Phosphate Rocks – Fiona Erskine

An abandoned fertiliser factory at Leith docks is being demolished when a grisly discovery is made - human remains, but encased in a carapace of hardened phosphate rock that also encompasses the chair on which, and the table at which, the body is seated. And, it turns out, on the tabletop, an eclectic collection of objects.

DI Rose Irvine gets the job of finding out who it is and when and how they died. Her best chance, she is told, is to talk to a long-term employee, now retired, John Gibson. When he is brought in and the case explained he is nonplussed. But then DI Irvine presents him with the tray of objects, now cleaned of the phosphate, and his memory kicks in.

One by one, over the course of several days, he links each object to the history of the factory, to those who worked there, those who visited (in official capacity or otherwise), and the chemical processes that were carried out.

The structure of the novel is thus set. The objects’ stories are interspersed with lessons in chemistry explaining how to make various key components of the fertiliser industry – sulphur, potash, ammonia, nitric acid, sulphuric acid, etc. Possible identities emerge, are eliminated, are narrowed down, until a conclusion is reached.

Erskine is, or was, an industrial chemist and the novel unashamedly leans heavily on both memoir and an evident passion for chemistry, which creates an authentic and atmospheric setting for the mystery.

Some could find this mix clunky, but it worked for me.

The Manningtree Witches – A K Blakemore

Essex, 1643, the English civil war rumbles on in the background but at the coastal town of Manningtree it is the effect of growing Puritan power that threatens at a local level.

If the religious doctrine is of God’s goodness, how to explain bad fortune? – a child dies in infancy, a hen stops laying, a cow runs dry, a ship is lost at sea. Clearly the work of the devil and his handmaidens, who must be found among the single, the widowed, the unprotected women of the community. Women like young Rebecca West, nineteen or so, attractive and still not wed; like her widowed mother, Anne; and like the old crone, Mother Clarke, whom they keep an eye on.

There arrives in town one Matthew Hopkins, Cambridge graduate, devout Puritan, and on a mission to root out witchcraft. It is not long before neighbour disputes crystallise into accusations of curses laid and evil eyes cast, which Hopkins is all too ready to take up as evidence of devilment. Not that evidence is necessary – false witness, forced confession, and revealed bodily imperfections are enough to be detained and sent for trial.

Rebecca is one of those seized, incarcerated, and interrogated by Hopkins. She narrates most of the story in language and prose that richly describes events, characters, the Essex landscape, and then Colchester gaol. Possibly a bit too rich for one of her class and education; but get past that and enjoy the writing.

How will it end for Rebecca? Hopkins would like her to confess so he can ‘save her’ – maybe for himself. So that’s one option for Rebecca, though barely more palatable than the noose. That narrative hook, as well as the quality of writing keeps the reader engaged to the last.

And Away … – Bob Mortimer

In 2015, fifty-six-year-old comedian and national treasure, Bob Mortimer is diagnosed with blocked arteries, requiring open heart surgery. The planned tour of Reeves and Mortimer has to be postponed, and the subsequent surgery and recuperation lead Bob to reflect on his life, on how he got here.

Thus we get his autobiography, spliced with his recovery process. Born and raised in Middlesbrough, the youngest of four brothers, the early loss of his father leads to a special bond with his mother. His upbringing on Teesside involves getting into scrapes with his mates but he progresses well enough at school to get a place at university and then law school, to become a qualified and practicing solicitor.

That fledgling career takes him to London where a chance encounter leads him to see a one-man show in a room above a pub in New Cross – Vic Reeves Big Night Out. Ther show invites audience participation, and the rest is show biz history.

It is an engaging account of how a shy boy from Middlesbrough became a successful performer on stage and TV simply by being himself. Mortimer is modest and unassuming, bemused by his success but grateful for that sliding-doors moment that transformed his life from a dead-end job in the law to part of a manic comedy duo. The book goes on beyond his operation to include the Gone Fishing series with Paul Whitehouse.

It is an easy read and rings true, and even those ‘would I lie to you’ incidents seem to have happened (mostly).

Review of the Reading Year 2024

 2024 was a good year for the quantity of books read - 38 - if not outstanding for quality, impacted by some iffy reading group titles and some injudicious 99p buys on Kindle. There were slight majorities for authors new to me (55%) and for male authors (57%), though male authors managed to provide a clean sweep of the picks of the year - see below.

This year brought to an end the Bookpacking reading journey, which staggered to a halt in Iceland after  seven years and 21 books set across the world. Attention now turns to the Book-et List, which in 2024 knocked off only the final (original) Rebus novel, leaving ten of the planned fifteen to go at.

