She Kills - Skip Hollandsworth

 A surprise find in my local library, She Kills is an anthology of features written over the years for Texas Monthly magazine.   All are, naturally enough, Texas-based and, as the titles suggest, are about women killers, most of whom Hollandsworth has met and interviewed.   They range from killer nurse Vickie Dawn Jackson to Mozelle McDaniel who shot her abusive father in the late 1930s and went on to become yodeller with an all-female group of convicts that became a radio sensation immediately before WW2.   There is glamorous Sixties socialite Candace Mossler, who may have persuaded the nephew she was sleeping with to murder her elderly husband, but whom no jury would convict, and Peggy Jo Tallas, aka 'Cowboy Bob', who robbed banks disguised as a man and didn't even carry a gun; the only person Peggy Jo killed was herself when the cops came to arrest her.

A fascinating true crime read - I devoured it in a single day.

Imposter Syndrome - Joseph Knox

 I've now read four out of five Knox novels.   I remain somewhat ambivalent.   He is clearly a first-rate writer; his literary style is excellent.   He has a gift for titles.   You get hooked in by his storytelling but, in the end, it's often not quite as good as it seems.

Imposter Syndrome is a perfect example.   Great title.   We get instantly buttonholed by his narrator and swept along by a twisty storyline.   But yet again, when everything is unravelled, it turns out to be ever so slightly silly.   Obviously I won't say why.   Read it for yourself and make your own judgements.

Lynch is a con man who, in the best Hitchcockian tradition, gets involved in his next scam by accident.   He literally bumps into a beautiful woman in the lobby of the Heathrow Sofitel and she mistakes him for her long-losr brother.   This is not the silliness I mentioned earlier; all such adventures srart with a jaw-dropping coincidence and rely on the general view that 'coincidences happen, don't they?'   Bobbie Pierce, the beautiful woman, goes one step further.   She tattoos a broken heart under Lynch's eye to improve the resemblance to missing Heydon.   She then introduces him to the remaining members of the super-rich, dysfunctional Pierce family.   The mother, retired movie star Miranda, offers Lynch £35,000 and free tattoo removal to recover Heydon's bag from a local moneylender.   The bag contains Heydon's phone and a video message recorded on the night he disappeared.

Lynch is hooked and digs ever deeper into the mystery.   Because everybody involved is super rich, we get private security operators, millionaires who keep themselves young with blood transfusions from their twin sons, ex-SAS psychos who now run hi-tech solution companies for the stressed over-wealthy.   There is violence and gore and compelling characters (including the occasional dud, like the wannabe Tech Bro who uses the surname Control).   It all moves at an exhilerating pace.   I wasn't at all surprised at who was responsible for it all, but nor was I convinced.   Great fun, yes.   Classic of the genre, not quite.

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ALSO by Joseph Knox and reviewed on this blog: Sirens, Smiling Man, True Crime Story.   Use the search box on the right---

Introducing Swedenborg - Peter Ackroyd

 Talk about doing what it says on the tin...   Introducing Swedenborg is exactly and specifically what this short essay published by the Swedenborg Society does - and no more.   This is Swedenborg...  I'll leave you to get acquainted...  Must dash.

I've been increasingly curious about the Swedish polymath and mystic as I read more by Iain Sinclair and other psycho-geographers.   And that remains the case after reading Ackroyd's book.   I know a little more than I did, I will admit, but nothing significant.   I have learnt about his background in Sweden, how he started out as an engineer, became director of mines and a politician in the Swedish House of Peers.  I now know he spent a lot less time in London than I had thought and that Swedenborg House wasn't his actual house.   I have gained an overview of his mystical writing, which is the only part of his work that keeps his name alive, but nothing specific.   For example, who did he speak to when he was in the astral plane? 

This may be the point.   I will have to read Heaven and Hell.   I will have to look deeper into the work of writers I admire who also admire Swedenborg.   I was going to read more Sinclair anyway and I may even buy his Blake's London direct from the Swedenborg Society.

A Fall of Moondust - Arthur C Clarke

 I remember this as a study text in third form English.   I instantly recalled the opening: passengers board what is effectively a tour bus on the Moon.   But I don't remember finishing the book or, indeed, anything other than mild disappointment.   This was because I was a third former in the year of Space Odyssey.   None of us had seen it then, and I still haven't, but Kubrick's vision of waltzing space stations was our preconception of the imagination of Arthur C Clarke.   Not this...   Not the future, our future, as humdrum.

