had written (that was understating things, I’m sure), and I said, “Oh, I understand completely.” And I said we should sit down someday and talk it over. And I hope we do.
Do you have anything in particular you’d like me to mention in my review.
I suppose you could add that the idea for Fenian Street came directly from the street itself. I’m familiar with the street and I thought, “That will be the title of a future book.” It’s all the more appropriate because of the double entendre. It’s the name of a street in working-class Dublin, but there is also the fact that an Irish Republican could say, “We’re all on Fenian Street, are we not?” The Fenians were 19th-century Irish revolutionaries, and the name still carries a powerful charge today. It is frequently used as a sectarian slur in the North of Ireland.
Any idea how long you’ll keep writing Collins-Burke Mysteries?
I’m hoping to keep writing the series indefinitely, le cúnamh Dé (God willing/with the help of God). As you’ve heard countless times before, “I always wanted to write a book.” All my life, I loved to write. I remember thinking how grand it would be to “have written a book” – there it is on the shelf, ambition realized. But half-way through my first book, Sign of the Cross, it struck me that I could not give this up; I’d have to write a series. That’s how addictive writing can be, as I’m sure you know.
For more on Anne Emery and her books, go to her website.
In the twelfth installment of the Collins-Burke Mystery Series, Halifax author, Anne Emery, brings us an unforgettable hero in the guise of Seamus Rynne, or Shay, as he’s known to the lads.
If you’re an armchair traveler, this book will sweep you up and transport you to Ireland. If you’ve traveled Ireland, like I have, this book will remind you what you’ve forgotten and are longing to experience again. That charm that is Ireland. It’s both homely and worldly. Set, for the most part, in 1970s Dublin, Fenian Street is historical crime fiction at its finest. This is a lengthy, ambitious book (422 pages) and Emery doesn’t shy away from discussing “The Troubles” — the politics of the time, given that her main characters are Republicans, and some are I.R.A. Emery combines real historical personages with fictional characters to ground her story in fact.
These unforgettable characters, with hearts of gold and tongues that spin stories like a seanchaí (shanachie), will take you pub-crawling in Dublin where you’ll have to throw back a pint or two just to keep up with the cracking dialogue. Then, in part two, you’ll be transported to 1970s New York to brush up against the likes of Mickey Spillane and certain Irish gangsters.
So, what’s the craic?
Young Shay Rynne, who grew up in the impoverished Corporation flats on Fenian Street in Dublin, wants to become a member of An Garda Síochána (Guardians of the Peace), the national police force in Ireland. But Dubliners like himself are unwelcome. When a childhood friend, Rosie McGinn, is found “lying at the foot of the back staircase of Goss’s Hotel” with fingermarks bruising her neck, and the investigating DS deems her death accidental, Shay vows to find her killer. He gets on the force and shines, though he’s made an enemy of the investigating officer, DS McCreevy.
Then he’s called to the scene of the brutal death of local politician, Darragh McLogan, and becomes embroiled in a murder investigation that leads him all the way to Hell’s Kitchen in New York City.
Hell’s Kitchen NYC 1970s
Emery’s research is extensive and she includes an extensive bibliography. She also acknowledges several retired garda who helped her with answers to her procedural questions. She’s traveled often in Ireland, as several family members originated there, and knows it well. And she has first-hand experience of what Ireland was like during The Troubles. She took the train from Dublin to Belfast in the 1980s and “saw cars being stopped and searched at checkpoints, saw the tanks, and the British soldiers in the streets with their rifles.” When Shay and Father Burke travel to the refugee camps in northern County Meath to help out, you know it’s heartfelt. “People were streaming across the border from the North to escape the attacks: loyalists—loyal to Britain, not to Ireland—were shooting Catholics and setting fire to their homes” (28). This, sadly, was the climate of the times.
I asked Anne Emery what it was like to write an entire book in dialogue. She said: “Writing dialogue is my favourite part of the process. I could spend hours with a group of people and not remember a thing about what they wore. But I can recount conversations, often word-for-word, and I can remember the cadences and tones of voice.” This gift is apparent in Fenian Street.
Just for fun, I wrote a list of all the Irish terms I found intriguing, many of which pertain to drinking alcohol. They have “lashings of drink”, get “langered” and “gilled.” Shay’s “oul fella” (father) Talkie Rynne is often “on the batter.” Rosie’s killed at a “hooley” (party) thrown by politicians, and if that doesn’t give you “a case of the janglers” nothing will. Shay is “heart-scawded” (overwrought) with the news of his friend’s death and so becomes a “peeler” (policeman.) Later, he’s “cock-a-hoop” to hear from his old girlfriend. You’ll think you’re in a Dublin snug as you slip into this heartfelt story.
