The Man Who Disappeared – Clare Morrall

That is Felix Kendall, accountant, who disappears before the police can arrest him for his money-laundering part in a wider criminal network.  All well and good for him to escape, but what about the family he leaves behind?

Wife Kate and the two children face a future at first uncertain and then all too real as their creature comforts - big house, private schools, the leisure to study for an art history degree - are peeled away.  Kate must take over the role as breadwinner and family rock and the kids have to adapt; and what is worse in their world, becoming part of a single parent family or having a dad labelled as a criminal?

It is an interesting premise, and Morrall unfolds the narrative from all angles with an understanding and empathy that reflects the daily slog each must make against a misfortune whether or not of their making.  Kate, suffering guilt by association, searches her past for missed clues; similarly the holed-up Felix examines his history for where it all went wrong. The children have minor dramas, but to no obvious purpose.

In truth not much happens for much of the book; what dramatic tension there is revolves around whether Felix will resurface or not, and if he does how will the family react?  There is a flurry of action just before the end, and a resolution of sorts for those still reading.

The Sixteen Trees of the Somme – Lars Mytting

The narrator, Edvard Hirifjell, lives with his grandfather Sverre on an isolated farm in rural Norway.  There are reasons beyond geographic for their isolation.

Edvard’s parents died while holidaying in France when he was just three, the circumstances unusual if not mysterious, particularly as he was with them, survived, and was found days later many miles away.  His grandfather, tarred by his eastern front service in the Nazi-supporting Norwegian Legion, is largely shunned by the local community so it no surprise Edvard is a bit of a loner.

When Sverre dies (no spoiler - it happens early in the book) Edvard gains access to photos and documents that rekindle his curiosity over his family tragedy.  Now totally alone he starts asking other people questions that his grandfather had previously fended off.  What was his mother (‘a French drifter’ according to his grandmother) doing in rural Norway in 1965 before she had met his father?  Why did  Sverre’s brother Einar, a skilled cabinet maker, leave Norway for good in 1939; if he was, as reported, executed by the Germans in 1944, then who has made and sent the distinctive coffin for Sverre’s burial?

That item has come from Shetland and Edvard resolves to travel there and pick up the trail of his family history, leaving the farm in the hands of old flame Hanne.  She fails to appreciate his new obsession but agrees to mind the shop in his absence.

In Shetland revelations abound.  Einar’s trail is picked up; a young Scottish heiress is encountered who has an agenda of her own that may coincide or conflict with his; more documents are unearthed; false identities and hidden truths emerge; and all point to a certain sixteen trees that grew in the Somme in 1914.

The book is multi-layered and intricately plotted with atmospheric descriptions of wild and starkly beautiful locations.  Edvard’s journey is both physical and emotional, almost bringing to mind that of Pip in Dickens’ Great Expectations (there are even echoes of Satis House and Estella).

The outcome is uncertain to the last but what is not in doubt is the lasting good impression of an epic tale that drags in history, mystery and even a little carpentry.

A God in Ruins – Kate Atkinson

Kate Atkinson returns to the Todd family featured in ‘Life After Life’, but this time it is Ursula’s brother Teddy who takes centre stage.  Mercifully, however, we get just one version of his life, albeit in time jumbled slices.

The centrepiece of Teddy’s life, and the book, is his time in the RAF Bomber Command during the Second World War.  That experience forged his personality in the contradictions of combat - a good, kind, brave man who risked his life to kill unnumbered, unknown, and largely blameless foreigners with his deadly ordinance.  A time he looks back on with both pride and guilt.

Around that is spun his relationships with his wife, daughter and grandchildren.  No spoilers here, it is the unfolding of the stories with teasers and revelations that provide most of the appeal.  But suffice to say there is love, loss, misunderstandings, tragedy, estrangement, re-connection, closeness and peace at last.

It is no surprise that it is well-written, meticulously researched and a pleasure to read.  Atkinson excels in family relationships, ensuring they are seen from multiple angles, and in her hands the Todd family are well worth getting to know.

Look Who’s Back – Timur Vermes

It is not difficult to guess, the cover on the paperback features the distinctive black hairline, and the title in black type is placed to double up as a toothbrush ‘tache.

Yes Adolf Hitler finds himself back from the dead, unchanged seventy years on from his Germany’s Armageddon.  He may not have changed but Germany, and the world, has.  Initially he finds it all very confusing but you don’t get to become Reich Chancellor without being able to assimilate facts quickly and adapt rapidly to changes in circumstances.