Now the world has reached the era in which A Fall of Moondust is set, the second quarter of the 21st century, and the disappointment is very different.   Now I am disappointed that I can't get on a moon-bus like the Selene and scoot across the Sea of Thirst where dust flows like water.   Sixty-plus years after the book was written, part of the fun is seeing what Clarke got right and what he didn't.  He was certainly right about communication satellites, which play a part here.   He was wrong is what names people would have and which population would oversee the future of space travel.   One thing he got spectacularly wrong but which is nevertheless fascinating is that by 2030 many people would be born and brought up on the Moon and thus unsuited to life back on Earth.   The stewardess of the Selene, for example, recoils from the idea of carrying a baby in Earth gravity.   That's a nice touch, I thought.

Something that Clarke got spot-on in 1961 was that the big thing in popular entertainment by the end of the Sixites would be disaste\r movies.   That is what A Fall of Moondust effectively is - a once in a millennium moon tremor sees the Selene sink into the Sea of Thirst without trace.   It's a brilliant concept.   I cannot fathom why no one turned into a sort of Posiedon Adventure in space.   Perhaps it's the mundanity of Clarke's style put producers of.   Clarke, for all his hard science, cannot envisage life in anything other than surbuban Middle English of the mid-1950s.   He does, however, do a good job of maintaining the tension throughout.

As a newly-minted teenager I seem to have scorned A Fall of Moondust in its drab school edition.   Almost sixty years later I stuck with it, learned quite a bit about attitudes and ideas of the time, and, frankly, had a great time with a good read.

∾

Other books by Arthur C Clarke reviewed here: Earthlight, Childhood's End and Prelude to Space.   Use the search box on the right to find them (I did).

The Secret Life of John le Carre - Adam Sisman

 I read Sisman's biography when it came out, hotly followed by le Carre's own autobiographical memoir The Pigeon Tunnel, which was obviously meant to eclipse Sisman's work, even though le Carre had co-operated with it and even proof read it.   At le Carre's request Sisman excised the salacious bits on a promise that he could publish a revised, expanded edition once those it would upset had died.

This left Sisman with a problem.   David Cornwell became rich and famous in his early thirties with his pseudonymous debut The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1963).   For the next half century he continued to produce bestselling novels but lived a deeply dull semi-reclusive life.   The only interesting thing about him in later life were his endless extra-marital affairs.

This raised a secondary problem.   Cornwell/le Carre was a deeply unpleasant person, an untrustworthy friend, an unreliable source of information, a duplicitous philanderer, an egoist with a slightly inflated concept of his own talent (he was extremely good at writing but lacked the humanity necessary for the Nobel Prize he felt was his due).

The Secret Life is a reworking and reconsideration of what was excised from the biography.   Since le Carre died in December 2020 (followed soon after by his second wife Jane) several of the mistresses have come forward.   One, Susan 'Suleika' Dawson, published her own memoir in 2022.   Sisman had contacted them all over the years but because he has a text by Dawson to forensically examine his coverage of that affair far eclipses the others, which seems to me a little unfair.

What most interested me was Sisman's account of working with his subject, who just happened to be the son of a conman, a professional fabricator of truth as a low-level spy and prominent author, afflicted with both priapism and a degree of monomania.   Sisman's account of where his obligations as an unofficial biographer is in itself worth acquiring The Secret Life.

The Insider - Matthew Richardson

 Matthew Richardson's second novel is blisteringly up to date.   It asks the question all espionage afficianados are asking: just how deep does Vladimir Putin's interference run in contemporary western states.   Richardson starts with the obvious answer in Britain, which Britain was just beginning to wake up to when Richardson wrote The Insider in 2021, when first Dominic Cummings and then his clownish front man Boris Johnson both fell: Westminster was rotting from the top down.

