I posted a review of Beckett's series before (The Chemistry of Death, back in 2021). That was his first, this I believe is his seventh. The Bone Garden is every bit as goof as Chemistry. Forensic anthropologist David Hunter is running away again, this time from being dumped by his latest girlfriend. Despite the encroachment of winter he has jumped at the invitation to drive up to Scotland and join in the search for a missing person. He gets lost along the way and ends up marooned in Cumbria, in a tiny village called Edendale (nice touch) with one pub and a plantation full of bodies.
I have to admit, at this point I winced. Oh-oh, we're into American Werewolf territory - or Straw Dogs short of a Susan George character. Still, I thought, these things always have an illogical premise; murder itself is the ultimate illogical action. And Beckett tackles the absurdity head-on. What is going on in Edendale is a generational family feud between the grim Beddoes clan and the risen-above-themselves Reese family. Hunter finds himself the somewhat frozen meat in the stale bread sandwich. Then Beckett starts to pile on the twists. I saw the first couple coming but the final one took me completely by surprise, which it really shouldn't have, seeing as it's a theme in my own fiction (perhaps that is a sign of how skillfully Beckett lays the groundwork).
It's a very accomplished book. As a serial protagonist Hunter can only grow incrementally. He has certainly developed enough in the last five years to maintain our interest. The incidental characters, who start off so stereotypical, all have sufficient depth to keep us involved and keep us guessing. Beckett is really good at handling suspense and peril. The action sequences are exceptional.
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