Emery assures me that she’ll keep writing the series indefinitely so there’s plenty more shenanigans to come. If you’ve never tried the Collins-Burke Mysteries, don’t think you must start at the beginning. You can start right here. Fenian Street stands alone. Though Father Brennan Burke makes his usual charming appearances, this is Shay’s book.
Fans of Thomas King and his serene, sensible, and sly, alter-ego, Thumps DreadfulWater, will be delighted to know his latest DreadfulWater Mystery is out, and it’s one of the best yet—a mischievous, slow-paced, cozy, infused with King’s trademark comedic wittiness, characters who are old friends, and a cup of sugar. Both down-to-earth and defying gravity as an eco-mystery, Deep House follows closely on Obsidian.
The “perhaps” love of his life, Claire, has adopted a young child named Ivory, and Thumps is embracing the idea of fatherhood; the only problem is, Claire doesn’t seem to be embracing Thumps with the same vigor she once did. In fact, she finds his presence “disconcerting.” Oh oh. Add to this, his trepidation around changing his photographic mode from film to digital during a waning pandemic, and Thumps is left facing a true “Thelma and Louise moment.”
King’s always told us his version of the truth, so doesn’t shy away from that “dreadful” subject Covid. As the pandemic “normalizes” people are beginning to gather outside again as they are now. The locals convene at Al’s café for the usual hijinks and witty political philosophizing. King invites us into discussions involving everything from photography to paint shades to prostate problems. And with surprising literary agility, he describes the passing of gas from Pops, the neighbour’s Komondor (big shaggy dog) without ever mentioning the word—“which is when the air on the porch went black … Thumps stumbled backwards, momentarily blinded by the smell that had exploded out of the dog … tried to get his eyes to focus” (100).This takes skill.
Many crime novels are plot driven. This one is not. Yes, Thumps inadvertently photographs a body in the boulders at the bottom of Deep House—a treacherous canyon on the local reserve near Chinook—and unravels a mystery. But what makes this story are the characters. Cooley Small Elk, big-hearted and anything but small, and his grandfather, Moses Blood; Archie Kousoulas, book store owner, who invites everyone to the pre-opening of Pappou’s, his new Greek restaurant; the laconic sheriff Duke Hockney; and the charming “ninja assassin” Cisco Cruz.
But more’s been tossed over the canyon wall into the crater than ancient appliances and a body. Folks have been using it to get rid of their junk for years, and the discovery of several painted panels pushes this eco-mystery into the landscape of corporate conspiracy.
Now the sugar. Fans will remember the disappearance of Thumps’s cat, Freeway. In this story, the cat comes back with a passel of surprises that draw out the man’s sensitive nature, making book six the sweetest installment of the series.
If you’ve never waded into the dry waters of Chinook, this is a great place to start to feel the true genius of the man and his imperturbable crime-fighting personality, Thumps DreadfulWater.
I’m excited to introduce you to my friend and fellow mystery/crime writer, Debra Purdy Kong and her latest crime fiction. If I remember correctly, the “gold satin” has something to do with a thong. My my!
I met Debra a few years ago at a Crime Writers of Canada event and we went on to share the stage at readings and events. Debra’s a seasoned author who knows how to paint a scene and entice her audience into reading more. See the first scene teaser below.
Debra’s volunteer experiences, criminology diploma, and various jobs inspired her to write mysteries set in BC’s Lower Mainland. Her employment as a campus security patrol and communications officer provided the background for her Casey Holland transit security novels.
Debra has published short stories in a variety of genres as well as personal essays, and articles for publications such as Chicken Soup for the Bride’s Soul, B.C. Parent Magazine, and The Vancouver Sun. She is a facilitator for the Creative Writing Program through Port Moody Recreation and a long-time member of Crime Writers of Canada. She lives in British Columbia, Canada.
The Blurb:
Transit cop Casey Holland has never met a bus passenger like the charming artist and exotic dancer, Eduardo. The bus driver Lily has certainly befriended him. But when Eduardo’s charged with murder, Lily’s caught in the middle of his legal trouble. Afraid of losing her job and custody of her son, she begs Casey for help in proving Eduardo’s innocence.
Casey’s search for answers takes her and her best friend Kendal to a troupe of strippers known as Man Cave. While the men are busy peeling off their clothes, Casey’s peeling back layers of secrets and betrayal. Nuttier than her usual adventures, the risk is just as deadly in this seventh installment of the Casey Holland transit mysteries.
When I read the blurb for Debra’s latest Casey Holland novella, I was intrigued by the character Eduardo and the male strippers known as The Man Cave. I really think Eduardo needs to meet up with my protagonist, Estrada, and spend some time at Club Pegasus. Estrada would be happy to introduce Eduardo to beautiful women so he could leave his bus-hopping days behind. Anyway, I asked Debra to tell me about Eduardo.
Where did Eduardo come from and what was the inspiration for this book?