Richardson then smartly turns the British situaiton on its head.   Both Cummings and to an extent Johnson were outsiders who used Russian money to break Britain.   It was an unusual coincidence that the supremely corruptible Johnson happened to be Mayor of London at the time it was dubbed Londongrad because Russian oligarchs were paying ludicrous sums to buy it.   That was an accident unlikely to be repeated.   Richardson therefore imagines (as the title makes clear) a government corrupted from the inside, a thirty year Putin plan to place a mole to the very top of the British Civil Service.

Solomon Vine, a disgraced head of counter-espionage, is summoned from unwelcome retirement when a Russian media tycoon is murdered at the Savoy.   Alexander Ivanov was Britain's mole with access to Putin's Kremlin.   He was so important, his existence so critical, that only four people knew about him: the Chief Secretary at the Foreign Office, the Cabinet Secretary, the head of MI6, the Chief of the Defence Staff and the National Security Adviser Emma Lockwood, who has summoned Vine.   If there is a mole in government circles, which Ivanov swore there was, it has to be one of these so-called 'Elders'.

Vine is given the highest possible security clearance so he can interview each one.   Very quickly two of them are murdered, clearly by the same person or team who killed Ivanov.   The suspect list is down to two.   But each murder victim has left clues for Vine.   There are files so secret that even MI6 doesn't have copies...

What makes The Insider so compelling is that it seems so simple.   Only two suspects...?   How can anyone get a full-length novel out of that?   Very cleverly is the answer.   And, even more important, wholly convincingly.   This is Russian interference as we all think we know it.   Yes, I guessed the mole by the midpoint, but I in no way guessed what the great plot actually was or the final twist.   It's the best contemoporary British spy novel I've read this year - and I've read some really good ones in 2025.   One of them was Richardson's first novel, My Name is Nobody, which I didn't like as much.   I've also read and reviewed the third, The Scarlet Papers, which was The Times' Thriller of the Year 2023, and which I do remember enjoying hugely.

A For Andromeda - Fred Hoyle and John Elliot

 ET doesn't always have to come on a ship...  A For Andromeda is the classic of British science fiction in which First Contact is via a complex message from the stars.    The remote aliens send a blueprint and the gullible and hawkish military-industrial complex of which Eisenhower warned only a year before Andromeda was published can't wait to build it.

That, of course, leads to further challenges and problems which the combination of super-scientist Hoyle and scriptwriter Elliot handle very well.   The book is of its time but the questions it asks and poses its characters are timeless.   The science, thanks to Hoyle, is as it stood in 1962.   So is the fiction, with British women just starting to emerge from the home into science.   Interestingly, the stable characters here - Judy Adamson the security specialist, Madeleine Dawnay the super-scientist, and Andromeda herself - are all women.   The computer-whiz John Fleming is unmistakably Hoyle, the truculent big brain who most times turned out to be right in the end.   The two research bases, Bouldershaw and Thorness are almost certainly Jodrell Bank and Windscale-Sellafield.

Yes, there's an element of the formulaic about A For Andromeda, but the ending caught me by surprise.

The Mammoth Book of Cthulhu - Paula Guran (ed)

 The subtitle, 'New Lovecraftian Fiction', is an exact description of the concept.   Virtually all the contributions are original to this collection.  By and large they bring Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos into the twenty-first century.   A majority are by women, which in itself casts a fresh light on Lovecraft's originals in which there are few if any women.   Lovecraft's personal attitude to women was to say the least unusual (see Houellebecq on Lovecraft, reviewed here earlier this month).   On that subject, and on Lovecraft's racism, the final item in the collection is a bracing non-fiction piece by Veronica Schanoes called 'Variations on Lovecraftian Themes.' 

There were no stories I didn't enjoy reading.   I thought the standard overall was high.   Naturally, some appealed more to me than others, a personal preference reflecting my own perception of Lovecraft rather than anything in the work itself.   I liked 'A Clutch' by Laird Barron, 'It's All the Same Road in the End' by Brian Hodge, 'I Believe That We Will Win' by Nadia Bulkin and (probably my favourite) 'In the Ruins of Mohenjo-Daro' by Usman T Malik.

Regular visitors to this blog will notice that I get through a fair few anthologies, particularly in speculative fiction.   Through that I am beginning to notice anthologists to look out for and who to avoid.   Paula Guran is definitely one of the former.

Absolution - Jeff VanderMeer

 Absolution is the fourth and final part of the Southern Reach Series, written ten years after the first trilogy came out - in one triple release - in 2014.

