Rose O’Connell’s never been confident. At her downmarket English school, she was bullied as “Rotten Rosie” after her father was publicly disgraced. While her life has since improved, her husband struggles to find work and they’re deep in debt. Then she gets her son, Charlie, into The Woolf Academy, an exclusive school in the rapidly gentrifying neighborhood she grew up in. In fact, it’s her old school, but it’s now completely unrecognizable, as is the house she grew up in, where Amala Kaur, the CEO of the new school, lives. Woolf Academy seems too strict with Charlie yet indulgent of the other children, and while Rose is determined to do whatever it takes to help her son, she quickly finds that the mean girls she faced years ago have nothing on the circle of snooty women in charge here. It’s complicated and confusing when things begin to thaw and Rose is invited into the inner circle after the mysterious death of one of its members; slowly readers will begin to wonder if there’s anything she won’t do to please Amala and her ice-queen clique. By the time Amala wants something that made me gasp out loud—just the first of several gut-punching twists—it seems too late for Rose to salvage her marriage, her career, and even her sense of self. For readers of mean-girl titles and those who enjoyed The Hawthorne School by Sylvie Perry.
Psychological
Lily lives in Greenwich, England with her Singaporean mother and white English father, but really she lives entirely in a world of her mother’s creation and control. The teen must wear only pink sweaters to please mama, and she even dyes her hair black, wears colored contact lenses, and uses makeup to look more Chinese instead of the ang moh gui, or white devil, her mother accuses her of being. She’s also forced to taste-test spoiled orange juice to make sure it’s just the right level of rancid that mama enjoys, a bizarre task that will be readers’ first signal that something is seriously off here. The emotionally and sometimes physically abused teen is about to get out as she’s been accepted at Oxford University to study law—guess who chose that—but her subconscious seems to have other plans. What at first look like panic attacks turn out to be flashbacks to traumatic events—but ones that happened to mama. How Lily can have memories of her mother’s past, what made mama this way, and whether Lily can ever thwart her nightmare mother and useless father are puzzles that will keep readers rapt right till the end of Singaporean author King’s dark exploration of “the terrible economics of responsibility and blame.” This is one case in which the characters don’t have to be likable for the book to be brilliant. From the awful-mother-tiptoeing-daughter dynamic to weirdness with oranges, Bad Fruit is a perfect readalike for Joanne Harris’s Five Quarters of the Orange.
Hancock’s series debut, The Corpse Flower, which featured in this newsletter’s debut, introduced Danish journalist Heloise Kaldan and police officer Erik Schäfer. The somewhat jaded friends don’t work together per se—it’s more that they investigate the same crime in parallel while throwing each other tidbits that help move the case along. Their unusual arrangement swings into gear again when a child goes missing. Lukas Bjerre goes to the same Copenhagen school as Heloise’s friend’s daughter, so the journalist has an in, but that doesn’t make the search any easier. Lukas seems to have simply vanished, with the whole school day having passed before anyone noticed. At the same time, Heloise is going through personal turmoil as she’s unwillingly pregnant, the father “a crummy wolf in permanent press trousers,” according to Schäfer. Adding to Kaldan’s anguish is her inability to remember where she saw a barn that the missing boy might be held in—one that features in Lukas’s collection of photos illustrating his pareidolia, or tendency to see faces in inanimate objects. As the search continues, a suspect’s PTSD forms part of the tale, adding to the feeling that this whole case hinges on mental instability, with the danger to Lukas the one constant in a storm of fear. Kaldan and Schäfer form a realistic and entertaining if gruff duo, one whose work readers will gladly jump into again.
I read this enormously engaging foray into aging, truth, and memory that completely defies characterization in the course of an afternoon. Penny has lived for decades in the same apartment with her partner, who is now deceased. Both artists, he was the one with the career, she just paints. While aging is a struggle, Penny has a series of serious incidents: she fears she is being observed, thinks she hears someone else in the apartment, then has a fall that could have been fatal. Her superintendent intercedes and she’s moved to an assisted-living home in the country; supposedly, her partner arranged this before his demise. Initially skeptical, Penny comes to love the home, which houses just three other occupants and two staff members—the leader of whom seems to use an experimental method of care. Penny starts painting again, eats well, and makes a friend. But slowly she grows suspicious, and as time becomes more fluid than linear, and what seems like weeks could be years, she fears that she and the other residents are being hurt in some way. Or is she suffering from dementia, with reality and the imagination alternating to create some other state of being? By the author of the cult classic I’m Thinking of Ending Things, this book looks squarely at a future many of us will experience but that we seldom discuss. A great choice for book groups—readers will want to hear and discuss other reactions
Part police procedural, part domestic suspense, All the Dark Places provides mystery fans with the reading experience they crave. It’s psychologist Jay Bradley’s 40th birthday, and Molly, his wife, has planned a small get together in their suburban Boston home. By midnight, the other couples have left, Molly has teeter-totted off to bed, and Jay has checked into his stand-alone office in the backyard to work on his book. But when Molly wakes up, Jay isn’t in bed, the scent of coffee isn’t permeating the house, and the door to Jay’s office is wide open—with him dead on the floor, his neck horribly slashed. Enter Boston PD Detective Rita Myers, who leads the investigation and is convinced that Jay has been murdered by someone in their close circle. But why would one of their friends—affluent, happy, and seemingly complacent—murder everybody-loves-Jay? Parlato skillfully moves the story between Rita and the present day inquiry and Molly and what we discover is her horrible past. She also imbues the book with plenty of humanity—60-ish Rita has a bit of a love interest, Molly adopts a lovely dog to help keep her safe—and never once does the brisk narrative veer into the unbelievable. For fans of Shari Lapena and Mary Kubica.