Two broad strands develop.  In one Hitler, as with any time traveller from the past, gets to comment on the absurdities of the modern world with his outsider’s eye.  In the other he pursues his (unchanged) political objectives, finding modern Germany a fertile ground for his national socialist rhetoric.

But these days the road to social change is not through politics (or violence) but through social media.  He quickly becomes a controversial TV personality and gains traction through the ‘internetworking computer thing’.

A knowledge of the rise and fall of the Third Reich helps with the satire (otherwise an appendix provides a succinct biography of the historical figures) and familiarity with modern German politics would probably makes the comments thereon funnier than to an outsider.

For the non-German it is still an amusing read though probably a longer one than the joke requires.

Paper Money – Ken Follett

This is one of Ken Follett’s early works (1976), first published under the splendid pen name of Zachary Stone, and it resembles his more well-known blockbusters in neither content nor volume.  The length is a mere 300 pages and the setting is London of its day.

The action takes place over a single day in the capital, narrated from multiple points of view, the key players being a politician, a hoodlum, a social climbing entrepreneur, a businessman in trouble, and his wife who is also mistress to another.  Their activities seem unconnected, but not for long.

Their stories are pulled together by some ingenious plotting, which the reader can see better than a Fleet Street reporter and editor who try to juggle incoming fragmented reports of the same events – a curious hi-jack, a hospitalised MP, a company takeover and a potential bank failure.  At first these compete for the front page but eventually the dots start to join up into a potential major scoop.

In addition to the half dozen main movers there are as many in support – thieves, tarts, a radio ham, security guards, bankers and brokers – so many that each can only get a thumbnail sketch of character, just sufficient for their bit part roles.

It is fast and fluently written, and if the characters are stock the construction isn‘t.  Neither is the plot - that’s convoluted but clearly expounded and perfectly feasible with an unconventional ending.

For this reader an enjoyable introduction to Ken Follett and nothing here to put me off trying one of those blockbuster trilogies.

Before the Fall – Noah Hawley

Artist Scott Burroughs has been on the skids for a while but after rediscovering a boyhood obsession with long distance swimming he is on the up.  Alcoholism is on hold; the artwork is going well with a meeting due with a New York gallery to discuss an exhibition; and there’s even an offer of a lift into the city on a private jet.

The offer is from Maggie who is returning from holiday at Martha’s Vineyard with her millionaire husband David Bateman, their two young children, Rachel and JJ, and the family bodyguard.  Also getting a lift is dodgy financier Ben Kipling and his wife Sarah.

The planned flight is just a short hop. The actual flight is even shorter as the plane ditches in the Atlantic minutes after take-off.  Somehow Scott survives the impact, as does the boy, JJ.  Scott’s swimming strength is tested to the limit but somehow he manages to reach the shore with JJ on his back.

In the aftermath Scott struggles with roles of both hero and guilty survivor, questioned by crash investigators, the FBI (who were about to indict Kipling), anti-terror state authorities, and a media bully looking for dirt and someone to blame.

The unfolding story is punctuated by the backstories of those who didn’t survive – six passengers and the crew of three – that slowly piece together the events leading to the tragedy.

Noah Hawley, known for his Fargo TV scripts, puts together a good story, wordier than most of its genre, giving voice to Scott’s inner musings on the meaning of life, art and the modern media.

There is what seems to be one continuity error, but it need not spoil the enjoyment of a decent and slightly off-beat thriller.

The Road to Little Dribbling – Bill Bryson

Twenty years since ‘Notes from a Small Island’ was published Bill Bryson takes time, and a trip, to re-appraise the state of his adopted nation, and finds like many of his generation, it is slipping slowly away from his understanding.

The notional geographical peg for his wildly meandering route is a straight line that is the longest possible within mainland Britain, running from Bognor Regis on the south coast to Cape Wrath in the far north of Scotland.  Fear not those of you off this corridor for he still visits a place close to you.

His observations are inevitably shot with perspicacity, wit and laugh out loud humour.  From sitting his British citizenship test at Eastleigh to his bemused arrival at Cape Wrath lighthouse he both celebrates and pokes fun at the British way of life.

So far, so Bryson; but as is often the case the acquisition a bus pass leads to an onset of grumpiness, which surfaces often in this volume.  He rails at many changes in society – the decline of the high street, the ubiquity yet uselessness of computers, the intrusive noisiness of folk on mobile phones – that rankle, before shrugging them off and continuing his search for the positive.

As well as humour and grumpiness is a rich vein of informative storytelling as he roots out little known or under-reported facts, such as the ‘system’ for numbering roads, and sheds light on local people and places whose position in history has undeservedly been neglected.

Funny, wise, acerbic, informative, and above all entertaining.