Southern Reach is the agency tasked with reclaiming the Forgotten Coast.   The problem is Area X, a space that has been sealed off beyond the Border, where bizarre things occur.   The first section of Absolution is the story of an early expedition in which biologists go to the Forgotten Coast to research alligators, some specimens of which they take with them.   In Area X they are plagued with carnivorous rabbits, each of which carries a camera.   The biologists cope with the rabbits, wiping them out the American Way, only for more rabbits to arrive with more cameras to munch up the dead rabbits.   Some of the cameras are captured.  They show videos of the the expedition members doing things they would never dream of doing.   Then one of their number goes rogue, morphing into something more than human, rampaging through the camp with one of the alligators as a sort of pet sidekick.

All this is gleaned by a longstanding agent known only as Old Jim, who is plucked off skid row and rehabilitated by the Central command of Southern Reach.   Part of his rehab involves puttting together the story of the expedition.   He becomes obsessed with the enigma "Rogue".

Next up, Old Jim is sent to the Forgotten Coast.  His cover is as the new owner of the local bar where expedition members drank twenty years before.   He is joined by his daughter Cass - only she isn't reeally Cass but another agent sent to spy on Old Jim.   They establish a real relationship and together get a long way into the central mystery of Rogue.   But at the last minute, after things have been getting increasingly weird for some time, the Border comes down.   How and where from are questions never answered.   All we know is that, one year later, another team is sent in to Area X to find out what happened and, perhaps, to recover Old Jim.

With this second team things start extremely weird.   We experience it all through the eyes of James Lowry, a foul-mouthed gung-ho action man, whose response is to shoot before thinking.  And with Lowry the last man standing - standing on the edge of the intestinal link with reality, discussing matters with his bio-hazard skin-suit - the tetralogy ends.

It is a powerful piece of work, perhaps best approached by reading the four novels in the intended order.  Nevertheless, VanderMeer dragged me in.   I genuinely couldn't stop reading, albeit I wasn't always enjoying myself.   Old Jim is a compelling character, Cass an effective mirror for him.   Lowry (Young Jim, ppssibly?) is less so and I didn't care much about his fate.   VanderMeer's writing is dense and sparky and I am definitely on the lookout for more.

H P Lovecraft: Against the World, Against Life - Michel Houellebecq

 As stated in my last post, I had to buy this book as soon as I saw it listed in the front of Serotonin.   It arrived whilst I was reading Serotonin and I wolfed my way through it, finishing before I finished reading Serotonin.   Usually I try and space out my reading of authors I have suddenly discovered (no real reason for that, other than a general concept of neatness and variety).   In this case, however, the two really became one.

Lovecraft was Houellebecq's first publication, Serotonin his most recent translated into English.   Almost thirty years between them - and yet the tone, outlook and style is identical.   Short, snappy passages of intense writing marked by a profound pessimism.   The latter is very like Lovecraft, the former very much not.   Houellebecq's main preoccupation is Lovecraft's literary style and, though I have read most Lovecraft and not so very long ago, I hadn't really realised how odd that style is - so prolix, so arcane, archaic and artificial.   It is in fact a wall Lovecraft is building, not so much between author and reader as between reality and midnight black fantasy.   The same applies to Houellebecq's thesis as expressed in the subtitle, Against the World, Against Life.   Lovecraft's fiction is exclusively unreal, unworldly and not about life as we know it.  Like his style, his vision is absolutely unique.   There are no models he can have followed; those who follow him signally fail to achieve the overall mordancy.

Traditionally Lovecraft is seen as being reclusive and remote.   Houellebecq is at pains to point out this is not entirely true.   Lovecraft had friends.   He even had a wife (which I had not realised) and remained on good terms with her even after retreating back to his old home.   He was (and I did know this) enormously supportive of younger writers who wrote to him.   He won their affection and Houellebecq is much kinder than other critics to those like August Derleth who maintained Lovecraft's reputation after his death and, indeed, brought him into the literary mainstream.

This is a marvellous book, beautifully written, inscisive and empathic.   The inclusion of two of the 'master texts', The Call of Cthulhu and The Whisperer in Darkness is a wonderful bonus.