I wanted to create a character who’s relatively uncomplicated and positive, yet still interesting. Eduardo’s a composite of people I met while working as a campus security guard several years ago, although none of them were aspiring artists or part-time strippers, like Eduardo. Some were new immigrants who struggled with English. They were engineers, doctors, and dentists in their birth countries and doing whatever they could to pay the bills until they acquired Canadian accreditation. They were the sweetest, most respectful guys to work with. There were also a few coworkers who possessed a great deal of swagger and over-confidence in their abilities.
Those experiences reinforced a truth I’ve known for some time. There’s always much more to people than meets the eye, and not everyone’s motives are negative. Eduardo is flawed, but he’s also a happy, easygoing guy. He’s an artist, a professional escort, and a stripper. He loves his family and wouldn’t wish harm on anyone, which is why his arrest for murder baffles him.
I chose those jobs for Eduardo because it suits his character. It also creates a quirky, somewhat awkward situation for Casey and her husband Lou. In the previous books, Casey’s work as a security officer for a bus company has either evolved into or merged with serious and dangerous situations. I wanted to give her a bit of a break from that level of intensity while still investigating a crime. To be honest, I haven’t been to a real-life Chippendales-type show. A member of my writers’ group has, though, and she shared some great insights about female audiences. In my early twenties, my boyfriend at the time took me to see female strippers. As I recall, the male audience was exceptionally well-behaved compared with the women in my story. But as characters discover in A Gold Satin Murder (a novella), actions, in and out of the shows, have consequences
Are you intrigued? Do you want more?
Here are the buy and connect links. But scroll down for a little September gift from Debra and read the first scene!
After a decade of security work for Mainland Public Transport, Casey Holland had learned that troublesome passengers were usually rude, loud, and poorly dressed. But the gorgeous, broad-shouldered man in the charcoal suit, white shirt, and bright red tie strutting down the aisle was a new, intriguing challenge.
The moment the man spotted Casey, he gave her a broad, toothy smile. Cool. Her silky, low-cut tank top and dangling crystal earrings were doing their job. Undercover assignments rarely involved dressing up, but passenger complaints about a hot guy who’d been badgering women to model for his paintings required a different fashion choice. Besides, the bus was way too warm this late-July evening. The less she had to wear the better.
Casey winked at the man, then tilted her head toward the empty seat next to her. He slowed his pace and nodded to the gaping middle-aged woman he passed by. Judging from a quick survey, the man had caught the attention of most passengers. The men didn’t look as impressed as the women, though.
“Hola, señorita.” Gold-flecked brown eyes glanced at her hands as he sat down. “I am Eduardo from Ecuador.”
“Casey. From Vancouver,” she replied. “How are ya?” To reveal she was a señora who’d been happily married for just over a year might put him off, so the wedding rings stayed home.
“Excelente.” He beamed. “I am here only three months, but I am in love with Vancouver. It has many interesting people.”
“That it does.” His cedarwood and vanilla cologne sent a jolt of nostalgia through Casey. When Dad was alive, she occasionally gave him a bottle of something similarly scented for Father’s Day. She sat up straighter and zeroed in on Eduardo. Not the time for reflection.
“I apologize if my English is not so good,” Eduardo said.
“It sounds fine to me.” She smiled. “Do you live in this part of the city?”
“Si. Only one block away. I love to walk and ride the buses and talk to people.”
He’d have many opportunities to do exactly that in Vancouver’s densely populated West End. Thanks to nearby Stanley Park, the popular English Bay beach, and many eateries, the area attracted tons of tourists as well as visitors from other areas of the Lower Mainland.
“Your eyes!” Eduardo slapped his hand over his heart. “La violeta. Extraordinario! I have not seen such a shade before. I am professional artista. May I paint you? It would be great honor! You are so be-eau-tiful.”
“Thank you.” Great honor and beautiful were the exact words two of the complainants had used in their written statements. “So, how many women have you approached about painting their portraits, especially while riding this bus?”
“Qué?” Eduardo’s smile faded. “Why do you ask me this?”
“I’m with Mainland Public Transport security.” She showed him her ID card. “We’ve had harassment complaints about you. One woman threatened to involve the police if it happened again.”
His eyes widened. “This cannot be.”
“The complaints said you wouldn’t take no for an answer until they either changed seats or left the bus.”
Eduardo sat back in his seat. “I am stupefied!”
Casey didn’t buy the naïve act. “Harassment of any type on MPT buses is against company policy.”
He fidgeted, not quite meeting her gaze. “I am just a single man who loves ladies and to create art.”
Eduardo produced a business card depicting an elegantly designed maple tree with crimson and tangerine leaves. But anyone could create a card and pass himself off as an artist.
“Is difficult to find models in new city. Art schools are filled up.” He frowned. “And many ladies choose to sit next to me and ask what I do to earn money.”
