In the Blink of an Eye – Jo Callaghan

DCS Kat Frank returns to the Warwickshire Police after a career break covering the terminal illness and death of her husband. She’s ready to return but has promised 18-year-old son Cam that she will take on an executive level post away from the front-line dangers of the job.

The Chief Constable has just the role for her - a pilot scheme to assess the efficacy of using AI to assist officers in the field, initially looking at some cold missing persons cases. More specifically she will have on the team a prototype artificially intelligent detecting entity - AIDE Lock. It resides in a bulky bracelet round her wrist but, unnervingly, can emerge like a genie from a bottle to take the form of a humanoid hologram and join in conversations and interrogations. Kat completes her team with a male DI – Rayan Hassan – and a female DS – Debbie Browne.

Which case to prioritise? The question immediately pitches AIDE Lock’s objective algorithmic analysis against the colleagues’ subjective, experience-based, gut-feeling approach. It is a tension that lasts throughout.

The priority cases (they compromise on two) are subjected to review. Re-examining evidence and re-interviewing witnesses open new lines of investigation. Supercharged by AIDE Lock’s prodigious analytic capacity, progress is made rapidly. So rapidly that the cold cases soon become red hot, and Kat’s promise to stay clear of personal risk soon goes by the board.

As ever, personal lives are dipped into, prejudices are aired, mistakes are made and learned from, making for as good a detective novel as any. It is well written, and the AI twist is modern and timely. But not totally innovative, echoing (probably unconsciously) Isaac Asimov’s 1950s detective novels partnering a human and robot – Caves of Steel and The Naked Sun. Not bad company rub shoulders with.

Bridge of Clay – Markus Zusak

It is, essentially, the story of the Dunbar boys down under. And of their parents, and of their curiously named menagerie living in the Sidney suburbs.

Matthew narrates, in unconventional style, both staccato and fluent, poetic and prosaic, always readable, always enjoyable. He is the eldest, necessarily the responsible one. Then comes Rory (the fighter) and Henry (the grifter). Fourth is Clay(ton), the eponymous one, quiet, deep, gentle, uncommunicative, but universally liked. Little Tommy (bewildered spectator) completes the quintet.

The story evolves a-chronologically, with flashbacks providing their parents’ backstories - Penny Lesciuszko’s Polish roots and iron curtain escape; Michael Dunbar’s broken prior relationship – before settling down into two broad timelines. One leads up to Penny’s demise and Michael’s desertion leaving the teenage boys to fend for themselves. The other, later, covers Michael’s return to face the music, looking for what? Forgiveness? Understanding? Or just help to build a bridge at his place in the outback? Clay is the only one to respond. There’s a reason.

There is more, much more. There is Michael’s art, Penny’s music, Michelangelo’s architecture, running, fighting, horseracing and the stable girl turned jockey. And throughout, echoes of the Iliad - in the Homeric telling and in the names of Hector the cat, Agamemnon the goldfish, Telemachus the pigeon, and Achilles the mule. And Penny, of course, is Penelope. But, in the end, it all comes back to Clay.

It is good, very good, celebrating life’s rich tapestry but not avoiding the reality, the flipsides: no life without death, no love without loss. Its quirky style and jumbled timeline keep the reader on their toes but reward them with spikes of joy, nuggets of pathos, gems of one-liners, and, not to dodge the issue, the odd lump in the throat.

The Last Passenger – Will Dean

Caroline (Caz) Ripley embarks on a transatlantic crossing on the luxurious Atlantica liner accompanied by her relatively new boyfriend, Pete Davenport. After a first-evening meal and drinks they retire to their cabin and bed. In the morning when Caz wakes, slightly hungover, she is alone.

More alone than just missing Pete. The whole ship is deserted. Cabins empty, decks deserted, bridge unattended. No other passengers, no staff, no crew. But the ship is ploughing on regardless. It is a scary scenario; bizarre; inexplicable. Will Dean takes it forward in all its psychological unnerving detail, until …

Well, that would be telling, and we don’t do spoilers here. However, to give some reassurance, it’s not just about one woman and a ship. Other characters are involved, and there are back stories to be shared. Then there is a mind-blowing reveal that hikes the action and tension up a notch.

And that is what drives the story on, along with, for me, a reducing willingness to suspend disbelief in the premise and a growing curiosity as to whether a more sensible explanation might emerge.

What more to say? The main Caroline character is well drawn, the present tense narration (hers throughout) works well enough, and give Dean credit for extrapolating a contemporary trend to an ultimate if somewhat preposterous end point.