There are seven best books of the year for 2024, which are (month of the full review in brackets):

The Killers of the Flower Moon - David Grann. A fascinating and harrowing exposure of a scandal, long-forgotten in the US, whereby the Osage tribe were systematically controlled, exploited, and murdered for their oil-based riches. (May 24)

Reservoir 13 - Jon McGregor. A beautifully written, engrossing account of the rhythm of lives lived in beat with the natural world around it, as a rural community comes to terms with a tragedy on its doorstep. (May 24)

Bournville - Jonathan Coe. From VE Day in 1945 to its seventy-fifth anniversary in Covid hit 2020, seven decades of change in English society, told in seven snapshots of the same extended family, narrated with style, wit, and no little pathos. (May 24)

Pity - Andrew McMillan, Another book addressing generational change, set in a mining community in Barnsley, and told sparingly using a clever mix of writing styles. (June 24)

Mythos - Stephen Fry. The Greek myths given a retelling in the author's inimitable style mixing erudition and wit to great effect, (June 24)

The Pier Falls - Mark Haddon. A collection of not-so-short stories that showcase the author's talent and imagination, with a pleasing variety of settings and characters that only have one thing in common - jeopardy. (August 24)

The Wager - David Grann. A revelatory and gripping account of an ill-fated voyage, part of a British naval expedition to round Cape Horn in the 1780s, which ended in shipwreck, survival (of some), and recrimination. (November 24)

When the Lights Go Out - Carys Bray

 A domestic drama played out against a background of global catastrophe. The latter, in the shape of global warming, increasingly affects the suburban life of Emma and Chris, married with teenage sons, Dylan and James. Emma does what she can, what's practical, to mitigate climate change - repairs, reuses, recycles. But Chris sees that as fiddling while Rome burns. He sees the bigger, overwhelming picture and has to convince people that radical action is the only way. That takes time and effort, but he has that to spare as his garden maintenance business is being ruined by winter flooding and summer droughts.

The marital tension increases as Christmas approaches and Chris's widowed mother moves in when her mobile home finally succumbs to the bad weather. Her blind faith in religion is a long-standing bone of contention with Chris, exacerbated now by its irrelevance to what he sees as the end of the world. For Emma, having the mother-in-law staying is, if not the last, then the penultimate straw.

With Chris's sister and family also due for dinner, it makes for a houseful on Christmas Eve. But they can cope, until the power goes off, the lights go out, a rabbit gets sick, and more ...

Bray does the domestic drama pretty well with understated words heavy with unspoken meaning. Chris and Emma are both engaging and demand empathy even in their conflict. The rain sodden backdrop is bleak in more ways than one, contributing to the mood of impending disaster.

While not a comforting read, it is well constructed and draws the reader forward to its climax.

Shrines of Gaiety – Kate Atkinson

It is 1926, and Nellie Coker emerges from a short stay at Holloway prison to take back control of her nightclub empire. Out in force to greet her are her brood of six. Eldest is son, Niven, semi-detached from the family business, his outlook on life shaped by his years in the trenches. Then come three girls, young women now. Edith is her mother’s capable lieutenant, whereas Betty and Shirley are her projects, improved by college education and destined to marry well. Younger son Ramsey suffers from his place in the pecking order, ahead only of teenager Kitty, who borders on the feral.

The Coker clubs are in Soho, a magnet for girls whose actress ambitions have been downgraded to hostesses paid by the dance. A recent recruit, runaway from York, is fifteen-year-old Freda Murgatroyd and her friend Florence. Sent south in pursuit is family friend Gwendolen Kelling, spinster librarian, whose enthusiasm for life has been on hold until now, when newly parentless and in possession of an inheritance, she is more than ready to go to London and take up the challenge.

Then there are the police. Detective Chief Inspector Frobisher, sent to Bow Street to clean up the rife corruption, embodied, he suspects, by Inspector Maddox and Sergeant Oakes. He also has a rash of disappearances of young girls to deal with, some of whom end up hauled dead from the Thames.

Quite a cast of characters, and Atkinson sets out to ensure paths are crossed, connections made, and alliances forged. Deals are made, and renegued upon. As they all jostle for attention, drifting in and out of prominence, it is a challenge to keep track. Even 500 pages seems insufficient to give them each their head, or indeed to come to a neat conclusion.

The character sketches are of trademark quality, and the 1920s period is convincing. But against the high bar of expectation a Kate Atkinson novel generates, this falls a little short.

The Creak on the Stairs – Eva Bjorg Aegisdottir

The book-packing journey staggers to a finish in Iceland in this Scandi-style crime novel.

Police detective Elma, after a few years working in Reykjavik CID, has returned to her hometown of Akranes, to the west of the capital. It is a knee jerk response to the breakdown of a relationship, but she has steered clear of her parents’ house, opting for a smart but soulless apartment in town. And now her transfer has come through and she starts her new job with the local police investigating a body on the waterfront near the lighthouse.

Cue a police procedural as Elma works with fanciable colleague, Saevar, to identify the woman (a stranger), work out what she was doing in town, and find out who done it. Cue also Elma’s attempts to find her feet back in the family fold, and to explore new, potentially romantic, relationships.

The setting is reliably atmospherically Iceland – dark nights, falling snow, and thick clothing. The plot is satisfyingly intricate with the case having possible links to a thirty-year-old unsolved death. Relevant flashbacks are teasingly eased into the main narrative as it progresses. The characters are lightly sketched, presumably leaving scope for development as the series (this is the opener) moves forward.

Though a resolution is reached in respect of the crime, elements of a full reckoning remain outstanding. A reason, along with the quality of writing, to move on to book two, and maybe tie up those loose ends.