She believed him. Given the lusty stares a couple of women were tossing his way, Eduardo had probably found more than a few willing models and dates.
“Is it wrong to talk about art, or to ask a be-eau-tiful lady on a date? I might break bus rules, but I am not breaking real laws, no?”
Casey sighed. “Are you and I going to have a problem?”
He raised his hands, palms facing her. “I do not want trouble, but I must pursue my art.”
“Eduardo, the rules are there for a reason. They also give me the authority to kick you off any MPT bus if you’re breaking them.” Casey paused. “If you’re going to discuss portrait painting, then be clear about what you want. If you’re turned down, then I strongly advise you to leave the passenger alone. I assume you expect to be paid for your portraits?”
Eduardo nodded. “I do this not only for money but to find true soulmate.” He lowered his head. “I am not so lucky in love. Is heartbreaking road filled with big potholes.”
“Uh-huh.” She studied him. “Do you think you’ll find love on a bus?”
“I search everywhere.”’
Eduardo’s expression and demeanor seemed sincere, but she had her doubts about this guy.
“You must have tried dating apps,” she said.
“Si.” He grimaced. “They were not good. Is better to meet ladies in person.” He gave her a whimsical look. “Everywhere.”
Meaning he intended to keep chatting up women on MPT buses. Eduardo might be better looking and more polite than other rule breakers, but his resistant attitude was all too familiar. She’d be seeing him again, no doubt, and their second encounter wouldn’t be as cordial.
“Just be careful about what you say,” she cautioned. “Misunderstandings happen easily.”
The corners of Eduardo’s full, sensuous mouth turned down. “What shall I talk about? The boring weather? Is what others do.”
“Eduardo, buddy, unless someone speaks to you first, it might be best if you didn’t talk at all.”
Rockton is a town built on secrets. Everyone comes to this camouflaged Yukon haven with a colourful past and something to hide, be they victim or perpetrator, sociopath or healer. But what happens when the deepest of secrets are at risk of being revealed? Someone in Rockton is playing a deadly game and it’s up to Sheriff Eric Dalton and his partner, Detective Casey Duncan, to find out who it is and stop them, before fear and judgment rip this fragile town to shreds. With a population of 171, everyone has a secret, and only Sheriff Dalton has knowledge of them all.
We Rockton fans knew that one day there would be an end to this thrilling crime fiction series. When she released book six, New York Times best-selling author, Kelley Armstrong, told us she had a seven-book-contract. Big sigh. This is book seven and, yes, the people of Rockton have been given the word from their elusive governing council in the south that this is it. Their beloved Yukon hideaway is about to be dismantled; worse still, the townsfolks are tasked with the dismantling.
The story begins in the midst of this chaos with an unusual moment of calm—three peaceful days have merged into a friendly game of Dungeons and Dragons. It’s a beautiful July evening until the peace is shattered by a sign—a literal sign hanging in the street. “Will Anders is a killer. He lost his marbles and killed his army commanding officer and escaped to Rockton before they locked him in a loony bin.” Could it be true? What would you think if you saw a sign that revealed your town’s deputy sheriff was a crazy killer? This revelation triggers an escalating action that leaves scarcely a moment to breathe until the final page.
I appreciate how Armstrong provides a solid introduction to this book where she explains Rockton and the rules. “Residents come here under false names and false identities, and they must stay a minimum of two years.” Rockton is not new. It was created as a kind of commune in the 1950s, so it has its own history. The residents know the end is coming as the population has dwindled and no new folks have been admitted to this off-grid town in months. I’m going to miss Rockton. I’m going to miss these characters. I’ve followed Eric and Casey’s relationship from the very beginning, smiled through the introduction of their comical Newfoundland pup, Storm, and gritted my teeth through all the bizarre cases they’ve solved. This end is as tough for me, the reader, as it is for the residents of Rockton.
Also, in the introduction, Armstrong names the key characters and reminds us of their talents, skills, and jobs, many of which have nothing to do with each other. For example, Mathias, the town butcher, is a “psychologist with an expertise in criminal pathology.” Both skills come in useful in Rockton where every story involves at least one slightly bizarre murder. This book is no exception.
The stories for the most part are plot-driven. They’re crime novels so we spend most of the story inside Detective Casey Duncan’s head as she gathers clues and deciphers what they mean. Casey’s narration in first person present tense creates a sense of immediacy and illustrates how this brilliant woman’s brain fires. It’s taken seven books but we’ve come to know her, through her relationships with her dog, her partner, her sister, and her friends. Each book can be stand alone but I always find it’s richer to read a series in order and watch the character development.
Armstrong’s clear, tight prose is peppered with colourful vocabulary. I found myself looking up new words—slavering, moue, feminazi, tangentially. If you’re searching for an intelligent crime series steeped in nature and popping with psychopaths, look no further. The town of Rockton may be finished but the books live on forever.
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