Just take all those accolades used for thrillers—unputdownable, twisty, dark, chilling, vivid, explosive, intense—and heap them on. Because this book is that good. That credible. And that terrifying. Londoners Victoria and Jamie take a brief vacation in Cumbria. Victoria’s due to have a baby in a few weeks, and the trip is a last hurrah before parenthood consumes them. They’re booked into a remote guest house—what we’d call a B&B—and are absolutely charmed by the older couple that runs it. But when they wake up the next morning, the couple is missing, the doors and windows locked. Cell phones? Gone. Car keys? Ditto. Then Victoria realizes that the mild contractions she has been experiencing are becoming much more intense and that the baby is on its way. That’s all you’ll get out of me when it comes to plot, but be warned: as soon as you think you know what this story is about, Morgan-Bentley flips the narrative, providing an even scarier turn. Unusual for crime fiction, which rarely includes characters with disabilities, Jamie has cerebral palsy, and his challenges with movement and balance give the book an even greater realism. While this novel is perfect for fans of Ruth Ware, Emma Rowley, and Lisa Jewell, really, it’s in a class by itself.
Bath, England strangers Priyanka, Stephanie, and Jess each receive the same letter telling them that their husbands together raped a woman decades before, with the letter writer, Holly, claiming to be the daughter of one of the men. The women think that confronting their husbands will be the end of the story. (That’s if they decide it’s true and if they can bring themselves to tell the men that they know about the rape, neither of which they find a given at all.) The husbands, too, think their troubles are over. They’re still members of the same upmarket social club where Holly says the crime took place, and still lead fine lives, unlike the victim and her daughter, with the mother now dead and the daughter near death from alcoholism. As the women meet one another and move from emotional paralysis to action, we’re brought to what seems like a definitive showdown. But it’s not the end at all. Ray’s U.S. debut reminds readers, through her storytelling and her portrayal of the women’s undulating emotions, that sometimes what we think will be the end might not even be the most significant part of the story; these women make their own ending, and it includes a startling closing twist. The sadness of lives destroyed is palpable here, but so is the healing force of friendship, not to mention determination. Psychological thriller fans who enjoy strong women characters should add this to their reading plans.
Wondering where all the pandemic fiction is? Well here’s the antidote. It’s ten years since the end of the pandemic, when it looks like another one, but even worse, is on its way. Married couple Reed and Lucy, both thirty-somethings, assemble their five closest friends, including Reed’s sister and her girlfriend, and hide out at Reed’s family cottage—WASP code for a 12-room-estate—on an island off the coast of Maine. Blueberry pancakes, innovative cocktails, Scrabble, plenty of time for artistic projects, it’s like a Ralph Lauren ad come to life. Until things fall apart. In a big way. Part of it is brought on by novelist Lucy’s growing obsession with the island’s past—in the 1840s, Irish immigrants with typhoid were quarantined here—and a diary she discovers, written by one of Reed’s ancestors, recounts those horrible days. But you needn’t go so far back to be terrified. Reed’s parents died here on Fever Island—yes, that’s the name—in the last pandemic, along with his girlfriend, whose presence Lucy senses everywhere. Goodman does a great job of blending the present and the past—each with their own rising tensions—with the past spilling over into the present. But best of all, this book offers readers a chance to reflect on the pandemic, the choices we made, the impact it had on us, and what’s left as the waters finally recede.
Grady Kendall has lived his whole life in Maine. An out-of-work carpenter—we’re in the third month of the pandemic—28-year-old Grady is living with his mother, with his one sibling in jail and his girlfriend long gone. So when the opportunity comes along to work as a caretaker in Hawaiʻi for billionaire Wes Minton, Grady jumps at the chance. But as beautiful as Hawaiʻi might be, there’s an unsettling undertow. With tourism on hold, more people are without homes, sleeping rough on the beach. Drugs, opiates especially, are everywhere. A shocking number of people are missing, their names memorialized on a wall. And Hokuloa Road, a remote part of the island, is said to be dangerous—for many reasons. When Grady learns that Jessie, a young woman he met on the flight to the island, is among the missing, he makes it his job to find her. Eventually this takes him even deeper into the wilderness, facing fears both man-made and mythological. This is a strong, unsettling narrative that manages to stay centered on Grady while he roams in search of the truth. Clear writing, a brisk pace, and a growing sense of dread make for an excellent work of crime fiction.
Meg (as she’s currently called) knows now that she was born to be a scammer, but she didn’t always know it. It took losing her childhood home to a con artist, then living in her car and going on dates to get food, to wake her up to her dubious talents. Now she’s a pro at the long game, tricking men into letting her clean out their bank accounts before she hits the road, on to the next mark. Sometimes she hurts others along the way, such as Kat Roberts, a journalist who’s now on Meg’s tail, hoping to get revenge as well as success by breaking a high-interest story about a female con artist. But the plan isn’t as smooth as Kat hopes. Kat begins to like Meg and maybe even trust her. Adding complication, Kat’s boyfriend is also a scammer, a gambling addict who uses distractions, fake outrage, and even-more-fake promises when he’s caught, only to do it all again. Kat, and the reader, don’t know who’s at fault and whom to trust when she notices her bank statements missing and other red flags. The roller coaster story here, coupled with the fear and uncertainty endured by Kat as she learns to trust again only to be betrayed again, will stay with readers. And the facts of the various cons—this is virtually an instruction manual for fraud!—are fascinating. For those who like a story in which women fight back.